Chapter Eight

 February to March 2003

I arrive in Airlie Beach. The done thing here is to spend three days on a boat exploring the Whitsundays. After my sickness in 1770 I don't think I will manage three days. I book a day trip and cross my fingers.

   I book the trip that includes ancient aboriginal cave paintings but when I turn up they tell me that trip has been cancelled and I will have to go on the other trip. They make a concession that we will see some cave paintings.

   'These paintings won't be like any aboriginal cave paintings you've seen before,' the man says.

   I nod and try not to look like someone who has never seen any cave paintings before and has no idea what they're usually like.

   I feel queasy on the boat but it's bigger than the one in 1770. I stare at the horizon and manage not to be sick.

   We put on wet suits to snorkel, to protect us from jellyfish. The one they give me flaps around my body.  I want to lose myself in the forests of coral and the flocks of bright fish. I see a box jellyfish, its translucent body and long tendrils trailing after it. Perhaps I am as flimsy and poisonous as it is. 

   We see the cave paintings, red images daubed on the rock. I wonder how they have lasted so long.

   The sand on Whitehaven Beach is white, made up from shells, we are told. I run it through my hands, thinking of the millions of sea creatures who must have lived and died to make this pure landscape.

   Back in Airlie Beach a woman in my dorm laments that you can't stay on any of the islands.

   'Oh, yeah, they should put a resort there,' says another. Perhaps she sees my mouth twitch, my eyes widen, because she quickly adds,'but then that would ruin the islands wouldn't it?'

The bus takes me to Townsville. I find the name amusing, named because it's a town that is a town? But I discover it's named after someone called Towns.

   The owner of the hostel is motherly. She tells me if I'm going to climb up Castle Hill I must tell her, I must take water and I must not go during the hottest part of the day. She would be very cross if she found I hadn't taken any of those precautions. I nod demurely like a chastened school child.

   I get the boat to Magnetic Island. I feel ill, but manage it again by staring at the horizon. I walk into a forest and after a few minutes think I should have seen koalas by now. I look up and see one chewing eucalyptus above me. Now I see them everywhere.

   Back in Townsville I climb Castle Hill. Everywhere feels dry and hot. There is something about this place, this town that feels lost. Or maybe it's me that's lost.

I am back on the bus. We stop in a place where there seems to be nothing but the hostel. I go for a walk to try and find something, anything. I sit under a tree. There are large ants scuttling around, not as large as the ants in my grandmother's garden in Northern Cyprus, but bigger than British ants. I wonder if a hot climate makes ants grow. They start to crawl up my leg. I brush them off and stand up. 

   A car slows down and a man calls out that it's too hot to be walking, I should get in the car.

   'No thank you.' I shake my head, thinking of Sydney. He drives away. I walk back to the hostel, afraid I might see his car stopped, waiting for me. There is no one else around.

   I spend the rest of the day in the pool at the hostel.

   The bus takes us to a crocodile farm. We see crocodiles behind fences. In a building we are able to hold a baby crocodile. I feel sorry for it, its mouth taped up to stop it snapping at us. I know how it feels. I sit on a table away from the others. The bus driver comes over and smiles at me. 

    'Did you hold the crocodile?' he says.

   I nod.

   We stop at a place where people can bungee jump. I don't want to. The idea of falling with only elastic keeping you from the ground is terrifying. I wait on the viewing platform. A man finishes his jump and air guitars. Wanker, I think.

   Then we are in Cairns.

Chapter Nine