Kijana (11 page)

For the first time we talked about her joining
Kijana
. She admitted she would be keen, but wasn't sure whether I wanted her aboard. I reassured her there would be no opposition from me.

I arrived back at Lizard Island at the end of May. The crew was happy to see me, because my arrival meant
Kijana
could finally set sail. The light plane touched down at midday and we weighed anchor that afternoon.

We sailed through the night and it felt so good to be back on the boat. We paid special attention to the surrounding reefs, keeping as far away from them as possible. I felt relaxed back on the boat. Despite all the crap that had gone down, I really felt I was home when I set foot on
Kijana
. But if it were truly my home, Maya would be on board. My desire to have her join me had grown stronger since I had seen her again. And Josh's email had convinced me we needed a crew change, for things just weren't working out. The divide between the guys and the girls had grown even bigger.

Expelling Mika and Nicolette would be complicated. The journey had grown into something much bigger than a group of friends sailing around the world. It had become a corporate thing, with many people having a vested interest in the trip, not least the sponsors and investors. My actions not only affected myself and the crew, but a long list of other people. The study kits distributed to schools, for instance, were already printed with crew names on them. Book contracts were being negotiated and TV pitches were circulating.

My preferred option was for the girls to leave of their own accord. I wasn't sure if this was going to happen, for I'd wanted them to leave in Cairns. To test their resolve, and to get my mind back on track, I decided to stop letting the girls affect me. I would focus on the adventures and if the girls fell behind or didn't want to become involved, then that was their bad luck.

The girls had the rear cabin to themselves, so they could talk freely to each other, but the boys had no such area, which made things difficult. So I decided us guys should have some time away on our own. After dropping anchor at Forbes Island, where we had decided to stop for a few days until Josh recovered from a nasty accident involving his hand and one of the spinning generator blades, I quietly suggested to Josh and Beau that we head ashore to camp for a night – just us guys.

‘The girls will crack it,' was Josh's immediate response.

‘I know. But if we want to go and have time to ourselves, then why shouldn't we?' The decision was unanimous to leave when the girls got back from the island, so we quickly got ready to load the dinghy when they arrived.

Nicolette questioned us first. ‘Why do you want to go camping?'

‘'Cos we're bored.' Josh casually replied. Well, he was telling the truth.

As a parting gesture, Beau offered the girls some dip and crackers he'd just made, then we loaded the dinghy and waved a polite goodbye. We motored to a nearby island, relishing our newfound freedom.

We put our blankets and mosquito nets under a tree, then went exploring. The island was as beautiful as Lizard Island, but it felt much wilder. We ate oysters and clambered to the top of a hill where we saw crashing waves on the windy side of the island. It felt like paradise.

Back at camp we cooked dinner over the fire and felt free to make rude jokes without having to look over our shoulders. Then we played our favourite songs on the guitar late into the night.

The next morning I woke to find the fire was still smouldering. I was covered in sandfly bites and the smoke had infiltrated every part of our bodies and sleeping gear. Needless to say, I felt pretty ordinary as I blew a combination of sand and snot from my nose. It made us appreciate our nice clean boat more than ever.

Before heading back to
Kijana
, we vowed to remember that night forever. I even convinced the others to join hands and raise them in memory of the night.

Then we motored back to the boat anticipating a frosty reception. It never came. Instead, the girls were eager to tell us how much fun they'd had in our absence, staying up until 4 a.m. talking and having a grand old time.

We set sail almost immediately, bound for Cape York, the northernmost tip of mainland Australia. From the cape would be a three- to four-day crossing of the Gulf of Carpentaria to the town of Nhulunbuy on the Gove Peninsula, in Arnhem Land. This was the traditional land of the Yolngu people, where we hoped to spend a week living with the locals.

After two days of good winds we found ourselves one day away from Cape York. Josh woke early, as he usually did, to find
Kijana
sailing along with no one at the helm. Although the sun had risen, Nicolette, who had been rostered on the final shift, was slumped behind the wheel fast asleep. Josh told no one else but me and, despite the obvious danger of the mishap, I was perversely pleased. It was evidence too good to be true, made even stronger by the fact that Josh had pressed record on the camera when he found her.

