Water (4 page)

I opened my eyes a split second before I hit the water. It closed over my head sucking me under, my eyes stinging and lungs burning. A thumping noise echoed strangely in the absolute quiet of submersion. I started to panic, my arms and legs flailing as I imagined all sorts of explanations for the sound. A searing pain shot up the sides of my head and launched a deluge of black spots behind my eyes, as I broke through the surface of the water gasping for air.

Awkwardly treading water I tried to make sense of where I was. My panic only increased as I dove beneath the surface, searching through the murky water for something incredibly important, the memory of which kept slipping from my mind.

It took a couple of seconds to realise that I was at the farm and a further few seconds to recognise the Van Heerdens’ swimming pool, the sinister thumping, merely the throb of the creepy crawly cleaning the pool.

As I hauled myself shivering out of the pool, relief and utter annoyance flooded me. It was still dark, although the sky was starting to lighten in a rim along the eastern horizon, and a few overly enthusiastic birds had begun to sing.

I’d end up killing myself if I went sleepwalking while we were camping, I thought angrily as I slipped into the house, quickly ducking into the bathroom to avoid unwanted questions from the boys who were already stirring.

Half an hour later we left the house, a flock of geese winging their way across the dawn-tinted sky the only witnesses to the beginning of our great adventure.

The scrunch of our hiking boots on sun-crisped grass fell into a comfortable rhythm as Josh found the path that would take us out of Injisuthi’s skirts and into her waiting arms. Night’s melody of creaking crickets and croaking frogs soon gave way to the morning song of waking birds as the farmhouse became a dark spot on the distant horizon.

The mountain rose in softly rolling foothills at first as we followed the river upstream, but as the sun’s heat intensified so did the climb; the landscape became rockier, the grass raked short on wind exposed land.

The sky was a perfect turquoise with spider-web wisps of white cloud. Delicate flowers raised their beautiful faces to the sun between tussocks of grass, gracing the landscape with jewel-like shades of brilliant pink, purple and yellow. The clean air permeated every cell of my body as I gazed nature-struck at the beauty around me, imagining the huts of the tribe that had once lived here dotted just ahead of us in the traditional circle I’d seen drawn in history books at school.

Injisuthi continued to rise before us, majestic and mysterious. I skimmed her formidable peaks, highlighted by the depth of the shadows in the valleys.

I wondered what the first British and Dutch settlers had thought when they had seen this magnificent mountain range. Laden as they were with clumsy ox-drawn wagons, had they appreciated the beauty or wished for a flatter less challenging land to conquer?

My thoughts drifted to Josh’s tale of the fish-people as I watched a breeze ripple through the lush emerald grass that coated the mountain like fur.

What mysteries had these mountains seen unfold, I wondered. What inconsequential humans – or others – had played out the drama of their lives within her shadowed valleys or on her sunlit plains?

My eyes drifted with a few summer swallows, tracing their darting excitable flight. A hawk of sorts hung, seemingly motionless, in the sky as if from an invisible string, watching its unsuspecting prey, before dropping like a stone into the dark green of a valley.

What would it be like to live in these mountains, I wondered. To have no thought of money, or school, or complicated family scenarios… The simplicity of a life like that was alluring.

The river split into three large streams ahead of us, each of them winding their way back into the face of the mountain through densely wooded valleys.

We stopped to have a drink and decide which route to take.

“Let’s take the middle one,” Josh suggested. “Lower Injisuthi cave is about half an hour’s walk over the top of that waterfall.”

“I’ve done that walk with my Dad,” Luke replied, “there’s nothing interesting there. Why not take the furthest one and work backwards? That way, we’ll be able to cover all of them in one trip. Who knows when we’ll be allowed back into these mountains after this? And if my folks find out that we ran away…” He shook his head and laughed. “I’ll never see the outside of my bedroom again.”

I gazed at the valley Luke had been talking about. The trees seemed darker and bigger in that valley than in the nearer ones. The waterfall was also more pronounced, falling in a silvery streak down a sheer rock face. It was the most intriguing of all the valleys, an ancient, magical-looking place. A place where you’d expect to find something out of the ordinary like dwarves, or hobbits, or maybe even a mystical tribe of “fish-people”.

“So which one will it be, Alex?” Luke’s asked pointing at the valleys.

“Let’s go to that one.” I pointed to the furthest valley, excitement tingling in my fingertips. Luke grinned.

Josh growled and muttered something about girly daydreaming before picking up his backpack and stomping off.

Had I realised how far the valley was, I’m sure I would’ve chosen a different one.

We eventually reached a strange, sharply sloped field of spikily succulent aloe plants, the last hurdle before reaching the valley mouth. Water and wind erosion had washed most of the soil away leaving pocked, jagged rock exposed. The aloes rose from the reddish rock, like dead men’s fingers, into a perfectly blue sky.

We spread out in an uneven line picking our way through the rocky scrub, the midday sun beating relentlessly on our heads and shoulders. The breeze, which had been a welcome relief from the heat earlier, whistled and wailed eerily across the arid landscape like the hot breath of some ancient and terrifying creature of the deep.

