The ferry stops at Narcissus Hut to pick up a hiker from the half-submerged jetty.
At least that got my boots clean, says the hiker, stamping his sodden boots and spraying muddy water all over the deck.
Completed the Overland Track, have you? says Eddy. How was it?
Good, says Greg. Except for the rats and leeches. And the slippery boardwalk, and the rain and mud. And the humidity when the sun came out. Reckon I've got fungus in places I didn't know I had.
Eddy starts the engine, and turns the ferry for the trip back to Cynthia Bay.
Greg sits down heavily, next to Arthur.
You ever done it? asks Greg.
Depends what it is, says Arthur.
Don't I know you from somewhere? says Greg.
He's a poet, says Unni.
Nah, that's not it, says Greg, wriggling uncomfortably.
Would you like some ointment? asks Unni. For the fungus?
Thanks, if you've got some, says Greg.
I haven't, says Unni.
Gaius turns around.
I know him too, says Greg.
He's a natural historian, says Unni.
Greg shakes his head.
Schopenhauer wonders if he also might look familiar, being a famous philosopher.
But Greg ignores him.
Bikes! says Greg. You guys are Tour de France riders. What was your team?..... let me think....
Team Philosophe, says Unni. And Team Provenance.
Wow! says Greg, scratching his bottom.
Greg needs ointment, says Unni, for his fungus.
Vinegar, says Gaius. Garlic....oregano....bee pollen....Pity I don't have any.
No it's not that, says Greg. I've sat on something ......
He stands up.
Fifteen tiny segments of mountain shrimp are stuck to the seat of his pants.
Sorry, says Greg. Was that someone's lunch?
No, it was a specimen, says Gaius. Never mind.
Are you a collector? asks Greg, as he picks mountain shrimp off his trousers. I collect beetles.
He reaches into his pocket and brings out a tin.
He takes off the lid with a flourish.
Platypus beetles, says Greg.
Platypus beetles. Who knew there was any such thing?
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