Coasts of Cape York (20 page)

Marjorie went pale and glanced around again. “Do they hurt?” she asked.

Roger chuckled but Peter cut in to say, “Not a bit. They spit some sort of anesthetic on your skin so you don't feel them bite. It contains an anti-coagulant too, so the blood flows more freely.”

“Are they poisonous?” Marjorie asked.

Peter shook his head. “No. They just fill up with blood and drop off. In the old days doctors used to put them on patients to draw blood out of them.”

“Yerk!” Marjorie cried in disgust.

“The ticks and mites are the real danger,” Peter went on. “Some ticks are really poisonous and can even kill you; and there are mites that bite you and can give you scrub typhus and that can be fatal.”

Willy felt quite uneasy on hearing this and noted his friends looking anxiously around. He said, “How do we stop getting bitten?”

“You should have put mite/tick repellent on,” Peter answered. “My fault, I should have checked you had some. We had better do it now.”

He swung off his webbing and dug in the back pack to extract a small grey plastic bottle. After unscrewing the lid he squirted a small amount of liquid into the palm of his hand. Rubbing both hands together he smeared the liquid on the tops of his boots and around the bottom of his trouser, which were tucked into the tops of the boots. “You only need a thin smear,” he explained. “If you can see splotches on the cloth then you have put on too much. You must not get it on the more sensitive parts of you skin. It burns if you do.”

“That's right,” Stephen added. “Don't use the repellent and then go and have a pee. You don't want it on your ‘willy' Willy.”

Willy was both concerned and embarrassed. Carmen was not amused. “Don't talk like that please Stephen,” she reproved.

“Sorry, just giving fair warning,” Stephen replied.

“The army repellent melts plastic too, so make sure there is none left on your hands before you touch a compass, or the face of your watch,” Graham added.

“Or the lenses of your glasses,” Stephen said.

“Or in your mouth,” Roger said. “It burns your lips and tongue, and it tastes horrible. And keep it away from your eyes.”

Andrew let out a short laugh and said, “Are you trying to put us off?”

“Just making sure you know what you are letting yourself in for,” Peter replied.

Ten minutes were spent applying mite/tick repellent before the journey was resumed. When it did Roger led the way, secateurs in hand, while Peter followed. He had secateurs as well but also held a compass. That surprised Willy who thought they just had to walk uphill but it also reassured him. ‘Pete knows what he is doing, and is careful,' he told himself.

The course Peter chose led them away from the creekline. As they angled slowly up the slope, dodging around clumps of wait-a-while, they got further and further from the creek until Willy could not longer hear the water gushing down over the stones.

It was all a lot harder than he had expected. At almost every step they got caught up by something: a vine which hooked their equipment; or a tree root which tripped them, or a rock or tree they had to detour around. There was wait-a-while everywhere and it was so thick in places that Peter and Roger did not try to detour but slowly snipped a path through it, with much muttering and under-the-breath swearing as they did.

Even when a path was cut there were always tendrils they missed and these snagged those behind, causing cries of dismay and pain. It was slow going and also very hot. Perspiration trickled and soaked clothing so that shirts clung to them. It was quickly apparent to Willy that Marjorie was not enjoying herself and was sure she wished she had not come. For himself there was no way he was going to admit it was hard, not with the army cadets there to note any weakness on the part of the air cadets and navy cadets!

‘I'm not going to give them any ammunition for later put-downs,' Willy resolved.

For the next hour they struggled up the ridge. At 11:45 they came to a panting, sweating halt on a small ledge. Marjorie wiped her face and groaned, then said, “Are we nearly there yet?”

For an answer Peter laughed. “Not even a third of the way up I reckon,” he said.

Hearing that dismayed Willy but he tried not to show it. In an attempt to check whether what Peter had said was correct he looked around, attempting to get a view out through the thick vegetation. But everywhere he looked was a tangle of growing things: leaves, vines, ferns and trees. There wasn't a single gap large enough to allow him a glimpse of any of the farmland he knew was out there.

Until then he had never really appreciated that what he had been told about the jungle being a claustrophobic environment was true. Now he knew it was. He shook his head. “The vegetation is too dense,” he commented.

