The place where life ends is not so dissimilar to where it began. The broadleaf connifers, their obscene leaves dripping, and the air heavy with a funky organic rot. The peeling trees like snakes shedding skin, to be born fresh, age and shed again. The bready orange fungus a handspan wide. The sursurration of growth, broken occasionally by split branches and the kee-ah cack of birds signaling their territory. It would not have surprised her if they shook out some Devonian creature that had sludged along here undisturbed for centuries.
The morning mist still hung heavy as they picked their way along a path of sorts: sunken logs rough slung in the mud, more marking the course than providing easy passage or protection for human feet. Normally she would be torn between hating that someone has been here before, and relief that someone has emerged alive. Today, though, it was simply a matter of placing one foot in front of the other, making mechanical progress to a destination she was no longer driven to reach. It was just another rock. A large one, admittedly, but most of this area was broken by rocky protrusions which looked the same. He could name them all on sight: Hells Gate wall, the Necropolis, Carouselambra buttress. Try as she might, it was a talent that escaped her. She would climb a route and love it, but a week later the name of the crag escaped her. She told him it was because it was a wild place, old and beautiful, and it should not be reduced to mere words. Yet it bothered her, and she wondered whether his ability to remember meant he loved it more.
Did you see the paper this morning? They’ve decided not to go ahead with the Tillegra Dam.
No.
He stopped, removing his pack and balancing it carefully on a fallen tree so that he could fish out a water bottle. She wondered how he had found the time to buy a paper, let alone read it. He proffered the bottle to her.
Because of the frogs. Drink?
Frogs? Her temples were throbbing. Clearly she was losing stamina, getting old. If only they had been sensible last night; exercised some control since they knew a fair trek awaited them. It had been years since she’d drunk to the point of black out, and she had forgotten the pain of the next morning.
I’m right thanks.
You sure you’re o.k? You looked pretty seedy this morning.
I’m fine. Just focussing on keeping my stomach on the inside. We better get a move on if we’re going to get up this thing today.
He replaced the bottle and neatly zipped up the top of his pack.
Last night was fun. And I don’t just mean, well, you know.
She wasn’t sure that she did know. The earlier part of the day she could recall with perfect clarity, but as it progressed there were blank spaces; connections between time and place broken. Like photographs that might have been memories, or memories of photos, or a juddering film reel. She could not recall how she had moved from one scene to another, and some of what she thought she remembered she hoped had been spliced in as a joke.
She had driven down from the city the previous afternoon, making a journey she had been promising for months. They used to come out together quite often, but she hadn’t been down since he bought the house. Back when they were both living in the city and desperate for an escape, it had been easy to just pack up the car and disappear for the weekend. Easy and necessary. Working life might be drudgery, but everything felt right with the world once she was coasting along the broad river flats, smoky blue hills in sight. The city had its attractions, but after a while the need for open places took over. Places where you could wander for miles without seeing a soul.
They had both talked about making the move. ‘Making the tree change’, he joked, adopting the peculiar up-market stryne of the Melbourne private school set. But she had thought it was only a pipe dream, as real as their plans to kayak across Bass Straight and summit K2, alpine style. Yet Andrew had found the guts to do it, leaving behind a six-figure salary and a slick city apartment that had come complete with chic girlfriend. She had admired his courage. She contemplated severing ties with the city, but it drew her back. Without him there to remind her, life fell into a comfortable pattern. The weekends quickly filled with essential activities. Cocktails with the girls. A short course in mosaics. German lessons that might come in useful one day. And of course Ben. Always Ben. Now she wasn’t sure whether Andrew had been gutsy, or if he was just running away.
Denver the border collie had barrelled down the driveway to greet her, tongue flopping enthusiastically. Andrew wasn’t far behind, wearing a remarkably similar expression. He had grown his hair since they last met. It was swept back in a ponytail, beginning to dreadlock. He wore purple hemp pants and sandals.
She wound down the car window and shouted.
My god. You’re a dirty climbing bum.
He grinned. She had brought a bottle of wine with her, handing it to him even as she got out of the car.
