We retraced Captain Cook’s journey along the east coast of Australia, seeking the other side of history. It was life changing | Australian books

and othersLast year we travelled 4500km along the east coast of Australia with one question: we knew about Captain James Cook's journeys, but we wanted to ask what stories Indigenous people tell about Captain Cook's arrival.

There, from the tall forests of the Gunai Kurnai region in Gippsland, to the now-developed shores of Dharawal Island around southern Sydney, to the bright, calm blue waters of Kaurareg in the Torres Strait, I heard stories of how Cook misread the land, landed without following the proper procedures, stole resources and tools, and gave inappropriate names to landscapes that already had names and rich stories to tell.

I've heard some people think the Endeavour was a giant pelican or a cloud, while others think the Europeans on board were the spirits of their ancestors returning.

We traveled and listened along the same roads as signal fires and message rods traveled along the east coast, warning various people that this strange ship was approaching their lands and seas.

Many in the community said to us: “Yes, there are stories about British explorers, but what we really want to tell is the truth.”

Being a black man (Darren) and a white man (Craig) on ​​this journey together gave us unique strengths: we could hear stories that only black people could hear, but we could also explain things in simple terms that white people could understand. This long journey, which included encounters with alligators and dingy motels, formed the framework for the book, but the book itself is not our story; it is the story of the 70 or so people who shared their lives, histories, and perspectives with us.

At times, we found that Indigenous stories about Cook and later explorers did not always match what was written in the journals, but this showed us how complex multiple interpretations of the past can be. This is especially true for a figure like Cook, who exists as a metaphor for colonization and whose stories of his pernicious visits to many parts of the country never visited in written history.

We were smoked, smeared with saltwater, and given ceremony, and taught how our spirit ancestors protect us on Kabi Kabi in the Glass House Mountains, Butchulla in K'gari, and Kaurareg land. On the Yuin country of the south coast of NSW, we were shown our ancestors and creators in the rocks, the trees, and even the birds that came to watch over us. And we walked the land with Indigenous people, understanding how important the land is to them. We saw, we heard, we felt.

We've been asked a few times, “How did you get so many people to share these stories?”

The answer is simple: we just asked them.

But of course, it was a bit more complicated than that. Whenever we visited new communities or met families, we were often asked what university or government agency we worked for. And once we explained that we were doing this project primarily by ourselves, that we were not supported by public funds, that we didn't want to take any ownership of the stories told to us, and that whoever told the story would have the final say on how it was told in the book, doors opened.

There were so many stories I wanted Australians to know more about – stories that aren't often included in our history.

Of course, not everyone wanted to talk to us, and some even explicitly told us to get out.

Anger is strong in some places, tolerance and forgiveness in others. The story of one individual in one community cannot be representative of the experience of another.

Our journey and the book we wrote are only a small part of the stories that can be told, but we hope that it will open the door for many more stories to be shared more widely — in classrooms, in the media, and in communities.