“We are the ones who are dense,” Andrew replied, wiping his face with his sleeve.

Willy looked at Marjorie to check how she was coping. He saw that she looked tired and unhappy. Her hair was a rat's nest and her clothes torn and dirty. She had scratches on her arms and .. and.. ‘What is that?' Willy wondered.

He pointed to Marjorie's arm. “Marjorie, what's that?”

Marjorie looked, then used her other hand to touch the black object the size of her finger that was on her upper arm. Suddenly her eyes went wide and she began to shriek in fright and jump up and down. “Eeek! Eeek! Oh, take it off! Take it off! Get it off me!”

Willy now saw that it was a leech. Her frantic efforts scraped the thing off but left a smear of blood and a very clear wound from which more blood trickled. Marjorie continued to cry out while Stephen sneered and said, “Bloody hell! It's only a bloody leech, not the end of the world!”

Willy stepped across and put his arms around her. After a minute or so she calmed down and snuggled into his embrace. “It's alright,” he said soothingly, ignoring the looks on the faces of the army cadets.

Suddenly Marjorie jerked back and began to shriek again, her eyes wide with alarm. “Oh! Oooh, lookout! Oh, there's one on you too!”

She pointed to Willy's neck, her face a mask of horror. Willy put his hand up and felt a slimy thing. Amid a mild attack of panic he scraped at it, ignoring Peter and Graham who cried not to pull it off. The leech came loose and he flicked it away, shuddering with disgust at the feel of it. Then he saw the blood all over his fingers and was amazed.

Worse was to come. Marjorie pulled out her handkerchief and pressed it to the bite and then wiped at it. Willy was astonished at how much blood there seemed to be, although none of the army cadets seemed to be impressed.

“It's only a little bite,” Graham said. “You won't die.”

They all now checked themselves for leeches, and all found at least one or two. Most were thin and small, only a millimeter or two in thickness and a centimetre or so long but a couple had gorged themselves and were slick, fat slugs which Willy found repulsive. There were more shrieks and cries of horror and disgust. Trouser legs were pulled up and a dozen at least were plucked from around the tops of socks and one even from the inside of Andrew's thigh.

Stephen laughed. “You don't want them any higher up,” he joked.

Carmen wasn't amused. “Don't be disgusting Stephen!” she snapped.

“Just trying to warn you,” Stephen replied.

To Willy's annoyance the army cadets seemed to have hardly any on them and only one or two in the top of their boots. He began to really appreciate why they always tucked the legs of their trousers into the tops of their boots, or secured the bottoms of the trousers to the boots by elastic ties. They all took the opportunity to apply more repellent and Willy noted that Graham even smeared it around his collar and seams and around the brim of his hat.

That done they found rocks or tree roots to sit on and settled to eat their lunch. While they did Willy kept glancing down to try to spot more leeches before they could get on him. He spotted one moving with its head-tail-head-tail movement onto Marjorie's shoe. “Look out!” he said, pointing.

Marjorie again almost had hysterics. She hit at it and tried to flick it off. Laughing, Graham reached down and plucked it off with his fingers, then rolled it in a ball and flicked it away. “You can't squash them,” he explained. “You can try to mash them but only repellent, fire or salt kills them.”

“And that is supposed to be an agonizing death for the poor little things,” Peter added.

“Poor little things! What about poor little me,” Carmen retorted.

That caused a burst of laughter and morale began to pick up. That pleased Willy because he had been starting to wonder if any aircraft wreck was worth this much effort. Still wondering if they would find anything he munched away at the sandwiches his mother had provided him with.

Then it began to rain.

As the heavy drops dripped from the leaves Willy was amazed at how cold they felt. He took out his raincoat and pulled it on, as did Marjorie, Stick and the three navy cadets. Not so the four army cadets. They laughed the idea to scorn. “It's summer, in the tropics,” Peter said.

Roger nodded. “In the steaming tropical jungle,” he added with a grin.

Graham laughed. “The raincoat will make you twice as wet. You will sweat like pigs in it. Better to just let the rain cool you.”

