The Perfect Title for the Perfect Day
Alexis Bush (Year 9 Silver)
Early mornings are aching muscles and sleep-filled eyes. Bleary blinks and stretching yawns. A cool glass of water is a good wake-up. Deciding what to wear is usually hard, but the new bathers that were bought yesterday are perfect for this occasion. Throw a big T-shirt over the top and next comes breakfast.
Milo cereal with milk. Superior to all other cereals and reserved only for holidays such as this one. The rest of the family comes to eat, too. Eggs and bacon for the tenth day in a row, how bland. Everyone eats quickly, eager to get the day started. Google has given a long list of fresh-water swimming pools and Josephine falls were the pick of the day.
Cramming everything into the small rental car proves to be a task but, a manageable one after a week and a half of doing it. The ride is long. Really
long. Music blasts through headphones to combat the younger sibling’s Bluetooth. Car-sickness follows closely alongside the twists and turns of the mountains. Attempts to ward off the horrid feeling include curling into a ball and keeping eyes glued to the road.
Pulling up to the dusty car park is more than relief. Stretching limbs that were once asleep, now buzzing with excitement. The car sickness is long forgotten, racing off towards the falls. It’s a vain attempt to get away, being called back to help carry bags, towels and food. Thankfully, the trek is short.
Tropical forest trees tower over the path and ferns reach out, trying to link across the stream of bitumen. The roar of rushing water grows loud all at once as the path forks in two. The route on the right leads to rusted stairs, excited squeals and loud voices echoing from that direction.
The bottom of the stairs leads to a big expanse of boulders. Water weaves its way between them as it flows downstream. Other people’s belongings are occupying the larger rocks, some towels draped dangerously close to the lapping water.
The boulders become sparse further upstream until there is a large expanse of clear, undisturbed water. A natural rock slide, turned smooth by the constant stream washing over it dips into the pool. Beyond are more waterfalls that pour into one another in a thunderous melody.
Abandoning the bags on the closest free rock and stripping down to bathers, the careful navigation to the pool begins. Excitement is cautiously kept at bay, the fear of slipping and splitting a skull open sharp in the mind’s eye. Other people squeal as they dip into the water. Two other kids climb over the rocks back towards their family.
Family shouts encouragement when the boulder at the edge of the pool is reached. Standing over the water trying to judge whether it is safe to jump. The younger brother urges onward, too scared to jump first as usual.
One foot slides into the water, trying to judge whether or not hypothermia is about to ensue. The cold is immediate and it is clear that there is no getting in slowly. The only way is to dive in and be surrounded by the cold water all at once. A laugh surfaces at the same time as air returns to the lungs. It’s a bubbled, difficult thing, laughing and breathing at the same time. Wet hair is now plastered to red cheeks and water drips into eyes that quickly blink it away.
The icy wake-up resets all functioning parts of the brain and on autopilot the doggy paddle begins, keeping the head above water. After several minutes of convincing the brother is jumping in too, resurfacing just as quickly with panted, half-laughs.
A tour group are the next to brave the water. Their squeals are tuned out though, as something on the bottom of the rock pool moves. Looking down and squinting at the moving blob in an attempt to make out what it is without the help of glasses.
A fish!
There’s fish!
Catching one is now the top priority.
This new discovery and task are announced to everyone, though fall mostly on deaf ears. Diving down to one of the moving blobs, ever grateful that the water holds no salt and is easy on the eyes. Floating above the fish, just following as it moves across the rock and sand. It has two small moustache-whisker…. things and sifts through the sand for food.
The deep breath that had once filled the lungs has vanished and the need for more oxygen becomes overwhelming. When resurfacing the fish keeps swimming and envy rears its head. The rest of the duck dives are less peaceful, heart now set on catching one of the fish.
They’re agile and graceful, a stark contrast to the attempts to catch them. Surfacing once again with a pout, hands empty, it is suggested that the natural slide be experienced.
The journey to the dry part of the rocks is harder than it should be. The water is still deep, something to be very grateful for when feet can’t quite keep their grip. The graceless flailing is above the surface now, no longer kept private by the water. More breathless laughs erupt into the air, arms spreading to stay balanced.
Inch by slow inch, the dry, walkable stone grows closer. Finally, standing up normally is achievable. Journeying up and around the top of the rock face, across to the natural slide.
Once again the worry of slipping has returned, waiting in line to slide behind everyone else. Soon the front of the line is left empty. Sitting down at the edge of the stream, shaking heads at parents behind cameras.
The bumps and ridges in the rock, though smooth, still look as though they have the potential to be painful. The water is constantly egging onwards, sliding around legs and gleefully bubbling down the slope. It doesn’t take too much more encouragement to join the fun. There is fear and joy in sliding over the rock. They dance together as the pool comes closer. Faster and faster before everything erupts in a splash.
The cold is less of a shock this time. Under the water, no longer bound by gravity, happiness settles into bone. It is soft and warm. It is the quiet blooming of the soul, one at peace with its natural connection. The connection in this body, in this moment is all that is needed.
The bubbles that are sent up by the younger brother send hotter, sharper happiness shooting into limbs. The peacefulness of underwater is left behind, instead traded for the loud chaos of above. More people are beginning to go down the slide, having seen it is not dangerous. Moving to avoid a collision seems to be an increasingly good idea.
Venturing back to the rocks at the promise of food, towels are wrapped around shoulders and sticky, wet hair is tied into a bun. A family size packet of salt and vinegar chips is open, though it won’t last long with this family of four. The pool has become more crowded so exploration of the other fork in the path sounds like fun.
It is thoroughly underwhelming. It only leads to a small lookout further up the falls. There’s another pool here, bigger and much deeper than the other. The water is dark and anxiety creeps up the spine despite not being in the blackness.
The walk back to the car is slow, no one feels the need to rush ahead. The pink packet is moved around the group, though, some still get more than others. Everyone piles back into the car to begin the winding track home.
