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Beach by beach, headland by headland, town by town, the powerful, southerly front steamrolled up the east coast of Australia like a giant tsunami rolling unstoppably towards the equator. In its wake came the gale, and within twenty-four hours, a solid ground swell. Within two days, the wind had eased and tended to blow from the southwesterly direction in the mornings, perfectly in harmony with the morning low tide. The stage was set in the sheltered corner behind Broken Head, and as if the play had already been written and the actors already cast, the crisp early morning saw Adam and Scott converge towards what would be the first of many sensational surf sessions.
For days, the corduroy swells rolled out of the vast South Pacific Ocean. They released their energy, in nature’s perfection, along the many classic surfing points dotting the north coast of New South Wales. This phenomenon of nature kicked off a weeklong, surfing rage-a-thon at legendary Meccas like Crescent, Scott’s, Angourie, Lennox, Broken, Byron, and over the border to Snapper, Greenmount, Kirra, Burleigh and Currumbin, and way up north to that mystical place of five points. Some of the locals there, perhaps the ones more spiritually inclined, possibly due to a diet of blue meanies that grew out of the cow manure out in the hinterland there, reckoned that it was the place where God put His right hand on the Earth and each finger became one of the perfect surfing points. In this holy place the long peninsula aims so far to the north that at sunset a surfer rides his wave directly into the setting sun, surfing by instinct alone because of the complete blinding of his vision by the golden orb and its reflection off the curving, curling glass before him.
Adam and Scott surfed so many waves for so many days that they began losing their sense of time.
‘I can’t remember yesterday.’
‘I can barely remember the last bloody wave.’
They began to lose awareness of past and future. The continual day-in, day-out, extreme heightening of their senses, the continual focal intensification of their concentrations, had caused their consciousnesses to gradually narrow into the present until they were only aware of those things that were happening right now. This state, so rare and normally so difficult to attain, brought upon them a euphoria which would linger
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in their souls for the rest of their lives and would be rekindled every time they remembered those classic, hollow days at beautiful Broken Head.
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A few days later, the boys met up with a couple of gorgeous young ladies. The girls rolled into Broken Head in a pristine, 1965 Volvo 122S. They drove down from a place called Fingal, a small beachside town located just south of the Tweed River. They were on a day outing having a drive in the country and taking in the Byron Bay area.
The driver’s name was Susan. She actually came from Brisbane. Her dad, who was a judge, owned a holiday house right on the beach in Fingal and the family went there to escape the city at every opportunity. Sue was tall, slim and very blond. She had captivating bright-blue eyes, made bluer by her dark suntan. She always smiled at people and engaged in conversation effortlessly. She carried an air of refinement about her, in an uncontrived sort of way, as if it existed in her genes. There was a hint of the English about her.
The passenger’s name was Maria. She was Sue’s best friend. She was also tall and of a slightly fuller figure than Sue. Maria was from an Italian family. Maria’s beauty could best be described as sizzling. Her long dark hair, her smooth olive skin, her large brown eyes, her full moist lips, her breasts, abundant and shapely, and her long, long legs literally took a boy’s breath away. And even though she was Australian born she spoke with an unmistakably Italian accent. Words flowed out of her mouth like warm honey, like they were flowing straight out of her heart. She spoke with a natural affection that can characteristically only be associated with the Mediterranean woman.
Although they didn’t surf themselves, both girls shared the pleasure of watching artistic surfers dancing the dance on quality point waves. They sat on a ridge, high above the break, and watched the boys disappearing and reappearing out of the liquid pipes below. When the surfing was over, they all met at the kiosk. After the introductions and some light chitchat, it was decided that they would have lunch together. They had delicious, country-style sandwiches made by the old man’s wife who fussed about the young foursome like a mother hen. The group sat around an old picnic table, under the shade of a low tree, overlooking the beach.
The girls were both eighteen years old and had, just like Adam, recently finished their high school exams. They also were waiting for their results.
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They exchanged stories about their lives and interests well into the afternoon. Scott spoke about his fictitious life in California and his love of surfing and simplicity of life. As he executed his necessary deception, he felt his heart sing as he silently thanked his universe for forming herself into these beautiful people and into such a perfect place and time, just for him.