We rounded Cape York and arrived at a river simply known as Number Two River. We'd passed Number One River and further down the coast was, naturally enough, Number Three River.

It was a part of the world relatively unexplored by white man and the perfect location to get up close and personal with the notorious saltwater crocodile. We headed ashore, where we found plenty of animal tracks along the riverbank. However, none of us knew what a crocodile track looked like.

‘Everyone try to stay away from the water,' I ordered. ‘This looks like prime crocodile territory.' At least I sounded like I knew what I was talking about.

The water was teeming with critters. Sand crabs ran into the deep water when our long shadows passed over them and shovel-nose rays stopped swimming and tried to blend into the sandy bottom when they sensed us approaching. We grabbed the cast net and fishing lines to see if we could catch some dinner, but the sun was going down, leaving the water too dark and dangerous to hang around.

We decided to call it a day and return the following day to try to catch some fish. As we began walking back to the dinghy I spotted what I thought was a small crocodile hiding in the water under a fallen tree. Everyone stopped. It was definitely a baby crocodile, probably about one metre long and almost totally submerged with just its nose and tail breaking the surface.

I asked Mika for the cast net, then slowly headed for the tree. I'd taken no more than five steps when, in a flick of a tail, it was gone. There was no way I was going to wade into the water to chase it. I didn't fancy meeting its mother.

Nevertheless I was pretty stoked to have come so close to a crocodile in the wild. ‘How cool was that!' I said to no one in particular, as I watched the ripples disappear.

I could tell Nicolette didn't share my excitement by the expression on her face.

‘Why would you want to catch a crocodile anyway?' she asked in a way that suggested I was being childish.

I couldn't handle her. Did I need to explain my every action to her? I was well aware how conservation-oriented she was. We all were concerned about the environment, but obviously in different ways. Netting a small crocodile wasn't going to hurt anyone and I couldn't be bothered skirting around the issue, as I would have previously.

‘So I can wreck the environment as much as possible,' I shot back sarcastically, surprising myself at the outburst. But I was glad I'd returned fire.

She took off in a huff, storming to the dinghy, cursing my answer as she went.

Josh woke me early the following morning. He wanted to go ashore to catch some fish for breakfast. Beau joined us and we started loading the dinghy. We tried to do it quietly but the girls woke up, so all five of us headed ashore in silence. The events of the previous day hung heavily over us. I actually felt sorry for Mika. I knew she would have been happy to catch a crocodile, have a look at it then let it go, but she was pretty much bound by Nicolette's stance.

We motored to shore with our gear, including a rifle, one of two we had on board for safety's sake. I didn't want to kill a crocodile but if it was a choice between its life or one of ours, the decision was fairly obvious. We dragged the dinghy onto the sand and secured the anchor above the tide line. Five minutes later we crossed a ridge and came across a great fishing spot. But before any of us had time to set up our fishing gear, Mika urgently whispered ‘pig'. We ran to where she was standing and looked in the direction she was pointing. A few hundred metres further along the riverbank stood some wild black pigs, feeding on weeds. They hadn't spotted us yet. ‘Pig for lunch,' was the first thought to enter my mind.

Adrenaline began to surge through my body as I picked up the rifle. Josh followed with the camera and we left the others behind. We crossed over to the other side of the ridge, planning to sneak up behind them. I was surprised the pigs hadn't seen us yet. And I was excited at having the chance to actually shoot one for lunch. I had no qualms about knocking off a wild pig. In this part of Australia they are considered the worst vermin, with the Government making many attempts to control and eradicate them.

We crouched down and ran as fast as possible through the scrub. It took five minutes until we got to the spot where we figured we would have to cross the ridge again. If our calculation was out, we risked the pigs spotting us and running away.

