Kokoda 4. Four stones and a Bren gun

  

‘Goooooooodmorning everyone. This is day two on the Kokoda track’. Cameron yelled out at 5:45am - impersonating Robin Williams, Good morning Vietnam style. A crescendo of moans, grunts and frenzied activities followed to get everything packed and ready to go.

Saturday 11 June 2016 - Deniki to Alola

A mixture of rain and condensation had dripped on me throughout the night and most of my stuff was damp. I opened the tent and was again disappointed to see so much overcast hanging over the village, but you just walk on, right? 

Today we were told we were going to ascend to Isurava where we would be having a service to commemorate the battle that took place here in August 1942. 

Smiddy had told me that the snake was quite angry today and that there was some climbing ahead. The hike there was eerie as we walked through the clouds with ghostly rubber trees appearing out of nowhere and encountered a landscape that was smothered in Choko (climbing plant). The track, wet and slimy with ever increasing foliage, surrounded us like it does in some parts of Queensland, but then on steroids. Flowers were growing in many places, frogs and cricket sounds filled the cotton wool air. It felt kind of spiritual, as if some of the shapes in the thick bush were watching us. Maybe the fact that many soldiers that died here and have never been found, combined with the mist, gave the trail it's mystery.

A rare opening in the jungle reveals us on the track and everything smothered in Choko

After negotiating the climb we arrived at the Isurava memorial site. Miraculously the clouds suddenly broke open as if to clear the way for our service. In the midst of these thick bush covered hills, sits a beautiful green park with four polished imprinted granite slabs, standing solemnly in a half-circle protruding the clearing sky. The view over the valley in behind was something to behold.

The once bloody battle ground now graced by a stunning memorial

Each stone engraved with a single word – Mateship – Courage – Endurance – Sacrifice. Words that made the hairs of my arms stand up to attention. There was a silent respect in this space adhered to by all - the tones of our voices lowered - we read the information on the interpretive signs and the words on the stones quietly - we wondered what it was like to be here in a fierce battle against an enemy far stronger in numbers.



Tanya in quiet contemplation



So who were those 450 soldiers of the 39^th battalion that fought alongside the well trained 2/14^th and were laying in waiting for the Japanese mighty force to arrive? In all the literature I have read and stories I have been told, these soldiers were the off-cuts of the timber mill. Some, too old, but with an average age of 18 were inexperienced or just were not fitting in with any of the more fancied units. 

The nickname given to these mainly weekend soldiers was "Choco’s". They would melt in the heat of battle like chocolate. These so called Choco’s took the brunt of the Japanese onslaught at Kokoda village and were suffering in the jungle for many months. Many of the men contracting those diseases us modern day trampers have sought preventative medical treatments for such as dysentery and malaria. From all accounts they were engaged in a hell of a fight but, together with the 2/14^th they were out numbered and out flanked by the Japanese. Us Aussies were doing it tough out here.

The twenty nine exhausted wounded soldiers of the 39^th were ordered back up the track towards Alola. They had heard about the terrible fighting at Isurava and all bar one returned to lend a hand in the losing battle. In the end Lieutenant Ralph Honner had no other option to retreat his troops and live to fight another day.

I feel it is my absolute duty to tell you the story of Private Bruce Kingsbury VC. The following information was derived from an interpretive sign at Isurava and I have taken the liberty to copy every word.

Near this site on 29 August 1942, Private Bruce Kingsbury, 2/14the Battalion, performed an act of valour for which he was awarded the Victoria Cross – the Commonwealth’s highest decoration for bravery – at the cost of his life.

Japanese troops attacked down the high ridge to the west of this memorial and up the creek valleys below. They broke into this area, threatening Battalion Headquarters. Kingsbury joined a party from Headquarters Company and the Signal Platoon that rushed forward to bolster the defences.

Some of the men of the 2/14 that fought at Isurava

C Company mounted a desperate counter-attack. Kingsbury charged, firing his Bren light machine-gun from the hip in the face of intense enemy fire. He cleared a path through the enemy and continued sweeping their positions with his fire, inflicting many casualties, until the Japanese were pushed back over the edge of the creek below.



