“Well Gabby,” I said. “What do you think?”
“Oh, I'm definitely keen if you are,” she replied nervously biting her lower lip.
“Okay Dave,” I said to the man, “I would like to book the two-night trip for both of us tomorrow morning. Can you do it?”
“Certainly,” he said glancing at his laptop, “by the look of things there'll be perfect sailing conditions and weather.”
I shook hands with him after finalising a few things and agreeing to meet at the same offices at 8.00 am the following morning. The drive back through town and out to Sand Dollar Lodge was filled with excited conversation from Gabby. Her one concern was that we already had a booking and it would be a waste of money to simply leave for the island for two nights. I explained that I was not concerned about that in the slightest and that I was happy to have the original booking as a back-up in the event we were unhappy with the trip. She nodded in agreement and then turned to stare out of the passenger window as we passed a grove of palm trees.
“I can't believe it!” she said loudly.
“What?” I asked.
“We're going to the islands Jason!” she replied even louder.
It was 2.30 pm by the time we arrived back at our casa. I filled the cooler box Gabby had brought with cold water and beer and we both took a walk to the steps that led down the drop off to the grassy glade on the beach. I placed two towels in the shade of a clump of palm trees and we lay there, sipping drinks and staring out at the ocean until we both fell asleep. It was 5.00 pm when I awoke to the sound of a motor boat landing on the beach nearby. Three sunburnt men alighted carrying their catch of Barracuda and Yellow fin Tuna. They passed nearby and made their way up the steps. Gabby awoke with a lazy yawn and with the sun now making its way down behind us she removed her sarong and announced it was time for a swim. Her bikini was bright white against her tanned body. I removed my shirt and followed her to the water line. The clear water felt like a tepid bath and the sand squeaked under our feet as we walked through the shallows to the nearest deep channel.
Gabby lay on her back in the water and closed her eyes in a state of deep relaxation. Further down the beach to my left a group of tourists started playing 'Three Little Birds' by Bob Marley. Treading water, I stared back at the stretch of coastline with its fringe of palm trees bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun. Life is good Green. Enjoy the ride. My dream like state was suddenly destroyed by Gabby who had mischievously slipped under the water behind me. She surfaced suddenly from behind and pushed my head under water. When I surfaced, blinking and coughing, she was laughing gaily at her prank.
“You!” I said vengefully “I'm gonna get you...”
Gabby yelled playfully as the chase began. She swam at surprising speed with long elegant strokes but soon gave up and I pulled her back to me by her ankle. I tasted the salt on her wet lips as we kissed in the chest deep water. That night Gabby wore a long white and blue summer dress. We took the same table near the pool under the fairy lights of the cashew tree. The thick white table cloth was weighed down against the breeze by small pewter coconuts on clips. The whites of her eyes were perfectly clear in the candlelight and her face glowed with health. We dined on small cast iron pots of creamy mussels with crunchy Mozambican bread followed by crayfish in garlic and parsley butter. The Chenin Blanc from Stellenbosch was crisp and cold and was stored in a silver ice bucket as we ate. The quiet relaxation of the evening was only disrupted by the frenetic activity in the bedroom of our casa later. That night I never woke or slipped out for a quiet cigarette. My body and mind were totally relaxed and I slept soundly until I heard the birds at 6.00 am the following morning. I carefully pulled my right arm from under Gabby's neck and walked quietly over the decking floor to let myself out on to the veranda. The early morning sun was starting to burn away the few clouds that had gathered on the horizon overnight and the breeze was cool. I placed my cigarettes on the banister and walked through the main doors to the kitchen to boil the kettle for coffee. When it was ready, I sat once again on the banister to smoke and stare out at the distant islands. A few minutes later, I heard the door squeak and turned to see Gabby wrapped in a towel and yawning as she walked out. Her hair was tousled from slumber and she smiled as she walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
“I can't believe we're going there today,” she said looking over my shoulders towards the islands. “By the way, where's my coffee?”
