Never Turn Your Back On The Ocean

At the frog translocation dig in Ibarra, Gaius says goodbye to Simon.

What? Sorry..? says Simon. Oh yes, goodbye.

He is preoccupied with his boxes.

I would stay, says Gaius, but the Tour de France beckons.

Of course, says Simon. Best of luck and all that.

And good luck with the translocation, says Gaius. May the Riobamban frogs prosper.

Very kind, says Simon. I'm sure they will, now we've established the correct dose of pool salt.

By the way, says Gaius I must show you a photo. It's one of the mutants.

He shows Simon a photo of Flap, with his parents.

My goodness, says Simon. There's a lesson.

Indeed, says Gaius. Farewell, but first I must say goodbye to Lydia, Tilly and Buzz.

Lydia, Tilly and Buzz are in different locations, one digging trenches, one measuring out pool salt and one playing on his iphone.

So this takes some time.

Now Gaius is at the bus station, buying a ticket to Guayaquil, without the bargaining talents of Arthur.

He gets on the bus, and sits down next to a fellow traveller.

Going to Guayaquil? asks the traveller.

I am, says Gaius. I am meeting my companions there. Assuming all goes to plan.

Might it not? asks the traveller.

I'm optimistic, says Gaius. One of the companions is most reliable.

And the others? asks the traveller.

(It is pleasant to converse on a bus).

Gaius tells the traveller about Sweezus (the unpredictable) and Humboldt (the new chum).

The traveller tells a story about how he lost his wallet in Ibarra, and then got it back.

.........

Meanwhile, Arthur the reliable, Sweezus the unpredictable and Humboldt the new chum are preparing to surf at La Chocolatera.

No sand, and the shoreline is craggy. Not many people out surfing. Best season is November to March. But .....you get what what you get.

Left handed breaks come in long peeling tubes, which are infrequent.

They paddle out, and wait. Here comes one.

What do I do? asks Humboldt.

Try and catch it, says Sweezus.

He and Arthur both catch it.

They slide away through the long peeling tube.

Humboldt is unseated in the turmoil.

A fellow surfer paddles over.

Bad luck dude, she says. You missed it. Wanna wait with me for the next one? I'll give you some pointers.

Thank you, says Humboldt. It's my first time.

Then you shouldn't be out here, says the surfer.

Well, I am. Just give me the pointers, while nothing's happening, says Humboldt.

Okay, she says. Surfers code. Never turn your back on the ocean.

What? says Humboldt. Never turn your back on the ocean? Am I facing the wrong way?

No, that's the CODE, dickhead, says the surfer. It means courage.

Another one's coming, says Humboldt. What do I do?

Stand up, says the surfer. Front foot on the chest line, back foot placed so that your legs are just wider than shoulder width. Keep your knees bent at all times. Like this... see....!

She has caught it. She glides rapidly away.

Humboldt, the new chum, catches the next one.

Awesomely he arrives at the rocky shoreline where Arthur (the reliable) is nursing a badly gashed knee.

Sorry To Say This

Salinas.

Sweezus, Arthur and Humboldt wheel their bikes along the Malecón boardwalk.

Sweezus enters a surf shop.

Five minutes later, comes out.

You want dangerous? asks Sweezus. If we head to the end of the peninsula, there's this FAE naval base, so you have to get permission, but they reckon it's easy to get, and there's this cool surf spot called La Chocolatera, no sand, but a rocky beach and powerful churning swells....

Sounds good, says Arthur, who has perked up since they got there.

Mm, says Humboldt. What about surfboards?

Already hired 'em, says Sweezus.

Santiago comes out with three shortboards.

How you guys gonna do this? asks Santiago. You got no surfboard bike racks. You wanna hire them as well?

Guess we pretty much have to, says Sweezus.

Arthur forks out the money.

If it was left up to him, he would have tried Sea Salt. Santiago looks susceptible

They ride off towards La Chocolatera, with their surfboards attached.

Sweezus's phone rings. It's Gaius.

Greetings, says Gaius. How goes the novice?

Who? says Sweezus.

Humboldt, says Gaius. Is he improving?

Yeah, he's cool, says Sweezus. Rode all the way to Salinas. We're just about to go surfing.

Nowhere too dangerous, I trust, says Gaius. The Tour's just a week off.

Not heaps dangerous, says Sweezus. Shit, only a week off! That means.....

I've had a few thoughts, says Gaius. Regarding logistics. You could fly direct to Nantes from Guayaquil. It's three hours shorter.

Awesome, says Sweezus. That's what we'll do.

Wait, says Gaius. The problem is, you are on borrowed bicycles.

Bugger, says Sweezus.

What is it? asks Arthur.

Fuck-ups, says Sweezus.

No need for that language, says Gaius. And then there is Terence.

Double fuckups! says Sweezus.

WHAT? says Arthur.

Calm down, says Gaius. I have been speaking to Maldonado. He suggests you put the bikes on the train.

Yeah, brilliant, says Sweezus. What about Terence?

Would you trust Saint Roley to accompany Terence to Guayaquil by train? asks Gaius.

Like, what kind of mood is he in at the moment? asks Sweezus.

Saint Roley? asks Gaius. Achieving equanimity, after losing that guinea pig he was attached to.

I mean Terence, says Sweezus.

Oh, Terence, says Gaius. This may or may not be a problem. He has become attached to some wasps.

Wasps doesn't sound like an insurmountable problem.

They'll soon get tired of Terence. Or more likely get randomly swatted.

Yeah okay, says Sweezus. How's Ibarra?

I am feeling a little superfluous, here, says Gaius.

A normal dude would sympathise.

But Sweezus (sorry to say this) sees us all as a little superfluous.

Ear Wasps

At Frutabar, Arthur drinks sticky fruit cocktails until he is sick.

So it ends up a good night for Arthur.

He composes a nightmarish poem. He's a drunken boat, lashed by furious waves:

Sweeter than the flesh of hard apples to children
the green water penetrated my hull
and washed me of spots of blue wine
and vomit, at times I saw what I thought I saw
the low sun, its mystic horrors.....

Humboldt only has a headache. Not even a bad one.

(He ate three gourmet sandwiches, nearly as many as Sweezus)

Come on! says Sweezus. Surfing! Salinas!

Urghh, says Arthur.

He looks pale.

Cheer up, says Humboldt. What will you do with all that money?

New bikes, says Sweezus, and new outfits.

Arthur appears to concur.

Lucky you, says Humboldt. I'm getting an unknown quantity. The ex-bicycle of Schopenhauer. As for a uniform, what do I wear?

Whatever, says Sweezus. Belle'll fix you up. You might get to wear Vello's.

Are we the same build? asks Humboldt.

You're both kind of skinny, says Sweezus. Height, yeah, no, not really. But with bike knicks, it doesn't matter how long the legs are.

Colours? asks Humboldt.

Cyclamen, says Arthur.

Sweezus laughs.

Good one, bro!

Why, is it funny? Humboldt's not keen on the colour.

The three cyclists leave the port of Guayaquil and head for Salinas.

It will take three hours, and forty five minutes. 

Let's return to Riobamba and see what has happened.

Was Terence given the scissors? Yes, and the hat is now ruined.

You wrecked it, says Mariposa. Looks like there's wasps coming out of your ears.

Terence is led to a mirror.

His expression is difficult to read, because he is deciding.

Does he want to look like there's wasps coming out of his ears?

They're not real ones.

Short wool strands of rainbow colours. Frizzing, like wasps.

On balance, he likes it.

Can I have the bits you cut off? asks Mariposa.

I CAN'T HEAR YOU! says Terence.

Mariposa turns his flaps up.

The wasps hover over his head.

For Your Good Fortune

Evening in Zona Rosa, Guayaquil.

A lime green pub with big headed figurines hanging out of the windows.

The Bar El Colonial.

Sweezus, Arthur and Humboldt are inside.

Neon lights flash pink and purple. An acoustic guitar show is in progress.

The crowd drinks beer, sways, sings sentimentally.

This is nice, says Humboldt. Is it modern?

Not really, says Sweezus.

Hmmm-mmm-ayay! sing the punters (in Spanish)

It's lame, says Arthur.  I thought it was meant to be dangerous.

Yeah, says Sweezus. But hey. So what? We're supposed to be training.

Arthur slopes off with the Sea Salt to drum up some trade.

He won't be back for some minutes.

Arthur's a dark one, says Humboldt.

Yeah, says Sweezus.

He won't get into trouble? asks Humboldt.

He lives a charmed life, says Sweezus. Pity it doesn't stretch to winning a bike race.

Whereas I feel quietly confident, says Humboldt.

Great, says Sweezus.  Reckon you can beat Froomey?

Hmmm-mmm ayay, slur the customers of Bar El Colonial.

