Stewart Island
Jenna and Jack quit their summer jobs and hitch-hiked around the South Island with everything in two big packs. When they got to the bottom, Jack said, “Stewart Island is the one place in New Zealand I’ve never been.”
“I’ve never been either,” Jenna said. “Or the Chatham Islands.”
Jack wasn’t sure if the Chatham Islands were officially part of New Zealand. Jenna wasn’t sure either but she thought they probably were.
They bought ferry tickets and caught the catamaran over Foveaux Strait. Jack stood up the front of the boat, watching the sea spray and talking to other passengers. Jenna lay on the deck trying very hard not to vomit. She made it. When they arrived at Halfmoon bay, she walked up and down the waterfront, trying to get the nausea to subside. It didn’t. Jack said he’d seen a lot of dolphins. Jenna felt so sick she didn’t care if she never saw a dolphin again in her life, but looked at Jack’s photos anyway.
Will and Tamsyn, who Jack had met on the boat, were doing the 10-day circuit. They were properly kitted out with expensive boots and freeze-dried food. Jenna only had sneakers and Jack was carrying a ukulele. They weren’t going to do the 10day circuit, but thought they might walk in to the first of the DOC campsites with Tamsyn and Will. Jenna walked at the back. She watched Jack’s ukulele bouncing off his pack. Sometimes when they were hiking along the highways waiting for a ride, Jack would play his ukulele and sing as they walked. He had longer legs and would often stride ahead, leaving her further and further behind, without noticing he was doing it. Jenna felt like she was starting to get sick of Jack but wasn’t sure what to do about him. She didn’t want to hitchhike home by herself, and she couldn’t afford to catch buses.
There was a dead whale on the beach that had disintegrated and washed up the creek. No other animal smells like dead whale. It is a mixture between dead cow and rotten fish. The walk had pretty much sorted out Jenna’s nausea but the whale smell brought it back. She ate a couple of water crackers and helped Jack put up the tent.
Jack lit the gas stove and they cooked a pot of rice and lentils mixed together, which was what they ate every night. They threw in a few spices and some salt, but it still tasted pretty bland.
The sky got dark much later down there. They sat up late into the evening sitting in the grass talking with Will and Tamsyn and a few other campers. At least, Jack did a lot of talking. Jenna mostly listened. Jenna preferred to listen. She collected other people’s stories in her head. You never knew when stories might come in useful. Will and Tamsyn talked about all the festivals they had been to and all the countries where they had travelled. Jack said he was going to save for a ticket to India, and hopefully the borders would be open when he’d saved enough.
“Where would you go, if you could go anywhere in the world?” Tamsyn asked Jenna.
Jenna thought a bit and then said, “The Chatham Islands.” No one knew what to do with that, so they changed the subject.
Stewart Island was a dark sky sanctuary. Neither Jack nor Jenna knew much about astronomy. Jack was studying English and Jenna was studying geography. She had never noticed patterns looking at the stars. Just a whole lot of dots, like spilled sugar. Everyone was looking up at the sky trying to make out constellations, when Jenna farted. It came out sudden and loud. It was really obvious it was her. Jenna froze. In between deciding whether to make a joke about it or to politely apologise, she missed her window. Her face burned and she just sat there. At least there was a night wind, and the whale masked any other smell.
Will came to the rescue. “Good effort,” he said. Tamsyn laughed, her tongue stud flashing in the gathering dark.
Jenna smiled at the grass. It was too late to say anything now. She had definitely missed the moment. Jenna did that a lot. She would think of a comeback at two in the morning, or the next week. She wished she had one of those brains that words just came into.
Later, in the tent, Jack said, “I can’t believe you farted in front of everyone and didn’t apologise. That’s so gross.”
“Sorry,” said Jenna. “It honestly just slipped out.” Jack said nothing.
“It’s all the lentils,” said Jenna.
Jack rolled over in his sleeping bag and turned towards the wall of the tent.
Rats came in the night and ate the lid off Jack’s plastic drink bottle, a hole in the tent bag, and most of their bar of soap.
“I need some time by myself,” Jack said.
“That’s fine with me,” said Jenna. Jack left his pack in the tent and wandered off into the bush. Jenna lay on the beach on her towel, wearing her raincoat and a whole lot of sunblock even though it was heavily overcast, and read her book. She still felt nauseous. She wondered if she was getting sick. The earth felt like it was turning underneath her, way too fast. If she concentrated on the print on the page,
maybe it would stop.
A short story by