The view from Kingsbury's rock



As Kingsbury paused beside this large rock to reload his Bren gun, he was shot dead by a sniper.

First Australian VC recipient Private Bruce Kingsbury

Bruce Steel Kingsbury was born in Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, on 8 January 1918. A real estate agent by profession, and briefly a farmer and station hand, he enlisted in May 1940. He served in the 2/14^th in Palestine, Egypt and Syria before the unit returned to Australia and proceeded to Papua New Guinea. He was 24 when killed.

“Whenever men speak of courage, wherever men speak of sacrifice, he will be remembered, his name ever an inspiration and a challenge.”  W.B. Russell, The History of the Second Fourteenth Battalion.



And "this" is where Private Bruce Kingsbury was shot in the head, Cameron bellowed while spearing his hiking stick deep into the soft ground with great force. It is unlikely that any of us will ever forget this image. Ex Major Cam used so much power that it took him a while to dig up and reassemble his hiking stick.



Kingsbury Rock where Cam jammed his stick in to the ground





Not a Hero

The ANZAC Day march was over – the old Digger had done his best.

His body ached from marching – it was time to sit and rest.

He made his way to a park bench and sat with lowered head.

A young boy passing saw him – approached and politely said,

“Please sir do you mind if I ask you what the medals you wear are for?

Did you get them from being a hero, when fighting in a war?”

Startled, the old Digger moved over and beckoned the boy to sit.

Eagerly the lad accepted – he had not expected this!

“First of all I was not a hero, said the old Digger in solemn tone,

“But I served with many heroes, the ones that never came home.

So when you talk of heroes, it’s important to understand,

The greatest of all heroes gave their lives defending this land.

“The medals are worn in their honour, as a symbol of respect.

All diggers wear them on ANZAC Day – it shows they don’t forget.”

The old digger then climbed to his feet and asked the boy to stand.

Carefully he removed the medals and placed them in his hand.

He told him he could keep them – to treasure throughout his life,

A legacy of a kind – left behind – paid for in sacrifice.

Overwhelmed the young boy was speechless – he couldn’t find words to say.

It was there the old Digger left him – going quietly on his way.

In the distance the young boy glimpsed him – saw him turn and wave goodbye.

Saddened he sat alone on the bench – tears welled in his eyes.

He never again saw him ever – but still remembers with pride.

When the old Digger told him of Heroes and a young boy sat and cried.

Clyde Hamilton

Kelsey reading the Fuzzy Wuzzy poem at Isurava



That night, at news time, everyone was talking about how humbling the modest but incredibly emotional service we had that day. Many war time poems were read out by the hikers and national anthems of both Australia and Papua New Guinea were sung. I think we all felt a bit like the little boy in the 'Not a Hero' poem. It has to be said this experience and those tears we shed bonded us together more than ever before.

  

The boys sang out a heart-felt national anthem to finish the service

Grey Bits

If you like to read 'to the sunburnt left ear' which is a great poem, please click on the following link https://anzacday.org.au/to-the-sunburnt-ear



Paul M reading "To the Sunburnt Left Ear"



If you like to read more about the battle of Isurava click on the following link 

http://kokoda.commemoration.gov.au/into-the-mountains/stand-at-isurava.php



Kokoda 3. First Contact

We have touched down after an eventful flight at Kokoda airfield and are making our way to Deniki. The Twin Otter plane left parked at the end of the grassy slope that resembles an airfield.

There is no turning back!!!

  

Kokoda memorial sight

Thursday 10 June 2016

Those first steps were taken out in the bright sunlight with a fair degree of humidity in the air. After a brief walk we climbed a tiny mound on which the Kokoda memorial sight was situated. We were reunited with the first group that landed many hours before us who must have been pretty worried by now. Standing on a beautiful, well maintained grassy hill, Cam told us about the first battle on the Kokoda track that occurred on and around this hill.



