Adam’s Ale then a descent beer.

The West End Pub on Thevenard was tended by a gentleman who has spent 40 years lounging on the west coast of Aussie but is now back home where the family can “sort me out”. We had walked past numerous closed premises including one Greek, art nouveau style corner shop. The beer rolled coolly down our throats as he told us of the once thriving, largely Greek, fishing community, complete with its Greek Café culture that used to enliven the area. “But the government changed all that and their way of life and skills brought from their Greek island homes all died.” I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, maybe the development of the new port made it difficult for the fishing industry to use the area.

Three guys were busy betting on horses, dogs and traps while we were there and said “Gday” as we passed back out into the stultifying heat. The walk back past the pretty gardens of the few remaining residents seemed much faster than our outward journey and we detoured onto the beach, paddling our way through warm water on soft sand.

Local aboriginal children were jumping off the jetty, some waved as we motored by. The uninhibited younger generation was happy to make verbal and eye contact with us, more so than the generally reserved elders. Matthew Flinders found the same. If an intentional attempt was made by him or his men to communicate with the first Australians they would vanish, but if they completely ignored the natives then eventually curiosity would overcome them and that is how he learned to make the initial contact.