12 Jul 2009
11 Jul 2009
Day 13 (17-May-2009) Ioribaiwa - Owers' Corner
The final day began at 05:30hrs also, with hike to Owers’ Corner commencing an hour later. First we would have to descend to Ua-Ule Creek, with numerous crossings of the river required before starting up the ridgeline to Imita. Following brief tea stop half way up we arrived at Imita Ridge before noon. This is the site of the last defensive positions by Australian forces. For although Japanese forces could now see the Coral Sea from Ioribaiwa Ridge and the glow of lights at night time from Port Moresby, they were instructed to retreat by Tokyo High Command following naval defeats against America at Battle of the Coral Sea and fierce fighting in Guadalcanal. This was the turning point in the Kokoda Campaign that ultimately led to the first land defeat of Japanese forces in WWII at Buna and Gona beaches on the north coast four months later.
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We continued on our trek to Uberi at the bottom of the valley to the south of Imita Ridge and on to the Golden River where we had lunch – our final frugal affair! It was also an opportunity to soak body and clothes in the river so we would not be too smelly during the car journey back to Port Moresby! And so finally to our last uphill ascent towards Owers’ Corner – a short stretch lasting 45 minutes only. Once there we posed for obligatory photos at the gateway erected at the trail head, with the Owen Stanley Range forming fitting backdrop.
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We continued on our trek to Uberi at the bottom of the valley to the south of Imita Ridge and on to the Golden River where we had lunch – our final frugal affair! It was also an opportunity to soak body and clothes in the river so we would not be too smelly during the car journey back to Port Moresby! And so finally to our last uphill ascent towards Owers’ Corner – a short stretch lasting 45 minutes only. Once there we posed for obligatory photos at the gateway erected at the trail head, with the Owen Stanley Range forming fitting backdrop.
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While waiting for the transport to arrive I found myself mesmerised by the beauty and tranquillity of the mountains; what a contrast to the nasty surprises awaiting those whom venture through the tree canopy below. And having now completed the trek, I marvelled even more at the hardiness of Australia’s finest sons that overcame such great hardships and depravities. No one leaves this place without at least understanding the true meaning of "Courage", "Sacrifice", "Endurance" and "Mateship".
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For Simon, Daren and myself, we can at least claim to have accomplished our four goals, and in the process forging a new mateship with our guide Dave - four Pommies with a common passion for adventure.
Day 12 (16-May-2009) Brown River - Ioribaiwa
As we wanted to finish a day earlier than planned it meant we needed to start even earlier, with rude awakening at 05:30hrs and best foot forward by 06:15hrs. Crossing the swamp took 1.5hrs, after which we began the long and tortuous ascent to the summit of the Maguli Range, via tea stop at Nauro village and 9 false peaks! And, what a surprise, we then spent half a day descending the range, again with ubiquitous tree roots converting the route into an obstacle course, culminating in the usual step drop-off to the creek at bottom - Ofi-Creek. This was originally meant to be our stop for the night, but in order to finish a day early we had to ‘push onwards and upwards’; this time to Ioribaiwa Ridge.
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This was the site of the next major defence against Japanese forces, though long and bitter fighting had reduced 21st Brigade from initial compliment of 1750 to just 304 men. For five days 21st Brigade with support from other units fought off determined attacks before deciding to retreat across the valley behind to Imita Ridge for fear of being out-flanked.
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This was the site of the next major defence against Japanese forces, though long and bitter fighting had reduced 21st Brigade from initial compliment of 1750 to just 304 men. For five days 21st Brigade with support from other units fought off determined attacks before deciding to retreat across the valley behind to Imita Ridge for fear of being out-flanked.
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We entered the new village of Ioribaiwa on the far side of the ridge just before dusk, where we were greeted with a tremendous sunset over Imita Ridge to the south. Being a weekend the locals were in party mood, with some clearly reveling in illicit liquor. However, we were too pooped to joint the fun, with the sound of their merriment drowned out by loud snoring emanating from my fellow trekkers.
