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third angry wave crashed over Rachael’s head. She spluttered and gasped for air. Her lungs were burning. Cold salt water poured down her throat. She gulped and tried to cough. Her head was up, desperate for air, but to clear her lungs she needed to face down, and would be submerged. How could the sea, tranquil and benign this morning have metamorphosed into this powerful Leviathan? The prevailing current was pulling her with callous intent out into open ocean. Rachael began the day excited and in awe of the sea. She’d seen it once when she was 11, on their only family holiday to Ulladulla. Rachael now 13, Lucy 11 and their mother were staying with Aunty Sylvie and their cousins, all boys, at Barrington Tops. Two of the older boys Heath and Mark suggested a drive through the Myall Lakes region to one of the beaches. “Wear your togs. There’ll be nowhere to change,” Heath said as he grabbed some beach towels. Aunty Sylvie cut lamb and chutney sandwiches and packed fresh peaches from their fruit trees for lunch. “Don’t be late home kids,” she’d warned, “we’ve got friends passing through and they’ll stop for dinner.” Visitors were a rare treat on this semi-isolated farm. “Cool Mum, don’t sweat it,” Heath called out the window as they zoomed off in his battered orange Datsun 120Y, ‘P’ plates slightly askew. Skyhooks lead singer Shirley Strachan belted out Horror Movie on the car cassette player. “I just got the album,” Heath grinned from the driver seat “it’s
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UNGUARDED BY BRONWYN CAMPBELL
their latest one.” It was a bit squashy in the back seat, but the girls were too excited to care. They were off on a beach adventure. Leaving the farm the car bounced along dirt tracks. They crossed the Pacific Highway north of Bulahdelah, and continued on unsealed backroads through lush green coastal forest. Presently in front of them, between the trees emerged an amazing vista of the whitest sand and most dazzling blue ocean the girls had ever seen. Heath pulled the car off to the side of the road and they tumbled out. Throwing off their outer clothes they raced to the water’s edge. The boys barrelled into the surf, the girls wading in more cautiously. Rachael squinted into the cloudless blue sky. The water sparkled. Pale turquoise waves fringed by frothy white broderie anglaise lace washed gently over them. They swam and whirled, frolicking and floating, weightless in the swell. The boys swam off to body surf in the waves, and soon after Lucy headed off to find them. Having lost track of time or how far out she had travelled from the beach, Rachael turned to orient herself. Jeepers creepers I’m a long way out. She had a moment of doubt but then was sure she would be okay. Much later when she turned for the beach she saw that her cousins were back on land, tiny specks on the isolated shore. She began to swim back. The current was strong and Rachael seemed to be making no headway. What is happening? She swam on, certain that she was heading in the right direction,
unsure of the distance to the beach. Another wave washed over her head. She choked and decided to dog paddle, struggling now to stay afloat. Seal Rocks, near the Myall Lakes was unpatrolled. No flags to indicate a safe section of the coast for swimming and no life-savers to intervene should holiday makers get into trouble. It was a dangerous stretch of coastline and locals knew of the rips. It would later be dubbed Treachery Beach. For visitors, especially land-locked ones like Rachael and Lucy who possessed no surf skills, this was a particularly perilous place. Rachael began to realise that she may be in trouble. The roar of the ocean drowned out all other sound. There was no one around to help, no strong arms reaching out to support or protect her. She had become caught in a powerful undertow, and was being dragged out to sea. She continued to swim, yet came no closer to shore. She swam and swam, breast stroke and dog paddle, in an attempt to keep her head above the swell. She now found herself in the fight of her life. But Rachael was a fighter. She was not going to be taken out today by an arbitrary wave. Mum had insisted that all the children learn to swim. She had made sure that they went to summer swimming classes at the local pool. Young for the class, even at the shallow end her feet failed to reach the pool floor. Crowded classes meant that she couldn’t guarantee a place at the pool edge, where she could hold on safely. Desperately dog paddling to keep her head above water and feeling unsafe had been a frightening experience.