Our first walk to the small, flat memorial ground ahead



The word hero gets bandied around a lot in this world and is associated with people like Gary Abblet, Usein Bolt or maybe Karl Marx, Walt Disney, John Lennon even Vincent van Gogh may take your fancy. Just take a load of this guy that was last seen in the area where we were standing.

Captain Samuel Victor Templeton (1900-1942)

Well known for his actions with the 39^th Battalion as the commander of ‘B’ Company during the first Battle of Kokoda. He went missing in action on the 26 July 1942 near the village of Oivi. It is believed that Templeton attempted to warn his men of the approaching Japanese Forces but was never seen again. Templeton was believed to have been killed in action at this time.

Many years later an Australian prisoner came forward, who in Japanese captivity, identified Sam as a fellow inmate and even spoke a few words to him just days after his disappearance. It is believed that the Captain was tortured and revealed convincing, but false information about the strength of the Australian troops. It appears that Sam was so convincing that it delayed the Japanese by 10 days. In those 10 days, the 450 Aussie diggers recaptured Kokoda airfield and set up a defensive stronghold at Isurava. The Japanese, prior to this interrogation, were steaming up the track conquering all before them at great speed. Hence the question should be asked 'Is Sam Templeton, by delaying the Japanese invasion, the man that saved Australia?



Captain Sam Templeton

It is believed that the Captain was killed by Colonel Hatsuo Tsukamoto's wielding sword after infuriating the Colonel. 

___________________________________________



Frank, one of the leaders read out the role call in which every porter was cheered on by the group as they were introduced to their hiker. A joyful occasion with broad smiles and firm handshakes all around.



Smid (second from the left) with his brothers and brother-in-law

This is where I met Smid for the first time. A bearded, lean young guy with an almost Rastafarian aura surrounding him. I took an instant liking to the Papua New Guinean.



Jo N and her porter

Six of us chose not to have porters and total kudos goes their way for doing this trail the hard way. They have to be mentioned. My own bro-in-law Simon, our resident kiwis Tanya and Mark, Kelsey, tough man Craig and the father and son team Greame and Kristian who shared a porter and one really heavy looking bag between them.



Simon and his imaginary porter



I caught Smid laughing and smiling while taking turns lifting my bag with his brother–in-law. I asked them to fill me in on the joke and they told me the bag was very light and they both took a lot of  joy out of this. Did I not mention that less is more before?

After a photo session underneath the arches which marks for us the start of the Kokoda track we hit the trail for real. I must admit I was a little apprehensive and wondered how my knee was going to hold up. I started singing the Police song “Walking on the Moon” and walked as slow as possible to warm up the ol’ knee. After the 'Police' tune, Smiddy and I were belting out Bob Marley songs, badly. 

I explained to Smid that in Australia short names are made longer and long names are made shorter and, therefore, Smiddy, Mars and our sizable group walked from the open valley into a dense rubber tree forest.

The start of the green tunnel among the rubber trees

I put my sunnies away in my daypack that day and did not need them again until eight days later - testimonial to how impenetrable the canopy was. The jungle became thicker and more damp as we walked along a relatively flat track for two hours. The early pace was hot. Everyone was excited to get cracking. 

So much to see in a strange forest

After entering this green tunnel it felt almost compulsory to take many photo’s and found myself walking dead last. This is where I spoke to the great man I dubbed, in my mind, Back End Frank. Franks job was to not lose anyone at the back of the group. I took up the challenge over and over again to have a conversation with the stoic beetle-nut chomping fellah and managed to crack a wry smile here and there. Sometimes he even spoke but you would never, ever get in behind him on the track

Smiddy started teaching me some pidgin and Avarratasohl (no idea how to spell it) soon became our favourite saying. I’m cool!!! There were some other words learned that cannot be repeated in this blog. Smiddy's mates had a good laugh every time I mentioned one of these words.

There was a memorable, initiating dip into a small, cool creek with most of us just hopping in clothes and all. A much welcome relief from the heat. Smiddy offered to refill my water bottles with the water of this creek. He went some way upstream and after dropping a couple of purifying tablets I was drinking the crystal, clear creek water of Papua New Guinea. There is a first for everything.