I packed the vehicle after another breakfast of sliced pineapple. We arrived at the dhow safaris office at 7.45 am to find the manager, Dave waiting for us with his crew. They loaded my wine, beer and fruit into an old pick-up truck which left for the boat while Gabby and I were given a few last-minute tips on where we were going and what to expect.
That done we took the short walk up the sandy road towards the beach. The old wooden dhow was 30 feet long and painted bright yellow. Near the bows, painted in blue letters, was the name Celeste. We waded through the shallows and boarded using a set of wooden steps that had been lowered from the side of the waiting vessel.
“Well, it looks like you're all set,” said Dave. “Have a lovely time.”
We thanked him as the crew pulled in the anchor and started the tiny outboard motor at the stern. The crew consisted of a captain, a deckhand and a cook. The captain introduced himself as Horatio and welcomed us aboard in passable English. The small engine groaned and sputtered under the strain as we glided across the smooth surface of the water and stared back at the coastline. It was when we were roughly eight hundred metres out that the engine was cut and the giant triangular sail was raised. Gabby and I sat in the centre of the boat on a flat bench and watched the palm trees and buildings behind us grow ever more distant. I glanced at her briefly and noticed she was smiling to herself behind her sunglasses. Near the stern of the boat was a large wooden box filled with beach sand. The cook busied himself lighting a small charcoal fire within the box and placed a metal grill over the flames and coals. He filled an old enamel kettle with fresh water and placed it on the grill to boil.
“The cook is making coffee sir,” said the captain. “Would you like some?”
“Yes please,” Gabby and I replied in unison.
Five minutes later the coffee was served in bright blue plastic mugs with a plate of biscuits. With the mainland now far on the horizon, Gabby and I both turned to face the bows and sat drinking our coffee, talking and staring ahead at the distant islands. The old canvas sail bellied above and the sun sparkled on the surface of the water as we glided forward silently at a steady speed. The crew behind us chatted happily in Portuguese as they drank their coffee and I put my left arm around Gabby's waist. It was an hour later when the sun had started to really burn that I spotted the first dolphin. It sped alongside the boat with its glistening dark grey body occasionally rising before being joined by three others. Gabby was thrilled and snapped numerous photographs with her camera. Ahead of us, in the distance to the right, was the low-lying smaller island of Margaruque while on the left were the tall dunes of the much larger Benguera. The captain made the turn to port and set a course for the centre of the larger island. The looming land mass grew in size as we approached and we saw the thick belt of palm trees and greenery that rimmed the stark white dunes. Ten minutes later we rounded a long stretch of sharp black coralline rocks and entered an enclosed lagoon. The captain dropped the sail and suddenly all was silent until the small engine was started once again. The tiny motor gurgled and spluttered as we made our way along the natural wall of rock at the deepest point of the lagoon.
I glanced over the right-hand side of the boat and clearly saw the sand floor of the bay five metres below. The boat travelled for a further fifty metres and then turned left towards the perfectly white beach. The captain cut the motor and the boat drifted until I heard the sand crunch beneath the wooden hull. All of a sudden there was a flurry of activity as the boat was swung around until it lay parallel with the beach. Ropes w
ere thrown, anchors dropped and trunks of supplies were readied for offloading. Behind us at the top of the bay an old man appeared from the green belt at the foot of the dunes. He wore tattered blue overalls that were bleached almost white by the baking sun. Around his waist he wore a leather belt attached to which was a long rubber truncheon. He waved and called to his colleagues on the boat.
“Now we have arrived sir,” said the captain. “That is the camp guard, Armando.”
Gabby and I climbed over the side of the dhow and stepped directly into the ankle-deep shallows. The reflection of the morning sun off the water and the sand was blinding even from behind sunglasses. The crew and the guard began unloading bags and trunks under the captain’s orders. I walked up the beach with Gabby to the highest point before the green belt and took a look around. Apart from the crew there was not a single building or human being in sight. Horatio, the captain, walked up to us with a smile and spoke.
“I will now show you to the camp,” he said. “If you would like to follow me. The crew will bring everything and I'm sure you would like some shade.”