The dust and heat chafed my cheeks, forcing me to focus on the ground a few paces ahead of me rather than out at the scenery.

Dappled shade invited us into the mouth of the valley. The waterfall I’d glimpsed earlier cut a white foaming gash into the mountain cliff in the distance. We followed the river, now just an energetically burbling stream, into the mouth of the valley.

We didn’t talk much as we picked our way along the riverbed. This place discouraged talking, as if the sound of human voices had been absent so long that breaking the silence would be almost disrespectful.

It was easy to move with the river at first, skirting glass-still pools, where the shallow water formed a skating rink for dozens of busy insects, and a resin-like resting place for tree roots and old leaves.

As we moved further and further into the valley it became more difficult to walk, the path choked with exploring tree roots and slippery loose soil, forcing us higher up the banks, clutching at the ancient tree trunks as we walked to keep from slipping into the river.

Eventually the valley floor flattened enough for us to scramble, slipping and sliding from tree root to tree root back to the river bed. It ebbed away from stream to trickle until all that was left was a tumble of fallen boulders, some as large as cars, all in varying shades of brown and even pale grey and greeny blue.

I hardly noticed the fringing of ferns and dusting of moss that carpeted the valley in little rivulets of greenery, as the day’s walk caught up with me, and I was no longer entranced by the beauty or mystery the valley had held.

Luke turned to look at us, grinning as he wiped sweat from his forehead.

“Let’s carry on until we reach the waterfall,” he suggested.

Only once he’d suggested it did the sound register. The distant echo of falling water floated on the still, green air. Josh and I agreed and picked up our pace, challenging Luke to a boulder-hopping race as the sound of the waterfall intensified.

The sides of the valley tightened around us like a drawstring bag. Great leafy trees intertwined their branches above our heads ominously, as our enthusiasm was dampened by exhaustion and the eerie light.

The green-tinged air felt older here. The trees seemed to have seen too much.

The echoed sound of our breathing and crunch of our footsteps added to the strange atmosphere of apprehension.

Rounding a bend in the valley brought us to the opening of the most magical place I’d ever seen.

Smooth curved cliff face swirled upward, the rock streaked in delicate shades of green and grey lichen, forming a bowl the only entrance to which we were standing in.

The waterfall dove in an angry froth down the cliff face pummelling already submissively smooth boulders at its base. Ferns, grasses and spongy moss spilled out from the bottom of the waterfall interspersed occasionally with tiny white-flowered plants to frame a pool of astonishingly blue, rippling water.

The scene, which would have made a great postcard, was made even more breathtaking by the sapphire-blue colouring of the water of the pool. The colour intensified towards its centre to a dark jade green. The sides of the pool looked granite-smooth and almost see-through which made the water sparkle, iridescent and inviting. It felt like it was drawing me forward and I realised as I moved that Luke and Josh were moving forward in the same dream-like state.

We stripped to our costumes and the boys raced for the waterfall where they squawked as the icy mountain water stung their effort-warmed skin. I slipped quietly into the other end of the sapphire pool, my breath catching as the cold water shocked me all over.

It was utterly delicious.

For the first time in over three years, I was really enjoying water again. To adjust better I steeled myself against the instinctive fear and dove beneath the surface, opening my eyes, amazed at how crystal clear it was. Even with the water distortion I could clearly make out the shape of the pool all the way around, along with smooth boulders and pebbles that tumbled, at the waterfall side of the pool, towards the bottom which was inky with depth.

Coming up for air I floated on my back, relishing the cool water and weightlessness it offered, at peace for the first time in years. I’d drifted to the middle of the pool watching Josh and Luke taking turns to see who could stand under the force of the waterfall the longest, when something long and slippery slithered around my ankle.

Immediately the fear that had haunted me incapacitated me for a few moments. The nightmare and memories sprang to forefront of my mind and panic shot through me as I rushed to get away from the water.

My fear was quickly tempered with embarrassment as Luke and Josh doubled over with laughter, pointing at me and trying to breathe through their amusement.

“Alex,” Luke wheezed, “is that holy water? You all but walked on it to get out of there!”

Josh let out a choke of laughter at this comment, and staggered towards me, slipping on the glass-smooth rocks and ending in a tangle of limbs in the water.

“Something brushed against my leg,” I informed them with as much dignity as I could muster, as I lifted my chin and stalked off toward our backpacks.

“It’s getting late, let’s go guys,” I tossed over my shoulder.

The boys followed me, still giggling as we shrugged on clothes and packs ready to carry on hiking.

We retraced our steps out of the beautiful hollow, and started to climb the side of the valley to reach the plateau on top, which would take us to our first camping site – a cave the boys had heard of.

I was grateful when Luke and Josh’s playful banter was stunted by the steep climb. Finding nooks for the toes of my shoes and vegetation to assist in pulling me up the forty-five degree angle kept my head down and mind busy.

We stopped halfway up to catch our breath. The valley spread below us in varying shades of green and brown, the waterfall visible on our right, the stream on our left.