Who? asks Humboldt.

Froomey, says Sweezus. Team Sky rider. No one can beat him. And then there's Richie Porte. Just won the Tour de Suisse. He'll be peaking.

I'll be happy to finish, says Humboldt.

Like David, says Sweezus. He's happy to finish. So's Gaius. You three'll go well. On rest days, Belle does awesome picnics.

Hmmm-mmm ayay!

Oi! Ai! Oof! A fracas at the bar appears to be happening.

Arthur comes back.

Dangerous? asks Sweezus.

No, says Arthur. I've made three thousand dollars. And got orders.

Fuck, says Sweezus. Shall we leave now?

Yep, says Arthur. There's this bar called Divina Nicotina.

Not cool, says Sweezus. Might be smoky.

Frutabar? says Arthur. It's surf-themed and they do gourmet sandwiches.

Okay, Frutabar.

They leave Bar El Colonial, and head for the Frutabar.

They are followed by someone with a knife.

This is not necessarily dangerous, (as we shall discover).

Oye! cries the knife holder.

Run! He has a knife! cries Humboldt, turning.

Arthur stops. Turns. Takes the knife.

Gracias, says Arthur.

Por tu buena suerte, says the knife guy.

Which means 'For your good fortune'.

At least, I believe so.

It Can Be Dangerous

Three bikes for two people? says Pedro. Why is that?

There were three people, says Saint Roley. Alexander von Humboldt was with them.

Humboldt? says Pedro. I know him. He can't ride a bike.

He can now, says Saint Roley. He's been invited to join Team Philosophe as a Tour de France rider.

Half his luck, says Pedro Vicente Maldonado. Hear that, children?

No, says Mariposa. I think we should rescue Piffy and Pi-face.

I'll go, says Pescado.

He clambers out of the window.

The frogs are sitting on a warm rock, eating waxworms.

He waits for them to finish, before bringing them inside.

No bikes. Does this mean we can't go to school? asks Mariposa.

We'll see about that, says her father.

When are they coming BACK? asks Terence. I want to show them my hat.

It's an excellent hat, says Saint Roley.

I got it in Hawaii, says Terence. It's got side flaps.

With plaits, says Saint Roley. You look like a beautiful woman.

Yerk! says Terence pulling the hat off.

Don't you want it? asks Mariposa. I'll have it.

NO! says Terence. Just get me some scissors.

Pescado comes in bearing Piffy and Pi-face and Flap.

Wow! says Mariposa. Look at his back flap!

Flap feels embarrassed. He has already undergone too much scrutiny.

Let us avert our gaze from Flap's discomfort.

And focus on Guayaquil where Sweezus, Arthur and Humboldt are just arriving.

(even if it means we won't know whether Terence gets scissors)

Guayaquil at last! puffs Humboldt.

You did good, says Sweezus. You'll be an asset. The boss'll love you.

The boss? asks Humboldt.

Vello, says Sweezus. He's my boss at Velosophy.

I didn't know that, says Humboldt. What is Velosophy?

An online magazine, combining cycling and philosophy, says Sweezus. I'm one of the creatives.

I hadn't pinned you as a creative, says Humboldt. Arthur seems better fitted.

I'm not better fitted, says Arthur. I'm a poet.

Yeah, a poet, says Sweezus You can't make them creative.

I suppose not, says Humboldt. Ugh! I must dismount soon or split down the middle.

Sweezus looks around. There appears to be a grand river running through Guayaquil. And port things, like boats.

Someone walks by, who looks like a local. Sweezus stops him.

Where's the best nightlife happen? asks Sweezus.

You might like Zona Rosa, says the local. But be warned, at night, it can be dangerous.

Dry Up Or I'll Wet You

Terence jumps out of the taxi.

He will burst in through the front door.

He will show his new hat to Sweezus and Arthur.

But he can't do it. The front door is locked.

He must wait for Pedro Vicente Maldonado to get out of the taxi.

Unload the children, and their baggage. And his baggage.

And Terence's baggage, which is Cherry the electronic parrot.

Pedro unlocks the front door.

Terence bursts in.

No one is there.

Noises come from the frog room.

The frogs! cries Mariposa, running to the frog room.

Followed by Pescado, her brother.

And Terence, in his un-noticed hat.

Leaving Cherry with Pedro.

Twice times seven, says Pedro.

Forty nine, says Cherry.

That would be correct if I had asked a different question, says Pedro. Think. What might that be?

Please say forty nine? says Cherry.

Try again, says Pedro. No, don't bother. Mariposa is calling.

Dad!

He strides into the frog room.

Saint Roley is explaining what happened to most of the tadpoles, and the mutant frogs, one of which, Flap, is in the garden with Piffy and Pi-face.

Dad, says Mariposa. Our frogs are in the garden!

Pedro opens the window.

And there's waxworms on the table, says Pescado.

I can explain, says Saint Roley. We were hoping....

Pedro gathers the waxworms and throws them out into the garden.

That's happened twice now. The waxworms' hopes dwindle.

What were you hoping? asks Pedro. That someone would open a window? Done!

Dad! says Mariposa. We should have brought the frogs INSIDE.

We were hoping you would know how long moths last, says Saint Roley. But now it won't matter.

Of course it matters , says Pedro Vicente Maldonado. How long do moths last? Twelve days if they're female, and twenty one if they're male.

It's good you threw the waxworms out of the window so they didn't hear that, says Saint Roley.

Thirty two, says Cherry.

Where's Sweezus? asks Terence, tweaking his hat.

Was I right? asks Cherry.

What was the question? asks Pedro.

Twelve days plus twenty one days, says Cherry. Thirty two days.

Close, says Pedro. Thirty three. But none of them live that long. It's an either-or, not a sum.

Is that an expression? asks Cherry.

YES! says Terence. Either you dry up or I'll WET you!

Cherry dries up.

Sweezus and Arthur have gone to Salinas, says Saint Roley. They borrowed Pedro's bike. And the children's.

That's three bikes for two people, thinks Cherry. It doesn't add up.

Bad Comrades

And what of the others?

Simon and his team are in Ibarra, assisting with the translocation of Riobamban marsupial tree frogs.

Simon, aware of the dangers of using too much pool salt, is using it sparingly.

So far, so good.

Gaius is on a bus on his way to Ibarra.

He chats with another passenger.

It will be a lightning visit, says Gaius.

What a shame, says the passenger (a lady).

Not at all, says Gaius. I only wish to ascertain how the pool salt is working. We have had trouble.

With your pool? asks the lady.

Ha ha! No. With the tree frogs, says Gaius.

He explains how too much pool salt has resulted in the deaths of a number of tadpoles and mutations in others.

She appears to be interested.

Terence is on his way back to Riobamba, with Pedro Vicente Maldonado, and the children.

Their plane has landed in Quito and Pedro is calling a taxi.

Terence has a new hat.

It has side flaps and is similar to the one that was stolen in Melbourne when he was there with Grandpa Marx for the Marxist convention and they got separated and bad comrades took it off him.

Cherry is slowly recovering her abilities, after falling into the hotel pool in Hawaii.

She is learning her tables. Twice times seven.

 And the square root of pi.

Saint Roley is still at Maldonado's with the waxworms. They are afraid of the future.

Wah wah, cry the waxworms. Can't you ASK someone?

I would, says Saint Roley, but I don't have a phone.

Where did we come from? asks the head waxworm, who seems less agitated than the others.

Next door, says Saint Roley.

So, go next door, says the head waxworm.

No way, says Saint Roley. The first thing that would happen is that Flap and his parents would jump in through the window and eat you.

Perhaps that would be the best outcome, says the head waxworm. At least we'd have certainty.

Wah wah, wail the other waxworms.

Don't be defeatist, says Saint Roley.

All right. Close the window, says the head waxworm. Then go and ask the neighbour.

Saint Roley could kick himself for not having thought of this simple solution.

Well, not that simple.

He might break his beak. Or his toes. Depending.

He dithers.

A taxi pulls up outside.

Dismissing The Cosmos

They ride out of Riobamba.

The road is up and down.

With trees either side of it, and bushes.

And stones for details.

Like everywhere.

I reckon the Sea Salt's going feral, says Sweezus.

Because of the X? says Arthur.

The cross, says Humboldt.

Arthur deftly changes the subject.

You've never gone surfing?

Never, says Humboldt. But I have been to Salinas. It's the closest point on the mainland to the Galapagos Islands.

Have you been to Guayaquil? says Sweezus. What's to do there?

You surprise me, says Humboldt.

How come? asks Sweezus.

Most people would ask if I'd been to the Galapagos Islands, says Humboldt. And the answer is, I have. You might care to read my book Cosmos.

Yeah right, says Sweezus. Cosmos. It's online now.