The refreshing creek of the first day

It was Peter Fitzsimons' writing in his book 'Kokoda' that warned me about the conditions. He stated that the track “reared up at them rather like an angry snake with bite more or less the same” and the last hour or so was a blunt lesson of what this actually meant.

That first day Kristian was feeling the pinch. His shoulders were sore from the heavy pack and I passed them at the moment where Cam was intensely talking to the young man. To his credit, he did not turn back or give up, but fought it out together with his Dad. Cam nicknamed Kristian “legend”. A fitting name for the youngest member of our team and the youngest ever to hike Kokoda with Cameron being the guide.

Kristian - our young gun

A sudden traffic jam of hikers appeared along a stretch where water soaked the track and to my delight they were all looking at several exquisite butterflies that were drinking the water. There it is the Kokoda track - steeped in history - heavy fighting all around - missing soldiers in the jungle - now also a place of beauty and peace.

The Kokoda butterflies

We all survived that first day and to my pleasant surprise I found a line of comrade hikers high-fiving and cheering me on at the edge of Deniki village - our overnight stop.

In the evening after dinner, we all got together for a highs and lows session where everyone was given a turn to talk about their day. For example some people found the waiting involved with the flight a little tedious. Others mentioned how happy they were to be on the track and with a great bunch of people to boot.



Cameron pointing out the facts of  Kokoda

That night it rained hard on my tent and the humidity was stifling. There was no way I was entering my sleeping bag or wearing anything else other than undies. Excuse the mental picture!

Unpredictable tropical weather at Deniki

Grey Bits

Templeton’s Crossing was named in honour of Captain Sam Templeton. It is the first point where the Kokoda Track, from Port Moresby, crossed Eora Creek. Sam Templeton's body was never recovered.



A rubber tree marked for harvesting

Place Silica Gel bags in your camera bag. They will keep the moist of your camera. You usually find them in the shoebox when purchasing shoes - for free!!!!

Kokoda 2. Kissing Hallowed Ground

It was a relief to find out that we were all rescheduled by Qantas only a day later as political unrest in Port Moresby had settled down. In the end, the flight over to Port Moresby went like clockwork. As soon as we walked through customs we met Cameron our guide. What struck me in the first instance that Cam was full of life and enthusiasm and was continuously cracking jokes. Some of the qualities you may need during long distant slogs like this.

Thursday 9 June 2016 - Port Moresby

The views from our POM hotel in the evening

The warm, humid air engulfed us as we stood outside the airport. Eventually we drive, maybe a couple of kilometres to the hotel and get a good taste of Port Moresby, where many buildings are surrounded by large fences crowned with barbed wire. I excitedly noticed that a lot about this place is unlike Australia. My mind humming “I don’t like cricket, oh no, I love it”. Please note: they don’t love cricket over here - rugby and soccer are the local games.

We drive into the hotel where more heavy fencing separates us from the outside, but this time with armed guards dressed in white police like uniform manning the gate. Instantly, we are among ourselves, only other customers and staff members buzzing around in a variety of hotel uniforms.

At the hotel the 23 hikers mingle and get to know each other for the first time as a group. There is a lot of story-swapping about the problems we faced even getting here by way of cancelled flights.

Our mob finally together

Cameron gave us a kick-arse, ex-army download that lasted two hours in and around the side of the pool. Seventeen years of hard core army hiking technique given to us in a nutshell. Very enjoyable to listen to confirming my own feelings about minimal living and the “less-is-more” theory. We were told that we have lost the first day of hiking due to our cancelled flights. Kokoda Spirit had to change the flight to Kokoda airfield a day later. In my mind  turning nine days hiking into eight is a daunting prospect, adding 10-15% to each day of hiking. No one was complaining - it just had to be done.

The corner of the hotel where we received our briefing

To make sure we were ready to hike, we carbo overloaded ourselves into smithereens. Facilitating such a necessary feat is a restaurant called Jacksons. It sits high above our hotel, but is still in the same guarded compound overlooking the airport and massive, looming ranges in the distance. During “Happy Hour” we ordered pizzas that came with an unexpected complimentary pizza to boot. Having had only a few beers (SPs) for lunch we did the meal real  justice, as it all disappears in the engines that we will need for hiking the next day. 

