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He found nothing suspicious. I heard him call out once or twice but I could 
not hear what he was saying. By and by he came down from above me. Apparently 
he had worked all the way around the ridge, up and over. We hauled up the 
rope and headed back up the ridge. I went back and got my backpack and 
joined him at the top of the ridge. We went down to a lower level and sat on 
a pinnacle as dusk closed in. Soon after we settled a short-eared owl flipped 
over us. We heard one flicker like call down from us, and reasoned it was 
a Barcourt's Storm Petrel (King 1964). But very else was heard, only 
occasional squeals and calls which probably were Harcourt ' s but may have 
been some land bird. Off to the left, towards the lookout. We heard three 
; \ 
odd calls which seeraed to be moving and undoubtedly’ were Harcourts. They 
were sneezing barks or squeaks and often not too unlike dark-ruHiped petrels. 
We finally decided the hell with this noise and headed on up. No Newell * s 
i 
and no more than l/2 dozen Harcourts at the most. We had serious questions 
of King’s numbers. We collected plants as we Scrambled up the ridge and 
hooted and called cheerfully as we worked our way back along the rim. We 
/ 
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pressed the plants then drove up on route 55 looking for the restaurant for 
which there was a sign back at the lookout. We drove on and on and never 
found it as we came to KfLalaw Viewpoint at the end. We past a radar 
Installation just before the end. On the way down I ate a cold supper (my 
first substantial meal of the day of beef stew and peas and carrots). We 
drove right on down to the ocean. I tried to sleep outside for a while but 
gave up as I was being eaten alive, I finally sacked out in the car, 
* 
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although outside was beautifuls full moon, black sand beach, pounding surf, 
and palm trees behind me. 
