The Other Side of Nowhere (19 page)

We were at the far end of the cliff top, following the wide, shallow stream Nick had spotted. We hadn’t found an entrance into the cliff, but as we’d hurried across the plateau from the cliff’s edge we’d all heard the unmistakable sound of rushing water somewhere under our feet.

Nick waded into stream, leaping from rock to rock with the backpack bouncing around on his back. The sun was still baking hot, and George and I jumped in the stream to cool off. Then we climbed the rocks to catch up with Nick. He was already halfway across the stream, wading knee-deep through the fast-flowing water that swirled around his legs. When he climbed up onto the bank on the other side, he ran alongside the water, then around a bend and out of sight.

George and I followed him, still in the water. The current was strong and George clung onto my arm for balance as we waded across, picking our way carefully over the uneven river bed. Not far around the bend, we found Nick squatting down at the water’s edge.

‘Check this out,’ he called when he spotted us.

We waded over and he pointed across the stream. At first I didn’t pick it, seeing only a pile of rocks blocking the flow of water as it tried to squeeze through the walls of a kind of mini canyon. Then I noticed that while most of the water flowed straight past and continued downstream, some of it was flowing into the rocks but not reappearing on the other side.

‘See it?’ asked Nick excitedly.

‘I think so,’ I replied, feeling a mixture of trepidation and exhilaration at what I was looking at. The idea that there might actually be a cave down there, and that we were about to go into it, was terrifying.

‘Looks deep, though,’ said Nick studying the water as if trying to see beneath the foaming rapids. ‘And it’s running fast, too – might need the rope.’ He slipped off the backpack and pulled out one of the coils of rope. I watched as he picked out a sturdy looking tree a little way up the bank and tied one end of the rope around its trunk. He walked back over to us, tying the other end around his waist.

‘Becoming a habit, this,’ he joked, pulling the rope tight.

He pulled the backpack onto his back again and slid into the water. As he waded waist-deep into the fast-moving part of the stream, he struggled to balance against the current. Steadying himself against a rock, he paused for a moment to catch his breath, then hauled himself out of the water and up onto the top of one of the larger boulders about three-quarters of the way across the stream.

‘Okay, George, you’re next,’ I said.

Nick held tight as the rope pulled taut across the stream. George took hold of the rope and stepped down, gasping as water rose up above her waist. Without hesitation she waded through the swirling current, clutching the rope for support. At the boulder, Nick helped her clamber up to join him on top of the rock. Then Nick pulled the rope taut again and motioned for me to come across. I jumped into the stream and tensed as the cold hit me. I grabbed the rope and pulled my way over through the swirling water to join them.

The three of us huddled together on top of the rock, shivering in spite of the still-hot sun overhead. I could see now that there was an entrance of sorts where the stream was being channelled. It looked like a small black hole, not much bigger than a manhole in a road. A leaf caught in the rush of water around the rocks spun wildly as it was swept into the hole, like a ship vanishing over the edge of the world in a cartoon. I groaned inwardly at the thought of going in there.

To the left of the hole was a rock ledge, just a little out of the water. Nick stepped across a string of smaller rocks and lifted himself up onto the ledge. Then, without waiting for us to follow, he began to edge forward headfirst on hands and knees along it.

George went next, with me close behind. Now I was on the ledge I could see that, rather than disappearing into a hole, the water was flowing along a channel inside the rock and the ledge we were on sloped down parallel to the stream, before it too fell away at the same point the water did. It was like a waterfall flowing inside the cliff.

Nick shuffled backwards and squeezed in next to George and me. For a moment we were all silent, just squinting into the sun at the edge of the ledge to where the water was disappearing. I was sure we were all thinking the same thing:
this watery void is our way in … our entrance into the cliff.

‘So, what do we think?’ Nick asked.

Was I imagining things, or did he not sound quite so sure of himself now that he’d seen the entrance up close?

‘What do I think?’ said George, rubbing at the goose-bumps on her arm. ‘Let me see, if it wasn’t for my fear of heights and the dark and ridiculously small spaces, I’d pretty much be fine with all this.’ She laughed nervously.

Nick turned to me, ‘Johnno, how about you? You don’t look so good.’

‘I’m good,’ I said, trying to sound casual. I half expected my nose to start growing.

It had dawned on me that the others were feeling exactly as I was. We all knew this was a totally crazy idea. But if one of us folded now, we all would. And all of a sudden, I knew I couldn’t let that happen.

‘Let’s get on with it,’ I said.

Nick grinned and then got busy organising himself. He pulled out all the remaining rope in the backpack. There were three coils left. Nick untied the rope he had around his waist and gave it a good tug to test that it was still tied firmly to the tree across the stream. He then tied the remaining coils end to end and counted out the total length by pulling the rope tight across his chest in approximate metre lengths. Finally he dropped the last length onto the neat figure-eight pile at his feet.

‘Call it fifty-two metres,’ he said.

‘Is that enough?’ George asked.

