by Di Morrissey
‘See, Hannah had the right idea. Watching the sunset and counting one’s blessings. It’s a Bay tradition,’ said Eddie. ‘How about a sunset walk and a quiet drink? Maybe dinner?’
Tina gave him a luminous smile and he felt a shiver go through his body. Did he read more in her eyes?
‘Sounds lovely.’ She studied him for a moment, then returned her attention to the paperwork on her desk.
Two days after her distressing trip to Sydney, Holly took Curly down to the beach very early in the morning. It was just on sunrise, but she had been awake for some time. Her mind was in a whirl of confused thoughts about the rift with her husband, and she hoped a dawn walk might clear her head. Mitchell was picking her up at eleven to set off to Hervey Bay. Mac had agreed to stay at Richmond House and look after Curly and Romany, and be there for the delivery of linen and china Holly had ordered.
Sunlight etched the outline of the clouds low on the sea with hot rose gold. In a few minutes the sun would burst above the horizon and the day would be on its way. But for the moment all was still and dreamy. Curly yawned and sniffed the sand; she might be slow but she was thorough. Holly laughed to herself as the dog stopped to sniff around a spot of grassed dune. Another dog had been this way and left its mark and Holly was convinced Curly was interpreting the smell to determine its breed, size, sex and age.
Suddenly Curly looked up, ears alert, and her tail began to wag as she scanned the beach and gave a small bark. Holly looked around and saw Romany in the distance, startling seagulls and dancing into the pink waves. Mitch was standing on the sand close to the water, going through his morning ritual of tai chi.
In slow fluid movements he went through a series of graceful, balancing poses. Arms outstretched, his deep concentration was evident all the way to his fingertips as he turned his palms upwards then drew them to him. It was extremely personal. Holly felt like she was spying on him, and her physical response to his lean and agile body surprised her. She quietly called Curly and turned and walked back through the dunes, the puzzled dog reluctantly following.
As she made her way home, Holly couldn’t help comparing what she knew of Mitchell’s life with her own and Andrew’s. Mitch had walked away from a successful advertising career, and his wife and son apparently had accepted the dramatic turnaround. It seemed he was determined to embrace values that gave more meaning to life than those he had seen worshipped in the boardrooms, agencies and trendy restaurants around the city. Several times over coffee breaks at Richmond House he had remarked on how utterly stupid it was to worship the ‘god of greed’. The remark usually followed references to the latest news story of a corporate crisis or the exposure of dubious moral standards of some, if not all, of the key executives. For Holly these remarks helped her to articulate her own searching for something new.
‘I think many people are searching for those good old-fashioned values that guided our parents, and their parents,’ she’d once remarked, but felt uncomfortable about trying to elaborate.
Mitch had laughed when she said it. ‘Hey, welcome to the club.’
She wanted him to keep the conversation going, but he finished off his coffee and went back to work.
His wife Veronica, who had been an art director in the same ad agency in Sydney, was quiet and intense. Since moving to The Bay she had become increasingly absorbed in creating pottery and ceramic figurines. Holly had met her a few times, most recently at an exhibition of local craft work in the Community Centre. Veronica had stunned her by remarking out of the blue, ‘Mitch tells me he’s trying to talk you into communing with whales.’
‘Yes, absurd isn’t it, but I’m intrigued with the idea. He’s so enthusiastic about whale watching that I’m tempted to do it.’
‘It’s his annual escape from the world,’ Veronica added without any hint of criticism. ‘We all need to escape from time to time. Something to do with having our own space, you know what I mean?’
‘Yes, I think I do. That’s partly why I’m here and not in Sydney.’
‘Well then, are you going?’
‘Going where?’
‘Whale watching with him.’
Holly was taken aback with the relaxed way in which Veronica endorsed the idea of her and Mitch driving off together to spend a week whale watching. It convinced her, though, that she should go, and she felt no embarrassment whatsoever.