Before leaving, Sue invited the boys to come and visit them in Fingal and it was arranged that they would come in a few days, after the swell subsided.
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The long, golden rays of the rising sun were just kissing the tops of the green hills to the west of Byron as the ‘63 Holden turned right onto Highway Number One. It had been three days since they met the girls and a phone call, made the day before, got the boys invited to Fingal for breakfast.
Sue’s parents’ holiday house was a smallish, low-set, timber dwelling surrounded by invasive coastal scrub. There was a low dune separating it from the long, semi-deserted beach. There was a covered patio on the northern side where there was a round wooden table and garden chairs with beach towels draped over them. There were a few deck chairs scattered around, a couple of beach umbrellas, fishing gear leaning against a wall and a couple of open books lying face down on the page last read. The yard wasn’t really being mowed, but the grass was short where the people were. There was a well-used barbecue at the end of the yard, adjacent to the beginning of the track that led to the beach. The bedrooms were untidy with the beds not made and clothes scattered everywhere. The kitchen was clean, but cluttered with pots, pans and utensils, making it look like it was in constant use. There was a large, wooden bowl, full of fresh fruit and there were two refrigerators standing side by side up against one wall. The freezer of one was full of fish, all caught by the family.
Sue’s dad was a tall, middle-aged man with an almost permanent smile on his face.
He was constantly doing something, whether it be fussing with firewood, making drinks, fiddling with fishing gear or helping in the kitchen. He maintained a constant, light banter with anyone and everyone and seemed to be the mortar between all the bricks of his family.
Sue’s mother was shorter in stature. She had lost her shapeliness as so many middle-aged women who are focussed on their families do. She contrasted her husband with her softness and reservedness. There was an aura of beauty about her, though, a
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loveliness which shone from deep within her. There seemed to radiate a simple glow about her tranquil face and her blue eyes shone brightly with a light that hinted at a knowledge of something mysterious and deeply secret.
The family welcomed the boys like old friends. Sue and Maria, both bubbling with excitement, made breakfast. They all sat around the garden table eating, drinking and getting to know each other.
The conversation eventually drifted towards an outing. The girls were keen to show Scott and Adam a special place they had discovered on one of their previous excursions.
‘The place is pretty secret,’ Sue explained, ‘mainly frequented by some of the local surfers.’
‘That’s how we found out about the place,’ Maria continued. ‘We met a young surfer on one of our drives up the coast and he told us about this magic place buried deep in the rainforest, with waterfalls, rock pools and a really scary, natural rockslide. We’ve been there and it is truly unbelievable.’
‘We’d love to take you there, if you like,’ Sue suggested in a voice that would have had the boys jumping into molten lava if they were asked to do so.
The plan for the rest of the day was set. The girls offered for them all to go in the Volvo.
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They drove over the Tweed River Bridge and through Coolangatta where the boys checked out the surf at Greenmount Point. They then drove up the coast to the old, rickety bridge, which crossed Currumbin Creek. There they turned left and began driving inland, following the narrow, winding road into the deep, lushly-vegetated Currumbin Valley.
Scott sat in the back, next to Maria, while Adam sat in the front with Sue driving. The day was stinking hot and intensely sunny. As they penetrated deeper into the valley, they marvelled at the absolute beauty of the place.
Eventually, they drove up to a gate. They were at the end of the road, right up the farthest reaches of the valley. This part of the valley belonged to a farmer. On the other side of the fence, they could see an open meadow. In the very centre of the meadow, and pretty much in the centre of the valley, grew a large flame tree, blooming full of radiant red flowers. It drew a comment from everyone as it looked so spectacular in the bright sunshine. Green slopes surrounded the meadow, rising into high, densely-vegetated hills.
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The end of the valley, with its farm, was totally isolated, with the road being the only way in and the only way out.
The girls stepped out of the car and walked through the wide gate and over to the farmhouse, which was surrounded by a white picket fence. A man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, came out with a broad smile on his face as he greeted the girls. He immediately recognised them from the last time they were there. The girls chatted for a while and introduced the boys to the farmer. Then they parted and returned to the car.
