Julia stares out from their balcony, scanning the wide ocean view for the telltale spurts of water or splash of fin. Her eyes slide to the lighter blue sea closer to shore, hoping to see a turtle or dolphin. Pax sits at his laptop scanning the internet for news of his company.
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‘There’s one! Two finger-widths from the horizon, come look Pax!’ Julia says.
‘Mmmm?’ Pax stays glued to his laptop.
‘It’s out to the south, looks like it might be heading in… oh wow, there’s another one with it, splashing around,’ Julia looks to see if Pax has even drawn his eyes away from his silver edged screen. Nothing.
‘Why would it be coming closer? Weird. Are you not going to come see? Please do, it’s just so amazing.’
Pax folds his laptop shut and walks over the polished concrete floors to the perspex bordered balcony. Julia smiles having finally secured some attention. He lightly grabs her butt and Julia stifles the instinctive jump at the contact. He smiles back and she forgets her quick cringe while enjoying his crinkly wide brown-eyed gaze.
Peggy calls out to Xavier, the PhD student helping her on board the boat floating in the Pacific Ocean off North Stradbroke Island. They are out here to watch the humpbacks making their migratory journey north, and to take samples of the creatures scientists, including themselves, still know too little about. It is Peggy’s project, nominally, as it is her postdoctoral fellowship that drives the vessel firing their investigation, but that ownership is not exclusive. The sponsors, her institution, the sponsoring academic, her research employees – all stake a claim.
‘Are we okay here? This position?’ Xavier asks.
‘Sure, I think we can’t get much closer until that migratory pair comes in,’ Peggy says.
The mother and calf are coming from the south and in towards the shore, making an arc trajectory away from their northern path for unknowable reasons. Perhaps they want food, perhaps the mum is showing her bub the way in and out again, perhaps the great white sharks out deep are pushing them in; answers are what Peggy seek.
‘They are heading in still, that calf really gives the breach a good bash!’ Xavier says. ‘Have you got everything ready Peg? The samplers and recording equipment?’
‘Thanks Xavier, yes,’ Peggy says, stopping herself from saying how it is under control. She looks at her tall colleague manning the helm and smiles at his eager conscientiousness existing within such a Ryan Gosling-like frame, golden hair shining in the light.
Julia stands with Pax at the best lookout on Straddie, having convinced him to come down to the water and watch the whales as close as possible without being on the water. Their being outside in the world is unusual now since their resort provides all amenities without need for venturing beyond. Meals, papers from the mainland, a pool, massage, television, films, books, magazines, pharmacy goods, even sarongs should one have left one’s favourite at home. Or should one simply require another rectangular piece of fine cotton to fold up and sit on the shelf at home nesting in with other unused holiday souvenirs.
Four people stand watching on the wood platform looking over Frenchman’s Beach: one man with a long-lens camera, ponytail of graying brown hair at his nape, a couple with their ten year old boy, Julia assumes, here for a midwinter break from further south. Everyone is mesmerised at the leaping whale, transfixed at the spectacle hoped for but hardly expected.
A boat comes in to view, not large but significant enough to warrant notice. Its green and gold striped canopy stands out against the sea as it bumps against the choppy sea towards the whales, maintaining momentum, seeming to be aiming straight at the creatures.
‘What the hell is that boat doing? They’re not allowed to get that close, let alone move in towards whales, isn’t that a baby one too? That boat should be extra careful.’ The media campaign to educate the public about avoiding harm to whales has run for the last two migratory seasons and Pax, while also paying sharp attention to the stock exchange, keeps a firm handle on government run social learning efforts.
‘Yeah mate, I hear what you’re sayin,’ says the pony-tailed photographer, ‘she’s out of control that one, special rules cos she’s a researcher, with a license to grab a bit of that whale and then get the DNA out of it. She can just get closer and closer and no one can stop her!’ He leans closer and closer to the sea with each word, punctuating each allegation with a forward thrusting index finger.
‘Really? That’s incredible, and I bet that research just sits on a shelf somewhere, rotting.’ Pax says.
‘Yeah, I mean, how much can you actually tell from a bit of skin – what’s that gonna do for any whale?’
Julia looks out at the white peaks breaking the aquamarine sea and sees a pod of dolphins surfing the waves crashing towards the gorge. By some act of magic they know just when to stop and turn aside from the looming rock-face, having their full control of a situation Julia knows would land her in instant broken-boned disaster.
‘I’m sure that since she is doing work with animals that the ethics committee with whichever university she works at has endorsed her project and said it is okay to do what she is doing.’ Julia says. The school teacher in her speaks out, raised as she was by two teachers and now one herself.
Both Pax and the pony-tailed photographer grunt, almost in unison, leaving Julia uncertain if agreement or acknowledgement was intended.
Peggy eyes the whales are coming in, the calf making jump after jump, hurling itself up and out of the water nose first, splashing down on its back. If there is any pain in breaking the water in that way, the benefit must outweigh the cost, for the young animal has made at least ten breaches in the time between coming over the horizon and towards the Island.