Day 11 (15-May-2009) Efogi 2 - Brown River
The same monotonous routine heralds yet another early start. This day will be special however as it takes us to Brigade Hill, site of the next major valiant defense of Militia and AIF ‘brothers in arms’ against the continuing onslaught of Japanese forces. Losses on both sides are high, with Australian positions again close to being encircled and annihilated before managing daring escapes under heavy fire. On route we pass excavations by Kokichi Nishimura, sole survivor from his platoon involved in the attack against Australians. Nicknamed the ‘Boneman of Kokoda’ he commits to honour a pact made with all his comrades to locate the remains of any who should fall in action. Kokichi’s survival against all odds along the Kokoda Track, his eventual escape from the final encirclement of Japanese forces at beaches on the north coast, and journey back to Japan, weighing just 28 kilos on his return, is a testament to his enduring spirit. More remarkable still was his sudden decision 40 years after end of WWII to sell his family business, leave his wife, and spend the next 20 years in PNG fulfilling the promise made to his war comrades. His story is a moving testament to the futility of war.
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At Brigade Hill itself it is difficult to imagine the desperate fighting 67 years previous as the site is now so tranquil, and affords spectacular panoramic vistas of the Owen Stanley’s to the east. The war memorial at the crest is small and simple, but full of pathos – none leave with any sense of complacency.
At Brigade Hill itself it is difficult to imagine the desperate fighting 67 years previous as the site is now so tranquil, and affords spectacular panoramic vistas of the Owen Stanley’s to the east. The war memorial at the crest is small and simple, but full of pathos – none leave with any sense of complacency.
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The journey continues downhill to Vabuiagi river, again becoming very steep as we leave the ridge line to drop down into the gully at the bottom. All the while great entwining savage tree roots try their best to hurl you into oblivion. We then face a long, and initially very steep, uphill ascent to the top of the next ridge, one of many ‘knocked off’ thus far. On the way we stop for lunch at Menari, site of the most famous photograph taken of the Kokoda Campaign. It is here that surviving remnants of the 39th Battalion militia, after almost 2 months constant frontline action, are officially relieved and take the salute from Col. Ralph Honner for their extraordinary gallantry – these ‘chocos’ that for many weeks were all that stood between Imperial Japan and Australian homeland. Standing on the same square where these boys, misfits and WWI vets. once stood was a personal highlight of the whole trek.
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The journey continues downhill to Vabuiagi river, again becoming very steep as we leave the ridge line to drop down into the gully at the bottom. All the while great entwining savage tree roots try their best to hurl you into oblivion. We then face a long, and initially very steep, uphill ascent to the top of the next ridge, one of many ‘knocked off’ thus far. On the way we stop for lunch at Menari, site of the most famous photograph taken of the Kokoda Campaign. It is here that surviving remnants of the 39th Battalion militia, after almost 2 months constant frontline action, are officially relieved and take the salute from Col. Ralph Honner for their extraordinary gallantry – these ‘chocos’ that for many weeks were all that stood between Imperial Japan and Australian homeland. Standing on the same square where these boys, misfits and WWI vets. once stood was a personal highlight of the whole trek.
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On leaving the next ridge we then faced ‘The Wall’, a vertiginous nightmare descent to a swamp below. Descending this feature required great effort and concentration as one small slip would definitely spell trouble - and no doubt lead to considerable pain. This was probably the one and only time Simon stopped talking!
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Once in the swamp we negotiated fetid waters and deep slime to finally arrive at our destination for the day, a pleasant small settlement by the Brown River. The descent also brought us back to mosquito country so long sleeves, nets, and ‘chemical WMD’ was mandated.
