Chris Borough is what I call “intrepid”. A wiry bloke, grey-bearded now, he has taken his family to the wildest places in this country and a few others. He and Robyn tell stomach-dropping stories of their times living in the New Guinea highlands, and of taking their children landrovering all over the Top End in the seventies. So when Chris suggested we drive in convoy with him on “a bit of a 4WD track” we felt like toddlers on the high wire. Never really done this before, Chris, we said. But there would be “no problemo” he assured us. So, the Granville Harbour to Pieman River track it was. David learned a lot that drive. How to negotiate across a shallow river. How to drive in sand. 
Ho
w to get through a bog. How to walk the vehicle over ancient rocky outcrops. Rover the landrover growled and lapped it all up. I was made for this, it seemed to be saying. I swear Rover had a smile on his grille at the end, as well as a proper coating of dust. And the things we saw: black swans on the lagoons, sculptures of rock and paintings of lichen, wild seas and wind-twisted branches; crayfish and abalone in the back tray of a ute, just caught by a couple of blokes on leave from the mines.
Plus their little foxies, as happy as dogs can get. Scampering over the razor rocks, plopping in and out of the shore pools, rolling in the smelliest kelp available. 
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