Gabby and I followed him up the beach for fifty metres towards the area where the rock wall met the sand at the top of the lagoon. The captain paused and pointed towards a clearing in the green belt of foliage and palm trees at the base of the dunes.
“There is our camp,” he said proudly. “Follow me please.”
I was initially disappointed at what I saw as a deserted and incredibly ramshackle set of huts and shacks, but I held my tongue as we followed on. To the left at the front was a pole and thatch structure under which stood two bench tables. At the centre a little further back was a large 'A' frame building with simple reed mats as frontage. To the right at the front was another smaller pole and thatch structure under which hung two hammocks.
“Is that it?” I murmured under my breath.
“Wait Jason,” whispered Gabby. “Let's have a closer look.”
We arrived in the shade of the building to the right and stood near the hammocks.
“Please wait here,” said Horatio. “I will get your welcome drinks.”
The captain disappeared down a pathway behind the border of banana and palm trees. I stood and took another look around.
“Well,” I said to Gabby. “It's rustic, I'll give it that”
Gabby laughed as she discarded her sandals and flopped into one of the hammocks. She lifted her sunglasses and peered out at the dazzling sand and ocean in front of her.
“Sure, it is,” she said as the hammock swung gently. “It's also absolutely perfect.”
Sensing my protestations were getting me nowhere, I too removed my shoes and lay back in the hammock next to hers. A steady breeze blew in from the sea and I leant my head back and took a deep breath. Relax Green. The captain returned carrying a blue plastic bag and a deadly looking machete. I watched as he passed us and placed the bag on one of the tables under the thatched structure to our right. He removed a fresh green coconut from the bag and began deftly hacking at it with the blade until he had totally removed the top. He then took a straw from the same bag and walked over to present the drink to Gabby. She thanked him as she took it and sipped from the straw.
“Delicious!” she exclaimed. “And cold too.”
“Yes madam,” said the captain. “Our cook and the guard have a kitchen nearby with a paraffin freezer.”
The captain walked off and began hacking at a second coconut which he presented to me. As Gabby had said, the milk was sweet, cold and delicious. We lay there silently swinging in our hammocks in the shade as we sipped the cool liquid. Soon enough the guard appeared carrying our bags.
“If you are ready, I will show you your room now,” said the captain.
Gabby and I got up and followed the two men back towards the 'A' frame building to the rear carrying our coconuts. In a matter of seconds, the simple reed mats at the front were rolled up and secured revealing a rustic and spartan interior. To the rear of the room stood a double bed with a mosquito net hanging above it. Nearer the front was a low coffee table fashioned from old driftwood surrounded by simple wooden chairs with blue canvas cushions. I looked around the interior hoping to find a fan or some electrical points. There were none.
I watched as our bags were placed on a side table near the bed. Gabby, seemingly unperturbed, followed the captain to a door at the rear of the building.
“And here is the shower and toilet,” he said proudly as he swung the door open.
“This is great!” said Gabby enthusiastically “Jason, come and have a look.”
I followed the two of them into the darkness and cool of the interior and poked my head around the door to the 'bathroom'. In actual fact it was an open air, reed enclosure set at the edge of the green belt at the foot of the dunes. The floor was covered with shiny blue ceramic tiles and to the rear was a simple sink and toilet. Above, in the centre of the space was a rusted shower rose with a single tap for what I assumed was cold water. Privacy was assured by the reed walls and the thick foliage that surrounded it. From what I had seen the place was rudimentary and unsophisticated, but it was clean. More important was the fact that Gabby seemed delighted with it. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I walked back through the room and I saw that the bed looked comfortable and the building was cleverly placed so as to get a constant breeze from the ocean. I stood at the front of the building and turned to face Gabby.
“So,” I said. “What do you think?”
“I think it's fantastic,” she said with a bright smile.
I looked out to see the deck hand and the cook battling to carry the trunks of supplies over the sand.
“They are going to the kitchen,” said the captain. “It is situated a little further up the beach near their quarters. Of course, your camp is totally secure and private, but they are there for you if you need them. For now, the cook will prepare your breakfast which will be served here.”
