The Kayak Guide – Part 2: The Camp

The last camp was on a crescent of black sand beneath the glacier.

The tents stood in a row above the tide line, bright orange against the dark. A driftwood fire crackled. The group sat round it in thermals and woolly hats, eating grilled lamb and drinking red wine from tin mugs. Someone had brought a guitar. The stars came out one by one, thick and brilliant, until the whole sky burned.

Rebecca slipped away from the fire and walked down to the water. The fjord lay black and mirror-still. Icebergs glowed faintly in the starlight, ghostly blue. The glacier loomed beyond, vast and silent.

Footsteps crunched on the sand. Mateo stopped beside her.

"Cold?"

"A bit."

He handed her his jacket, and she wrapped it round her shoulders. It smelled of wood smoke and wool. They stood side by side, looking at the ice.

A deep crack split the silence. A slab of ice peeled from the glacier's face, slow and majestic, and fell into the fjord with a roar that rolled round the mountains. Waves rippled across the water. The icebergs rocked. Rebecca grabbed his arm.

"Is that safe?"

"We are far enough."

"It's incredible."

"Yes."

She did not let go of his arm. After a long moment she said, "I fly home on Thursday."

"I know."

"I don't want to."

"Can I ask you something?" said Mateo.

"Yes."

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes," said Rebecca. "And if I say stop, you must show me the other fjord."

"There are forty."

"Then I'm moving here."

He kissed her, cold nose and warm lips, a hand cupping her cheek. She kissed him back with all her heart, her fingers curling in his beard. The fire popped far behind them. The stars burned on, and the waves from the falling ice reached the shore, one by one, and sighed.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Rebecca. "Very green."

She changed her flight, and then her job. She is now a guide. She paddles from the hips.

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