Day 10 (14-May-2009) 1900 Camp - Efogi 2
Reveille at 06:00hrs triggered now ritual frantic activities prior to sitting down to usual bland fare for breakfast, washed down by teabags that had to be shared due to depleted stock! Today however would involve a mostly downhill trek to Efogi 2 via the Kagi Gap, with the highlight being a visit to Naduri village to meet the oldest surviving Fuzzy Wuzzy Angel - Ovuru Ndiki, 103 years young. The route meandered through fantastic hilly landscape, revealing spectacular views of Mt. Victoria drenched in cloudless blue skies from Kagi Gap, with Naduri village a tiny speck perched on top of one of the many dramatic ridges in between. On arrival at the village we dumped our gear for the short walk down to see Ovuri. Now very stooped and of tiny stature his physical frailty belied a sharp mind, with a life time of memories pinned to his chest and cap. Nonetheless I felt guilty intruding on his life, and not least for dragging him out of his home merely to entertain inquisitive tourists – I’m damned sure I wouldn’t get out of bed at 103 simply to have my photo taken with some whipper-snappers less than half my age!
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And so onto Efogi 2 via some frighteningly steep and slippery downhill slopes that left my legs shaking like a leaf by the time we got to the bottom, with knees decidedly ‘squeaky’. After arriving in the village and dumping our gear in designated sleeping quarters we strolled back to a stream at the entrance to the village to soak away aches and pains and attend to personal hygiene – in my case this involved bashing clothes against rocks to try and expel decidedly noxious odours! Feet also needed some repairs, but surprising minor given the punishment they’d received during the day’s hike.
Day 9 (13-May-2009) Templeton No. 2 - 1900 Camp
The following morning, having braved the unpleasant experience of putting on cold wet clothes in the cold morning air, we once again found ourselves plodding along the trail by 07:00hrs. By now we had come to notice that the sites chosen for each night camp, while they offered some degree of relative luxury, also happened to be located right next to the steepest and longest uphill sections for the following day. So in less than an hour we were hot as hell, sweating like pigs, breathing like a hamster and smelling like a skunk. Putting up with this smell was definitely a true test of “Mateship”; even between myself and my alter ego! Indeed, so distracted was I by this nausea that I lost my footing crossing the bridge over the river at Dump. No. 1, falling into the small rapids below. Simon, following in the footsteps of his hero Damien Parer, captured the whole incident on camera, in complete disregard for his own safety... Meanwhile, Thomas dropped his backpack and leaped across the rapids to my rescue. Well at least the nausea was now gone.
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After tea break to wring out wet clothes and dry contents of my rucksack we continued our inexorable slog uphill towards the highest point on the track at Kokoda Gap. Situated at 2190m we were eager to glimpse the spectacular views afforded from this vantage point. On the way up we encountered two very large groups of hikers grunting and weazing the other way, strung out over +/- 1km. So distracted where we by passing conversations that we passed through the Kokoda Gap without notice. We only discovered this oversight at morning tea an hour later during discussions with Daito, our local guide – who by the way had yet to break sweat since the start of the trek in Kokoda. As such, we have no photos of this pivotal moment – what plonkers!!!
After tea break to wring out wet clothes and dry contents of my rucksack we continued our inexorable slog uphill towards the highest point on the track at Kokoda Gap. Situated at 2190m we were eager to glimpse the spectacular views afforded from this vantage point. On the way up we encountered two very large groups of hikers grunting and weazing the other way, strung out over +/- 1km. So distracted where we by passing conversations that we passed through the Kokoda Gap without notice. We only discovered this oversight at morning tea an hour later during discussions with Daito, our local guide – who by the way had yet to break sweat since the start of the trek in Kokoda. As such, we have no photos of this pivotal moment – what plonkers!!!
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Still smarting at the incredulity of our folly we continued our journey down slippery slopes into 1900 camp (at 1900m). The rest of the day, like all others, was spent on menial domestic chores and attending to personal hygiene, followed by meagre dinner.
Still smarting at the incredulity of our folly we continued our journey down slippery slopes into 1900 camp (at 1900m). The rest of the day, like all others, was spent on menial domestic chores and attending to personal hygiene, followed by meagre dinner.
