Tomorrow When the War Began for Chapter Two

The plan was to leave at eight o'clock, nice and early. By about ten o'clock we were nearly ready. By 10.30 we were about four k's from home, starting the ascent to Tailor's Stitch. It's a long slow grunt up a track that's become a real mess over the years; holes so big that I thought we'd lose the Landrover in them, mud slides, creek crossings. I don't know how many times we stopped for fallen trees. We'd brought the chain saw and after a while Homer suggested we keep it running and he'd nurse it as we drove along, to save having to start it when we came to another log. I don't think he was serious. I hope he wasn't serious. It had been a long time since anyone had been up there. We always know, because they have to come through our paddocks to get to the spur. If Dad had known how bad the track was he'd never have let us take the Landrover. He trusts my driving, but not that much. Still, we bounced along, me wrestling with the wheel, doing a steady five k's, with occasional bursts up to ten. There was another unscheduled stop about half way when Fi decided she was going to be sick. I stopped fast, she exited through the rear door looking white as a corpse, and donated a sticky mess in the bushes for the benefit of any passing feral dogs or cats.
It was not a pretty sight. Everything Fi did she did gracefully, but even Fi found it hard to be graceful while she was vomiting. After that she walked quite a while, but the rest of us continued to lurch on up the spur in the Landie. It was actually fun, in a strange sort of way. Like Lee said, it was better than the Cocktail Shaker ride at the Show, because it was longer – and it was free.
We were actually missing the Show to come on this trip. We'd left the day before Commemoration Day, when the whole country stops, but in our district people don't just stop. They stop and then they converge on Wirrawee, because Commemoration Day is traditionally the day of the Wirrawee Show. It's quite an occasion. Still, we didn't mind missing it. There's a limit to the number of balls you can roll down the clown's throat, and there's a limit to the number of times you can get excited over your mother winning Best Decorated Cake. A year's break from the Show wouldn't do us any harm.
That's what we thought.
It was about half past two when we got to the top. Fi had ridden the last couple of k's, but we were all relieved to get out of the Landie and stretch our bones. We came out on the south side of a knoll near Mt Martin. That was the end of the vehicle track: from then on it was shanks's pony. But for the time being we wandered around and admired the view. On one side you could see the ocean: beautiful Cobbler's Bay, one of my favourite places, and according to Dad one of the world's great natural harbours, used only by the occasional fishing boat or cruising yacht. It was too far from the city for anything else. We could see a couple of ships there this time though; one looked like a large trawler maybe. The water looked as blue as royal blood; deep and dark and still. In the opposite direction Tailor's Stitch seamed its way to the summit of Mt Martin, a sharp straight ridge, bare black rocks forming a thin line as though a surgeon had made a giant incision centuries ago. Another view faced back down the way we'd come; the track invisible under its canopy of trees and creepers. Way in the distance you got glimpses of the rich farmland of the Wirrawee district, dotted with houses and clumps of trees, the lazy Wirrawee River curving slowly through it.
And on the other side was Hell.
'Wow,' said Kevin, taking a long look into it. 'We're going to get into there?'
'We're going to try,' I said, having doubts already but trying to sound strong and sure.
'It's impressive,' said Lee. 'I'm impressed.'
'I've got two questions,' said Kevin, 'but I'll only ask one of them. How?'
'What's the other one?'
'The other one is “Why?”. But I'm not going to ask that. Just tell me how and I'll be satisfied. I'm easily satisfied.'
'That's not what Corrie says,' said Homer, beating me to it.
A few rocks were thrown; there was some wrestling; Homer nearly took the fast route into Hell. That's two things guys are addicted to, throwing rocks and wrestling, but I've noticed these guys don't seem to do either any more. I wonder why.
'So how are we going to get in there?' Kevin asked again, at last.
I pointed to the right. 'There it is. That's our route.'
'That? That collection of cliffs?'
He was exaggerating a bit, but not much. Satan's Steps are huge granite blocks that look like they were chucked there in random descending order by some drunken giant, back in the Stone Age. There's no vegetation on them: they're uncompromisingly bare. The more I looked at them the more unlikely it all seemed, but that didn't stop me making my big motivational speech.
'Guys, I don't know if it's possible or not, but there's plenty of people round Wirrawee who say it is. If you believe the stories, there was an old ex-murderer lived in there for years – the Hermit from Hell. If some pensioner can do it, we sure can. I think we should give it our best shot. Let's make like dressmakers and get the tuck in there.'
'Gee Ellie,' said Lee with respect, 'now I understand why you're captain of the netball team.'
'How do you get to be an ex-murderer?' Robyn asked.
'Eh?'
'Well, what's the difference between an ex-murderer and a murderer?'
Robyn always did go straight to the point.
'I've got one more question,' Kevin said.
'Yeah?'
'Do you actually know anyone who's been down there?'
'Um, let's get the packs out of the Landie.'
We did that, then sat against them, admiring the views and the old blue sky, and munching on chicken and salad. Fi's pack was in direct line of vision from me, and the more I looked at it the more I began to realise how swollen it seemed.
