Uluru. The Story Rock

Uluru, the belly button of Australia

A sharp intake of breath and some gasps of amazement was all we could manage when we swung around the bend and over a hill bringing Uluru in full magnificent view. Now there is something one won’t forget in a hurry, that first eyeful of the giant, red monolith underneath a sky as blue as a budgies bum. This is the  moment the long drive becomes justified and a somewhat faded memory. We are nowhere – the wind is swishing gently through the desert oaks –  vast natural Aussie plains – a reprieve from anything built by human hand – an awestruck feeling wraps around us – something is going on around here –  an ancient feel - calm and soothing. Is this home?




Just an awesome site

 

So bare with me for a moment! I am a big fan of the ABC’s ‘Conversations’ and an even bigger fan of its presenter Richard Fidler. His interviews are inspiring and have played their part in this crazy getaway Jules and I are finding ourselves on. Somewhere along the Sturt Highway we were listening to the podcast where Richard interviewed Lynne Kelly, the Science Writer. She told the story of how she was testing her memory by associating the name of a country with every street address in her suburb. She could remember over 400 countries by just walking her dog along her local streets.

Lynne then spoke of her visit to Stonehenge, where she has come up with a different theory as to why it was built and what the purpose of its existence is. What if Stonehenge, with all the windows, burs and dents, are cues to remind the initiated of the stories and laws of the land by using this same powerful memory technique? A place to remember and pass on the important information and lessons learned of the history of an ancient civilization. An art form lost to our society. Could Stonehenge be compared with the memory bank of a computer?



Still the mystery remains at Stonehenge!
Photo courtesy of the Huffington Post

Let's cruise back to the belly button of Australia and the budgies bum. Imagine walking around Uluru, having important knowledge of your fellow men available in every rock, crevice, tree or animal you are surrounded by. A story that could easily be bigger than 400 memorised countries, passed on to you by thousands of generations. Imagine it to be all you know and all you need.



Fountain of knowledge



To speak with Sam Cook ‘what a wonderful world this would be’
 

I have heard many different versions of the story of Liru and Kuniya but found the following a great example how Indigenous people make use of the landscape in their stories
 

Mount Conner from afar

 

Long ago in the Tjukurpa (Creation times in the Pitjantjatjara language), the Kuniya or non-venomous carpet snakes journeyed from Paku-Paku, a waterhole near Mount Conner west of Ayers rock (Uluru), until they came to a large, flat sandhill in the centre of which was a waterhole. They made their camp there and for a time life was very good. Each day the Kuniya women were able to find plenty of food which they carried home to the camp in their curved wooden carrying dishes. 

They prepared their bread from seeds gathered from grasses on the plain and cooked it in the ashes of their fires. The Kuniya men, after hunting kangaroos, emus and wallabies, like to lie resting at the edge of the sand hill as the sun set. This sand hill at the close of the Creation era turned to rock.



It is believed a long long time ago Uluru may have been a sand hill that turned to rock

The Kuniya people themselves were changed into various features of what is now called Ayers Rock. The women seated in their camp became large boulders in Tjukiki Gorge while their piti (wooden carrying dish) became a tall slab of rock at the head of the gorge. A rock hole represents their campfire and small grasses and bushes which grow in tufts in the gorge are their hairs. The sleeping Kuniya men turned into boulders which now lie motionless in the sun on the plain beneath. 

   

Can this be the sleeping Kuniya men?

 

While the Kuniya people were staying at Ayers Rock, however, life did not remain peaceful. A party of venomous snake men, the Liru, were travelling around in the Pitjantjatjara country, causing a lot of trouble. The Liru camped at Katatjuta (Mount Olga) and then decided to approach Ayers Rock to attack the Kuniya. They were led by the great warrior Kulikudgeri, and travelling in a large group they crossed the sand hills and arrived at the camp of a powerful Kuniya woman named Pulari. Pulari had separated herself from the rest of her people as she had just given birth to a child.

 

Katatjuta (formerly known as the Olga's) home of the Liru

Enraged and desperate to protect her child, she sprang at the Liru with her child in her arms, spitting out the essence of disease and death, or arukwita. Many of the Liru were killed, but they continued to attack. A young Kuniya warrior challenged Kulikudgeri to a fight to the death and the Liru man, after an arduous battle, fatally wounded the Kuniya man who crawled away over the sand hill.    
 