Greetings old boy. Here, I bought you something. To say thanks for having me.
Let it never be said that she took his hospitality for granted, she thought. Payment in advance, so they can’t take their pound of flesh later.
You’re always welcome here. Leeuwin Estate. That’s a nice drop.
Actually, I stole it. It was a present from one of Ben’s grateful clients.
So I get Ben’s leftover wine, eh?
She rolled her eyes and bent down to pat Denver. This charade had been going on for years, and she refused to acknowledge it. Charades are only fun while you’re still guessing.
Come on. Let me show you around. I hope you don’t mind a genuine outdoor dunny. Comes complete with redbacks.
The place was more or less as he had described it, but more ramshackle than what she had pictured. Every few days he sent her an email about what handyman task he had mastered in his quest to resurrect the rundown cottage. She didn’t always have the time or energy to read them, but from those that she did read, she learnt that he’d replaced the decking and put in a new vegie patch so that eventually he could be almost self-sufficient. He was waiting on a quote for solar panels. The internal wiring needed replacing, but he was nervous about tackling that. Once he started opening up walls he might discover bigger problems lurking. After all, the place was so old that he had found a box of newspaper clippings from 1890 when he clambered into the roof. Aside from domestic chores, he wrote to her about a couple of other climbers living locally who were showing him the lesser known crags. He had started taking pictures again, with long evenings spent waiting for the perfect conditions. At the wrong time of day the camera seemed to compress everything, making the crags look scrubby and unimpressive. As the sun set, though, a melancholy light stripped away the leafy cerement, leaving bare the bones of the land. He had sent her some of his photos, and they were good.
***
That evening they went to the Criterion for a beer and a few rounds of pool, although not being particularly good at it, it wasn’t a game that she enjoyed. Andrew trounced her each time. He lined up the shots methodically, calculating the angles of rebound with precision. Perhaps it was a skill he retained from his former life as an engineer. Or perhaps he had been practising. He grew increasingly cocky, waiving the cue around with flourish.
Eat your heart out, Walter Lindrum. Ah am da king!
Really?
Yep. Ah am da king, and tomorrow, oh loyal subject, I will lead you through the wilderness and up what promises to be a truly stellar route.
Da king is a bit Mozart, yes?
Da king is just happy. I feel a new man. Best move of my life. And it’s good to see you.
She called a stop after three games, having been comprehensively beaten. They retired to a quiet corner of the front bar. It was a Wednesday night and it wasn’t busy. The only other woman in the room was working behind the bar. A weather beaten group in workman’s boots propped nearby, and a pair of young farmers had seized the pool table as soon as it became free. An elderly man sat at the table by the door, nursing a near empty pint.
She bought another round.
Here you go, old boy.
Thanks. You know they’re all looking at you? Every bloke in here would give his right arm to be me right now.
She looked about her. He was at least right about their being watched.
Well we are in the country. They’re probably just surprised to see a woman. Or maybe they’re wondering what a dirty hippy is doing in their pub.
As she turned back, he lunged forwards clumsily. Too close. Instinctively she recoiled, throwing up her left arm defensively.
What the hell are you doing?
I love you.
Ah, you just love me for my beer.
No. I love you.
Four years of friendship and they were finally here. She would have given anything to bolt out of the room. Instead, she started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. Something twisted and tore at her gut and all she could do was laugh. Her eyes streamed with tears. She couldn’t stop, and couldn’t say why. He shook his head and studied the pattern on the carpet. Once she had regained control over her body, she gulped down the near full pot.
Man, you’re such a joker.
He said nothing. With the glass empty, there was no prop to hide behind.
C’mon. Buck up. Another round of pool? We can head home. Or what about a drink? You still haven’t told me much about tomorrow’s climb. Your mate thought it was about a 24, yeah? I’m pretty rusty.
Yeah, well there’s an easy solution to that.