Is it? asks Humboldt, surprised at his unsuspected modernity.

Gaius gets it, says Arthur.

They cycle past an iguana.

No one seems keen on the Galapagos Islands.

Guayaquil, says Humboldt. It's a long time since I've been there. It's the nation's main port. They enjoy a mild temperature due to....

A port, says Sweezus. Should be heaps of cool nightlife.

Due to the influence of the cold water current, which incidentally ...

Yes, says Arthur. Ports are notorious.

...is named after me, says Humboldt.

What is? asks Sweezus.

The current, says Arthur. I was listening.

The Humboldt Current, says Humboldt. One may ask why so many animals fetched up on the Galapagos Islands, so long ago. The Humboldt Current is part of the answer.

Woah, says Sweezus.

Silence. The road dips. They pass another iguana.

And several stones.

How are you going? asks Sweezus.

Not bad, says Humboldt. Not good either. Tell me more about Schopenhauer's bicycle.

Gaius rode it once, says Arthur. When he rode it he said Schopenhauerian things.

Such as? asks Humboldt.

At its heart the universe is not rational. says Arthur.

Who doesn't know that, says Humboldt.

The purpose of our existence is not to be happy, says Arthur.

He wants to know about the bike, not its freaking philosophy, says Sweezus. Don't you?

If you like, says Humboldt. Yes I do.

Ass Saver mudguards, Knog lights, Schwelbe tyres.

That sounds wonderful, says Humboldt.

It's not all that fast, says Sweezus.

Surely that depends on the rider, says Humboldt.

Up to a point, says Sweezus.

The road rises.

They pass another iguana.

I Know An X

Sweezus, Arthur and Humboldt cycle past Gaius, who is on his way to the station.

Gaius waves them down.

Arthur, would you mind going back to Maldonado's. I don't have a pencil.

I've got a pencil, says Arthur. You can have it.

It's a pen, says Gaius. But I suppose it will do. Are you boys planning to cycle all the way to Salinas?

Not in one go, says Sweezus. We'll stop over night in Guayaquil. So today, it's just six hours straight riding.

Humboldt winces.

You winced, Humboldt, says Gaius. That is a signal to me that you should catch the train.

No, says Humboldt. I must harden up. My knee is healing. My blue hiking boots are comfortable. It's the saddle.

You'll get used to it, says Sweezus.

You'll enjoy Schopenhauer's bike when it arrives, says Gaius. It was custom built with a San Marco saddle.

Very nice, says Humboldt. I look forward to that saddle.

Enjoy your ride to Guayaquil says Gaius. He turns towards the station.

Sweezus, Arthur and Humboldt continue.

Six hours, says Humboldt. Does that include stopping?

Yeah, ten minute lunch break, says Sweezus.

It's lunch time, says Arthur.

I know, says Sweezus.

They stop at a cafe, and order salchipapas and three cafés con leche.

We should've brought the waxworms, says Sweezus.

You're joking, says Arthur.

We could sell Sea Salt and pay as we go, says Sweezus.

Do that anyway, says Arthur.

We could charge more if it came with a waxworm, says Sweezus.

True, says Arthur.

Let me try, says Humboldt. I am intrigued by your business plan. Give me a sample.

Arthur pours out a few grains.

Wish me luck, says Humboldt.

He goes up to the counter. Speaks to the barista. Sprinkles the grains.

The barista looks sceptical. Then enlightened. He beams and nods benignly. Waves a dismissive finger.

Humboldt returns.

No charge for the salchipapas, says Humboldt.

What about the cafés con leche? says Arthur.

I didn't like to push it, says Humboldt. Without the waxworms.

What was the prognostication? asks Sweezus.

A cross, says Humboldt.

Fuck that, says Sweezus. Is it still on the counter?

I suppose so, says Humboldt.

I'm not going over, says Sweezus. Arthur you go.

Arthur goes over. Comes back.

X, says Arthur.

I know a cross when I see it, says Humboldt.

And I know an X, says Arthur. Leave it at that.

They exit the cafe. The barista bows slightly.

Dry Higher Things

It's three hundred and sixty seven k's to Salinas, says Sweezus. Think you can make it?

Humboldt reckons he can.

Salinas? says Arthur.

Yeah, Salinas, says Sweezus. Good surfing there.

Surfing, says Humboldt. I always wanted to try that.

How cool he is, for a guy who never rode a bike till this morning.

Don't overdo it, says Gaius. We need you fit for the Tour.

Don't worry about me, says Humboldt.

I won't, says Gaius. Well, I'm off to the station. I'm taking a bus to Ibarra. Back in a day or two.

Say hi to Simon, says Sweezus.

Should I take Flap? asks Gaius. To show Simon?

No, says Saint Roley. Flap's back with his parents. Let him stay. Take a photo.

So, it's decided.

Flap will not go.

The travellers leave. Saint Roley remains in the frog room.

The waxworms eye him suspiciously.

I see you fear me, says Saint Roley. Fear not. Let us discuss higher things.

All right, says the head waxworm. What do you know about moths?

They are dry, says Saint Roley.

Dry? The waxworms did not expect that.

In what sense dry? asks the head waxworm.

Saint Roley realises he has made a faux pas.

He once tried a moth. It was dry.

A dry sense of humour, says Saint Roley.

Really? says the head waxworm. Is that something which happens? We waxworms don't have it.

What even is it? wonder the other waxworms.

Gaius has it, says Saint Roley.

He seems nice, says the head waxworm.

O yes, says Saint Roley. And he knows about moths. You should have asked him. Too bad he's gone to Ibarra.

Any other characteristics? asks the head waxworm.

A bit flighty, says Saint Roley.

You mean moths can fly? says the head waxworm.

No, I meant Gaius was a bit flighty, says Saint Roley. Always abandoning projects, but his heart is in the right place....

So are you saying they can't? asks the head waxworm.

The other waxworms hold their breaths.

Can they or can't they?

Of course moths can fly, says Saint Roley.

You say it as though it is nothing, says the head waxworm. I suppose it's because you're a bird, and have always done it. But to us this is nothing short of stupendous.

Stupendous, agree the other waxworms.

They wriggle a dance on the table.

Saint Roley is glad such a simple thing makes them happy. He must remember not to tell them that once, he saw a moth fly straight into a candle.

You're A Brick

What's the turmoil in your pocket? asks Gaius.

Arthur slaps his pocket.

Flap jumps out, his mouth full of waxworm.

You had the weird frog in your pocket, says Sweezus. Give me those waxworms.

You wouldn't want them, says Arthur. We could leave them here.

Confusion! says Flap. Was I not meant to eat these tasty waxworms?

No, says Arthur. They're a crucial factor in our business plan.

Flap swallows one eleventh of the business plan.

(Fortunately, it was not the head waxworm).

You're here as a colour chart, says Sweezus. You're our new team colours.

You don't need the actual me then, says Flap. Take a photo.

He surveys the frog room.

Wraaark! says Flap. This place seems familiar.

It should be, says Gaius. You were taken from here as a tadpole.

Was I? asks Flap. What about my siblings?

They too, were taken, says Gaius. You'll find your parents outside, in the garden.

Flap leaps into the garden, to effect a reunion.

Saint Roley wipes an eye.

I love a happy ending, says Saint Roley.

You are being species specific, says the head waxworm. There was no happy ending. I've lost a team member. He will never be a wax moth.

The other nine waxworms begin weeping.

It is uncertain why.

I apologise, says Saint Roley. Your brother's misfortune outweighs the family reunion. I'm in a bad place at the moment.

We all are, says Sweezus. We need to get going. Coming Humboldt?

You're leaving the waxworms? says Gaius. I can't be responsible. Also you need to take a photograph of young Flap. Which reminds me, Pauline wants you to send her that video.....

Sheesh! says Sweezus. Okay, I'll take the waxworms. AND take a photo. AND... what was the other thing?

Video, says Gaius. And what if Terence turns up while you're off gallivanting?

I'll stay, says Saint Roley. I'll mind the waxworms. I'll protect them from Flap and his parents. And nor will I eat them. And when Terence returns from Hawaii I will listen to all his guess-whats until you humans return from your missions.

You're a brick, says Gaius.

Saint Roley, mishearing, feels he has been undervalued.

Nothing To Believe In

If we do this, says Arthur, and it works, you'll have the knowledge.

Agreed, says the waxworm. What happens now?

You throw the Sea Salt, says Sweezus.

Excuse me, says the waxworm. No arms.

I'll do it for you, says Sweezus.

Shouldn't it be someone with no vested interest? says the waxworm.

I'll do it, says Saint Roley. I have nothing to believe in.

That's terrible, says the waxworm.

Get on with it, says Arthur. Here's the Sea Salt. Don't use too much.

He opens the packet and Saint Roley sticks his beak in.