Peggy checks the echolocation device hinged to the side of the boat to make sure some unexpected rocky formation does not tear strips off their aluminium boat. She looks to the dart in her hand, small but sharp and precise. It fits in her hand and so small she marvels again at its efficacy.
‘It’s cool how much info it gives us isn’t it Peg?’ She looks up in surprise.
Xavier talks as if speaking what Peggy thinks as he chugs the boat in the general direction of the animals.
‘Yeah I love it. So good to be here. Let’s make sure we don’t miss this one, these whales look super strong.’ Peggy looks again at the echolocator, as compulsive as a teenager with a new phone, checking that a sudden spike does not pierce their voyage.
‘Should we go to the pub?’ The pony-tailed photographer asks Pax.
‘Sure, let’s watch from there – feeling a little dry. Pax,’ and he holds out his hand to the pony-tailed photographer by way of introduction.
‘Matt. Pleasure,’ dropping the camera to hang by the strap hugging his neck and returning the shake. Julia notices the way the polyester cuts in to Matt’s loose neck flesh and the camera bounces against his bulging belly, neither impeding the swagger.
The men head off and for a moment it looks like Pax has forgotten his girlfriend. He stops after a couple of steps and turns to where he expects Julia who is actually three steps behind.
‘Gonna come have a cold one babe?’ Pax says.
‘Nah, might just follow the gorge path around and see what happens after the whales head out again.’ Julia says.
‘The cetaceans you mean love!’ Matt laughs and lumbers up the hill.
‘Join us after?’ Pax says. Julia holds her hands up in an open shrug.
They both have door keys – the swiping card style – so independent movement has no substantive impediment. Pax will probably enjoy the male contact and Julia needs to walk. The suffocating coupledom that dominated their early months together has dissipated with time and Julia enjoys her occasional aloneness.
The path winds around the top of the cliffs as a necklace on sharp clavicles. It is made of gravel, sandy and fine, reminding the walker of the island’s composition. As the second largest sand island in the world, bettered only by its northern neighbour Fraser Island, it has mining potential of which the construction companies on the mainland take full advantage. Driving around Straddie does not reveal scarred hillsides or denuded landscapes, both possible signs of sand mining. Sand mining is only detectable by the mega trucks moving the sand across via the main road, and Julia knows this industry as she assiduously read the websites, as soon as she booked the tickets.
The sand catches in her sandals and she stops at the first seat to take them off. She sits and looks out again, wanting to hold sight of the boat and the two whales, wondering what they think of each other. Through her binoculars Julia discerns two figures moving around the now still boat, readying themselves for something.
A small kick pushes from the inside of her belly up and in to her ribs, pulling her mind back to the baby within. Julia laughs.
‘What’s up, not getting enough love hey bugalug?’ The baby talk has begun, three and a half months before the child should be born, and Julia does not even think to let it pour out.
Five months in to their mint fresh love, a child was begun. It was a quick pregnancy, by near anyone’s standards, for Julia and Pax had decided they should try to have children and less than three weeks later, she knew that she was, despite having never conceived before. The newness of the experience confirmed its truth.
‘So Xavier, we just aim the dart at the whale, calf first, then adult, pull it back after it bounces back.’
‘Sure Peggy, I know the drill.’ He does not voice irritation though, understanding that this is an important process for his senior.
‘Okay, they are still coming on the inside of the rocks now, we’ll have to take care we don’t spook them, by appearing suddenly I mean,’ Peggy says.
‘Yeah, I think if we wait here, not moving towards them, that will avoid that, hopefully.’
Peggy stares at the moving targets, rehearsing what she has to do over and over through small hand gestures, mimicking the real aim-shoot that looms, anticipating the arrival of her time to act. The calf keeps showing its white underbelly to the sky above with each breach. Whether acting on impulse or need no scientist yet knows; the behaviour of humpbacks remains an unread book that Peggy wants to chew up in one afternoon read.
The two cetaceans move in parallel, the adult rolling around on her back occasionally, slapping the water with her pectoral fin, leaving the more elaborate gymnastics to her calf.
Julia does not move from the seat on the cliff top, focusing on the stillness of the person on the boat. Through her binoculars she can see that she is readying herself. The baby in her belly kicks again, this time toward the sea and forming a visible protusion on her usually smooth belly.
Six weeks after she missed her first period Julia went to the doctor to find out how the pregnancy was progressing and see if a due date could be established. The doctor had ordered an ultrasound after chiding her for not coming sooner.
‘These days, most women drag their partners in the moment they get a whiff of pregnancy hormone!’ he said. Julia sat solo in the doctor’s office while Pax kept his work appointments.
‘Guess I just had not smelt it strongly enough yet,’ Julia said.
The radiologist asked Julia to lie down on the firm table and pull her shirt up and her pants down. He ran the cool gel over her belly without apology and pressed the probe firmly in to her flesh. Finally he stopped moving the probe, having obviously spotted something.
