monitoring the airport departures information, Dink and Kylie fervently sipped their drinks. Conversation was not forthcoming. Eventually, the screen indicated that Qatar Airways flight 87 to Dubai was due to board. They hastily gathered their hand luggage, left the café, and headed for the gate. Senses ablaze, they shuffled forwards with adrenaline pumping. The efficient staff scanned their passes without fuss, and Dink and Kylie walked onto the plane. Free as birds! A quick on-schedule take-off was a blessed relief. Relieved, they kissed fleetingly and settled comfortably into their seats.
“What a couple of days!” Kylie exclaimed.
Dink apologised for having put her through this ordeal. He thanked her for her love and support . “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” They both teared up. As a couple, it had been an overwhelmingly emotional experience, between arranging the move secretly, and also having to quickly and surreptitiously say farewell to their friends.
“As long as you know that you’re a complete dickhead!”
Dink mimicked a wriggling index finger coming out of his forehead, his feeble attempt at sign language. “No argument there.” Despite the stress, they managed a strangled laugh.
Life was already moving on.
Chapter 7: Marlon
January 24th, 2010
They decided to walk to the south of the island to have a look around. Kylie reminded Dink that Ajay had recommended going to Shipwreck Beach. Finishing a leisurely morning meal, they would set off later. With the red coconut tree in the yard producing abundant offerings, Dink had taken to the habit of drinking coconut water each morning. Combined with vegemite toast he reckoned it was the breakfast of champions. It helped that he was required to use a machete to open the coconut himself, adroitly chopping the cap off the husk with several precise lusty blows. What could possibly go wrong, he thought.
Kylie sung out to him, “I’ll grab a sarong we can use as a towel, the sunscreen, and some nibbles. Can you sort out the water?”
Dink filled up his backpack with several bottles of water so they could spend as long as they wanted out and about. The hot, humid weather and sparse water sources made carrying ample fluids essential. And, after only a few days on La Bajan, they hadn’t yet acclimatised to the challenging conditions. “It gets dark by six, so we’ll make sure we’re back before then.” They had been invited to Ajay’s parents’ place for dinner tonight.
“The sunsets are too good to miss.” Kylie passed him the rolled-up sarong to put into the backpack.
“And the sundowners too!” Dink mocked raising his glass as for the cocktail hour.
Dink and Kylie were seasoned campaigners who walked several hours each day wherever they were in the world, so this planning was routine. They busied themselves to their own tasks and were soon ready to go. Not being early risers, it was now late morning. The sun was heating the island towards an early afternoon crescendo.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the beaches,” Kylie chirped as they set off.
“Me too. Everything seems to be a bit of an adventure in this joint.”
Predictably, Kylie started at a good pace. Dink had named her the ‘fastest walking human’. She would often have to slow down so he could keep up. That was no disgrace. Back in Sydney, others knew her rapid pace and daily route and had dubbed her ‘Forrest Gump’. And, many years ago, at the start of a Breast Cancer charity walk, Kylie had inadvertently matched motors for a kilometre or so with Kerry Saxby-Junna, a Commonwealth Games Gold Medallist in race walking. Only when Kylie relented to fall back and chat with Dink and her friends did she discover this. Surprised, she commented honestly, “I did tell her that she was a pretty good walker!”
They headed inland and, despite the trees that overhung the road, were aware of the twin mountain peaks that dominated the island to the east and south. Dink had studied the basic tourist map and appreciated that they had to pass between these mountains to reach Shipwreck Beach. Birds sang sporadically as they proceeded, and the occasional bat screeched high overhead in the tall fig trees. These impressive trees branched to form the highest canopy in the forest, and the native bats loved the sweet pulpy fruit.
“Look at that long-tailed bird!” Dink pointed excitedly above the road ahead as a stark white bird with a long thin tail streaked across the blue sky. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Why would you,” Kylie mocked and, giving her best David Attenborough impersonation, said, “The rare La Bajan paradise bird was once thought extinct. However, through patient research, we now know they thrive in the dense wooded forests of the mountain slopes.”
Dink laughed sarcastically as Kylie marched onwards but, as ever, he was impressed by her sharp wit.
As they neared a T-junction, Dink instructed, “We turn right up here and head south.”
Kylie swung right and he followed a few paces behind. Accelerating to catch up to her, they marched with equal strides. Mont Centrale loomed to their left and they could see a cluster of small houses cut into the forested lower slopes of the mountain. Ahead of them was the rocky volcanic peak of Mont Sur, which was even more impressive. “Yeah, baby,” Dink cried out, known for his personal appreciation of a good mountain.
“Shame about the tower. Kind of spoils the natural effect,” Kylie responded, noting the red and white communications tower rising from the summit like a rocket thrusting into space.
“Still, that is something. I wonder if you can hike to the top.”
“Climb, maybe. It looks pretty steep. Anyway, good luck with that.”
“We’ll see,” Dink said, mainly to have the last word on a topic he knew more about than his wife. His subconscious mind was already working to develop that plan to fruition.
The peak of Mont Sur was higher in altitude than Mont Centrale by about fifty metres, but it looked much more grand with its pointed peak contrasting to the rounded dome of the lower mountain. Dink was reminded of Australia’s highest mountain, Mount Kosciuszko, which was originally marked as Mount Townsend on some Victorian state maps. After it was repeatedly observed that the unimpressive flat-domed summit was, in fact, higher than the jagged peak of the neighbouring mountain, the error was corrected by transposing the names of the mountains. Whether this was due to the classic picture-book image of a peaked mountain summit complicating reality, the result of parallax error, or just a basic surveying inaccuracy was lost to time. But Dink loved that story.
Rookie error, he thought to himself. Always suspect a fuck-up before a conspiracy.
Progressing, they passed another few basic dwellings, and then a larger road entered at a right angle and appeared to head straight back to the western coast.
“This is so lovely and quaint,” Kylie remarked happily. “What a great walking route.”
“Superb, isn’t it. Not many people around either.”
“None, so far.”
It dawned on them that they had been walking for ten minutes and had not seen a soul. Maybe the locals avoided the heat of the day.
“Do they have an afternoon siesta here?” Kylie continued to scan around for signs of life.
“Not sure. Probably.”
The road began to climb steadily uphill. The pass between the two flanking mountains became obvious as they walked beneath the shadowing peaks. It was a gradual incline, but the heat and humidity meant they were sweating vigorously with the effort. At the pass, a small grey concrete substation was evident, likely connecting communications to the mountain tower. Beyond this the road sloped gently downhill, and up ahead they sighted two young women stopped on their bicycles by the side of the road. They looked like tourists. Europeans. Blonde, thin, and pale. A shirtless young local man was talking to them. He moved back a step and then launched into a precise