Not the beak, says Arthur.

Quite right, says Gaius. The Sea Salt will stick to it. Use your feet.

A brush of a wing tip was what I was thinking, says Saint Roley.

Okay, says Arthur. Go for it.

Saint Roley dips a wing tip into the Sea Salt and flicks.

Up flies the Sea Salt (not too much).

Down drifts the Sea Salt.

Saint Roley steps away.

Will it form a W?

Not yet it won't.

There, says the waxworm. Nothing definitive.

Sweezus and Gaius agree.

Saint Roley steps forward. He needs to be sure that he hasn't affected the reading.

No! Look now! says Arthur.

Saint Roley has left a footprint.

And he has three toes. Two outer and one inner, each with toenails.

That's a W, says Arthur.

No one can deny it, unless they are a pedant, and think that three webbed prongs do not constitute an identifiable letter.

There are no pedants in the frog room.

Well I never, says the waxworm. This means I turn into a wax moth at some point in the future. I must tell the others. Lift me up to the table.

Gaius lifts him up to the table.

Guess what? says the waxworm to the ten others.

Humboldt comes in, one knee bleeding.

I've got the hang of it, says Humboldt. I circled the square.

And fell off, says Gaius. Do you need a plaster?

Not at all, says Humboldt. I'm proud of my war wound. Now I must learn to ride faster.

And up and down hill, says Gaius.

Weren't there more bikes in the store room? asks Sweezus.

Two more, says Humboldt.

Let's see, says Sweezus. He goes out and comes in again.

Yeah, two mountain bikes, says Sweezus. Wanna go Arthur? The three of us could head for the coast.

Okay, says Arthur. What about the waxworms?

Bring 'em, says Sweezus. But don't put them in the same pocket as the Sea Salt. They'll eat through the bag.

We wouldn't! says the head waxworm.

Arthur scoops up eleven waxworms and shoves them into his other pocket.

The pocket contains Flap, the mutant marsupial tree frog and bike knicks template, who will not have eaten since being put there.

Darkness And Tightness

Saint Roley rescues ten waxworms, and places them on the frog room table.

Gaius calls Belle, and asks her to send both his bicycle and Schopenhauer's to Nantes. She agrees to.

Humboldt finds in the store room a bicycle belonging to Pedro Vicente Maldonado, and borrows it, so he can practise. He's practising now.

Sweezus and Arthur negotiate with the head waxworm.

What do we get? asks the head waxworm.

You get free plastic food, says Arthur.

Which we have to hold back from eating, says the head waxworm. And when we do, it tastes awful.

What do you want, then? asks Sweezus.

Knowledge, says the head waxworm. Regarding the Sea Salt. How does it work?

You chuck a pinch, and it forms a letter, says Sweezus. And it's the first letter of something that's going to happen.

That might suit you humans, says the waxworm, but we know what's going to happen. Up to a point, after which.......all is darkness.

Well, that's kind of like .......... begins Sweezus.

What's he asking? says Gaius.

What happens when all is darkness, says Arthur.

Night creatures come out, says Gaius . But it's not total darkness.

It is for us, says the waxworm. Darkness and tightness. Is that how life ends?

Aha, says Gaius. No it isn't. How old are you?

No idea, says the waxworm.

Then I don't know how long you've got, as a waxworm, says Gaius.

Just a general idea? says the waxworm.

At some time in the future you will go through dramatic changes to become a pupa, says Gaius. This will take four to seven days. After this, for up to forty days, depending on the temperature, you will spend your time slowly becoming a wax moth.

A wax moth, you say, says the waxworm. The wax part sounds feasible. Not the moth part. Why should I believe you?

I'm a natural historian, says Gaius. But, there's always the Sea Salt.

Okay, says the waxworm. If it falls in the shape of a W, I'll believe you.

It is not often a hypothesis can be so easily tested.

Late Redemption

Saturn's sausages! says Gaius. Have you never ridden a bicycle?

Not as such, says Humboldt.

But you were so good on the scooter, says Gaius.

I expect to be good on a bicycle, says Humboldt. Element five. Look at the world with more than reasonable optimism.

Very commendable, says Gaius. Well, I suppose Schopenhauer's bike is out of the question.

What are you talking about? asks Humboldt.

I was thinking you could borrow it, says Gaius. But it doesn't fit your optimistic outlook.

The bicycle has a pessimistic outlook? says Humboldt. How bizarre. Could I re-educate it? Where is it?

In my garden shed, gathering cobwebs in Adelaide, says Gaius. But if you wish, I can have it sent over to France.

Do, says Humboldt. But meanwhile, I suppose I should practise.

I can't believe what I'm hearing, says the waxworm. He can't ride a bicycle. He's going in the Tour de France. He supposes he should practise.

You reckon that's far fetched? says Sweezus.

I do, says the waxworm.

You eat plastic, says Sweezus.

Does he? says Arthur, swallowing the last piece of his tánta wawa.

As a means to an end, says the waxworm.

Arthur would eat plastic as a means to an end, if the end was worth it.

He turns to the waxworm.

We have a business proposition, says Arthur.

Do we? says Sweezus. What is it?

Every package of Sea Salt comes with a waxworm, that eventually eats it, says Arthur.

Salt! Never! says the waxworm.

Not the salt. The plastic, says Arthur. We recycle plastic harvested from the sea. This is next level.

Yeah. Super next level, says Sweezus. Brill! The package that eats itself.

But not too rapidly, says Arthur.

I understand that, says the waxworm. The salt must not ebb away before being used for its purpose.

Sweezus is impressed with the waxworm's quick grasp of business.

What is its purpose? asks the waxworm.

Prognostication, says Sweezus.

I have a prognostication for you, says Gaius. The bulk of the waxworms are out in the garden. They will be shortly be eaten by frogs.

Saint Roley, perched on the window sill, sees Piffy and Pi-face dining on waxworms.

The waxworms taste awful. He should know. He ate one, and regrets it.

He flies out, to redeem himself, by saving the last few.

Six Heartless Elements

Sweezus and Arthur arrive at Maldonado's front door.

The front door is open.

They go inside.

Bet Gaius is in the frog room, says Sweezus.

You go, says Arthur. I'm heading for the kitchen.

He heads for the kitchen, hoping to find leftovers.

Sweezus enters the frog room just as the leader waxworm is speaking.

It was high handed, says the leader waxworm.

All right, I admit that, says Humboldt. It's one of the faults of Romantic philosophy.

Which is, asks the waxworm.

One of the faults, or the whole thing? asks Humboldt.

Don't confuse me, says the waxworm. I'm a simple waxworm.

Far out! says Sweezus. A talking caterpillar! What's the answer?

Inexplicable, says Gaius. It eats plastic.

No way! says Sweezus. That's awesome. Yeah, but I really meant what's Romantic philosophy?

There are six elements, says Humboldt.

I think you'll find there are one hundred and eighteen, says Gaius.

Not those elements, says Humboldt. But meine Güte! Are there now so many?

Yes, says Gaius. I like  to keep up with chemistry.

You must tell me the latest ones, says Humboldt. But not now. I must answer Herr Sweezus.

No one calls me Herr Sweezus, says Sweezus.

Fine, says Humboldt. Sweezus. Element one: A belief in the individual or common man.

There you have it, says the waxworm.

Do not jump to conclusions, says Humboldt. Element two: Love of and reverence for nature.

Empty rhetoric, sneers the waxworm.

What's up with the caterpillar? asks Sweezus.

Humboldt threw his fellow waxworms out of the window to be eaten by the children's frogs, which he also let out of the window, says Gaius.

When you put it like that it does seem rather heartless, says Humboldt. I didn't know the frogs belonged to children. I love children.

Arthur comes in, eating a leftover tánta wawa.

Any more of those? asks Sweezus.

Last one, says Arthur.

Arthur! says Gaius. It good you're here. Now what do you think? Do I have time for a lightning trip to Imbabura?

Sure, says Arthur.

Even though the Tour de France approaches? says Gaius. And we need some time to prepare, do we not, Humboldt?

Ah yes, about that.....I was going to say.... says Humboldt.

Is he going in it? asks Sweezus.

Yes, I am, says Humboldt. I have the utmost confidence in myself but...

But what? says Gaius. You haven't ridden a bike for some time? Is that it?

Close, says Humboldt.

Dogged By Tragedy

Saint Roley alights in the Maldonados' back garden.

Piffy and Pi-face are sharing a cricket.

Hello, says Piffy. Back from the volcano?

Alone, says Saint Roley.

You don't look too happy, say Pi-face.

I'm dogged by tragedy, says Saint Roley. I have lost Princess Pacchu. She loved me.

Do you eat crickets? asks Piffy. Have a bite of this one.

I think not, says Saint Roley. I'll just sit here in the sunshine.

