We walked up out of the river at last and surprised hell out of Jack Temple’s cows which ran bellowing from five sodden humpy backed creatures rising up out of the river.

We didn’t make any great discoveries, but we had been somewhere where perhaps no-one else had ever been and what is more important, spent three days surrounded by perfect beauty and no sign of any other man.

We boiled our last billy and the smoke gently wreathed up into the blue sky as we lay back in the sand. Late that afternoon a ragged and pungent bunch fronted the bar at the Genoa pub and enjoyed the best beer in Australia.