The farmer swung open the main gate and ushered the Volvo through. They thanked him and drove along a dirt track to the far corner of the farm where they parked the car in a small clearing situated right at the edge of the thick, tropical rain forest.
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A narrow foot trail wound through the lush undergrowth towards the sound of cascading water. The boys followed the girls along the track. Scott walked behind the others and said nothing as he saw the bark of a tree, the grain of a boulder or the shape of leaves transform themselves into the face or the body of a young black man or woman, and then, as he looked again, the images were gone. Scott was very calm about these apparitions as he knew what they represented and was used to such experiences. He knew, though, that the place they were walking into was special and sacred with a long and noble history. He also felt the powerful spirit that dwelt there, a spirit that to him felt more like that of a child than that of an adult.
The group came to a part of the track where there was a break in the thick vegetation. To the right and below them, they could see the creek with its waterfalls and pools and the steep drop in the terrain where the water slide was. The whole place echoed with the sound of rushing waters. The girls led the way down to a flat rock, adjacent to the slide, where they put down their towels.
‘What do you think?’ Sue asked.
‘Unbelievable! Wow!’ the boys answered almost in unison.
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The rockslide, hidden deep in the green jungle, had been shaped by the running waters of the creek over millions of years. It had already been there, perfectly shaped, for a million years before the arrival of its first human slider. The slide dropped about forty feet from top to bottom and could be divided into three parts. From the top, a slider eased himself into the current and sat in a saddle-like, U-shaped depression in the rock. He had
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to prop himself against the rocks, either side, as the sliding surface was covered with an underwater moss, making it extremely slippery. As he sat there, hanging on, the current pressed hard against his back trying to dislodge his grip of the smooth rocks. Looking down the slide was frightening due to its steepness and the fact that he couldn’t see the tiny pool into which he would ultimately plummet. Once he committed and released his death grip, he rapidly accelerated as he slid over two dips. After the dips, the slide turned sharply to the right and became even steeper. Then it was straight down a chute that ended in a lip that launched the slider into space and into a twenty-foot freefall, until he finally splashed down into a tiny pool, maybe eight feet across and six feet deep. The pool was surrounded by hard-edged, vertical rocky sides and had literally been bored into the stone by the waterfall at the bottom of the slide. The bed of the pool was covered with smooth, loose rocks.
The upper portion of the slide was where composure was easily lost. Hitting the turn had the slider banked high on the vertical wall, more often than not throwing him completely out of control. This meant that he hit the lip out of position and was launched into space spinning sideways, or backwards, or whichever way. The big fear at the slide was hitting the rocks at the bottom. It was clear to anyone that took the ride, that if they hit the side of the narrow pool with their head, it could easily be fatal. The word up and down the slide was, ‘keep your arms and legs in’.
As far as anyone knew, no one ever took the slide without seeing someone else do it first. As they watched others plummet uncontrollably into the microscopic pool, each with their hand, foot or head only inches from the rocks, their hearts filled with fear as every cell in their body said, no way!
But they were there. They were at Mother Nature’s initiation ground. She crafted it for her chosen children. The whole area was holy ground, saturated with magic.
When people arrived there and saw the slide, they were instantly and inescapably confronted with a choice whether to slide or not to slide. They knew that they could get killed. Many mysteriously heard their mother’s voices saying to them not to do anything dangerous. Yet they sensed that they were at a pivotal point in their lives. They became aware of the magnitude of the imminent decision they were about to make. They suddenly understood that to walk away from this initiation would mean walking away from other, future, lesser ones, and that each act of retreat would be another small increment of light being extinguished from their spirits, until they became like millions
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of other people who lived in constant fear of death and who were unaware of the fact that the types of lives they lived were in reality death itself.
Immersed in the magic space, they knew that to take the slide would fill them with euphoria for having overcome their fear. What they didn’t know, though, was that through the mystery of her creation nature had set up a mystical initiation. If they passed the test they passed into another dimension, indiscernible from the old one yet completely different, which unfolded into a totally different future, a future full of high adventure and an awakening to the fact that there was no such thing as death, except for the death that existed in people who lived their lives devoid of any courage and barren of any honour.