Something niggled at the edges of my mind, as we continued to climb, a thought as slippery as a fish.

It took me about five minutes to eventually catch it and when I did I stopped short, Josh crashing into me.

“What’s up, Ally Cat? You tired?” he asked playfully.

I was frozen, my mind racing, trying to explain what we’d all seen, and missed.

“Where does the water go?” I whispered, my eyes still glazed as I tried to make sense of it all.

“What?” asked Luke. He’d slithered down the steep path when he heard Josh’s exclamations at walking into me.

“Where does the water go?” I asked more insistently this time.

Both boys looked at me, and then at each other, their expressions puzzled.

“What do you mean?” Josh asked.

“The water from the pool, where does it go?” I was excited now trying to slot the pieces of the puzzle together. “Think about it. There is the waterfall, so it obviously flows from its source to the waterfall, then there is the river further downstream, but there’s nothing in between. Where does the water go between the pool and the river?”

Josh and Luke stared at me bug-eyed for a few moments before Josh turned, and half ran, half fell down the side of the valley.

We arrived back at the pool in half the time it had taken to leave it, breathless and chattering excitedly as first one, then the other tried to make sense of the riddle.

Slowly scanning the dry boulder-strewn river bed for any hints as to where the water went once it entered the pool, the seemingly endless day was soon to disappoint as the sunlight faded rapidly into twilight.

I was staring into the now inky depths of the centre of the pool thinking about that strange silky something that had slid across my bare legs earlier. It had felt exactly like the sensation that always made my skin crawl during my nightmare, so it was with great trepidation that I overheard Luke and Josh talking about staying in the valley for the night.

“I really think we should keep going,” I interrupted them.

“Alex, it’s getting dark, and we don’t know this area well at all,” Luke replied.

“I thought you said lower Injisuthi cave was just around the corner?” I asked, fear making me uncharacteristically belligerent.

He nodded. “It’s about a five kilometre walk, and it’s really dangerous to keep going with the light fading like this. Even if we managed to get out of the valley without slipping, we’d have to spend the night on the exposed mountain above us. Even in summer it gets really chilly out there at night.”

There was no way I was going to convince the boys to leave the valley, so I helped them set the camp up. Once the fire was lit I began to feel a little better, although every audible sound above the roar of the waterfall still made me jump.

Dinner under any other circumstances would have left a lot to be desired. After a day of hiking, sun and scratches it was a feast!

Sipping warm sweet tea and munching biscuits Luke had had the foresight to scavenge, I breathed in the subtle wild scent of the bush at night, overlaid with the smell of the river, trying to relax.

Pale moonlight filtered through the trees turning the sand we were sitting on silvery white. The neverending rumbling of the waterfall and the tangy smell of woodsmoke prodded me towards sleep.

I half listened to Josh and Luke’s dissection of the latest rugby game, my mind skimming lazily over all we’d seen that day, and all the conversations I’d had with Luke and Josh before the trip began.

One particular question continued to niggle at me. If the fish-people did in fact exist, why were they so far from the sea and how had they got there? The boys probably didn’t have any of the answers for me, but I couldn’t resist steering the conversation towards them. A lull in the conversation provided me with the gap I needed.

“Josh, if they exist, what are they doing in the mountains?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I really don’t know, Alex. I just know that they have been here for a long time.”

“It’s a good question though, Al.” Luke engaged in the conversation meaningfully for the first time. “I mean, how would they have got here?”

“I guess they could have posed as humans and travelled with the early settlers,” Josh mused.

The conversation slipped from the fish-people to some of the stories Josh’s tribe had of the early settlers, leaving me no choice but to drop the subject. The boys didn’t seem to have any other nuggets of information for me anyway.

As the moon rose I snuggled into the rustling canvas of my sleeping bag, the boys’ conversation creating a melodic sing-song as their voices dipped and rose to the rhythm of the pounding waterfall as I drifted to sleep.

My dream that night was vividly clear. Lifelike in detail, but dreamlike in impossibility.

It started with the trees, each one calling my name in eerie, wheezy whispers, as if their ancient voices had been clogged with the spider webs of time. Against my will, I moved towards them, searching in the hazy green of the pre-dawn light.

Then beneath my feet was an icy liquid that sent delicious tingles up my legs as I walked. I looked down to see that I was walking on the surface of the turquoise pool. I remember being childishly delighted with this discovery, skipping and kicking the water, watching the spray glisten and swirl around me in crystallised slow motion.

I was so busy playing that it took me a while to notice the shapes beneath the surface of the water. At first they looked like brightly coloured fish. Their colours ranging through rainbow hues glinted in the bright sunshine. I reached towards them, but as I did so, they morphed into fish-people, grabbing my outstretched arms and pulling me down into the water.

Fear cold and metallic filled my mouth. My body wouldn’t move, and while inside I was screaming, my lips refused to part to let the sound out.

They smiled, beautiful angelic smiles as the water around them turned from clear turquoise blue to blood red as they pulled me beneath the surface.