That move had cost him. She knew that. A little Dutch courage, a lot of real courage. Of course she loved him in a way. They had been friends for years. He could have taken her right kidney if he wanted it. But she could not explain that to him. In all their talks about coming here to live together, they had never stated that it would be as a couple, but the implication was there. She had strung him along, and until now she had enjoyed it. In her already tipsy state it occurred to her that if she was drunk enough, she might briefly be able to make good on her promise. As though some physical act might assuage the guilt. So she bought a bourbon. And then another. And another.
At some point they must have left the pub, although when and how she could not recall. She did remember standing in a paddock staring up into space. Beneath a skyful of stars, the world was infinite and without walls, still full of places to explore. At home the night sky was only ever lit by the orange glow of the city. She inhaled deeply, trying to breathe in something of this vastness. Then somehow she was dancing on the porch with Denver, while Andrew watched from the doorway. Looking at photos he’d taken of her two years ago at Joshua Tree. Andrew spilling a glass of red; sitting close on the couch. Locking the toilet door and balling up on the floor in tears, feeling as though she’d lost a limb.
The phone had woken her early. It was Ben. In the background she could hear rushing traffic noise. He would have been on his way to the office, but already working, whittling down a hefty to-do list. She could picture him standing on the tram, besuited, speaking into his mobile headset.
How’s all that climbing business going?
Yeah, good. We didn’t climb yesterday. Just sorted out a bit of gear. I think there’s something hellish planned for today though.
You don’t sound well.
I’m fine.
I managed to get us an appointment tomorrow night after work at the ANZ. So make sure you’re back before 5. I rang the agent and he said they’d already had a few offers on the Kerford Road place. The auction’s next weekend It’d be good to know soon. Just in case.
No problem.
Oh, Tony and Mel have asked us to dinner on Sunday.
Ok.
I said you’d make dessert.
O.k.
Don’t let him talk you into doing anything too stupid, rock monkey.
***
As she walked, she counted off the things that she had lost.
They had trudged silently for over an hour when it came into view. Despite its size, it was little wonder the cliff had remained undiscovered for so long. The surrounding forest was dense, and the face mossy, dappled vivid green and soft grey. A stunted blackwood sprouted from a ledge part-way up. All was still at the base of the cliff, but the eucalypts scattered across the summit swayed, white sun flashing between their blue leaves.
Looks like Mike’s led us up the proverbial with this one.
Andrew passed her a torn envelope. On the back was a rough sketch of the cliff, with a blue line snaking up the left hand side, skirting around another marked ‘ledge with tree’ and up through a cross-hatched patch labelled ‘roof – no pro’. She stood at the base and looked up. From the left corner she could make out a clean, moss free line that followed a white quartzite streak around the blackwood and then up into a steeply overhanging bulge.
It makes sense to me.
I can see where it goes. But if I come off at that roof, I’m going to deck. There’s no way to protect the fall.
But apart from that? It’s not so bad.
You want me to break an ankle? I notice you’re not volunteering to lead it, baby. That roof looks nails.
He sat down on his pack, watching her stare up at the face.
It really was dangerous. Above the lip of the roof there looked to be a pocket in which she could get some traction, but it was a long way out and her arms would be fatigued by the time she reached it. Andrew was right. Given the long trek back to civilization, a fall here would be disastrous.
But what did it matter now? Ben would wheedle from her all of the fragmented recollections of last night, and from them construct a monstrous version of events in which she played the siren. It would be the end of it all. No more lazy Saturday mornings reading the paper in bed while he made coffee. They would never buy that house, which now seemed a much more appealing option than it had a week ago. The nameless children dreamt but not conceived. Three: a boy, a girl and the third to be a surprise, although secretly she wanted all boys. She wished she was pregnant already.
C’mon babe. Let’s have a bite of lunch then head home.
Right. I’ll do it.
If she must play the siren, there was no need to be earthbound. He looked at her doubtfully, then shrugged and started to flake out the rope. While she waited she studied the first moves. She dragged her hands across the rock until they found some traction, a starting point from which she could haul her body to higher ground; to sunlight and the summit, beyond which was a gently sloping hillside starred with everlasting daisies.
- K Scarlett.