I'd never shot a pig before, although the experience somehow felt familiar. It may have been the stories I'd heard about Mum and Dad living in a humpy in the far north Queensland rainforest. Dad would shoot a pig and share the meat with neighbouring families. I couldn't remember ever being with him when he shot a pig, but my mind had created images and false memories of being there by his side. When my parents separated, and Beau and I moved to Melbourne with Mum, I often imagined Dad, rifle in hand, providing meat for the community. As I grew up it was really the only picture I had. Now I felt like him.

My heart was pounding and I could feel it twitching in the veins of my neck. ‘Keep low,' I whispered to Josh as we approached the top of the ridge.

I slowly loaded a bullet into the breach and flicked the safety button off. I raised the butt of the rifle to my shoulder with one eye scouring the scene ahead through the rifle's sights. Josh was behind me, virtually replicating me, his eyes firmly fixed on the viewfinder of the camera. I heard what sounded like snorting and glanced back at Josh, who raised his eyes from the screen to confirm he'd also heard it. It had come from behind a rise in the sand. I knelt down and braced myself. My heart was pounding harder than ever. I knew I could cover both sides of the mound at a moment's notice, so I decided to wait until one of the pigs wandered out. I could clearly hear them snorting and digging no more than 30 metres from where we crouched. A sandfly bit my ankle, but even that wasn't enough to make my concentration waiver.

Suddenly, something black appeared from behind the rise of sand. ‘We're close enough. Let's just look at them,' Josh whispered. There was a hint of fear and desperation in his voice.

A second pig appeared, walking directly behind the first. Everything was dead quiet except for the grunts coming from our target.

At the target range where I learnt to shoot, the heavy calibre ammunition made such a thunderclap it would make me jump. It was the scariest part of shooting. The instructor told me I had to relax. If I anticipated the noise, I would jolt and my aim would be askew. Still, I never got used to the noise. But as I squeezed the trigger this time, I knew I was going to hit my target.

The moment I did all hell broke loose. One of the pigs began squealing and trying to hold itself up. Two more adults sprang out from behind the rise, with half a dozen piglets close behind. A large male boar with tusks ran straight for Josh. I stood my ground thanks to the confidence of a loaded gun but when Josh started running I wondered if I should as well.

Thankfully, the pig changed its mind and detoured into the scrub, followed by the trail of piglets. I moved closer to the wounded animal and fired another shot to complete the exercise. The squealing stopped abruptly.

The echo rang out up and down the river course until all that remained was a high-pitched ring in my ears. The sweet smell of gunsmoke filled the air as Josh and I stared silently at the body.

Suddenly I felt bad. I dragged the body under a tree and covered the blood-stained ground with sand. I was shaking – partly because I couldn't believe my success and partly because I'd just killed a wild animal and stopped its life. The sudden realisation that it could no longer rummage through the bush happily eating roots, started to eat at me.

I inspected its snout and glazed eyes. It looked cute in a funny way, which made me feel sadder. It looked like a mother. Those were probably her babies scampering for cover. I wondered what Dad would have thought.

Beau arrived with a bag slung over his shoulder and a fishing rod in his hand. He punched the air in victory. I was glad to see his smile. I wanted to know I'd done the right thing.

Josh swung the camera around into my face. I didn't know what to say.

‘Are you ready to butcher it?' I asked Beau. He smiled and said he'd cooked pig before, but never cut one up.

Josh stopped recording and lowered the camera. I asked how he felt. ‘Strange,' he said. I didn't pursue it.

‘Let's clean this mess up before the girls get here.'

Beau baked the pig in an underground oven with peeled potatoes and garlic. Mika was keen to see what it tasted like, while Nicolette withheld any comment about the whole event and opted instead to eat the fish we'd caught. As I was not Aboriginal, Josh didn't feel he could classify the meal as a cultural event and break his vow of vegetarianism, so he got off on a technicality.

We left a few days later in brilliant sunshine. The Gulf of Carpentaria lay between Number Two River and Nhulunbuy, a distance of roughly 300 miles. We made good progress through the night and the following day. However, by the second night the wind had picked up and swung to the south-west, causing the waves to approach us from the forward quarter. The wind continued to strengthen, making the ride more and more uncomfortable.