And every slider, that ever took the drop, later stood there looking at the whole setup and marvelled at what nature had just done for them. And they knew that they first witnessed someone else go before them, and they gave a thought for that first slider, the one who nature chose to be her special son who never saw anyone go before them. And they felt the spirit of that first slider’s courage fill them, and they took that spirit with them as they walked out of the jungle, back down the valley towards the great ocean.
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‘When we were here last time,’ explained Maria, ‘there were three young kids here, spending the day sliding down the slide.’
‘Whaaat?’ exclaimed Adam, his voice breaking into falsetto and his arm pointing at the tiny pool. ‘Down there?’
‘Yeah! And there’s something we haven’t told you,’ declared Sue with a big grin on her face. ‘We’ve both been down it as well.’
‘No way!’ exclaimed both boys in unison.
‘Who’s going first?’ Maria asked as the girls began undressing.
‘I don’t mind,’ Sue replied.
A whimpering, ‘Oh God,’ was all that made it out of Adam’s mouth. It was all a bit much for him, all at once. He hadn’t even started coming to terms with the idea of potentially plummeting to his death in that microscopic pool when, arguably, the two most attractive girls he had ever seen in his life began undressing right in front of him.
Well, down to their bikinis anyway.
Scott said nothing as he absorbed the set-up. He saw much more than his friends were ever capable of seeing. He also knew that the risk he was taking was far greater than
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the other three, because the average lifespan of a Rama was around nine hundred years and he had only lived twenty-one of them. He was pretty impressed with the go-for-it attitude of the girls, though. Adam, however, was another story.
The girls each had one go from half way, to get wet, and then climbed to the top. Sue went first. Like a child, totally oblivious to any danger, she flew down that slide, squealing all the way, finally neatly splashing down in the pool. Highly exhilarated, she scrambled out of the pool to watch Maria do the same thing. The boys were open-mouthed stunned.
‘The first time wasn’t so hard for us,’ Maria explained towelling her face, ‘because we got to watch those kids doing it.’
Sue was already at the top again, easing herself into the creek and readying herself for another big drop. Scott felt ready, but he held back. He wanted to give Adam the opportunity to go first. He knew that by going first, Adam would benefit more fully from this unique initiation. Adam felt his apprehension peaking, but he recognised the moment and he knew that there was no way that he was going to walk away from this challenge.
The boys both first slid from the halfway take-off. Then, one by one, with Adam going first, they both launched from the top. The four of them, all laughing and screaming, took turns at sliding well into the warm afternoon. The sounds of their joy intermingled with the sounds of the rushing waters as the spirit of the first slider merged with their own spirits.
Adam never guessed that at that moment his life was changed forever. He had blundered off the main highway of life and wandered down a rarely-travelled, narrow, winding track. It was a track full of mystery and adventure, hidden from the sight of ordinary people, people who were never given the choice to take the magic slide, and if they had, they would have fearfully declined the offer.
Later in the afternoon, after they had all had their fill of sliding, they went exploring up the creek where they all went swimming. As the boys floated in the crystal water of a natural rock pool, surrounded by tropical vegetation with rays of the sun’s light breaking through the gaps between the leaves, the girls swam over to them, Sue to Adam and Maria to Scott, put their arms around their shoulders and began to give them long, passionate kisses on their lips, their cheeks and their eyes. And everything started to spin for those boys as their universes formed themselves into those beautiful girls and loved and hugged and kissed them there, in that sacred place where so many wonderful, magic things happened.
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The four of them remembered the weeks they all spent together for the rest of their lives. They remembered the time like it was a dream where everything was perfect. A dream from their youth, filled with friendship and adventure, completely oblivious to the frantic world around them, lost in a living fantasy. Like four comets whose gigantic elliptical orbits brought them all together, only once in their lives, through the mystery of predestined, mathematical chance.
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As Christmas Day approached, they all, except for Scott of course, were drawn back to their families. Jesus went by another name on Rama.
Adam rewarded his parents with a pass. His dad said it was like a dog scraping through a hollow log.