We too are touched by tragedy, says Pi-face. Remember our giant baby? Now known as Gastro?

Of course, says Saint Roley. He came with us. Why, has something happened?

We've just learned he has a back flap, says Piffy.

Perhaps it's a dorsal pouch, says Saint Roley.

There's a big difference between a flap and a pouch, says Piffy. And only females have pouches.

He seemed happy, says Saint Roley.

Did he? says Piffy. Well, that's something. Last chance for a bite of this cricket?

No thanks, sighs Saint Roley. Are the others back yet?

Inside, says Pi-face.

Saint Roley flies in through the window.

Good, you're back, says Gaius. Take a look at these waxworms.

Saint Roley looks at the waxworms, chomping through plastic.

But does not grasp the significance.

Humboldt is fiddling with Gaius's phone.

Can't work it, says Humboldt.

Give it here, says Gaius. You watch the waxworms.

Gaius taps for a while.

Aha. Waxworm larvae. Parasitic. Ability to biodegrade polyethylene at uniquely high speeds.

No! cries Humboldt.

Too late. Saint Roley has tried one.

I'm sorry, says Saint Roley. Outside I was offered a cricket, and refused. But the power of suggestion has made me uncontrollably hungry.

Understandable, says Humboldt. It may not be a problem. The frogs eat them.

Indeed, says Gaius. And it says here they are bred commercially for fishing bait.

So fish eat them, says Saint Roley. They must be all right.

More waxworm larvae drop through their holes in the plastic.

One is a leader. There is always a leader.

The leader rears up, white and creamy, with black tipped feet.

Are we anywhere within range of a bee hive? asks the leader. We're supposed to eat beeswax, not this tasteless plastic stuff.

Yes, says Gaius. That is correct. You eat beeswax. But you must have been gathered and placed in a plastic bag by someone. And that sealed your fate.

Which is? asks the leader.

To be eaten by Riobamban marsupial tree frogs, says Gaius. But you have a temporary reprieve. They have jumped out of the window.

Didn't we just come in through the window? asks the leader. A narrow escape, then.

Humboldt doesn't like the unresolved situation. He tips the rest of the waxworms out of the window, to meet their end as nature intended.

Tight Gene Pool

Humboldt and Gaius walk back to Maldonado's.

Gaius is wheeling the scooter.

Humboldt wears new blue hiking boots, with silver laces, breaking them in.

The neighbour peers through his window.

Opens his front door, to take back the scooter.

Many thanks, says Humboldt. Without the scooter, I wouldn't have got to the shoe shop so quickly.

You're very welcome. Nice boots! says the neighbour.

Humboldt hitches up his trousers, revealing red socks.

Red socks with blue hiking boots! marvels the neighbour. A bold statement.

They are bamboo socks, says Humboldt. Apparently very hard wearing.

I believe so, says the neighbour. Now go inside Maldonado's and deal with the smell.

For the second time, Gaius unlocks Pedro Vicente Maldonado's front door.

He and Humboldt head straight for the frog room.

Phoo! The three dead tadpoles are rotting.

Gaius opens a window.

Any news of our baby? asks Piffy.

We named him Gastro, says Gaius. He is making a new life at the foot of Chimborazo, with a female.

What female? asks Pi-face.

His sister, says Gaius. I hope that doesn't unduly offend you?

Of course not, says Piffy. As long as they're happy. It's a tight gene pool.

Are you going to tell them about the flap? asks Humboldt.

I wasn't, says Gaius. But since you've mentioned it, you can tell them.

Flap! cries Piffy. Is he a mutant?

We don't know, says Humboldt. He refused to come back with us and be further examined. The flap itself was positioned over one of the oblong dorsal patches......

That's enough, says Gaius. These frogs need some dinner. What are you normally given?

Waxworm larvae, says Pi-face.

Crickets, says Piffy.

Either, really, says Pi-face.

I'll get rid of these dead tadpoles, says Gaius. Humboldt, you search the room for dried food.

Gaius wraps the three dead tadpoles in a tissue.

He goes out of the back door to look for a bin.

When he returns, Humboldt is the only one in the frog room.

They jumped out of the window, says Humboldt. I encouraged them. Let them be free to find their own dinner.

And why not? says Gaius. There are sure to be crickets out there.

The neighbour's face appears at the window.

You might want these, says the neighbour.

What? asks Gaius.

Waxworm larvae, says the neighbour. But watch them. They're eating holes in the bag.

The bag being plastic, the two naturalists are naturally surprised.

Romantic Philosophy

Are you going to walk barefoot? asks Gaius.

One foot bare, says Humboldt. I shall favour the shod one.

Then we need to find a shoe shop close by, says Gaius. I'll lock up, and we'll ask the neighbour.

He locks up, and they go next door.

Knock knock.

Hello again, says the neighbour. Did you deal with the smell?

Not yet, says Gaius. In fact, there is something more pressing to deal with. Where is the nearest shoe shop?

Head down Espejo to Mercado y Terminal Oriental, says the neighbour. They sell shoes there. Would your friend like to borrow a scooter?

Would you? asks Gaius.

I'd appreciate it, says Humboldt. But I don't have a licence.

It's not that sort of scooter, says the neighbour. It's my ten year old daughter's.

Very kind, says Humboldt.

The neighbour fetches the scooter, which is a red one.

Come back soon, says the neighbour. That smell will soon be escaping.

Promising to hurry, Gaius and Humboldt head off.

Humboldt soon gets the hang of the scooter.

I'm glad to see that you have excellent balance says Gaius, walking fast to keep up.

Always had it, says Humboldt. But why are you glad?

I have a proposition, says Gaius. How would you like to ride in the Tour de France, for Team Philosophe? Our captain has piles. Very painful.

Are you a team member? asks Humboldt. And who is, or was, the captain, and who else is in it?

I have been a team member on and off, says Gaius. Our team captain is Vello, otherwise known as Voltaire. Everyone knows him. He is, and I hesitate to say it, not above cheating. The other team member is David Hume, the great empiricist. He is overweight, but practical. At times we invite other philosophers to join us. We've had Schopenhauer, Nietzsche.... So, will you consider it?

I need to think about this, says Humboldt. I am a polymath, geographer, naturalist, explorer, and exponent of Romantic philosophy, but....

Romantic philosophy? says Gaius What sort is that? Does it mean you don't like competition?

Nothing of the sort, says Alexander von Humboldt. That's not the stumbling block. The problem is....

A shoe shop! says Gaius. Stop scooting!

The shoe shop is called Full Shoes. A promising title.

They go inside.

Alexander is taken by a pair of blue hiking boots with silver laces.

He decides to buy them.

What size sir? asks the assistant.

No idea, says Humboldt. Do you have a foot measuring machine?

He sits down. Thrusts out a bare foot.

It doesn't look as bad as might be expected.

But the assistant gets out the sock box.

Boots Of Others

The frog, says Arthur.

Oh, yeah, says Sweezus. Maybe we should take it with us.

Match the colours, says Arthur.

Awesome, says Sweezus. Got a container?

Pocket, says Arthur.

He scoops up Flap and shoves him into his pocket.

Flap is okay with this. He believes they are scientists.

The bus appears. Arthur and Sweezus get on.

That leaves you and me, sister, says Gastro.

For better or worse, says his sister. You could be a mutant.

They hop away from the bus stop, following the trail to the stream.

......

Saint Roley has reached the snowline and not yet found Princess Pacchu.

She would not have gone further.

He considers his options.

1. Wait here and freeze.
2. Fly back down without her.

......

Gaius, Humboldt and Pauline have got off the bus in Riobamba.

This is goodbye, says Pauline. Here's my email address. Ask Sweezus to send me that video.

Goodbye, says Gaius. I'll ask him, but Sweezus can be unreliable.

Goodbye, says Humboldt.  Thank you for assisting me down Chimborazo. I shall think of you every time I enter a bathroom.

Look up! says Pauline.

Gaius looks up.

Gotcha! says Pauline.

Oh, yes .....says Gaius. The dirty ceiling fans. Very funny.

He makes a note to check his own fans, when he gets home.

........

Gaius opens the front door of the house of Pedro Vicente Maldonado, who is not yet back from Hawaii.

Gaius still has the key.

There is a smell wafting from the frog room.

Humboldt sniffs. What is it?

A neighbour appears, frowning.

At last, says the neighbour. Too late probably.

What's this about? asks Gaius.

I was to feed Piffy and Pi-face, says the neighbour. And you had the key.

We shall take care of it, says Gaius. Don't think any more about it.

The neighbour sniffs, and disappears, still frowning.

First, says Gaius, I'll show you the store room. There are plenty of boots there.

He opens the store room.

Humboldt goes in.

Gaius is about to investigate the smell in the frog room when his phone rings.

