“Do you want to take the walky-talky?”
“Nah, it’s okay,” I replied, stepping into the speedboat bobbing in the middle of the lake. “Just going ‘round the inlet.”
Lachie sat on the dirty white sailboat, his legs dangling into a small storage compartment we called the ‘fox hole’ which had become a makeshift bedroom at this work exchange. I’d swayed through a broken sleep in there last night while he was on night shift. He smiled, looking out over the still water reflecting the blue sky above.
“Up to you,” he said yawning, “good luck.”
The motor revved as I turned the key, steering slowly away from the sailboat, morning sun warm and welcome on my skin. I wore a white singlet and loose-fitting blue cotton pants. My feet were dirty and bare, the shallow water sloshing in the bottom of the speedboat refusing to clean the weeks of dirt caked under my toenails. I liked myself like this. Grubby. Free.
Standing up in the speedboat we affectionately called ‘the bullfrog,’ I gripped the steering wheel and pushed the accelerator forward. The engine roared and the nose of the boat rose above the water as I gained speed, white-wash breaking on either side, making amends in a V shaped wake behind me. I pushed a little further on the accelerator, adrenaline surging through my chest and to the upturned corners of my mouth. Still the nose lifted higher, until I could barely see where I was going.
Pulling back, I came to a near stop, the waves I’d made continuing ahead and pulling me forward a little in their drift. I glanced at the fuel tanks lying around the boat, knowing I had to shift some weight to the front if I wanted to continue at this pace and be able to see. I stepped over the seat, leant down and lifted one, letting out a “Hugghh” as I grimaced at a mental image of dropping it on my bare toes. Awkwardly, I moved it to the front, and dragged the other two a little further forward.
Stepping back to the driver’s seat, I turned the key and let the engine growl back to life.
I decided to take the long way around.
I was rounding a pleasant curve of a tiny uninhabited island, when suddenly the engine coughed and switched itself off. I turned the key a few times, producing only a dull whir of a defeated machine which had no intention of restarting.
One hand on the engine, I clasped the plastic cord in my hand and attempted to start it like a lawn-mower. The first jerk almost ripped my shoulder out, and for a second, I was glad I was alone. Placing my foot on the rim of the boat, I held the handle with both hands and pulled with all my strength. Again. And again. Nothing. Only a zipping sound as the cord protested its violent assault, slowly withdrawing back into its cave, glad to have not provided rescue to its assailant.
Energy exerted, I sat and searched my brain for a solution. I couldn’t see Lachie or the sailboat anymore, and wasn’t far enough around the inlet to see the others.
Staring desperately at the engine, my eyes followed a tube leading to one of the fuel tanks. Had I simply run out of fuel? As my mind ticked over, I spotted something on the side of the tank. Crouching, I ran my fingers over a gauge which showed a capital ‘E’ in red. That was it! All I had to do was swap over one of the tanks and I’d be on my way. Relief flooded my body as I began to congratulate myself.
Kneeling, I pulled out the attachment, and searched the tanks for an appropriate fixture. I proceeded to try every end of every tube, against every hole of every tank, before slouching back in the seat, spirits dissolving. The tubes weren’t compatible. I was defeated by this mess of metal and plastic which some mind, somewhere else, understood perfectly.
Time passed, and, accepting my fate, I looked out over the still water and spotted a curious seal poking out its head, watching my struggle. I envied its natural freedom and comfort, in an environment where I was an alien. It understood how this lake worked. I was just a tourist.
Resigned to defeat, my eyes fell on something tucked into the side of the boat. I reached down and pulled out a sun-beaten, splintery, old wooden paddle with the paddle end half missing. Assuming a standing position, I slowly began the long row back to shore. My friend the seal kept me company, and once, as she glided gracefully along the side of my boat, I swear she smiled at me.
This category is sponsored by Freely Travel Insurance.
Freely is a brand of Cover-More Insurance Services Pty Limited ABN 95 003 114 145 (AFSL 241713) (Cover- More). The information provided is only on the availability of Freely products. We do not give advice and the information provided is not intended to give an opinion or recommendation regarding the product. For information on what’s covered and how to contact Freely, refer to the PDS, FSG & TMD which can be found here: freely.me/au.