He pointed towards the two bench tables in the sand beneath the thatched structure at the right of the clearing.
“Well,” he said, “I hope you enjoy your stay. I will be leaving soon with the deckhand and will return at around 10.00 am. the day after tomorrow.”
Gabby and I thanked the man and returned to our hammocks in the shade. We waved as the deckhand walked past to return to the anchored dhow in the lagoon. Apart from the rustle of the palm fronds above and the occasional squawk of a seagull, all was silent. Once again, I was overcome by an extreme sense of isolation. Not a bad place to be isolated Green. I put my head back and closed my eyes to savour the moment and I must have dozed off at some point.
I was woken by the clink of cutlery on the nearby tables. The cook and the guard had arrived with trays of food and drinks and Gabby was quietly helping them set one of the tables. She looked up towards me and smiled.
“Oh, you're awake!” she said “Come...breakfast.”
I rolled out of the hammock, stretched and realised I was ravenously hungry. I walked barefoot over to the table to find a glorious spread of food and drink had been laid out for us. There was a jug of iced pineapple juice, bowls of chilled fruit salad, a rack of toast and ham and cheese omelettes. Gabby and I ate while we discussed our plans for the day. The guard and cook appeared once again when we were drinking our coffee. One of them lugged a cooler filled with drinks while the other carried a trunk loaded with snorkelling equipment. I lit a cigarette while Gabby went to the room to fetch a hat and some sun block. It was decided that there would be no plan at all that day and we would simply take a walk on the beach and explore. I put the drone, my camera and some snorkelling equipment in a small bag and we set off heading past the lagoon and into the unknown. Gabby wore the loose white cotton beach dress she had bought in the mall in Vilanculos with a wide brimmed straw hat. The sun was high in the cloudless sky and its reflection was blinding as we walked past the now deserted lagoon and rounded a bend in the beach. We walked on the hard sand nearest the water and as we took the
corner the vista opened up and the beach stretched and curved away to the horizon. The green belt of foliage and bushes on our right gave way to colossal, silken sand dunes and there was not a single human footprint as far as the eye could see.
“This is just incredible,” whispered Gabby. “There's just no one here.”
I shook my head in disbelief as I looked around.
“I know,” I said. “I didn't think such places existed any more.”
We walked up the hard sand in silence, the only sound being the soft crunch under our bare feet. Ahead of us dozens of ghost crabs scuttled comically into the water as we approached. Being on the western ide of the island the still water stretched away in magnificent, translucent turquoise, underlaid with dark coral reefs. I knew that eventually the beach would lead around to the heavy waves and unprotected waters of the western boundary but that was well out of sight from where we were. Gabby pointed out the absence of any great amounts of plastic trash normally associated with the beaches and islands of the northern hemisphere. She also mentioned the fact that the archipelago had been 'protected' by decades of brutal civil war.
“This place” she said quietly “This country, is a physical jewel.”
Further up the beach we came across a huge, dead tree half buried in the sand. Its thick sun- baked limbs and branches were bone white and protruded from the sand like the hand of a giant skeleton. By then the heat in the direct sunshine had become unbearable. Gabby and I dumped our bags and headed gratefully for the shallows. The water was almost too warm, so we swam a good thirty metres out to a deeper channel to cool off. We bobbed and floated there for fifteen minutes until it was decided it was time to return to the shade and comfort of the camp. As we walked through the shallows, I noticed a white object concealed in the sand. I reached into the water to retrieve it and immediately recognized it as a sand dollar or pansy shell. The thin, delicate white disc was bigger than my hand and the organic, petal like pattern in its centre fascinated Gabby who took numerous photographs of it before I returned it to the sea. It was a full half hour later when we finally returned, dripping with sweat, to the camp. I waited at the bench tables in the shade for Gabby who went for a cold shower and a change of clothes. I did exactly the same and when I emerged, I found her swinging on her hammock in the shade drinking an ice-cold beer.
The Jason Green series Box Set Page 61