It's Vello.

Before you say anything, says Gaius, I know.

Good, says Vello. So who do you suggest should replace me?

What? says Gaius. Why?

So you don't know, says Vello. I've got piles. Very painful. Team Philosophe will be short one rider. Any suggestions?

Alexander von Humboldt comes out of the store room, barefoot, his trousers rolled up..

By sign language he indicates to Gaius that he has not even tried any boots on. He must buy new boots. He ruined his socks on the mountain. At least, one of them. And Maldonado's boots, while good quality boots, have been worn by others. What about tinea? Therefore he will remain barefoot until they can get to the shops.

An excellent communicator, and a philosopher! With good lower leg muscles.

Yes, says Gaius. I have just the man.

Genius!

Wraaack-ack! says Gastro, at the bus stop.

Gaius looks down.

Still here? says Gaius. Is there a problem?

Before we go off and start a new life in these mountain fields, say Gastro, we need one question answered.

What is it? asks Gaius. Be brief.  I see a bus coming.

My two siblings here want to know if they're male or female, says Gastro.

It's not us wanting to know it, says one sibling. It's YOU.

Let me see, says Gaius. Yes, this one has a dorsal pouch, She is a female. The other one, hmm, has some sort of unusual flap.

Should this be alarming?

The tree frogs wait for more information.

What do you think, Humboldt? asks Gaius. I should value your opinion.

Humboldt bends down, partly losing his balance, due to the lack of one shoe.

Steady, says Gaius.

The bus! says Pauline, waving it down.

The large one has the same unusual flap, says Humboldt. I'm afraid I don't....

The bus stops.

Get on, says Pauline. The buses don't come all that often.

What to do?

Would you consider coming with us after all? says Gaius. We could investigate further.

Decision time.

Gastro says: NO.

Pauline, Gaius and Humboldt get on the bus to Riobamba.

The frogs stay behind.

Now what? says the female. I'm stuck here with two guys with unusual flaps. I might be the last of my line.

And the first of a new one, says Gastro.

You're an optimist, says the other unusual flap guy. I would have gone on the bus with the scientists.

So wait for the next one, says Gastro.

Arthur and Sweezus arrive at the bus stop, in time to see the bus disappearing.

Shit. Missed it. says Sweezus.

Now's your chance, says Gastro, nudging the flapped sibling.

Sweezus and Arthur sit down on a rock at the bus stop.

Flap creeps over.

Excuse me.

Sweezus is talking to Arthur about bike knicks and jerseys.

They will need to get new ones.

Wraaack- ack! says Flap.

Another frog, says Sweezus. What's up, froggy? Whoa! You look weird-arsed. Take a look, bro.

Arthur looks at Flap's flap.

Apart from his flap, Flap looks quite normal. Plump, green on top, like a mossy pebble, dark oblong patches, quite smooth, a creamy underside, grainy-looking, a small head, brown eyes, wide mouth on a rounded snout, short legs, and soft pads on the toe tips.

How about.... cream bike knicks and a green and brown jersey, with a dark oblong back flap for drinks? says Arthur.

Genius! says Sweezus. I like it. How'd you come up with that?

Look Up, Time Has Come

Let us go down together, says Gaius to Alexander von Humboldt.

I'll come  with you, says Pauline. There might be no snow but there are plenty of stones to stub your toe on.

They set off.

Overhead flies Saint Roley, who spots them.

He lands.

Going down already? says Saint Roley.

Yes, says Gaius. Time waits for no man.

Funny you should say that, says Pauline. Time was waiting at the top of Chimborazo.

He was indeed, and he knew the date of the Tour de France, says Alexander von Humboldt.

Probably got it from a newspaper, says Gaius.

Neither Pauline nor Humboldt can refute this. He did have a paper.

But, says Pauline, he knew Alexander had fallen into a chasm. That could not have been in the paper.

Perhaps Time had passed by the chasm, says Gaius, and heard him shout for assistance.

I didn't shout for assistance, says Alexander von Humboldt. I sensed my Time had come.

Ha ha! Very good, says Gaius.

Well, says Saint Roley, I'm going to fly up a bit further.

Why is that? asks Gaius.

Princess Pacchu, says Saint Roley. She was racing me, and I haven't seen her.

Be vigilant, says Alexander von Humboldt. Your princess may have fallen down a chasm.

She is a guinea pig, with local knowledge, says Gaius. She's unlikely to fall down a chasm.

I saw a guinea pig a short way back, says Pauline. Going like a rocket.

Saint Roley takes off.

Too cold up there for an oystercatcher, observes Humboldt.

You may be right, says Gaius. Let us hope he finds Princess Pacchu before the snowline.

They continue to walk and hop down Chimborazo, each thinking.

I suppose, says Humboldt, I ought to go into Riobamba and purchase some shoes.

Come back with me to Maldonado's, says Gaius. He'll have some.

We can all catch the bus together, says Pauline. Hey ho. Then for me, back to Idaho.

What do you do there ? asks Humboldt.

I'm a property manager, says Pauline. I pride myself on being a good one.

What constitutes a good one? asks Alexander von Humboldt.

Attention to detail, says Pauline. You know those extractor fans people have in their bathrooms?

No, says Alexander. I don't often leave Chimborazo.

People forget to clean them, says Pauline. Look up. That's what I say. Look up. Eventually they see it.

Look up, says Gaius. That is good advice for anyone wishing to increase their powers of observation.

It is, says Alexander von Humboldt.

Soon they are at the bottom.

They head for the bus stop.

The three tree frogs are keeping their eyes peeled for Gaius.

There he is, with two more humans, talking. Will he look down?

Second Most Famous Man In The World

By the time Sweezus and Arthur reach the first refuge on Chimborazo, they have worked out a plan.

1. Fly from Quito to Nantes, missing out Adelaide altogether.

2. In Nantes, acquire new bikes.

3. Cycle to Ile de Noirmoutier.

Sorted.

Tilly, Lydia and Buzz arrive from the bottom.

Tilly and Lydia take possession of the waterproof trousers, ice picks and crampons.

What about Buzz?

I'll wait for Gaius, says Buzz. He's on his way up. Then I'll have his.

Gaius's red waterproof trousers appear, along with the rest of him.

Arthur! says Gaius. Simon is going to Imbabura, where I shall join him.

Date, says Arthur.

It's not a DATE, says Gaius. Ha ha. What a suggestion!

What's the date? says Arthur. What's four weeks away?

Is this a trick question? asks Gaius. The same day next month, minus two, is four weeks away. Am I missing something?

Arthur is about to tell Gaius that the Tour de France is just four weeks away when Paco appears, followed by Pauline and Alexander von Humboldt, who is hopping.

Jupiter's Jellies! says Gaius. Can it be?

Gaius Plinius Secundus! cries Alexander von Humboldt.

Yes, says Gaius. I should have anticipated finding you on Chimborazo. But I didn't. And here you are hopping. I trust merely because you are missing a shoe.

Yes, that is why, says Alexander von Humboldt. And this lady has been kindness personified. I dared not put a foot down for fear of getting frostbite.

There is no snow hereabouts, says Gaius.

There isn't! says Humboldt. And this is the first time I've noticed. Pauline has been listening to me explain why I am no longer famous.

Hey! Can I borrow your trousers? asks Buzz.

Of course, says Gaius, taking off his red waterproof trousers, revealing his chinos.

Buzz pulls them on over his shorts and hurries up the trail after Lydia and Tilly.

Have they got a guide booked? asks Paco.

I don't think so, says Gaius.

Paco turns and heads back up the mountain.

No longer famous? says Gaius. But you are the inventor of isotherms and discoverer of  the magnetic equator.

He was also the first to see the earth as one living organism, says Pauline.

The first? Was he? asks Gaius. That I did not know. Surely....

There you go, says Humboldt. That's the nub of it. My way of seeing the world is now so ubiquitous that no one remembers who first came up with it.

In his prime, says Pauline, he was the second most famous man in the world.

After whom? asks Gaius.

Let us leave this subject, says Alexander von Humboldt. Gaius is more than my equal.

Is he? asks Pauline, looking  properly at Gaius. I thought you said it was Napoleon.

Gaius laughs. So does Humboldt.

Ladies!

So what was this about the date? asks Gaius, turning to Arthur.

Tour de France, says Arthur. Seventh of July. Ile de Noirmoutier.

Arthur, says Gaius. I congratulate you. This is the first time I've had adequate warning.

Where's France From Here?

Alexander von Humboldt is lucky. The chasm he has fallen into is narrow.

He is wedged not too far from the top.

Paco peers into the chasm.

He says: Wait for the rope.

Humboldt was already waiting.

Down snakes the rope.

He ties it round his waist with numb fingers.

And is hauled up by Paco. But one of his shoes has come off.

