When Phil woke up in the morning the tent smelt of urine and Mick was nowhere to be found. As he leaned against the car, Phil felt the bonnet was still warm. He knew that Mick had been driving it. He was more pissed off at Mick than at any other time during their trip and felt like packing up and going on without him. Phil woke up Drew and helped him change into his boardshorts and washed his pants in fresh water and hung them on the fence.
They went for a drive to check the surf, and no sooner had they pulled up at the carpark high above Kirra than they saw Mick on a six-foot barrelling wave. He got tubed the whole length of the surf-break and they couldn’t believe their eyes when he popped out of the dredging wave two hundred metres down the line. Mick surfed that morning like he was a born-and-bred Kirra local. It was a sight to behold. As they watched the incredible display of surfing, Drew put on the best song for the moment, Tunnel of My Love by the Sunnyboys.
Why is my happiness gone when I don’t understand, you
I only know I must settle back down in
this life, pass me through and through.
Well I’m waiting now, I’m weakened to all the bad in you.
I can’t hide, I fall down,
From the tunnel of my love. Oooh
From the tunnel of my love.
Back at the campsite after his surf, Mick found Phil pulling down the tent. He dried off, grabbed his pillow, and crashed out in the front passenger seat while Phil packed the car. They set off to their final destination, North Stradbroke Island. As they drove through Coomera and past the amusement parks, Drew saw families of excited kids running toward the gates of ‘Dreamworld’ and ‘Wet and Wild’. He had just the song for the scene: Stay Young by INXS.
Keep that biting lip
Know what I mean
Sweat upon the brow
That’s what I want
Stay young, just this once
I want to be good value
I wanna see in the dark
I wanna win with you
Hard-edged thinker
Know what I mean
Fevered opinions
That’s what I want
Stay young, just this once
I want to be good value
I wanna see in the dark
I wanna win with you
Stay young
Stay young
Just this once.
“We’re picking up Billy from Thagoona, west of Brisbane,” Phil told Drew, waking Mick up.
“Where are we?” Mick groaned.
“Coming up to Brissy.”
“Bris-Vegas.”
“I know you took the car last night. What? Did your dole money go in?”
“Yep, all gone Phil, that must make you happy.”
“I don’t care what you do with your life, Mick. You can waste the whole thing for all I care.”
“You’re very selective with your caring, aren’t you, Phil?”
“You’re a liar and a thief and accuse me of being uncaring?”
“Phil, you have all the sympathy in the world for Drew, but not a speck for me, why is that?”
“It’s because Drew didn’t choose this outcome. Shit, it may have even occurred because of self-sacrifice.”
“And you think I chose my … outcome?”
“What outcome?” Phil mocked him.
“We all have our struggles Phil. You guys aren’t alone.”
“Oh yeah, what’s your struggle, Mick? Let me guess, addiction?”
“I don’t like to talk about it.”
“Why, because it doesn’t exist?”
“No, because I don’t like playing the victim, that’s why.”
“Oh yeah? What are you the victim of?”
“If you must know, I’ve got borderline personality disorder. It’s fucking horrible. I’ve had it most of my life, from childhood anyway. Since my mum fucked off and then my dad left me to live with Aunty June. I can’t trust anyone and can’t get close to anyone. It just about destroyed me.”
After a period of quiet, Phil spoke softly.
“I’m sorry Mick, I didn’t know.”
“What I don’t understand is, why does everyone need to know the name of something before they can forgive someone for having it. Why can’t people understand that everyone is just doing their best?”
“I don’t know. It’s just one of those things, I guess,” Phil admitted.
Drew looked up Billy in his booklet of photographs. The description read: Billy Ferguson. Friend we met in North Stradbroke Island in 1984. Great surfer and even better person. The portrait was of a smiling Aboriginal boy with a surfboard under his arm. It was a photo Drew had taken of Billy when they met him in Straddie forty years ago.
While Phil put petrol in the car, Mick went to the toilet. Phil and Drew had breakfast in the cafe at the service station while Mick grumpily ate what was left of the fruit fly blown bananas. Before they got back into the car Phil texted Billy, who was ready and waiting outside his house, only a few kilometres away.
“Billy! You bloody beauty!” Mick leapt from the car and hugged his old mate.
“Hiya Mick, you mad bastard!”
“Hi, Billy. Thanks for coming along.” Phil shook Billy’s hand, put his bag in the boot, and tied his surfboard to the roof racks.
“Hey, DC,” Billy said as Drew moved over to the driver’s side of the back seat to allow Billy room to fit in the back of the car.
“So, what’s been happening, Billy?” Mick grinned.
“Oh, you know, Mick. Mostly just chillin’ with the chillen.”
“How many kids you got now?”
“Big mob, Mick.”
“How many?” Phil asked.
“Six kids with Della, and 13 grandchildren.”
“That’s quite a clan.”
“Yep, I’m a lucky man. Marrying Della is the best thing I ever did. What about you, D.C.?” Billy asked Drew and he nodded that getting married had been the best thing he had done.
Drew handed Billy the booklet of portraits of his family and friends. As Billy leafed through the photographs he read the descriptions of the back of each picture. It was both a powerful indication of where Drew’s illness had taken him and how much his wife, Jenny, loved him.
As they drove toward the Sea Link Car Ferry in Cleveland, Drew put on a song. It brought tears to Drew and Billy’s eyes. My Island Home by the Warumpi Band.
Six years I’ve been in the desert
And every night, I dream of the Sea
They say home is where you find it
Will this place ever satisfy me?
For I come from the saltwater people
We’ve always lived by the Sea
Now I’m out here west of Alice Springs
With a wife and a family
And my island home
My island home
My island home
Is waitin’ for me.
The men got out of the car during the ferry ride, leaned against the railing, and the wind blew through their hair as they watched the wake of the big boat create a perfect mini-wave on the extended sandbank surrounding little Cassim Island. They passed the much larger and mangrove covered Peel Island and moored at Dunwich. It was only a 20-minute drive across the island to the Cylinders Beach Camping Ground.
The swell was big, but the wind had already picked up from the northeast, and it was blown out. All four men worked together to set up the tent and gear. After that, they sat around the picnic table under a tree and talked, while watching the big, unruly surf thundering down the beach toward Moreton Island.
Jenny rang at six and spoke to Drew.
“What happened last night? I rang and no-one answered. Is everything okay?”
“Mick went mad last night, and Phil went mad at him this morning.”
“Has everything settled down?”
“Yeah, we’re with Billy at Straddie.”
“You made it! What an achievement. You must feel pleased with yourself.”
“You know, my whole life Mick and Phil have been my best friends. But they have a love hate relationship. I wanted them to see in each other what I see in them. Their good side.”
“I suppose you just need to accept them as they are.”
“There’s not really time for anything else.”
Phil cooked dinner, and the men drank orange cordial with their hamburgers. Drew played a Men at Work song, Down by the Sea.
Down by the Sea
I found your hidden treasure
Just you and me
We overdosed on pleasure
Yonnies in the wind
We’re ruggin’ up for winter
Putting out the bins
In cold and windy weather
Down by the docks
Live all the silent sea-ships
Crates are stored on blocks
Where now only the rats live
Sail me down the river
Till we reach the shore
Diving into the centre
Eating out the core
Down on the beach
Saluting Captain Benbow.
All four crawled into the tent and crashed out.
Chapter Nine of Highway One – The Mixed Tape Reunion, will be available next week:
For $25, including postage. Just DM me on Facebook or email me at [email protected]