It was sunset when Mitch and Holly arrived at Hervey Bay, three hundred kilometres north of Brisbane. It had been a pleasant six-hour drive. They walked to the Urangan Boat Harbour where the sleek, purpose-built eighteen-metre catamaran Oceania was moored.
The Franklins greeted Mitchell warmly and he introduced Holly to the tall, white-bearded, gentle-eyed Wally and his petite, energetic and enthusiastic partner, Trish.
‘Good to see you back, Mitch. How’s your year been?’ asked Trish in her soft English accent.
‘So far it’s been a very good year,’ he said and winked at Holly.
‘Some of the others on the trip are having dinner ashore. Seven o’clock at the Oriental Palace on the Esplanade,’ Trish said. ‘We have four high-school students from The Bay with us this year. Our youth program is becoming very popular.’ She explained to Holly, ‘Engaging the hearts and minds of young people around the world is one of the more rewarding aspects of this work.’
‘While you’re with us you can hear as much as you like about the work of the Oceania Project on cetacean research, or just enjoy the whale and dolphin experience,’ said Wally.
‘Sounds lovely.’ Then a sudden thought struck Holly. ‘I hope I don’t get seasick.’
‘It’s one of the first things you have to get used to on board – the constant movement,’ Wally said. ‘But you soon tune in to the rhythm of the sea.’ He and Trish exchanged a glance. ‘You might find you adapt to nature in a whole new way. And we have plenty of remedies in case you do feel squeamish, but the waters are very tranquil. That’s why the whales like it here.’
Trish showed her to the cabin she’d be sharing with three others and how to flush the ‘head’. Holly threw her bag on a top bunk and grabbed her jacket and handbag. She looked in at the saloon, marvelling at how spacious yet compact everything was. The fascination with discovering even the fundamentals of small boat living, added to the unknown pleasures ahead, made Holly wonder why she had never taken advantage of living on Sydney Harbour and made an effort to get some experience on yachts. She’d hated the dinner and cocktail cruises Andrew had organised for clients, but this was different.
She joined Mitch up on deck and they decided to stroll through the township, which was built around the harbour where many pleasure craft were moored.
Mitchell paused at a selection of postcards on a stand outside a bookshop. ‘Look at all these whale photos. Did you bring a camera?’
Holly nodded. ‘Although if a whale comes as close as this I’ll probably drop the camera overboard with excitement.’
Mitchell merely smiled.
They decided to eat by themselves as they’d be in close quarters with the others for the next week. Over their noodles and beer Holly asked, ‘Why do you do this every year? If you have one great experience one year, the next mightn’t be so good and then you’re disappointed.’
‘It’s hard to explain. You’ll find out. Many people come back again and again, from all over the world. Wally and Trish have been doing this for twelve years. They know how to make it memorable and their research for the Oceania Project is fascinating, and valuable.’
‘What’s involved in the project? Obviously it helps save the whales.’ Holly had only recently begun to get an inkling of how important the whales and dolphins were to the culture of The Bay. Using dolphins and whales as a logo for products and businesses was one thing, but she was beginning to learn from Mac and others that they had a deep significance for people who lived along the coast.
‘Essentially it’s a non-profit education and research organisation dedicated to saving the whales a
nd dolphins.
It’s also a way to study them, learn about them as individuals, their behaviour and what they can teach us. It works to protect their environment, too.’
‘How did Trish and Wally get involved?’
‘Well, it didn’t come about by chance, but it’s another case of people leaving one life to start another.’
‘Doing what you truly want and believe in,’ said Holly softly, almost to herself.
‘I don’t have any regrets,’ said Mitchell, catching her mood. ‘I could be making a mint in advertising back in Sydney or working on my mad dreams while enjoying life in the open air, using my hands . . . and meeting wonderful people like you.’
It was a light remark, but Holly felt the intensity of his blue eyes burning into her and she didn’t trust herself to speak for a minute. How long had it been since she had felt so special?
