Suddenly, it's there. The builders used corrugated iron to reproduce some of the spirit of the old hut.

Inside is a Bible, lying on the floor beneath a seat. I pick it up, and my mind travels to a night in a cheap Singapore hotel in my late twenties. I am lying in bed at night, about 10.30 or 11pm, and a distinct clicking sound can be heard. What is more it is getting closer. Across the lino floor is walking some huge beetle, about 75mm or more long, and the noise I can hear is the sound of its feet on the lino. I instinctively distrust foreign insects, and I cast about for something I can use for a weapon to defend myself. Nothing.

Then I recall that in the top drawer of every hotel room in the western world is a Gideon Bible. Yes, praise the Lord, it's there. Splat. No more clicking.

Not even a sandfly to practice on. I unpack my lunch and thermos, and put my feet up for a bit. Three and a bit hours uphill is a goodly effort.

Eventually, my sandwiches settled and the fruit cake completely gone, I head back, taking time out for another close look at a gentian beside the track. Behind and in front there is a Blechnum procerum.

Here is a plant that has me puzzled, so far. It has the shape and leaf formation of a hebe, but the leaves and flowers seem slightly furry. And I've never seen a hebe flower like this.

Here's a very handsome flax.

A narrow leaved clematis makes its way up a frail shrubby stem.

Down the valley it's looking a little misty and I find myself taking a somewhat larger breath than usual as I look out across the ridges, and something like a lump in my throat makes itself apparent. This is beautiful countryside and I don't quite know what to say about it, even to myself.

As we get closer to home I spot a small orchid in flower on a rotting log beside the track. How did I miss that on the way up?

The van is about twenty minutes away along the broad highway that is the Loop track. There is a cold beer in the fridge. Including a leisurely lunch, fatman time is about seven hours return.