Apart from that, the 'camp' is not much more than a few sticks barely tied together, forming a skeleton of a house. No walls, no roof, no floor. (The houses here are made on poles, with high floors to keep unwelcome creatures out. For flooring they use the bark of a tree). But, I'm not panicking!

We are welcomed by an older man, his wife and two toddlers. They paddled here this morning from their hunting camp, to prepare the place for our arrival. They brought a canoe full of ripe bananas and pumpkins for us, and on the fire sits a big pot of lunch!

After the fish with taro meal we go to work. A few of the White Croc boys that we picked up at the village go into the bush to get some bark for the floor. In the meantime Gucci and I tie the floor supporting sticks together with rope made from cane, while Bryan and Joe span the tarp over the roof. Our little hut is taking shape! Now we need some furniture. I enthusiastically begin to build a table, but Joe can't bear my clumsiness. He kindly asks if he can help me, then gently subsitutes my fragile piece of art with a solid table.

Well, after all this construction work I feel I could do with a refreshing swim. But... what about all these crocs? "Oh, dont worry," says Joe, "They are only small ones. There used to be big ones here in the lake, but not any more." They were all transformed into purses and boots....