'Fi,' I said at last, 'just what have you got in that pack?'
She sat up, looking startled. 'What do you mean? Just clothes and stuff. Same as everyone else.'
'What clothes exactly?'
'What Corrie told me. Shirts. Jumpers. Gloves, socks, undies, towel.'
'But what else? That can't be all.'
She started looking a bit embarrassed.
'Pyjamas.'
'Oh Fi.'
'Dressing gown.'
'Dressing gown? Fi!'
'Well, you never know who you'll meet.'
'What else?'
'I'm not telling you any more. You'll all laugh at me.'
'Fi, we've still got to get the food into these packs. And then carry them God knows how far.'
'Oh. Do you think I should take out the pillow then?'
We formed a committee of six to reorganise Fi's backpack for her. Fi was not a member of the committee. After that we distributed the food that Corrie and I had so carefully bought. There seemed to be a mountain of it, but there were seven of us and we planned to be away five days. But try as we might we couldn't get it all in. Some of the bulky items were a big problem. We ended up having to make some tough decisions, between the Vita Brits and the marshmallows, the pita bread and the jam doughnuts, the muesli and the chips. I'm ashamed to say what won in each case, but we rationalised everything by saying, 'Well, we mightn't get far from the Landie anyway, so we can always come back for stuff'.
At about five o'clock we got moving, packs on our backs like giant growths, strange protuberances. We set off along the ridge, Robyn leading, Kevin and Corrie quite a way in the rear, talking softly, more absorbed in each other than in the scenery. The ground was hard and dry; although Tailor's Stitch was straight, the track wound around, on it and off it, but the footing was easy and the sun still high in the sky. We were each carrying three full water bottles, which added a lot to the weight of the packs, but which still wouldn't last us long. We were relying on finding water in Hell, assuming we could get in there. Otherwise we'd return to the Landie in the morning for more water. When the supply in the jerry cans there gave out we'd drive a couple of k's down the track to a spring where I'd often camped with Mum and Dad.
I walked along with Lee, and we talked about horror movies. He was an expert: he must have seen a thousand. That surprised me because I knew him mainly for his piano and violin, which didn't seem to go with horror movies. He said he watched them late at night, when he couldn't sleep. I got the feeling he was probably quite a lonely guy.
From the top, Satan's Steps looked as wild and forbidding as they had from a distance. We stood and looked, waiting for Kevin and Corrie to catch up.
'Hmm,' said Homer. 'Interesting.'
That was about the shortest sentence I'd ever heard from him.
'There must be a way,' Corrie said, arriving at that moment.
'When we were kids,' I said, 'we used to say that looked like a track, down to the left there. We always told ourselves that it was the Hermit's path. We used to scare ourselves by imagining that he'd appear at any moment.'
'He was probably just a nice, misunderstood old man,' Fi said.
'Don't think so,' I said. 'They say he murdered his wife and baby.'
'I don't think it's a path, anyway,' Corrie said, 'just a fault-line in the rock.'
We kept standing and looking for quite a while, as if staring at the tumbled rocks would cause a path to appear, as if this were Narnia or somewhere. Homer wandered along the escarpment a bit further. 'We could get over the first block I think,' he called back to us. 'That ledge on the other side, it looks like it drops pretty close to the ground at the far corner.'
We followed over to where he stood. It certainly looked possible.
'Suppose we get down there and can't go any further?' Fi asked.
'Then we climb back and try something else,' Robyn said.
'What if we can't get back?'
'What goes down must come up,' Homer said, making it clear how much attention he'd been paying in Science over the years.
'Let's do it,' Corrie said, with surprising firmness. I was glad. I didn't want to push people too much but I felt that the whole success or failure of this expedition reflected on me, or at least on Corrie and me. We'd talked them into coming, we'd promised them a good time, and it was our idea to take the plunge into Hell. If we had a miserable failure I'd feel awful. It'd be like throwing a party, then playing Mum's 'Themes from Popular TV Shows' all evening.
At least they seemed willing to take a shot at the first of Satan's Steps. But even the first step was difficult. We had to drop into a tangle of old logs and blackberries, then scramble up the tilted scarred face of the rock. We got quite scarred ourselves. There was a fair bit of swearing and sweating and pulling other people up and hanging on to other people's packs before we were all standing on top, peering down at Homer's ledge.
'If they're all as difficult as this ...' Fi panted, without needing to finish the sentence.
'Over here,' Homer said. He got on his hands and knees, turned to face us, then slid backwards over the edge.
'Oh yes?' Fi said.
'No worries,' we heard Homer say. There was a worry, and that was how we were going to get back up again, but no one else mentioned it so I didn't. I think we were too caught up in the thrill of the chase. Robyn followed Homer; then Kevin, with much scrabbling and grunting, lowered himself cautiously after them. I went next, scratching my hand a bit. It wasn't easy because the heavy packs kept wanting to overbalance us, to pull us backwards. By the time I got down, Homer and Robyn were already jumping off the end of the ledge and fighting their way through the scrub to inspect the second huge block of granite.