Day 8 (12-May-2009) Alola - Templeton No. 2
Again an early start, with entire party striding forth by 07:00hrs. By now, we had settled into an ‘order of merit’, with Simon blazing a trail at front, and the rest of us flailing in his wake; myself as 2iC going up hills, and Darren taking over on the descents. On the uphill sections Simon & I would engage in heated debate on such subjects as world affairs, climate change, drugs, economics, politics and the latest scientific thinking on impact of anthropocentric parochialism on quantumchromodynamics. During the descents, Darren would regale us with his many boyhood antics and plans to become a Tai Pan! We were so engrossed with such discourse that we forgot about the many daily travails – stifling heat, dripping humidity, steep ascents, slippery (and steeper) descents, oh and the endless mindless poetry.
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Suffice to say we eased into Templeton No. 2 mid afternoon, with not an ailment or sore in sight. That said, finding a large leech between my toes, already fully gorged on my blood, came as a big surprise, not least because my feet are renowned as breeding grounds for every fungal disease known to mankind – poor bugger! At 1850m up in the Owen Stanleys, the temperature plummeted quickly, with sleeping almost impossible in the frigid 5-7C open air shelter. With only 2 sets of clothes, one of which was hanging on the washing line, no fleece and only a thin sleeping bag, I felt somewhat under-dressed for the occasion. However, I was partially compensated by the most amazing display of shooting stars. The meteor shower last a full half hour, with the total absence of light pollution enabling the night sky to reveal all her splendour.
Suffice to say we eased into Templeton No. 2 mid afternoon, with not an ailment or sore in sight. That said, finding a large leech between my toes, already fully gorged on my blood, came as a big surprise, not least because my feet are renowned as breeding grounds for every fungal disease known to mankind – poor bugger! At 1850m up in the Owen Stanleys, the temperature plummeted quickly, with sleeping almost impossible in the frigid 5-7C open air shelter. With only 2 sets of clothes, one of which was hanging on the washing line, no fleece and only a thin sleeping bag, I felt somewhat under-dressed for the occasion. However, I was partially compensated by the most amazing display of shooting stars. The meteor shower last a full half hour, with the total absence of light pollution enabling the night sky to reveal all her splendour.
Day 7 (11-May-2009) Deniki - Alola
Following a shivering mostly sleepless night (due in part to the incessant snoring of bed-fellows) we found ourselves turfed out at 06:00hrs. There followed a hive of activity as we tended minor ailments, dressed (in cold wet clothes), packed, gobbled down breakfast, fertilised the jungle with whatever our stomachs deemed surplus to requirements and donned our packs, all by 07:00hrs. It was only then that we became aware of the eerie landscape emerging from the morning mist – a fabulous vista.
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Following obligatory photo shoot we embarked on the days’ hike, which in a few hours brought us to the site of the most famous battle on the Kokoda Track. It was at Isurava that former Australian PM Paul Ketting, on the 50th anniversary of the battle, famously knelt down to kiss the ground in a moving tribute to what many military historians refer to as the modern day Thermopylae. The legend of the 300 Spartans who held the pass at Thermopylae against thousands of Persians has lived on for nearly 2,500 years, as should the 5-day defence of Isurava by just 1000 militia and AIF troops against 6000+ fanatical Japanese soldiers. While the Australians ultimately lost the Battle of Isurava, the losses inflicted on the enemy were so massive – 2000 dead and wounded for the loss of just 76 men – that they had nonetheless sowed the seeds for final victory. And any who visit the war memorial erected here just 10 years ago will be profoundly moved by what they find and by the realisation that every step taken along the track through this site was bitterly contested, much of it in hand-to-hand fighting, and under circumstances that defy imagination.