This is the only thing wrong with the rescue.

Humboldt will have to hop down Chimborazo.

I'll walk beside you, says Pauline. We can talk about.....why you are no longer famous.

You are a gem, says Alexander von Humboldt. It's a topic I have long dwelt on.

Speak, says Pauline. And don't put that foot down!

Sweezus and Arthur have got ahead of Paco. They know the way down.

They are talking about logistics.

Where's France from here? says Arthur.

No idea, says Sweezus.

He downloads a map.

Meanwhile at the bottom of Chimborazo the team has awakened.

Simon goes off to the bus stop.

I'll wait for Arthur, says Gaius. In fact, I shall hike to the first refuge, with you young people.

Cool, says Buzz. I was going to ask if I could borrow your waterproof trousers.

Certainly, says Gaius. We'll change when we get there.

We're going to ask Sweezus and Arthur to lend us theirs, says Tilly. And the ice picks and crampons.

Very efficient, says Gaius.

I'll fly up, says Saint Roley. See you up there.

See you up there, says Princess Pacchu. Bet I get there first.

Everyone departs, heading up the lower slopes of Chimborazo.

Very nice, says Gastro. They've abandoned us here at the bottom.

We're not afraid, says one of his siblings.

Arthur is coming, says the other.

Idiots, says Gastro. Arthur's not going to care. We should set about making a life in this location. Is one of you, or better still, are both of you female?

But the siblings, being new-ish, cannot be certain.

We'll ask Gaius , when he comes back, says Gastro.

Gaius will know.

The Infinite Who Is My Brother

On Chimborazo, Time waits for an answer.

He won't get one from Sweezus or Arthur. They are stamping, waving their arms, whooping, taking selfies.

Paco is taking a breather.

Dawn softly tints the horizon

Pauline feels sorry for Time. He has gone to all this trouble.

Of course we know our actions have no value in YOUR eyes, says Pauline.

Why fill yourself with vanity? says Time.

It's funny, says Pauline. You, quoting Bolívar's poem.

Bolívar was quoting me, I think you'll find, says Time.

What about this? asks Pauline. "Everything is less than a dot in the presence of the Infinite, who is my brother".

Me again, says Time.

And yet, says Pauline, you've come up here especially.

Not especially, says Time. I had nothing on this morning.

There! says Paco. Behold the dawn! See the orange band, growing at the horizon.

Sweezus turns slowly, making a video.

Arthur is in it. So is Pauline. So is Time.

In the video, Arthur shows Time the Sea Salt.

Time asks what the Sea Salt is for.

Arthur says it can be useful for prognostications.

I should point out to you, says Time, that the Infinite is my brother.

Yes, Arthur, says Pauline. You are well out of order.  If Time wishes to know the future, he has only to ask his brother.

If I can find him, says Time. He's hard to pin down.

Try the Sea Salt, says Paco.

Do not be flippant, says Time. Sea Salt doesn't work. And I'll tell you why. Your climber Alexander von Humboldt has fallen down a glacial chasm.

Paco looks concerned.

And you, says Time, turning to Arthur, do you have any idea of time passing? Do you even know what the date is?

Arthur doesn't.

June? says Sweezus.

June the seventh, says Pauline.

I'm not asking you, says Time. But yes, the seventh. Ring any bells?

Seventh, says Sweezus. Seventh....?

Tour de France, says Time. And you boys are members of Team Condor. I know from the television coverage. And this newspaper.

He waves his copy of the Times.

Shit, have we missed it? asks Sweezus.

No, it's four weeks off, says Time. Commencing July the seventh. And here you are taking selfies atop a volcano.

Yeah, says Sweezus. Thanks heaps for that. I nearly had freaking kittens! Better call Pablo. Bikes, where'd we leave our bikes?

Back in Adelaide, says Arthur. Or... did we take them to Newcastle?

Ask the Sea Salt, says Time.

It doesn't work backwards, says Arthur.

I knew it! says Pauline.

Me too, says Paco. Now, are you all coming? Or must I rescue Humboldt by myself?

Time's Eyes

Dark. Snow. Glacial chasms. Thin air.

Pauline is still talking.

Idaho, she is saying. Bet you don't know where that name came from.

Nuh, mutters Sweezus.

Ee-dah-how, says Pauline. That's Shoshone for the sun coming down from the mountains. Isn't that nice?

Alexander von Humboldt would normally ask a question about the Shoshone, but his toes hurt. He may well get frostbite.

How come it's not called Eedahow? asks Sweezus.

Don't be ridiculous, says Pauline. Anyone for a frozen sandwich?

Me, says Arthur.

Here, says Pauline. Watch out for your teeth.

Hope my camera works up here, says Pauline. Last mountain I climbed was Borah Peak back in Eedahow. Ha ha. Eedahow. See what I did there?

Didn't  your camera work? asks Paco.

Yes, as I was just saying, says Pauline. No it didn't.

The air is very thin, says Paco. Be quiet, save your energy. You are saying stupid things.

You sound like my Cedric, says Pauline. Not that he ever climbed anything.

Alexander von Humboldt's thin soles are sending up sharp freezing icicles of pain.

He dances about on the spot. Achieving numbness.

Everyone must pause, they are all roped together

They resume plodding upwards.

This had better be worth it.

I only got up to Chickenout Ridge, on Borah, says Pauline. This time I'm determined.

You're doing very well, says Paco, flashing his torch in her face. When we get to the top, perhaps Time will speak to you, as it spoke to Simón Bolívar.

It will be good if that happens.

.....

Time passes. On his way up.

After countless slow footsteps in boots and red waterproof trousers, after ice pickings with ice picks and cramping with crampons, we are within sight of the summit.

Time awaits us.

An old man, furrowed brow, hunched, bald, wrinkled, holding a paper.

Do you stupidly suppose that your actions have value in my eyes? says Time.

Suck On This Dead Husband

Awake! says Paco. It's eleven. Time to get moving.

Pauline is already awake.

Suck on this, Cedric (dead husband).

Sweezus too is awake.

Arthur isn't. Nor is Alexander von Humboldt.

Awake! says Paco, again.

Nuh, says Arthur. Where am I?

Boots on! says Pauline.

Alexander von Humboldt emerges from a cold dream.

Minutes later they are at the small lake where Paco ropes them together.

......

Alexander von Humboldt is a good talker.

So is Pauline.

But the air is thin and getting thinner.

After reaching this point, says Alexander von Humboldt, I saw the world differently.

Like Bólivar, says Pauline.

Not like Bólivar, says Alexander von Humboldt. He saw Chimborazo in terms of politics. For the first time, I saw the earth as one living organism, in which all is connected.

Like us, says Arthur.

Ha ha! laughs Paco. Yes, with ropes! Were you and your companions connected, Alexander?

No, says Alexander von Humboldt. It was each man for himself, in that sense.

They trudge upwards, through darkness and snow banks, passing various rocks.

Paco's torch flashes unhelpfully.

Ouch! says Alexander von Humboldt. No, it's nothing. Don't mind me.

What is it? asks Paco. If you have an injury, you must say.

No I don't have an injury, says Alexander von Humboldt.

He thinks of his jottings, to take his mind off his bothersome toe.

Jottings: Observed species at various altitudes. 1. Bamboo forests, orchids. 2. Palms. 3. Conifers, oaks, alders. 4. Alpine plants and lichens.  5. Ice and snow.

Yes, he still has an excellent memory

Trudge, trudge, flash, blur.

The water in my water bottle's frozen, says Pauline.

That happens.You just have to deal with it, says Paco.

How grim this is. Shall we go back to the bottom?

.........

Near the bus stop where Simon, Lydia, Tilly, Buzz and Gaius are camping under the stars.

Saint Roley is sleeping the sleep of the satiated, snoring.

Princess Pacchu is watching him sleep.

His belly moves up and down in a regular movement.

Every so often a shudder passes horizontally, ruffling his feathers.

Three times this happens.

Probably gas. She smiles fondly.

She thinks about why she is here.

Invaluable, Gaius called her. She knew the landscape.

What use is that now?

She looks across at the three froggy siblings.

The two new ones look like they are praying.

Gastro looks cross.

So passeth the night, at the bottom.

Notable Exceptions

Inside the reheatable plastic container.

I'll get you up to speed, says Gastro. My name is Gastro. I was so-named by Arthur.

We know Arthur, says his frog sibling. We owe our lives to him.

All hail Arthur, says the other frog sibling.

I think you have the wrong idea about Arthur, says Gastro. As I heard it, he threw you away.

NO! cry the frog siblings.

They will not believe it.

Buzz has now reached the second bus stop where the others are camping.

Did you find them ? asks Simon.

Yes, says Buzz. It was easy.

Let's see them, says Lydia.