After several more SPs we walk back to our hotel rooms - I was sharing with Paul B and noticed the dog patrol van outside the fence – a stark reminder of the heavy security I once experienced in a Kibbutz in Israel!

Again, sleep did not appear to come easy due to excitement and a little fear of the unknown. This time it is in anticipation of flying out to Kokoda airfield. I feel obliged to tell you about a tragic plane crash that took the lives off 13 people as sensitively as I possibly can. In August of 2009, a plane took off from Port Moresby but crashed into the foot off the Owen Stanley Range. The nine Australians on board died as they set out on their experience of a lifetime on the Kokoda track and some of them following in the footsteps of family. Please, spare a thought for the families of those hikers that never made it to the start.

Friday 10 June 2016 - Port Moresby to Deniki

It is testament to the group that all the delays thrown at us were taken on the chin. Nothing seems to faze this group. Not a single tantrum chucked. As it appears common on this particular trip, the weather had of course closed in around the hills of Kokoda. We all spent some time waiting in the hotel and later at the airport hangar for it to clear. The first group launched itself into the air in a small plane and landed safely in Kokoda half an hour later. While waiting for the second group to arrive on the plane, the first group played with the local kids. Paul B had brought some tennis balls along with him to give away. Throughout the track this gesture was well received and a huge success.

The first group taking to the air in their tiny plane 

In the meantime back in Port Moresby, I had the privilege of being involved in an absolute cracker of a conversation with Cameron, our guide, who opened up about his amazing, sometimes gruesome experiences in Afghanistan. He gave me an insight into what soldiers endured during the Afghani conflict, rarely understood by an average civilian like myself. I have to make a footnote here stating that Cam did most of the talking contrary to popular believe.

Waiting for the plane to load

The safety briefing in full

The plane finally returned and had been loaded with our gear, hopefully re-fuelled and was ready for take off. The only seat left was directly behind the pilots and gave me a birds eye view of all possible good and evil that went on. We banked steeply into the air and circled once around the airport to gain altitude. We pushed our way through those delaying clouds and were excited to find ourselves overlooking the white cotton, woolly carpet with the odd peak protruding in the distance.

A snapshot through the window of our plane

I could clearly see the hills approach on the equipment that was arm's length away from me. When the plane descended through the clouds and droplets of water streamed away on the windows and wings next to our heads, the vast green valleys and sheer summits came into view. Emotions were overwhelming, as they often are on flights, looking down on the terrain that needed to be conquered and the hallowed ground. The pilot pointed down and said, "that's Isurava memorial". Even though I was in the wrong spot to see it, its importance wasn't lost on me.  

The plane's back wheels bumped safely on a green, and in places, muddy band of lush grass. A loud crack was heard from somewhere out of the cockpit when the front wheel kissed the ground like Prime Minister Paul Keating all those years ago but - hey! - no delay, no darn crack, nothing will stand in the way now. I am in Kokoda and standing on the track.

Looking back at the plane now in Kokoda amidst the green hills

Take My Hand I’ll lead the way

Today you’ll walk Kokoda along that gruelling jungle track.

Where so many young bronzed Aussie’s stood no chance of coming back.

You will visit the Bomana war graves which are at the start.

This will stir emotions within and leave sadness in your heart.

Then you’ll face the rugged Owen Stanley’s with Aussie pride in your vein.

Then pause and wonder how these diggers felt, there are not words to explain.

No track was cut through this dense jungle where you will walk today.

This alone will inspire as you carry thoughts along the way.

And the memory’s of a bloke who was like a Dad to you.

And the battles that he faced without a fancy walking shoe.

Nor any rolls of dunny paper or antiseptic cream.

He fought so hard for mate and country in conditions, brutal and extreme.

Without his brave effort, you would not be standing here today.

Take his hand he will guide you he knows every inch of the way.