Following obligatory photo shoot we embarked on the days’ hike, which in a few hours brought us to the site of the most famous battle on the Kokoda Track. It was at Isurava that former Australian PM Paul Ketting, on the 50th anniversary of the battle, famously knelt down to kiss the ground in a moving tribute to what many military historians refer to as the modern day Thermopylae. The legend of the 300 Spartans who held the pass at Thermopylae against thousands of Persians has lived on for nearly 2,500 years, as should the 5-day defence of Isurava by just 1000 militia and AIF troops against 6000+ fanatical Japanese soldiers. While the Australians ultimately lost the Battle of Isurava, the losses inflicted on the enemy were so massive – 2000 dead and wounded for the loss of just 76 men – that they had nonetheless sowed the seeds for final victory. And any who visit the war memorial erected here just 10 years ago will be profoundly moved by what they find and by the realisation that every step taken along the track through this site was bitterly contested, much of it in hand-to-hand fighting, and under circumstances that defy imagination.
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After a meagre lunch we then continued on our way to Alola, our next refuge. Again, the heavens opened in the afternoon. By the time we reached our destination, we were ready for a cuppa! Situated at 1340m altitude, we had also at long last managed to shake off the legions of mosquitos and other biting insects that had plagued us since our arrival in PNG. Rest of the day was taken up with usual ritual of unpacking, erecting beds, washing clothes and body parts, followed by candle-lit dinner for four, with lights-out at 21:00hrs.
Day 6 (10-May-2009) Kokoda - Deniki
After reading so much about the Kokoda Campaign, and the significance of Kokoda itself, you couldn’t help but try to picture the place as it was 67 years ago, with the legendary ‘Chocos’ emerging from the jungle, first to defend Kokoda, then moving north to attack, then being forced to retreat back to Deniki, and finally being moved forward again to defend Kokoda – just 77 of them to fend off 1000+ elite Japanese troops. This was the back-drop for our morning visit to the Kokoda war memorial and accompanying museum; a solemn experience, as it should be.
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We were then introduced to the porters that would feed us (carry us if need be), plus some of our personal kit for the next 8 days to Owers’ Corner on the far side of the Owen Stanley Range. They carried only bare essentials for themselves, wore even less, with some clearly preferring bare feet to boots. We ‘Long Pig’ on the other hand emerged from our billets wearing the latest-and-greatest trekking fashion, plus whatever ‘cool’ accessories we could lay our hands on! Darren clearly was in his element, packing more gadgets than Inspector Gadget!
We were then introduced to the porters that would feed us (carry us if need be), plus some of our personal kit for the next 8 days to Owers’ Corner on the far side of the Owen Stanley Range. They carried only bare essentials for themselves, wore even less, with some clearly preferring bare feet to boots. We ‘Long Pig’ on the other hand emerged from our billets wearing the latest-and-greatest trekking fashion, plus whatever ‘cool’ accessories we could lay our hands on! Darren clearly was in his element, packing more gadgets than Inspector Gadget!
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And so under the smirking gaze of our Aboriginal brothers, we departed Kokoda around noon for Hoi village. The going was deceptively easy, only to then find the way forward blockaded by villagers, who felt very aggrieved by failure of government officials to fairly compensate them for allowing passage to trekkers through their lands. The exchanges were vociferous at times, but after 1.5hrs we were allowed through, with our gaze firmly fixed on the track for fear of exciting their ‘head-hunting’ proclivity. The route towards Deniki then rose sharply, with the heavens opening for the daily deluge at 14:30hrs. We eventually limped into Deniki around 16:00hrs, noticing a decided chill in the air. Washing of clothes and bodily parts, in torrential rain, under a very cold bamboo shower, was a far cry from the warm ocean dips enjoyed just two days before!!! However, this minor discomfort was more than compensated by the views across the Kokoda valley as the skies cleared and the sun set – bloody marvellous.
And so under the smirking gaze of our Aboriginal brothers, we departed Kokoda around noon for Hoi village. The going was deceptively easy, only to then find the way forward blockaded by villagers, who felt very aggrieved by failure of government officials to fairly compensate them for allowing passage to trekkers through their lands. The exchanges were vociferous at times, but after 1.5hrs we were allowed through, with our gaze firmly fixed on the track for fear of exciting their ‘head-hunting’ proclivity. The route towards Deniki then rose sharply, with the heavens opening for the daily deluge at 14:30hrs. We eventually limped into Deniki around 16:00hrs, noticing a decided chill in the air. Washing of clothes and bodily parts, in torrential rain, under a very cold bamboo shower, was a far cry from the warm ocean dips enjoyed just two days before!!! However, this minor discomfort was more than compensated by the views across the Kokoda valley as the skies cleared and the sun set – bloody marvellous.