‘I shouldn’t tell you, but it looks small for dates, see? It’s just a sac and a mass of cells, should be much further along by now, with a heartbeat and visible body parts, not much detail but some.’
Two weeks of blood tests for the pregnancy hormone levels followed before a return doctor visit.
‘Looks like you’re going to lose it, the HcG levels are going down, you’ll likely have a miscarriage this weekend,’ the doctor said.
‘Really? Are you sure, maybe the blood tests are wrong. Maybe I just wasn’t feeling great last week and that’s why they’re lower – is there another possible explanation?’ Julia said.
‘No, sorry dear, nothing more to do. Look, a week from now, we’ll have a last ultrasound, just to confirm what we know already, then we’ll have a D&C, get things cleaned out and start again.’
The ultrasound showed a thriving foetus, heartbeat thumping at ridiculous speeds, correct for dates. And now here Julia is, watching two people on a boat apparently waiting for the whales to lurch past, twenty-six weeks pregnant and relishing the calm of the second trimester.
When the humpbacks are fifty metres from their boat, Peggy settles in to aim the dart-thrower at the calf. It performs one more impossible back-flip and then glides alongside the adult. Peggy points, holding her legs loosely against the rocking of the boat, aiming at the calf’s back. She releases the trigger and for a moment relates to the harpooning whalers from bygone days: estimating the path of the calf so she does not miss her booty.
The dart hits the back of the calf, bounces off and floats in the water, attached by a long light rope to the boat. Peggy lifts the second dart-thrower, aims at the mother and releases.
‘Success!’ Xavier yells as the second dart bounces off the back of the adult having maybe scraped enough skin and some flesh for DNA gathering. The proof of this shall come after they pull the floating darts back in to their boat.
Peggy quickly pulls in the first dart while Xavier starts on the second. It has worked – a biopsy of both animals reveals itself as they examine the darts, another two secure samples to add to their database.
‘Great work Peg, you’re a pro!’ and Xavier hugs her before she gets a chance to maneouvre away. She feels his broad shoulders encase her frame and has to break the hold before wanting more.
Julia looks through her binoculars and sees the two embrace after the woman reining in the thrown objects, what look like foam darts from a crossbow. Seeing the intimate moment makes her get up and head back to the hotel on the hill where Pax will be on his second beer by now. The tears are pricking the edge of her eyes and the quick emotional rise takes over for a second before walking lets her move it on.
‘Bloody hormones,’ Julia says to no one.
‘Hon, come and have a drink with us!’ Matt, the pony-tailed photographer, exclaims as she finds them on the balcony of the hotel.
‘Can I get you a lemon lime bitters?’ Pax says.
‘Sure, that would be lovely,’ Julia says. She sits opposite Matt and turns to the ocean rather than meet his wobbling gaze. He has two schooner glasses lined up and is nearly finished the one in his stubby fist.
‘Cor, did you see what went on out there on the boat? She was nearly on top of those whales!’
‘They were close. I wonder what they are trying to find out.’
‘Don’t care really, just isn’t fair that they get such access while the rest of us mere landlubbers suffer up here.’ Matt says.
Julia’s first instinct is to retort Not much suffering for art happening here by the looks but holds her tongue and checks on Pax’s progress. He is being served now. The impossible blue sea mirrors the open blue sky as the early wind dies down. Julia could stare at that water for hours in silence.
‘So hon you got yourself a bun in the oven there. When’s it due? Boy or girl?’ Matt says. Julia keeps her eyes firmly on the sea.
‘Fourteen weeks now, all things going to plan. Don’t know what sex.’
‘Huh, got to keep something interesting do ya? A surprise?’ As if sex were the only factor of difference when a new life begins.
‘Something like that.’ And Pax arrives back, his warm brown-near-black eyes shining at his love as he hands over her drink.
‘Thanks Pax.’
‘What sort of a name is that anyway?’ Matt says.
Julia stands with her drink to ease the lower back pain that comes with any sitting on unsupported benches and uses the movement to allow her to walk down to the balcony’s edge and spot the green-yellow canopy of the boat once again. It has started moving south now and will soon pass out of her sight around the shrub-covered headland.
Peggy and Xavier take their positions on the boat having decided to head back around the point to wait for another whale sighting. Their quarry was achieved but more needs doing and at least an hour of good light remains.
‘Want to have dinner tonight Peg?’ Xavier asks. They usually do eat together but it emerges as a matter of course, since they are staying at the same motel and working the same hours, rather than an intended act. He has not asked her before.
‘Sure, sounds good.’ And something opens in the space between them – a possibility – that was not there before. They share a quick glance before looking back out at the horizon looking for their next catch.
Author Bio:
Jessica McLean is a writer, researcher and teacher of Human Geography. For 2013 she’s writing a poem a day at http://smilingatcrocodiles.tumblr.com/ and keeping busy with her four year old boy. Having published academically in journals and earned a PhD Jessica is now enjoying creative writing in all its forms – flash fiction, poetry, short stories and a first novel. Â