Willy wasn't amused and did his raincoat up. “I don't think I am enjoying my day in the rainforest,' he thought. He even began to wonder if they shouldn't turn back. Then he got all stubborn. ‘I'm not going to give the army cadets the satisfaction of seeing me give up,' he vowed. So he was the first to stand up and say, “Well, come on. Let's go and find this plane wreck.”

As before Roger led, followed by Peter. The route was still up the ridge and as they struggled slowly up this became an ever narrower spur with steep slopes on either side. There were stretches with no wait-a-while but they were few and the narrowness of the spur meant they had to cut a path.

After ten minutes of sweating and panting as he hauled himself up from tree to tree Willy had to admit that wearing the raincoat was like being in a sauna but not for anything would he take it off until the rain stopped. Then he casually unbuttoned it and at a convenient stop peeled it off and stuffed it back in his pack. The others did likewise and Willy was sure they felt just as relieved as he did.

But they were obviously progressing. Several times Willy got glimpses back through the canopy of open fields and even of a distant farm house. That allowed him to judge their height. A view upwards that showed a ridge top almost at the same level cheered him even more. With experience they all began to find it easier, if not more enjoyable. They even dealt with the leeches more effectively.

Another heavy shower of rain swept across, the rain drops hammering on the leaves so loudly they had to almost shout to make themselves heard. This time Willy left his raincoat off. ‘I'm soaked from sweat anyway,' he rationalized.

To his relief none of the others made any comment and only Tina put hers on again. The upward slog was resumed. 1:00 pm came and went, then 2:00 pm. By then Peter announced them to be more than two thirds of the way to the top.

Graham looked up the slope. “I was hoping we would have been at the top by now,” he grumbled.

Stephen took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief he had kept dry in a plastic bag. “We would have been if it was just us,” he said.

The implication that it was the air cadets and navy cadets that had slowed them down annoyed Willy but before he could reply Carmen snapped angrily, “I hope you aren't suggesting it was because we are girls that we took so long?”

Stephen did not reply but gave a lopsided grin. This annoyed Carmen even more. “I don't know why you even came,” she said. She looked hot and annoyed.

“Neither do I,” Graham replied. He looked at his watch and said, “Time we started back anyway Steve.”

“Well, goodbye then!” Carmen cried.

“I hope you regret it when we find the plane wreck,” Stick added.

Graham looked embarrassed but Stephen scowled. The pair muttered goodbye and turned to make their way back down the mountain. Marjorie then made things worse by calling after them, “And you'd better work out which girl it is you like or you will both end up with none!”

Stephen's response was to shake his head but Graham just hunched his shoulders and hurried on down the slope. Within seconds they were both lost to sight and before a minute had elapsed Willy could no longer hear them either. For a few moments the friends looked at each other as though unsure what to do or say. Peter ended this by taking control. “Come on Roger, get up that hill,” he said.

Roger nodded and started up the slope. The others followed. As they did another heavy shower of rain swept across the valley and then deluged the mountain. Willy heard it coming, the rain falling so hard on the tree canopy that it was a roar.

“I hope their party gets washed out,” Marjorie said.

Carmen shook her head. “Don't say that. It is a party for all the people at the mill. It will disappoint all the little kids if it is wet.”

Andrew mopped sweat from his face. “I wouldn't want to be dressed as Santa Claus in this weather,” he added.

“My word no!” Stick agreed. “It is certainly tropical.”

For half an hour the rain poured down but it did not seem to cool them much. Peter kept them moving and that kept them hot and sweaty. By then Willy agreed with the army cadets: a raincoat would just make it even worse. ‘At least this way the sweat gets rinsed out of my shirt,' he mused.

After the rain came the sun. The clouds went away as though a giant had rolled them up and the afternoon sun struck down with tropical force. So hot did it become that the jungle did begin to ‘steam'. Through gaps in the trees Willy saw wisps of condensing cloud drifting upwards from the damp jungle. Perversely he realized he was thirsty. After another big drink he noted that he had now emptied the two water bottles on his belt.