Too long, she answered herself. Andrew and the children took her for granted, understandable of course, but it was nice to be appreciated as a warm and intelligent friend. And there was no harm in feeling like this, she decided. Holly raised her glass. ‘Here’s to happy days at sea.’
The following morning they sailed north-east towards the ancient beaches of Fraser Island, the world’s biggest sand island, at the southern end of the Barrier Reef. Wally told them it marked the gateway to the reef for the whales.
Two hours later he navigated the big cat into the southern shallows of the lower reaches of Hervey Bay. ‘We’ll stay in this area of the bay for the next six days, anchoring at night on the sheltered western side of Fraser Island,’ he explained.
It took Holly the first day to adjust to the rhythm of the sea, then she stopped noticing it. There was no television, no radio – other than the communication radio in the wheelhouse – no newspapers, no phones, no contact with the world outside their sheltered waters.
The routine that started on the first day consisted of rising at first light and sitting on the cool deck with a mug of steaming tea to watch the dawn break, eating a huge breakfast, then having a quiet conversation with the four students from Beacon Bay High. They were doing a school project in conjunction with Tina Cook from National Parks. It was part of The Bay’s whale-watch program which Tina had set up at the lighthouse with Wally and Trish. Holly thought how nice it was to have the local kids with them, and they started to discuss what the kids liked about growing up in The Bay.
‘Lifestyle, laid-back lifestyle. That’s what my parents came for when they sold up in the city. I love them for making that decision,’ said one of the boys with a big smile. ‘They don’t want to go back, but I guess I’ll have to get a city job after uni. There won’t be enough work around for all of us. Not everyone will be happy to work in tourism and stuff like that.’
Two of the girls had come to The Bay as toddlers and couldn’t remember any other place. They had more faith in the future offering a greater diversity of jobs in the country, particularly in resort areas, ‘So long as developers don’t spoil everything.’ They were fascinated by Holly’s project and were delighted when she invited them to drop around when they were back home.
The fourth student, a well-tanned boy who was built like a front-row footballer, announced that The Bay was heaven, it had to get bigger and he wanted part of the action. ‘I’m going to get a trade and a ute and lead the good life right there. I can go to the cities for hols, if I want.’ He’d been born in The Bay, his father was a plumber.
The other passengers were Alex and Ivy, an American couple who worked for an international computer conglomerate as research physicists, but their main interest was in quartz crystals. In a private moment with Holly, Mitch said he found Ivy and Alex more New Age spiritualists than scientists. Then there was Tor, a shy, smiling young Norwegian backpacking student.
‘Following the whales, eh?’ Trish asked.
‘If I was I would be on a never-ending journey,’ he said.
Trish was delighted with his response, and the slight accent that emphasised his Scandinavian origin. ‘Yep, that’s right,’ she said, then turned to explain to the school group. ‘We know that all humpbacks follow similar migration patterns, whether in the northern or southern hemispheres. Seasonal timing means that whales in both areas travel north or south in the same months. So they never approach the Equator at the same time. And whales have been following these ancient routes for as long as they’ve been around.’
‘Round the world every year,’ said the plumber’s son, ‘be great if they could score frequent-flyer points.’
His school friends groaned and threatened to throw him overboard.
That evening it was clear and balmy, and Wally suggested that those who wanted to could sleep on deck in canvas hammocks. Mitchell, Holly and Tor agreed and after the others had gone to their bunks they settled into the comfortable slings and lay staring at the night sky.
‘This is so unbelievable to see stars – so many, so close,’ said Tor. ‘Not like my home. I love the sun, hot weather. It will be hard to go home after being in Australia.’
‘How old are you, Tor? Do you have a career?’ asked Holly.
‘I’m twenty-two. I am very interested in marine biology. I want to study the Great Barrier Reef. I’ve applied to James Cook University to do post-grad studies,’ he said shyly.
They talked well into the night, enjoying the rising moon and starry vastness of the sky. They talked about islands, the reef, marine life, and eventually life at The Bay in response to questions from Tor.
