Narrative by Meredith Stephens: Photographs by Alan Noble
Alex spent an hour researching petroglyphs on Enderby Island, part of the Dampier Archipelago traditionally known as Murujuga. The online search revealed that petroglyphs[1] were plentiful, but for cultural reasons, did not include photographs of them or their location. Alex was looking forward to it much more than me. I was still afraid of encountering a crocodile. We were approaching the southern range of their habitat, but an online search indicated that crocodiles could be found as far south as Exmouth or even beyond, so I didn’t want to take any risks.
We’d had a long sail, so after anchoring we enjoyed happy hour in the calm bay and had an early night. The next morning, I was urging Alex to keep sailing because of my fear of crocodiles, but he was keen to locate the petroglyphs, so I gave in. We had been confined to the boat for a few days so had suffered from lack of exercise. We usually take the paddleboard to shore, but it was further than usual, so we decided to use the dinghy instead. I gingerly tried to step off the boat into the dinghy, and the dinghy started to move away as the water started stretching beneath my feet.
“Now!” urged Alex.
Emboldened, I placed my feet into the centre of the dinghy and turned to sit on the bench while Alex held the dinghy firm. Then he jumped in behind me, and we set off for shore. The deep sea of the floor rose sharply at the beach and it was easy to pull the dinghy ashore. Even though the island was uninhabited there were numerous bird footprints and others we couldn’t identify on the shore. We walked to the igneous rocks and wandered along the beachfront, clambering over rocks. Walking this landscape, you’d never know you’re treading on bedrock nearly 2.7 billion years old—among the oldest exposed geology anywhere on the planet. Alex kept periodically walking up the hill to the rocks searching for petroglyphs. Meanwhile I turned to face the sea and surveyed the beach for crocodiles.
“It’s not really their habitat. There aren’t enough mangroves,” explained Alex.
We continued clambering over rocks, but we saw neither petroglyphs nor crocodiles. Instead, we spotted several hardy mangroves growing out of solid rock. Their stature was small, but their trunks were old, so they must have been old trees even though they appeared stunted. They resembled bonsai trees, but instead of being sculptured by humans they were shaped by nature.
Then we spotted a pair of black birds with red beaks. They stood on their left legs in symmetry, both facing the same direction.
“They must be lovebirds!” remarked Alex.
After two kilometres, turned around and walked back to the dinghy, giving up on finding petroglyphs. My fear of crocodiles disappeared. I was gratified that we had discovered things we weren’t looking for, and that we had managed to walk several kilometres after having been confined to the boat for days. Alex dragged the dinghy back into the water. I hopped in, and then he swung it around and headed back to the boat.
Once again, the island had kept its indigenous secrets, yet its wild beauty was available to all who ventured ashore.
[1] Ancient carvings on rock surfaces.
(NB: For the skipper’s sailing account of this leg of the voyage and more, please click here.)
Meredith Stephens is an applied linguist from South Australia. Her recent work has appeared in Syncopation Literary Journal, Continue the Voice, Micking Owl Roost blog, The Font – A Literary Journal for Language Teachers, and Mind, Brain & Education Think Tank. In 2024, her story Safari was chosen as the Editor’s Choice for the June edition of All Your Stories.
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