Monsoon by Di Morrissey

the hat was as she tied the ribbons under her chin.
    Hung put a tray of crisps, tasty dried nuts and seeds, and some fresh fruit beside them and showed them where the icebox was, filled with cold drinks.
    Captain Chinh, wiry with sun-crinkled skin, wearing voluminous shorts, a T-shirt and the ever-present conical hat, was in the stern guiding the Harvest Moon out into the bay when the other passenger came out and went to talk to the skipper and take some photographs. He was in a short-sleeved batik shirt and a battered cotton hat that reminded Anna of her dad’s old fishing hat.
    Anna gazed at the striking scenery about her. She’d seen the ragged grey outlines of granite and limestone against the skyline, but as they left the horseshoe curve of the shoreline she realised they were sailing into a strange world of startlingly different geography. The sea was emerald and from its smooth surface exploded thousands of bare peaks eroded by sea and wind into craggy sculptures. Others rose out of the sea dripping dark green vegetation like a mantle over one shoulder. Another cluster looked like the gnarled fingers of a giant’s hand, the palm cupped below the surface.
    â€˜It’s said a monstrous dragon ran to the sea from the mountains and his tail gouged out the landscape, which filled with water. Supposedly there are periodic sightings of the mythical marine monster – the tarasque,’ said Sandy.
    â€˜Vietnam’s answer to the Loch Ness monster? I can believe there’s something down there – it’s so eerie,’ said Anna. ‘Beautiful, but mysterious.’
    As the shore disappeared Captain Chinh cut the motor and, under sail, they glided between the strange monoliths. Leaving the steering to Hung he came up to the bow to introduce the other passenger.
    The girls liked him immediately. He had speckled grey hair, an open friendly face and a well-modulated Australian accent. ‘I’m Tom Ahearn. Quite amazing, isn’t it?’ He nodded at the sheer grey sculptured walls rising out of the sea close to them.
    â€˜Listen to the birds,’ exclaimed Anna.
    â€˜We were thinking you could get lost among all the peaks and islands,’ said Sandy. ‘They look alike to us, but each peak is quite different when you study them.’
    Captain Chinh smiled. ‘I know every place here. Lot of caves for tourists to see. Tonight we stop in special place. You see tomorrow, magic one. You take kayaks, okay?’
    â€˜We’re up for a paddle,’ said Sandy, and Anna nodded.
    â€˜Tomorrow you come with me, Tom. Hung watch boat.’ Captain Chinh had everything arranged, it seemed.
    â€˜The water is like glass, more like a lake. But then it’s a really huge bay, and out there – the Tonkin Gulf,’ commented Tom. ‘You two travelling around the country?’
    Sandy answered. ‘I’ve been living here for four years. It’s Anna’s first visit from Australia. I’m due to move back there so we’re being tourists. Your first time here?’ How many times had Sandy had this conversation with visitors who crossed her path at popular spots in Vietnam?
    â€˜I was here in the war,’ said Tom. ‘Never got to the north, of course. What’ve you been doing here?’ he asked Sandy. So she told him about HOPE and he nodded. ‘Bloody good outfit. NGOs do a terrific job. Young people like yourself getting in and mixing it with the locals. Achieves more than some of the aid bureaucrats, I reckon,’ said Tom. ‘And, Anna, you have family ties here?’
    Anna didn’t really want to talk about her family, but he asked so gently, so sensitively, that she said, ‘My mother’s family came from here. My mother was a refugee in Australia but she died when I was young.’
    â€˜Sad start to a new life,’ he said gently. ‘When you say “here”, you mean this province or just Vietnam?’