Buzz whips off the lid of the reheatable plastic container.

Gastro hops out, confident.

The frog siblings linger.

Yes, says Simon. They are siblings. And they all seem to have been modified by the excess dose of pool salt. I wonder if we should abort the mission. What do you think Gaius?

What would that entail? asks Gaius. They are already re-located.

True, says Simon. But is there any point in monitoring their progress? I mean really? It's the normal Riobamban tree frogs that we're trying to save, not these guys. All their fellow tadpoles died. It's bad odds.

Do we get a say? asks Gastro.

Sorry no, says Simon. This is eco-science. Tight budget. Where would you like us to leave you?

With Arthur, says one of the frog siblings.

He's gone up Chimborazo, says Tilly.

We know, says the other frog sibling.

Two of your fellow frogs died up there already, says Gaius. I suggest you wait here until he comes back down, tomorrow.

So it's over, says Buzz. Does that mean we can climb Chimborazo?

I suppose so, says Simon. You, Tilly and Lydia can go up in the morning. I'll head back to Riobamba and see if we can hook up with the guys in Imbabura. Meanwhile, we'll sleep here tonight.

.......

Night.

Gastro and his siblings try to sleep in the plastic container.

It's hard. They hear rumbling.

Is it Chimborazo awakening?

No, it's the belly of Saint Roley, who is sleeping nearby.

The siblings remember that they have a bone to pick with Saint Roley.

Gastro, wake up! We believe Saint Roley has eaten our three tadpole brothers.

Why wait till NOW to mention it? asks Gastro.

We forgot, says one of the siblings. But now we remember. Listen to his belly.

It's not proof, says Gastro. And in any case Saint Roley believes that we are all brothers. He would never eat anything living.

(He does not know that there have been one or two notable exceptions).

Metaphysical Matters

Did you spot any tadpoles? asks Gaius, when Saint Roley comes back.

Better than that, says Saint Roley. Two live marsupial tree frogs.

What? says Simon. I don't believe it!

Believe it, says Saint Roley. I left them at the bus stop. I assumed we'd be returning to Riobamba this evening.

Was that the plan? asks Gaius.

No it wasn't, says Lydia. We were going to camp here.

To what end? asks Saint Roley. You have lost all your tadpoles.

We have Gastro, says Lydia.

Bad luck, says Saint Roley I had that when I ate the encebollado.

Princess Pacchu giggles.

Gastro looks up. He has been listening.

What's so funny?

Nothing, says Gaius. Did you hear the good news? Saint Roley has discovered two of your siblings in a stream near the bus stop.

This bus stop? asks Gastro.

No, The Chimborazo entrance bus stop, says Tilly. Someone should go back and collect them.

I'll go, says Buzz.

Take a container, says Simon.

Take mine, says Gastro. In fact, I'll come with you.

Good plan, says Gaius.  If they are reluctant, you can persuade them.

Buzz sets off with Gastro, towards the bus stop.

Gastro in the reheatable plastic container, with the lid off.

I thought I was the only one, says Gastro. How should I greet them?

I'll do the talking, says Buzz.

It is getting quite dark now, as we know, because it is dusk further up.

Should've brought a torch, mutters Buzz.

Surely your phone has one, says Gastro.

Sometimes frogs can surprise us, and in a good way.

Good thinking! says Buzz.

He walks briskly, torch on, playing an emoji quiz game, wasting his battery.

Ten minutes later, he reaches the stream.

The two frogs are waiting, in a bad mood.

About time, says one.

About time, says the other.

We have a complaint to make, says the one.

About the disappearance of certain tadpoles, says the other.

Buzz had been going to do the talking but he had not expected complaints from the rescued.

Gastro pops his head up.

Da-dah! says Gastro.

Perhaps not the best introduction.

And you are? says the one frog.

Your BROTHER! So you see there is nothing at all to complain about, says Gastro.

Overly cheerful.

The two frogs say nothing. They examine his features.

Okay, says the first. Perhaps you are our brother. Take us to Arthur.

You're not going to Arthur, says Buzz. You're going to Simon.

Before they can protest he grabs them both by their mid regions, safely securing their legs to prevent them from kicking.

He drops them into Gastro's reheatable plastic container with Gastro and presses the lid on.

It's a tight squeeze inside.

Not ideal conditions for discussing metaphysical matters.

Poking At Fire

Arthur has gone back to the refuge.

Alexander von Humboldt has hovered outside.

Piqued by the idea of Pauline, who is in there.

Pauline comes out to find him.

Come in, says Pauline. Arthur told me your name. You are mentioned in Bólivar's poem. You must have some stories.

I do have some stories, says Humboldt. No one cares for them now. It's all Bólivar, Bólivar.

We have a fire, says Pauline. And I have some dried out sandwiches. Sardine or cheese and pickle.

He is tempted. He likes cheese and pickle.

Soon he eating cheese and pickle, in front of Paco's small fire.

Paco doesn't mind. As long as he pays him.

Look at all of you, says Humboldt. With your thick boots and waterproof trousers.

Sweezus looks at Humboldt's shoes, which are thin.

We borrowed them, says Sweezus. If that makes you feel better.

Not at all, says Humboldt. It's how we dressed at the time.

Yeah but like, what time was that? asks Sweezus.

Eighteen hundred and two, says Paco. He climbed Chimborazo to one thousand metres from the summit. A record.

Cool, says Sweezus. How come you didn't get there?

My companions and I were faced with a chasm, says Humboldt. Also the air was quite thin. I made copious notes however.

You remembered a pencil, says Arthur. Good for you.

I don't recall the pencil, says Humboldt. Strange, because I have an excellent memory. I can remember the shape of a leaf I saw thirty years ago. Or the exact shade of blue in the sky.

How wonderful, says Pauline. To have such a memory for the blue of the sky.

I should be modest and explain that I had a cyanometer, says Humboldt.

Do you still have it? asks Pauline. Would you like another sandwich?

No, they are an old technology, no longer fresh, like your otherwise excellent sandwiches, says Humboldt.

Pauline appreciates this sort of compliment. With its sting.

The fire is dying. Rest before the climb, says Paco.

I should be going, says Humboldt.

You can come with us if you pay, says Paco. I have extra ropes stored here. Do you have money?

Having abandoned my life of privilege says Humboldt, I am a relatively poor man.

Too bad, says Paco.

But an hour with me is like having lived several years, says Humboldt.

That's true, says Paco. So are you coming?

Come! says Pauline. I'll put up the money.

Thank you, dear lady, says Humboldt.

Paco pokes at the fire.

This sort of thing often happens.

Don't Count The Bus Stop

The two frogs eye Saint Roley suspiciously.

Science?

Yes, science, says Saint Roley. Do you know how you got here?

We were born here, says one frog.

Correction, says Saint Roley. You were dropped in the stream, as dead tadpoles.

The frogs goggle at one another.

I know it seems far fetched, says Saint Roley.

Dropped maybe, says one frog, but dead, no.

Obviously, says Saint Roley.

Then why should we believe you? asks the other.

I shall begin again, asks Saint Roley. You are the results of a scientific experiment.

Frankly, says one frog, we don't care. It seems nice here. There are one or two live tadpoles in the water. The temperature is balmy, and best of all there is little or no development, if you don't count the bus stop.

You seem to know a great deal for a newly formed frog, says Saint Roley.

We both do, says the other. But not much about science.

That's why I'm here, says Saint Roley. My colleagues down the road have lost all their tadpoles, and have sent me here on the off chance that you may have survived in this location.

How did they know we were here? asks one frog.

Yes, how? asks the other.

Arthur dropped you into the stream thinking you were no longer viable, says Saint Roley. Then he went up Chimborazo.

This Chimborazo? asks one frog.

This one, says Saint Roley. As far as I know there is no other.

The frogs are awestruck.

Hail Arthur, says one frog.

Hail Arthur, says the other.

This is how cults start.

.......

Sweezus, Paco, Pauline and Arthur have reached the second refuge known as the Whymper.

It is dusk. There is snow on the ground.

Just beyond here is a small lake, says Paco. Without a guide, no one can go further.

They enter the refuge.

Paco shows them the sleeping arrangements.

I'll light a fire, says Paco. Then you must rest until eleven.

Arthur doesn't want to rest until eleven.

He goes out to look for the lake.

The summit of Chimborazo pokes up behind rocks.

A Prussian appears, in black clothing.

This is as far as I got, says the Prussian.

Better luck next time, says Arthur.

There will not be a next time, says the Prussian. I am Alexander von Humboldt. Bólivar followed in my footsteps.

Enveloped in the cloak of Iris, says Arthur.

That was Bólivar! says Alexander von Humboldt.

Come back to the refuge says Arthur. You should meet Pauline. She's into Bólivar.

But Humboldt refuses.