‘In backpacker hostels everyone talks about visiting Beacon Bay,’ he said. ‘It has to be one of the most famous places in Australia. I’d heard about it in hostels in Norway long before I started this trip. That started my interest, among other things. You’re lucky to live there.’
They both urged him to stay with them in The Bay when his study schedule allowed him to travel.
The silences in the conversation grew longer and soon it was obvious Tor was sleeping. Holly felt herself drifting, the swaying of the hammock was deeply comforting. But then a faint sensation vibrated in her body, or was it her head? She waited and was soon aware of a low sound that sent shivers through her. She held her breath and listened. A feeling of such peace came to her that she felt like she was enveloped within it. The sounds seemed to come from a long way away, or from deep in the sea. They were unlike anything she had ever heard.
‘It’s the humpbacks singing,’ whispered Mitchell. ‘They’ll be here tomorrow. You’ll see. It will be wonderful.’
She lay listening to the mysterious singing of the great ocean creatures and remembered what Mitch had told her of how the whale songs evolved and changed, adding to their legends and history since the creation of the planet. Their singing went around the globe like a telegraphic message. Mitch had explained that a sound of this intensity emitted within sound-reflecting layers which occurred at certain depths could be heard by the human ear at a distance of well over 25,000 miles – the circumference of the earth. Holly had begun to wonder if it were possible these wise old creatures knew our story too? To Holly at that moment it all seemed possible, that she was a speck in a great universal connection between nature, the whales, dolphins and the universe. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep with a sensation of being protected in some womblike place.
Holly had no idea how long she’d been asleep when her hammock was nudged and Tor’s insistent voice broke into her consciousness. ‘Look. It is so beautiful.’
She sat up and stared at where he was pointing then turned to Mitchell. ‘Mitch, are you awake, look at that!’
‘Yes, isn’t it wonderful. It’s a moonbow. Not uncommon but very special,’ he answered softly.
‘I have never heard of a night rainbow,’ said Tor. ‘The lights of the aurora borealis are beautiful but not like this.’
‘It comes from the light of the moon instead of the sun,’ said Mitchell.
In awe they looked at the pastel-coloured arch that stretched from horizon to h
orizon, until each fell asleep once again having shared a moment of great beauty.
The following morning was one Holly would never forget. The high-school kids spotted the first whale some distance away, and the crew let the Oceania drift. Wally got his video camera and Trish her stills camera to continue her ongoing photo ID research. ‘It’s a young adult judging by that strong blow,’ she said.
‘There’s another!’
‘Look to the port side,’ called Wally to the students who were at the starboard rail. They joined Mitch, Holly and Tor as a shimmering shape rose to the surface. Holly clutched Mitchell’s arm when only fifty metres away a huge humpback broke the surface, slowly, gently, in an arching roll.
As the whale turned, lifting its flukes, Trish called to Wally, ‘It’s Nala!’
Her camera shutter clicked and Mitchell explained, ‘Nala’s an old female that Trish and Wally first saw ten years ago. She’s also been seen in the Ross Sea.’
‘So they know them all by name?’ Holly was entranced by the slow and graceful performance the whale seemed to be putting on especially for them.
‘Oh yes, every whale has individual markings. They know some by damage to their flukes – nips by orca whales – or by the barnacles and colour variations,’ said Mitchell. ‘All the whale-watch organisations share information.’
The whale slowly submerged, and shortly resurfaced on the other side of the Oceania and put on another splendid show.
‘It’s so big, yet it can move with the grace of a ballet dancer,’ exclaimed Holly. ‘It’s fantastic.’
She wished Melanie and Marcus were with her; tears were running down her face and she couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t just the immense size and gentleness, the obvious curiosity and delight the whale seemed to have in being there – for the whale had come to them – but the sense of some knowingness between this great intelligent creature and herself.
The students began to sing. It was a beautiful harmonising song they’d written about the sad saga of whales. The humpback lifted its head and using its long pectorals pushed itself towards the boat.