There’s no doubt you will find this journey pretty bloody hard.

But remember this that Stevo will be there in spirit every single yard.

Now you will find an inner strength that you never thought you had.

Much brighter than all the starts for this bloke that you called Dad.

This journey will have an effect on you for the rest of your life.

And give you inner strength to fight adversity that may cause you strife.

When you reach the end, reflect back on what you’ve done.

And think of all those Aussie diggers lying back where you begun.



Grey Bits

I have not been able to track down the origins of this beautiful poem. Please let me know if you know the author so I can acknowledge him or her.

We had the privilege to hear many poems read to us by hikers on the Kokoda track during our epic hike. I have chosen some of those to share with you over the coming weeks.

Please note, that we are starting at the Kokoda end of the track and not the way the poem suggests from Owers Corner.




I could clearly see the ranges approach on the equipment
that was arm's length away from me

Our Prime Minister Paul Keating kissed a monument on the Kokoda track. If you would like to read about this, please go to http://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/homage-to-the-men-who-helped-turn-the-tide/story-e6frg6n6-1226500264685

If you would like to find out more about the plane crash of 2009, please click on the following link

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2009-08-12/no-survivors-in-png-plane-crash/1388258

Kokoda 1. Grounded Butterflies

The public infinity pool in Cairns

 

 

Adelaide to Cairns Tuesday 7 June 2016

“Hi boys. Just arrived in Cairns. Hopped straight into my shorts. Taken socks off and out of crocs and switched to reggae mode. Looking forward to meeting. Mars” This is the text message I sent on arrival to the three mates I am about to hike Kokoda with.

 

Cairns during my evening stroll

I was well awake before the alarm went off. I am yet to have a goodnight sleep before a flight. Excitement getting the better of the Zzzz’s. Never before have I been to Cairns, Port Moresby, Papua New Guinea let alone been on such a unique track with a huge war history. The elderly couple sitting next to me on the flight new about it as they both spent time in the army. They understood the significance of the jungle warfare at Kokoda and that not a lot of people realise that Papua New Guinea at the time was part of Australian Territory.

 

After a seamless flight and transfer, I arrived at the “Dreamtime” backpackers where a Dutch girl behind the counter had only ever been to PNG to go surfing. I gave her a brief history lesson on Kokoda with lots of waving arm gestures. Japanese troops invaded Gona and Buna on the 21st of July 1942. It is estimated around 12,000 Japanese troops landed in Gona in '42 and occupied the North of Papua. Their plan was to take Kokoda airport with their elite, well trained soldiers and surprise the Australians in Port Moresby by sneaking up on the Kokoda track. It is well documented that the crack Japanese invading force were confident to take Port Moresby (POM) and that they would be gunning for Australia next, using the airport of Port Moresby as their base for an all out assault on Australia. I hope your eyes haven't glazed over as badly as the girl behind the counter. Probably all just double Dutch to her.

So, while sitting at the backpackers, checking out a combie van with a psychedelic paint job all over it in the court yard, I look forward to completely immersing myself in this tail of courage and mate-ship. In my little blogging and travel world, the Kokoda story has to be my most significant yet. I want to pay respect to the soldiers and write this story for anyone who will listen, for my partner Julie and for my two boys who are, at this moment, the exact age of the young men that put their lives on the line for Australia.

 

You gotta love the combie

In the quiet of my backpacker room, I re-read the passages I have marked in Peter Fitzsimons “Kokoda” with yellow stickers. The  plan is to carry the book along, read it to the group of hikers at night and hopefully add to the experience. Here is a passage I found striking.

Amid the screaming, explosions of grenade's and chattering of machine guns there was never a bird to be seen, but curiously the bountiful butterflies seemed entirely unaffected. It was not uncommon for soldiers on both sides to be fixing bayonets to fight for their very lives when, at the moment of highest tension, enormous butterflies of the most extraordinary colours and contours are lighted on the helmets of those about to charge. Gods own insects wafted away, of course, at the first serious movement forward, but to the soldiers who saw them at such moments, the butterflies always seemed to project a sense that, whatever the hostilities of the moment between man, they represented timeless nature, have been there long before man entered their domain, and would be there long after he was beneath the sod.

