Kijana (10 page)

As I mulled over what to do, Mika yelled out: ‘I think I can hear something'. It was hard to hear anything above the motor, wind and waves. I strained to hear if Mika was right. She was!

‘Get up the ladder and try to see her,' I ordered. Josh and Beau were also peering into the dark behind us.

‘Yeah, it's her,' Mika yelled.

‘Is she motoring?'

‘I can't see,' she answered, but by that stage I could hear the unmistakable sound of an outboard motor. I couldn't believe it.

She came into view and I could see her struggling as the dinghy she was towing tugged violently with each passing wave.

‘Well done!' I thought. She finally got to
Kijana
and coolly handed the dinghy lines to Beau.

‘We got off, you might have noticed,' I said casually.

She had a beaming smile. ‘Yeah, I guessed that.'

I had no idea how she managed to start the motor in those conditions, but she deserved the highest praise. She was so proud that she'd actually pulled it off. In fact, we all were.

We were all safe, the boat was safe and everything was almost back to normal. Except for the keel. Who knew what damage had been done. There was water in the bilge, but not enough to indicate whether we'd split a plank and were in danger of sinking. But the kind of crunching and shuddering we'd been through could not have been good. We urgently needed to know what damage we were faced with and how much it would cost to fix.

We motored through the dark for an hour before anchoring on the protected side of a small island. The wind was much stronger by then so Josh stayed up to make sure we weren't dragging. The rest of us went to bed, exhausted from the evening's ordeal. If it was adventure we were after, we'd just been served a big fat slice of it.

The following morning, Beau, Josh and I got the underwater camera and snorkel gear and plunged over the side to inspect the damage. The lead along the bottom of the keel had been gouged and scraped, but it was nothing that couldn't be fixed at the next major port. There was no obvious damage to the hull, which was another miracle. I remembered how many times I'd cringed as the boat came off a wave and slammed onto the reef. I knew she was a sturdy vessel, but she'd proven herself well beyond my expectations.

We got out of the water and had something to eat in the cockpit. The sun was beginning to peek through the clouds and everyone began to recount the previous night's events. Beau told how he was so full of adrenaline from talking on the radio that when he realised we were off the reef and the panic was over he felt as if he'd been out at an all-night rave.

Josh told Nicolette we had been praying for her. I glanced at Mika but didn't say anything. Holding her hand and praying out loud had been an experience we shared but would probably never talk about. Still, it was a special moment, and whatever we'd said together it had worked.

After breakfast we weighed anchor and continued on to Lizard Island.

Lizard Island is a complete contradiction. It is uninhabited and virtually untouched for much of the island, but tucked away in one small bay is one of the most exclusive five-star resorts in the world. Few Australians have heard of this small patch of paradise that caters to the world's biggest celebrities. The rumour sweeping the resort when we arrived was that film stars Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston were due in a couple of months. It's the sort of place that offers private beaches and the best in fine dining and service.

After we arrived, alas not at the resort but anchored in a nearby bay, Josh compiled an audio grab from the footage he had shot the previous night. We emailed the file to the office as soon as possible so school kids and the public could hear about our near disaster. But the office didn't want to release it. They argued that we should keep the good stuff for the documentary at the end of the trip. Plus, they were also concerned about the impact on current and potential sponsors if we showed how close we had come to going belly-up.

I understood the reasons, but nevertheless it cheapened what I had always felt was the very point of the journey. Also, it was annoying, considering how Josh had risked plenty to film what had happened so we could show those following us the most interesting parts of the journey. We ended up writing an update for the web, which sorely lacked the impact of the audio and our moment of drama passed by unnoticed.

The office then delivered a bolt from the blue. For a long time we'd been trying to get American interest in our journey. And our efforts had paid off beyond our wildest dreams.
The Late Show with
David Letterman
, America's highest rating variety show, wanted me to be a guest on the show. It meant I had to leave the boat and fly to the United States for a week. It seemed a bit strange to leave the trip for the sake of publicity, but it was an opportunity we couldn't afford to pass up. We desperately needed money to pay for our expenses and we were certain we could clinch the book deal with the American publisher if they saw we could attract that sort of publicity.

As a bonus, I would have to fly to Melbourne for a night before flying on to New York, which meant I could spend time with Maya. The bad news was that the airstrip on Lizard Island was the only one for miles. With my appearance on the show not due for another two weeks, it meant
Kijana
would have to stay anchored at the island for a further few weeks – just as we were getting some momentum.

The effect this delay had on us was devastating. The disharmony among the crew soon returned. Somehow there seemed to be an association between being held back from getting on with the adventure and the guys' unhappiness with the girls. Maybe it was frustration at having to wait around.

We got to know some of the younger resort employees, and began to frequent the Marlin Bar, the watering hole for Lizard Island employees. These evenings were the only times the crew spent much time together, and even then we struggled to get on. For example, when it came time to head ashore, Beau, Josh and I would find ourselves sitting in the dinghy having already shaved, put on some clean shorts and sprayed on some Calvin Klein aftershave. As we waited, small waves would splash over the side of the dinghy, wetting us as every minute passed, while we waited for the girls to appear. Five minutes of this, with our shorts soaking wet, and our patience was worn out. One of us would be forced to jump back on board to investigate the delay and hurry the girls along. Josh, the diplomat, was best at this. He'd politely remind them that they could tidy their cabin during any number of spare hours we had during the day.

It was the same story during the day. Any spur-of-the-moment idea we had to liven up those weeks was rejected by the girls. It was as though they didn't want any adventure.

The two weeks felt like two months. Finally, it came time for me to leave for the United States. It was such bad timing. I knew the crew needed to keep moving, but instead they would end up staying at Lizard Island for a month.

