The ill-fated trip to Naghir

In the first week of January, 2009, Tony and I planned to head to Naghir, the Mills’ family island for the day.  It would have been the first visit for me and the first in 30 years for Tony.  For years I had listened to Ina’s stories about Naghir and I was keen to see the island.  The BOM had predicted 5 knot winds for the next few days and this was perfect for crossing the 25 nautical miles between TI and Naghir.

     The evening before leaving I asked Ina to draw a mud map so I could find my way around.  She sketched it out and identified some landmarks; Pine Creek, the cemetery, the well and her mother’s grave.  She then wrote, ‘caves.’

     ‘Don’t go near there,’ she said, dropping her voice as she tapped the paper.  ‘Us kids, when we been walk past, the hair on our necks stan’up.’

     I knew exactly what she was talking about.  She'd mentioned those caves before and the hair on my neck had stood up.  Since I have a deep respect for the spiritual and religious practices of other people and cultures, I wasn’t going anywhere near the place.

     I showed Tony the mud map and related Ina’s warning about the caves.

     ‘As if,’ he said. ‘They’re caves.  There’s bones.  It’s nothing and I'll go for a look if I want to.’

     I pleaded with him not to go to the caves and he dismissed my concerns as superstition.

     Next morning we set off from the Rosehill Ramp just after seven.  The sea was mut-thuru, like glass and the sky was clear. I said a small prayer and asked God to keep us, the adults and 7 children aged between 4 and 12, safe.

     Naghir rose from the horizon like a giant, equilateral triangle.  

     A few miles into the trip, I was able to make out some contours on Naghir in the bright morning sunlight; the yellow-green, a deep cleft in Naghir Hill, a hill to the left.  Travis Island to the west was also lit up.  I also noticed the fractured surface of the water.

     Past Wednesday Island a dark curtain appeared to hang over Naghir yet Travis Island and Moa to the north were brightly lit and green.  Bizarre, I thought.  The Madam Dugong was no longer slicing through the water.  She was rising and falling with the waves.

     I got Tony’s attention and motioned to the waves.

     ‘We’ll head towards Twin Island,' he said, 'in case it gets worse.’ 

     I knew to trust Tony.  He’s a seafarer and he knows the sea instinctively.  Yet why was I feeling so uneasy about choppy water when this wasn't part of the BOM's weather advice.

     And why the hell was Naghir still hidden behind thick, dark rain that appeared as a black rectangle when the foliage and rocks of Moa and Travis Island were still visible in the bright sun. 

     As we levelled with Twin Island, Tony made a left turn for Naghir.  Not long after the sun vanished behind patchy cloud and Naghir, now within a few miles, was menacing.  We were now close enough for me to make out the boiling, grey mass of cloud above Naghir, streaks of vertical, black rain and mist rising from the sea like steam.  The Madam Dugong handled the waves well, but one doesn’t travel to Naghir with seven children when there are waves, cloud, rain and a destination that presents as a scene from a horror movie. 

     I was torn between my duty to trust Tony and a desire not to be part of a trip that may offend some spirits in a cave we’d been warned not to enter.  I wanted to turn around.  One thing Tony doesn’t like is me telling him how or where to drive a boat.

     A flash of something bright to the south caught my eye.  Forked lighting.  I tapped Tony on the shoulder, pointed and before I could speak, he’d turned the vessel for Twin Island.

     We waited out the squall in the shack and headed back to TI as the weather calmed and sky cleared.  By the time we got to Wednesday Island, the sea was mut-thuru.  At the ramp, the sun was blazing.  Naghir rose clearly from the horizon, a giant, equilateral triangle.

     As soon as we arrived home I rushed to see Ina, keen to get her take on things.

     ‘I was so worried about yufla,’ she said before I could start talking.  'All morning I been think, I never asked them ancestors for permission for you to go and to keep you safe.’

     ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘they told us’ and I related our not-so-successful trip to Naghir.

     I didn't want to go to Naghir for a long time.