Sue blitzed her exams and entered The University of Queensland School of Medicine. She continued to maintain contact with Adam, through correspondence, but that eventually stopped. At university she met a smart, young medicine student who was a couple of years older than her. Adam never heard from her again.
Maria wasn’t such an academic, but it didn’t matter so much for her. She travelled back to Italy, to visit old relatives, where she met Gino, the handsome and talented young film director who cast her in a tragedy about two young lovers, who, through a misunderstanding, lost each other, not to be reunited until their old age. Maria’s beauty packed out the theatres throughout Europe, ensuring Gino, Maria, and Carlo and Sophia, their children, a long, happy life of affluence and ‘la dolce vita’.
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Flynn felt the feeling of melancholia come upon Scott following the departure of his friends. He stuck much closer to him during those first few days of loneliness, keeping him company and doing funny things to make him laugh. One of his favourite party tricks was chasing his tail. They took long walks together, way up the deserted beach. Flynn found a stick and brought it to him and then darted about playfully, coaxing him to throw it for him.
As they walked along, completely immersed in the sound of the surf, Scott recalled the sound of the rushing waters of Currumbin Creek and the perfect day he had there. He was young and he was learning that all things in life were temporary. He understood that he had to try to accept gain and loss in a stable and detached sort of way. He remembered the words of his teacher.
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‘A serene wisdom neither rejoices nor sorrows if fortune is good or ill.’
But he had a long way to go to achieve that kind of wisdom, because far away from his camp, up the deserted beach, far away from human sight, he fell to his knees in the sand, covered his face in his cupped hands and allowed himself to cry for a while for the loss of his friends.
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That evening, as Andromeda rose in the north-eastern sky, Scott, whose real name was Albion, sat down on a comfortable sand dune, straightened his back like a ruler, closed his eyes and began to breathe his special breath. He silenced his brain and slipped into a deep trance. Through his telepathic mind threads, he connected with his parents and his little sister, whose name was Ambriel, across two million light years. He knew instantly of their feelings for him and they of his for them. He let them know that he had befriended a very nice young man. He let them know, as well, that his name was Adam and that he thought Adam was someone everyone would like very much.
He also made contact with his best friend, Arjuna, a Rama boy of his own age, who he had known since birth. Arjuna, who was also a surfer, telepathically took Albion to a planet he was visiting. The reality of a large inland sea, at the centre of which was a huge volcanic island, manifested around Albion in full three-dimensional colour and sound.
Like clockwork, every day, at the same time, the volcano rumbled to life and began to shake with a violent earthquake. The shaking generated swells in the inland sea, which radiated out from the volcano in circles, to break along the shores around the perimeter of the land-bound sea. The whole coastline was dotted with artificial reefs and points, for surfing, some of them thousands of years old. Then Albion saw his friend standing on a beach, carrying his surfboard under his arm, beckoning him to join him. In return, he sent realities of classic Broken Head and Currumbin Creek, and the beautiful friends he made.
The following night, while everyone slept, a dark figure moved about on the beach.
Suddenly, in the darkness, a large, smooth object appeared on the surface of the ocean, like a whale. The object then rose about five feet into the air, not making a sound. It floated towards Albion’s camp where it parked itself hovering about one foot above the ground.
Flynn lay quietly as he sensed Albion’s imminent departure. Albion busied himself packing away his camp and tidying up after himself. He spoke to the dog for a long time and gave him plenty of hugs before entering his ship. He also gave the dog a special herb-filled biscuit he prepared for him and said,
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‘Live long, Flynn.’
The silver disc rose vertically in complete silence. When it rose to the edge of the atmosphere, Albion locked onto a small spot of light in the vast blackness. This time his aiming point was The Andromeda Galaxy, his home galaxy, and at the speed of light squared, the young man, who used to be known as Scott on a little water planet he just visited, would be home faster than it took a ‘63 Holden to drive from Broken Head to Currumbin Creek.
Back on Rama, he would catch up with his family before taking off again to that planet, with the inland sea and the volcano, to join up with Arjuna for more high adventure.
But wherever Albion went, he carried within his heart a small portion of the shining spirits of his Earth friends, Flynn, Adam, Susan and the beautiful Maria.
…….
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