The nature reference in this excerpt is, in my mind, a brilliant touch and I am humbly demanding to see, other than all the war and tragedy, a butterfly or two on the track.

 



A butterfly at Disappointment Rock, Western Australia 

Cairns to ………. Cairns??? Wednesday 8 June 2016

“The world is an exciting, unpredictable place.”

I met Jason, who flew in from Perth overnight, in front of the Dreamtime backpackers and after a short stroll we enjoyed breaky and a good catch up whilst overlooking the "Iron Man Cairns" where preparations are going on in full swing. Sunny, warm, Cairns in my opinion is a beautiful place. It is clean, the surrounding hills are magnificent and especially from the foreshore one can enjoy million dollar views. Life could not get much better. The shuttle bus to the airport was a bit late and the customs officer apologetically confiscated my jar of peanut butter as it weighed 125 grams - 25 grams more than allowed. Putting up with dry crackers on Kokoda does not seem like much of a hardship. Putting up with lost baggage does. We met two fellow hikers, Dee an Jo N, whose bags were inexplicably lost in transit. “Bugger”. Imagine what we are going to smell like after nine days of hiking in the same clothes they said.

My brother-in-law Simon appeared in the departure lounge of Cairns and the coffee and chat that followed were sublime. We met a large group from Sydney at gate 2 and the 11 of us were all laughing and carrying on. We know we are going to conquer that bloody jungle track together or are we????

A sudden business like announcement five minutes before boarding by a pretty blonde, uniformed Qantas staff member, said something about unrest in Port Moresby. What did she say? Flight cancelled? What? Nooo!!!! Yes, no matter how much disbelief or shock we felt, nothing is going to change the fact that QJ191 is officially grounded.



Meanwhile at the Cairns terminal. Do we look worried?



The more technologically advanced among us check out what is really happening in POM by Googling the news broadcasts. I remember Paul M doing a great job getting in touch with Kokoda Spirit and sharing the information with us all. A peaceful anti-government student protest was opened fire on by police. Four students died and 11 were wounded. Qantas cancelled all flights into the Papuan capital. A bit of a setback for us, disastrous for those students and their families.

 

The student protest. Photo courtesy of Fiji One TV

 

 

My phone rings and it is Paul B who is flying from Brisbane. His Qantas flight with a group of eight fellow Kokoda hikers actually took flight to Port Moresby and with 15 minutes to go, the plane mysteriously changed direction. Everyone thought the aircraft was preparing to land when the captain made the unexpected “trouble in Port Moresby” announcement and abruptly turned his plane back to Brisbane. Six hours on a flight to nowhere. I can only imagine the frustration of those passengers.

 

I spoke to a young girl who was going to Papua New Guinea for a funeral of a friend. I hope she made it there in time.

From the announcement onwards, Qantas looked after us very well. We were driven in a comfy shuttle bus back to Cairns and put up in a nice hotel. A $50 voucher pressed in our hands for dinner and breakfast. Have you noticed how people bond a lot faster when bad things happen? We sat and had beers together, some of us went out on the town in Cairns but everyone got along well. The onset of our Kokoda team had begun.

 

One of the tools used during our team building session

Watching the news broadcast in my hotel room was surreal. Our prime minister Malcolm Turnbull, foreign minister and the Papua New Guinean Prime Minister all commenting about the Port Moresby protests and the cancelled flights. A rare occasion in an average human life when you find out the news is related to you.

The room courtesy of Qantas

Grey Bits


If you like to have a look at the combie of love at the Dreamtime backpackers, please go to http://www.dreamtimehostel.com/

I am just as surprised as you that I am not blogging about PNG today.

One good thing that came out of our cancelled flight is that Dee and Jo N were reunited with their lost bags as their luggage had plenty of time to catch up with the travellers.

We found out that three other hikers are already in Port Moresby and we are all hoping that they are safe and well. In total that makes 23 hikers all up if you were doing the maths.