I arrived in Melbourne late at night and was over the moon to see Maya waiting at the airport to greet me. It was such a bizarre feeling standing in a modern airport. My hair was salt-encrusted and I felt so dirty. I hugged her for a long time, then we drove back to her house and talked late into the night.

I was up early the next morning, had a warm shower and left for the office. I felt like such a cheat. I was meant to be on the adventure of a lifetime and here I was back in Melbourne. I met the team at the office for a quick chat about the publicity, before our publicist Flip, who was accompanying me, and I left for the airport for the 20-hour flight to New York.

On the plane I studied my surroundings. Everywhere was plastic – plastic walls, plastic doors, plastic seats, plastic wrapping. It felt cleaner than the brown wooden walls of
Kijana
but it also felt too uniform and perfect. There was no charm, no character. I knew how I'd rather make my way around the world.

I was served a small portion of fish squashed up against steamed eggplant. It seemed impossible to think that the fish I was eating had once been swimming in the same water that
Kijana
's bow had been pushing through. I knew it was fish, but something about it was unfamiliar and didn't feel right.

It was dark when we arrived in New York and after 20 hours in the air I was totally spaced out. The cab drove at lightning speed in and out of the traffic. I was mesmerised by so much concrete and swerving highways. It made the place look like a futuristic city. The cab felt like a prop in a movie and there was steam pouring out of the sewers, like something from the
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
. It was weird!

Since
The Late Show
had invited me over, other American media had become interested in our story, so the first three days were spent doing interviews. Flip and I dashed all over the city, catching cabs from one place to the next, then back to the hotel for another phone interview. We visited the Letterman studio with one of the producers to get a feel for what it was like before the actual night. From a publicity point of view it was a great catch to get on the show, but they were mainly interested in my solo trip on
Lionheart
. It was my mission to give Kijana a plug and try to turn the interview to discussing the current trip.

Despite the excitement, a few things were getting me down, besides the jet lag. Since seeing Maya in Melbourne I had become convinced that she should join Kijana. I got angry as I thought about it. Nicolette and Mika were clearly not working out, and I now knew Maya wanted to come. The issue of our reef collision was also eating away at me. There I was, on the verge of our greatest publicity opportunity, and I wasn't able to talk about the one incident that encapsulated the adventure and team spirit of Kijana. I felt like a bit of a fraud, as if I was hiding something.

The day of the show, 21 May, arrived. The producer took me through the questions Letterman was going to ask. I got the sense this wasn't for my benefit but because he wanted to hear my answers to make sure they were OK. I must have passed the test, for he made me promise I would give the same responses on the show. I said sure, I'd try.

Flip and I sat in the waiting room an hour and a half before a woman called me to the studio because I was due to go on. It was freezing and I was getting jittery at the thought of going on live TV in front of such a big audience. It was all up to me. I could make or break the success of Kijana in the United States, not only by the words I uttered, but by how I said them and how I acted. If I was too keen to push my point, I'd stuff it up. But if I failed to mention Kijana, then a lot of effort had been wasted.

The commercial break finished and Letterman started to introduce me. I walked out to applause and we started to chat. It went well. He made a lot of jokes, mainly about sailing solo around the world at such a young age. He showed some footage from my documentary, and we talked until the next commercial break. At the end I managed to get a few words in about Kijana. It wasn't much, but they got on air. The cameras stopped rolling and Letterman checked his sheet for what was up next. A sound guy removed my microphone and showed me back out. And that was it – a month's standstill in the trip for a few minutes on TV.

On my final night in New York I received an email from Josh.

Jesse

Just found out you're not back 'til Wednesday. What the fuck?

I miss my Martin and Lizard Island is starting to kill me. Supplies
came in – only a little mix-up has it that we are right for Weet-
Bix and precious little else.

Jesse, when you're here I can block out the other problems and
just enjoy us hanging out. Without you this journey of five friends
turns to shit. Pretty apt Kijana is in a language I don't understand
because this ‘Journey of young people' crap is beyond me.

The girls have edited a bullshit problems segment that is
beautifully done to make them look like angels and us like heartless
pricks. If only I'd filmed more of them, but how can you capture
annoying questions, the times we worked at port and they shopped
or the moments when the weather turns bad and we're the only
ones left on deck?

Whatever happened to being on Jesse's next trip? Fuck, the
media understand it, if only the crew could catch on. When did it
turn from Jesse asking me on this trip to – ‘I deserve to be here'?

They were asked on this journey. Get into it or leave and let
someone else enjoy it.

Hope you don't feel the same. Hope when you return you'll
smile and I'll forget this feeling. Somehow you being here makes
me feel it'll all be OK. I miss you not being on the boat. Email me
time of arrival back at Lizard so I can meet you at the airport and count down the hours 'til we leave this island. Sorry for burdening
you with my crap. I just want this to be the dream we talked about
in your apartment. The dream in the last page of your book about
five friends sailing the world. I love that page. I miss that dream.

Josh

Josh didn't need to be sorry. It felt good to know he felt the same. I desperately wanted to get that dream back as well. My fear of being bossy and controlling paled in comparison to the fear of doing nothing and watching the dream disappear. I had to return and take back my dream. I needed to show some leadership, if not for myself then for Josh and Beau and the young people who were following our journey for the
adventure
part of our dream.

CHAPTER FIVE
HUNTING

WE RETURNED TO MELBOURNE, WHERE I
spent one last night with Maya. Lying in her bed was the only place where I could forget about everything. Her soft voice reassured me that everything was going to be OK. She was so gentle that all I had to do was watch her and be in love. She never swore, even when she got cross at her dogs and told them off in an angry tone. Her voice gave the impression she was trying to be angry but she didn't have an ounce of anger in her. She was so much more pure than I would ever be.