Day 5 (09-May-2009) Buna - Kokoda
Up, fed, ablutions done and packed by 09:00hrs, in anticipation of an early departure back to Popondetta – NOT! The truck eventually arrived after midday, with journey back to town every bit as uncomfortable as the one to Buna. After later lunch back in the open air museum we at last headed for Kokoda – another 2hr bone-crushing journey in the flatbed truck. The journey used to take less time, but a major cyclone slammed into PNG in 2007, with the subsequent floods knocking out all the river crossings. On arrival at the Kumusi River therefore, which was in full flood, this meant having to be ferried across raging rapids in large inflated inner tubes – much to Simon’s consternation given his limited swimming prowess. The onward journey to Kokoda itself by police 4x4 was uneventful, arriving just after dark.
Day 4 (07-May-2009) Buna
Following usual routine of ocean dip and frugal breakfast we clambered into a motor launch for a 1hr boat trip to Gona, a very much larger settlement, but equally picturesque. It too has been rebuilt after being totally destroyed during intense fighting to ouster Japanese forces (On 09-Dec-42 Gona was the first of the three coastal Japanese strongholds to fall, prompting Col. R. Honner to send his famous message ‘Gona’s Gone!’). No visible trace remains of the battlefields, with the obliterated, tree-less and cratered landscape, reminiscent of WWI carnage, reclaimed by the jungle.
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After strolling through some of the town’s attractions Simon managed to amuse pupils at a local school (and the rest of us) with his command of the 3 R’s. Sensing defeat we beat a hasty retreat by boat back to Buna for lunch. After another dip, we then headed back to old Buna via the beachhead rather than the interior route, hoping to make a few phone calls and, bowing to mental weakness, sink a few more beers. Alas, while we were successful at least getting out a few SMS messages, the town was completely dry! However, we were partially compensated by a most magnificent sunset on the way home – and that’s saying something having lived in the Tropics for 10 years.
After strolling through some of the town’s attractions Simon managed to amuse pupils at a local school (and the rest of us) with his command of the 3 R’s. Sensing defeat we beat a hasty retreat by boat back to Buna for lunch. After another dip, we then headed back to old Buna via the beachhead rather than the interior route, hoping to make a few phone calls and, bowing to mental weakness, sink a few more beers. Alas, while we were successful at least getting out a few SMS messages, the town was completely dry! However, we were partially compensated by a most magnificent sunset on the way home – and that’s saying something having lived in the Tropics for 10 years.
Day 3 (06-May-2009) Buna
With no electricity for miles around the day began with a soothing dip in the ocean to ‘kill three birds with one stone’ – wash, and flushing of No. 1 & 2 tubes! Following fibre-filled breakfast we then strolled back to old Buna for the morning. Here we got to inspect relics leftover from WWII - all manner of personal and military pariphalanea – which still litters the surrounding jungle. We also visited number of imposing defensive fortifications erected by the Japanese, a still visible sobering testament to their deadly fire power and the resultant heavy casualties inflicted - 1522 Australian dead in a 9-week campaign.
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Following quick chat with the ‘native chaps’ at the local market we guzzled some of the local hooch before then sauntering back to our ‘Hotel’ for lunch. Following another ocean dip we then walked west along the coast to Sanananda. Like Buna the village was relocated after WWII, with the old site (scene of some of the most bitter fighting), lost to the jungle. If anything, the new site is more beautiful that at Buna, with modern amenities available also - showers and sit-down toilet, though no flush. We returned to Buna just before dark for another ocean dip, followed by a very unmemorable dinner, washed down with more banter.