'The other side looks better,' Lee said. I followed him round there and we inspected the possibilities. It was very difficult. There was quite a sheer drop either side of the block, despite the bushes and grasses growing out of the cliff. And the rock itself was sheer and high. Our only hope was an old fallen log that disappeared into the shadows and undergrowth but at least seemed to be going in the right direction.
'That's our path,' I said.
'Hmmm,' Homer said, coming up beside us.
I straddled the log and started a slow slide down it.
'She loves it, doesn't she?' Kevin said. I grinned as I heard the slap of Corrie's hand hitting some part of Kevin's exposed flesh. The log was soft and damp but was holding together. It was surprisingly long, and I realised it was taking me under the front of the rock. Huge black beetles and slaters and earwigs started spilling out of the wood between my legs as I got towards the thin and more rotten end. I grinned again, hoping I'd scared them all away before Fi followed me down here.
When I stood up I found I was under an overhang, free of vegetation but facing a screen of trees that almost concealed the next giant block. We'd be able to force a way through the screen, no doubt getting torn and scratched a lot more, but there was no guarantee we could get around or over or under the granite. I sidestepped along, peering through the screen, looking for possibilities, as the others started joining me. Fi was the fourth, arriving a little breathless but without fuss; funnily enough it was Kevin who was unnerved by the insects. He slid the last few yards down the tree in a rush, yelling hysterically, 'God no, help, there's creepy-crawlies everywhere! Get them off me! Get them off me!' He spent the next three minutes brushing himself fiercely, spinning round and round in the narrow space we had, trying to catch glimpses of any more that might be on him, shaking his clothes frantically. I couldn't help wondering how he coped with fly-struck sheep.
Things calmed down with Kevin but we still couldn't see any way out of the overhang.
'Well,' said Robyn cheerfully, 'looks like we camp here for a week.'
There was a bit of a silence.
'Ellie,' Lee said kindly, 'I don't think we're going to find a way down. And the further we go, the harder it's going to be to get back.'
'Let's just try for one more step,' I asked, then added, a little wildly, 'Three's my lucky number.'
We poked around a bit more, but rather doubtfully. Finally Corrie said, 'There might be a chance if we wriggle through here. We might be able to get around the side somewhere.'
The gap she'd picked was so narrow we had to take our packs off to get through it, but I was game, so I took Corrie's pack while she wrestled her way into a prickly overgrown hole. Her head disappeared, then her back, then her legs. I heard Kevin say, 'This is crazy', then Corrie said, 'OK now my pack', so I pushed that through after her. Then, leaving Robyn to look after my pack, I followed.
I soon realised that Corrie had the right idea, but it sure was difficult. If I wasn't such a stubborn pig-headed idiot I would have surrendered by this point. We ended up crawling along like myxo'd rabbits, me pushing Corrie's pack ahead of me. But I caught glimpses of a wall of rock on my left, and we were definitely going downhill, so I figured we were probably getting around the third of Satan's Steps. Then Corrie paused, in front of me, forcing me to stop too.
'Hey!' she said. 'Can you hear what I hear?'
There are some questions that really annoy me, like 'What do you know?', 'Are you working to your full capacity?' (our Form teacher's favourite), 'Guess what I'm thinking?', and 'What on earth do you think you're doing young lady?' (Dad, when he's annoyed). I don't like any of them. And 'Can you hear what I hear?' is in the same category. Plus I was tired, hot, frustrated. So I gave a bad-tempered answer. After a minute's pause Corrie, showing more patience than me, said, 'There's water ahead. Running water.'
I listened, and then realised I could hear it too. So I passed the word back to the others. It was only a small thing, but it kept us going that little bit longer. I crawled on grimly, listening to the sound get louder and closer. It had to be quite a busy stream, which at this altitude meant a spring. We could all do with a fresh cold drink of the water that came from these mountain springs. We'd need it for the struggle back up to the top of Hell. And it was time we started that struggle. It was getting late; time to set up a campsite.
Suddenly I was at the stream and there was Corrie, standing on a rock grinning at me.
'Well, we found something,' I said, grinning back.
It was a pretty little thing. The sun didn't reach it, so it was dark and cool and secret. The water bubbled over rocks that were green and slippery with moss. I knelt and soaked my face, then lapped like a dog as the others started to arrive. There wasn't much room but Robyn started exploring in one direction, stepping gingerly from rock to rock, as Lee did the same in the other direction. I admired their energy.
'It's a nice creek,' said Fi, 'but Ellie, we'd better start heading back up the top.'
'I know. Let's just have a relax first, for five minutes. We've earned it.'
'This is worse than the Outward Bound course,' Homer complained.
'I wish I'd gone on that now,' Fi said. 'You all went, didn't you?'
I'd gone on the course, and enjoyed it. I'd done a lot of camping with my parents but Outward Bound had given me a taste for something tougher. I'd just started thinking about it, remembering, when suddenly Robyn reappeared. The look on her face was almost frightening. In the dense overgrowth I couldn't stand, but I straightened up as far as I could, and quickly.
'What's happened?'
Robyn said, with the air of someone who is hearing her own voice but not believing her own words, 'I just found a bridge'.