Nick frowned. ‘Hard to say. Can’t be more than an eighty-metre drop and we have to be less than a hundred metres inland, so all up it’s not that far that we have to go. If it’s a steady slope all the way to the bottom we’ll be fine, but if it’s more of a straight drop –’

‘… then we’re screwed,’ said George, finishing his sentence.

‘Pretty much.’

Strangely, I found this blunt honesty more comforting than if he’d said “she’ll be right”. At least he was kind of acknowledging this whole thing was insane.

Nick pulled out the fishing line from the backpack, then bit off a length of it. He grabbed the torch and threaded the line through a small eyelet on the end of the torch and tied the other end around a belt-loop on his shorts. Hitching the backpack onto his shoulders, Nick gave us a wry smile and then led the way. He crawled towards the edge of the ledge, where the water dropped away into blackness through a hole in the rock.

‘Look,’ he said, pointing the torch through the hole.

He went to the edge of the ledge and dropped the long length of rope down the hole.

When the rope was fully out Nick turned around on his stomach, and lowered himself into the hole feet first. George and I grabbed the slack rope. Nick gripped the rope firmly in both hands and leant backwards.

‘Hold on to it,’ he said, his voice almost lost in the sound of falling water reverberating around him. ‘I’ll give two good tugs when I get down.’

The rope pulled tight against my hands and I stood watching him disappear into the hole, noticing how he made sure his feet had a firm hold before stepping again.

‘It’s slippery … take your time,’ he mumbled, as much to himself as us.

In a few minutes he was gone. George and I stood, our hands touching on the rope.

Our only contact with Nick was through the tug on the rope each time he lowered himself another step. As long as it continued to twitch against our fingers we knew he was okay. But still my mind was racing.
What if he falls? Or runs out of
rope? What if his shoulder gives out on him? If he gets stuck or hurt we’ll have to go to him. But how? And what if we can’t get back up?

Then I felt the rope twitch in my palm – twice.

‘Hey,’ I cried out in relief. ‘Did you feel that?’

‘Yes,’ squealed George excitedly. ‘Go, Nick!’

He’d done it. He’d made it down, or at least part of the way down. And if he could, then so could we.
We can do this
, I told myself.
I can do this
.

‘Okay George, you’re up. Just lean back and go slow. One step at a time.’

She moved into position and the rope pulled taut in my hands as she leant back and took up the slack.

‘Oh god,’ she stammered. ‘Johnno, I can’t do this!’

‘You can. I promise.’

‘No. I can’t.’ She looked terrified.

‘Yes you can, George,’ I told her, firmer this time. ‘You have to.’

‘Oh god, oh god, Johnno! Please don’t let me fall.’

‘Of course, I won’t. Just take it slow.’ I gripped the rope with both hands as she began to lower herself into the hole.

The rope sat in the palm of my hand, twitching with each step she took, and I started to count the seconds between each time it would pull. The time grew longer the lower she went. She must be getting tired. Still, as long as the rope stayed tight and kept up its jerky rhythm I knew she was okay.

Without George next to me I suddenly felt very cold. My teeth started to chatter in time with the thumping in my chest and my fingers were so numb there didn’t seem to be any strength in my grip on the rope. I stared at the hole and began to worry that when my turn came to climb down I wouldn’t be able to feel anything and that the rope would slip from my grasp the moment I stepped over the edge. And then I realised. Once I was in that hole there would be no way to climb back out. That thought was still lingering when the rope went slack. Then I felt two firm tugs.

It was my turn. Despite every bone in my body screaming in protest, I stood and tipped myself backwards until my toes were the only things touching the rock ledge. Then I leant back, shut my eyes and let the rope take my weight.

Shuffle, step, breathe, find a toehold, shuffle, step. Breathe, don’t forget to breathe. I tried to ignore my hands aching against the rope, and the burning in my shoulders and arms. I concentrated on my feet, just finding a way down, one small step at a time. I opened my eyes and at first could see nothing, but then I saw the torchlight from below reflecting off the rock around me, and my surroundings began to emerge from the black gloom.

Soon I could see the space as it really was, and forgot to be terrified. It was amazing. I was dangling like a spider on a thread inside a cavern as big as a cathedral. I could make out bulbous knobs like giant cauliflowers and towering columns as thick as trees mixed with delicate needles and spines. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

‘You okay?’ said a beaming George as I jolted down the final length of rope. Nick guided me down to the ground.

‘Sure … Wow,’ I stopped to stretch out my shoulders. ‘This place is awesome.’

‘Isn’t it?’ George said, giggling. ‘It’s like we’ve found Aladdin’s cave or something.’

I grabbed the torch from Nick and shone it around. Just off to our right, water splashed noisily into a pool, then seemed to flow away through a jumble of rocks and larger boulders.

Nick was untying our final length of rope, which was trailing at our feet on the floor of the cave. ‘Looks like we’ve hit a flat spot, but we might need some rope later on.’