Following quick chat with the ‘native chaps’ at the local market we guzzled some of the local hooch before then sauntering back to our ‘Hotel’ for lunch. Following another ocean dip we then walked west along the coast to Sanananda. Like Buna the village was relocated after WWII, with the old site (scene of some of the most bitter fighting), lost to the jungle. If anything, the new site is more beautiful that at Buna, with modern amenities available also - showers and sit-down toilet, though no flush. We returned to Buna just before dark for another ocean dip, followed by a very unmemorable dinner, washed down with more banter.
Day 2 (05-May-2009) Port Moresby - Buna
After re-packing rucksacks for a 4th time the three of us plus our Australian guide Dave headed out to the airport for an early flight to Popondetta, a 40 minute hop over the Owen Stanley Range. We were accompanied by Thomas, who would be our head porter on the trek coming back in the opposite direction. Should anyone still doubt the labours that await you on this route the views of the sharply folded vertiginous terrain below will serve as compelling evidence.
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On arrival we immediately clambered onto a flatbed truck for the 30km trip to town, together with numerous other ‘passengers’. Once in Popondetta, the truck pulled into a supermarket to obtain more provisions. Meanwhile, the four of us visited a nearby open air museum recalling the brutal engagements that took place driving the Japanese from their beachheads at Gona, Sanananda and Buna in early 1943. There is little left however to conjure the scenes of unimaginable horror and depravity that greeted Australian forces, where out of desperation the Japanese had resorted to cannibalism.
On arrival we immediately clambered onto a flatbed truck for the 30km trip to town, together with numerous other ‘passengers’. Once in Popondetta, the truck pulled into a supermarket to obtain more provisions. Meanwhile, the four of us visited a nearby open air museum recalling the brutal engagements that took place driving the Japanese from their beachheads at Gona, Sanananda and Buna in early 1943. There is little left however to conjure the scenes of unimaginable horror and depravity that greeted Australian forces, where out of desperation the Japanese had resorted to cannibalism.
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We then embarked on a 2-hour drive along a barely passable track to old Buna, arriving shortly after midday. Following a short hike along the coast we reached our final destination, new Buna, an idyllic settlement on the beach shore. Rest of the day was spent frequenting ourselves with our new home, followed by a short hike up the coast to stretch the legs and take in some of the beautiful scenery. On our return just before sunset the ‘Village People’ had turned out in local costume to perform for us – an entertaining affair, with Simon and Darren joining in with a disparaging version of ‘Do The Funky Chicken’. After obligatory photo shoot we sat down to dinner, washed down with some cerebral chit-chat.
We then embarked on a 2-hour drive along a barely passable track to old Buna, arriving shortly after midday. Following a short hike along the coast we reached our final destination, new Buna, an idyllic settlement on the beach shore. Rest of the day was spent frequenting ourselves with our new home, followed by a short hike up the coast to stretch the legs and take in some of the beautiful scenery. On our return just before sunset the ‘Village People’ had turned out in local costume to perform for us – an entertaining affair, with Simon and Darren joining in with a disparaging version of ‘Do The Funky Chicken’. After obligatory photo shoot we sat down to dinner, washed down with some cerebral chit-chat.
Day 1 (04-May-2009) Singapore - Port Moresby
“Imagine an area of approximately 100 miles long, crumple and fold this into a series of ridges, each rising higher and higher until 7,000 feet is reached, then declining again to 3,000feet. Cover this thickly with jungle, short trees and tall trees tangled with great entwining savage vines; then through the oppression of this density cut a little native track two to three feet wide, up the ridges, over the spurs, around gorges and down across swiftly flowing happy mountain streams.
Where the track clambers up the mountainsides, cut steps – big steps, little steps, steep steps or clear the soil from the tree roots. Every few miles bring the track through a small patch of sunlit kunai grass, or an old deserted native garden, and every seven or ten miles build a group of dilapidated grass huts as staging shelters, generally set in a foul offensive clearing. Every now and then leave beside the track dumps of discarded putrefying food, and occasional dead bodies. In the morning flicker the sunlight through the tall trees, flutter green and blue and purple and white butterflies lazily through the air, and hide birds of deep-throated song or harsh cockatoos in the foliage.
