The Lightkeeper's Wife - By Karen Viggers Page 0,90

sky. Nothing could be better.

The campground at Freycinet National Park nestles beneath the jutting rocky peaks of the Hazards. It’s dotted with contorted old banksias, their bark as thick and wrinkled as an old man’s skin, and it’s rimmed by an arc of golden sand and softly lapping waves that hiss gently on the shore. As Emma and I step out of the car blue skies and cool air wrap around us. Honeyeaters dart between banksia flowers, twittering.

We’re alone in the campground, so we can pitch our tent wherever we like. It all looks fine to me, but Emma fusses over flat ground and aspect until she settles finally on a spot beneath an ancient, gnarly banksia. We make a game of putting up the tent, flicking each other with tent poles and having mock fencing duels with the pegs. It’s been a long time since I played like this with another person.

After organising our camp, we make tea over a small gas stove and have something to eat. Then Emma hauls out her climbing pack and lays her gear on a tarp. She tosses me a pair of funny little rubber shoes and tells me to try them on. They’re as tiny as women’s ballet slippers, but somehow I manage to cram my feet into them and stand up. Emma laughs, telling me to stand straight and to stop looking so awkward. She says I’ll see how useful these shoes are when we’re climbing; for now, it’s a relief to change back into my runners. Next she pulls out a harness she has borrowed from a housemate, and I adjust the leg loops—my thighs are clearly not as bulky as those of the owner.

Once she has sorted out her gear, she packs everything away again and we drive through the coastal bush, winding onto a gravel road that takes us to a carpark above a small cove with golden sand. We’re some distance above the beach, and I can see two people strolling along the water’s edge. At each end of the beach are mounds of rocks painted red with lichen. The air is still and the steady rushing sound of the waves rises up to mingle with the smell of dew on the damp bushes.

Emma leads me along a tiny path that branches off the main beach trail, winding through prickly scrub and over rock slabs until we arrive at the base of a smooth granite dome. The view from here is stunning. Above and below us and stretching around the headland are sheets and domes of granite. The sea laps energetically at the lower rocks, and to the north I can see the couple still walking on the beach.

We unpack and wriggle into our harnesses. Emma clips an armoury of metal equipment around her waist and then tugs on her climbing shoes. As she moves, the belt makes a pleasant clinking sound. She has a furrowed look of concentration on her face as she goes over everything again, making sure she has all she needs. She seems capable and confident, calm and in control. It’s both reassuring and sexy.

‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Let’s check you out.’

She tests the fastenings on my harness. Then she starts teaching me how to tie a figure-eight knot, but I stop her, showing her I already know this, at least. When I went south, we had to learn some basic climbing knots, how to rope up for glacier travel and how to rig a pulley. I use knots for work too, tying loads, securing tarps. Still, Emma seems surprised. ‘I thought you’d have forgotten all this,’ she says.

‘I’m good with knots, and I’ve worn a harness before, but I’m not comfortable with heights. I’ve never been climbing.’

She grins. ‘You’ll be all right.’

Concentrating, she watches me tie in to my harness, and then she hooks me up to a big camming device she has placed in a crack near our feet. It expands to wedge itself tightly in the crack.

‘I’m not particularly heavy,’ she says. ‘And even without this you should be able to hold my weight if I fall. But I prefer to be safe and make sure we have backup.’

I like backup too, especially when I’m off the ground. Emma ties herself into the free end of the rope then shows me how to thread the rope through the belay device attached to my harness, and how to feed out length as she climbs. If she falls, the belay device will lock

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