Where the track clambers up the mountainsides, cut steps – big steps, little steps, steep steps or clear the soil from the tree roots. Every few miles bring the track through a small patch of sunlit kunai grass, or an old deserted native garden, and every seven or ten miles build a group of dilapidated grass huts as staging shelters, generally set in a foul offensive clearing. Every now and then leave beside the track dumps of discarded putrefying food, and occasional dead bodies. In the morning flicker the sunlight through the tall trees, flutter green and blue and purple and white butterflies lazily through the air, and hide birds of deep-throated song or harsh cockatoos in the foliage.
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About midday and through the night, pour water over the forest, so that the steps become broken and a continual yellow stream flows downwards, and the few level areas become pools and puddles of putrid mud. In the high ridges about Myola, drip this water day and night softly over the track through a fetid forest grotesque with moss and growing phosphorescent fungi.”
About midday and through the night, pour water over the forest, so that the steps become broken and a continual yellow stream flows downwards, and the few level areas become pools and puddles of putrid mud. In the high ridges about Myola, drip this water day and night softly over the track through a fetid forest grotesque with moss and growing phosphorescent fungi.”
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This is the Kokoda Track, where in June 1942 young, ill-equipped, Australian militia where propelled in front of a numerically superior, vastly more experienced, fanatical and well-disciplined Japanese army. It was a place where the pain of effort, the biting sweat, the hunger, the cheerless, shivering nights were made dim by exhaustion’s merciful embrace. Surely no war was ever fought under worse conditions than these. Surely no war has ever demanded more of a man in fortitude.
This is the Kokoda Track, where in June 1942 young, ill-equipped, Australian militia where propelled in front of a numerically superior, vastly more experienced, fanatical and well-disciplined Japanese army. It was a place where the pain of effort, the biting sweat, the hunger, the cheerless, shivering nights were made dim by exhaustion’s merciful embrace. Surely no war was ever fought under worse conditions than these. Surely no war has ever demanded more of a man in fortitude.
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But although this terrain would gain infamy as 'A Bastard of a Place', you would be wrong to think harshly of it. For though Kokoda Track claimed some of Australia's finest sons, it is the crucible that forged the spirit of a nation in peril and a witness to “Courage”, “Sacrifice”, “Mateship” and “Endurance” that against all odds led to the first defeat of Japanese land forces in the Pacific War.
But although this terrain would gain infamy as 'A Bastard of a Place', you would be wrong to think harshly of it. For though Kokoda Track claimed some of Australia's finest sons, it is the crucible that forged the spirit of a nation in peril and a witness to “Courage”, “Sacrifice”, “Mateship” and “Endurance” that against all odds led to the first defeat of Japanese land forces in the Pacific War.
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So this was the setting for a trek by three longtime friends across PNG, where they at least hoped to experience “Mateship” and a little of the “Endurance” on display 67 years before. And they also set themselves four simple goals:-
· To complete the trek
· To take nothing but photographs and leave nothing but footprints
· To ensure not one utterance of complaint passed their lips
· To ensure what was said on the track, stayed on the track!
.
So this was the setting for a trek by three longtime friends across PNG, where they at least hoped to experience “Mateship” and a little of the “Endurance” on display 67 years before. And they also set themselves four simple goals:-
· To complete the trek
· To take nothing but photographs and leave nothing but footprints
· To ensure not one utterance of complaint passed their lips
· To ensure what was said on the track, stayed on the track!
.
And so on 05-May-09 Darren & I travelled together from Singapore to Port Moresby, arriving following morning, with Simon joining us later that day via Brisbane. This first day was spent checking kit lists, buying food supplements for the trek ahead and touring the suburbs following a delicious lunch stop.
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