The site of the battle at the foot of Uluru

 

Kuniya Inkridi, the mother of the slain youth, then rose in a fury and struck Kulikudgeri a great blow on the nose with her digging stick. He died in agony, his blood streaming over the surface of the land, leaving stains on the rock that remain today. Kuniya Inkridi mourned for her lost son. She covered her body in red ochre and sang and wailed into the night. She spat out arukwita, the essence of death and disease, and any man approaching that site today will be stricken.   

Grey Bits

 
If you like my blog, please, feel free to share it with others.

If you want to download the Conversations podcast of Lynne Kelly or any other free Podcasts this is where you need to go http://www.abc.net.au/radio/programs/conversations/guests/



The tourists climbing the rock of stories

 

Lynne Kelly has published several books and is an accomplished author well worth Googling

 

 

One of Lynne Kelly's books

 

There is an interesting article written in the Huffington post about Stonehenge.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/03/23/stonehenge-theories-mysterious-monument_n_5015553.html

I found this great version of the story of Liru and Kuniya at the following website
http://rmwebed.com.au/web_resources/ab_culture/dreamt_kuniya.htm

Katatjuta at sunrise

Land of Thunder

This rocket was used to launch satellites into orbit

 

A large police van rolls up in front of your door. Several uniformed men jump out of the vehicle and hang around the front yard. One of the men opens the gate and  knocks on your front door. Apprehensive and a little nervy you open the door and stare at the man in your porch and say “how can I help you, officer?”

 

“You have to come with me” the man said urgently in an imperial British accent. “It will be no longer safe to live in this area” he continues. "Please, gather your family and all your possessions and come with me now. Do not worry sir! You will be allowed to return home after a period of 54 years”.

This scenario seems unlikely to have ever occurred anywhere in a civilized world, but it happened in South Australia. It took 54 years for the Indigenous Arangu people to be returned to their land after many of them were forcibly removed.
 

A rest spot up the Sturt highway

Jules and I travelled up the Sturt highway to find out more about Woomera. The town has that typical outback style with broad access roads and red dust everywhere. In the centre we found a collection of rockets in front of a church. After entering the old church, now serving as a museum, it felt like stepping back in to the 50's. We strolled through the exhibition looking at all the old artifacts. There are dusty radios, school photos of proper looking children, local cricket paraphernalia and many uniforms of a bygone era.

 

A couple of  questions were bugging me whilst meandering over those creaky floorboards. Wasn’t Woomera where the nuclear tests were held? Yes it was! Did I miss the info? Yes I did! Surely they would have that displayed here at the edge of ground zero? Around I went again, paying close attention to the items on show. Finally, I found 'one' manila folder, laying between a pile of other files, with articles about our sinister past and started taking photographs of each page.
 

One of the newspaper clippings of the manila folder





Maralinga means ‘land of thunder’ in the local dialect and ‘boy’ did the Brits create some thunder. Between 1955 and 1963 the British, with assistance of the Australian government, ran seven series of  nuclear tests at Maralinga, just down the road of Woomera - the village that housed all the living staff and families involved.

 

Many soldiers and their families were exposed to radio active material

 

An effort was made to remove the Indigenous population from  their 3000 square km homeland. A total of 100kg of toxic and radioactive substances were exploded in this area. 1200 Indigenous people were exposed. It's only more recent decades that stories have emerged about what happened to the people living near the site. One of those stories is Yami Lester's, a Yankunytjatjara man, who was only 10 years old when the testing began.

 

"I was a kid.

"I got up early in the morning, about 7 o'clock, playing with a homemade toy.

"We heard the big bomb went off that morning, a loud noise and the ground shook.

"I don't know how long after we seen this quiet black smoke - oily and shiny - coming across from the south.

 

Cloud formations over the field of thunder

 

"Next time we had sore eyes, skin rash, diarrhea and vomiting everybody, old people too.

"Some of the old people, I don't know how many died."

Mr. Lester was unable to open his eyes for several weeks, and when he did, he couldn't see.

By 1957 he was completely blind.

"When I was in Alice Springs in 1984 I heard Sir Ernest Titterton, who was saying blackfellas were all looked after.

"That it was all clear where [the] Maralinga testing occurred.

"I thought to myself 'he talking the wrong way.'

"He doesn't know what happened on our end.

"So I picked up the telephone and that's where it all started."
 

Mr Lester began telling his story, and his actions eventually

led to the McClelland Royal Commission in 1985.

 

Mr Yami Lester

 

Alan Parkinson became the key person on the Maralinga clean-up project, representing the then federal government. By 1997, however, there was much cost-cutting involved in the project, and differences of opinion about how the project should proceed, which led to the sacking of Parkinson by the Government of that time. Parkinson states that:

"What was done at Maralinga was a cheap and nasty solution that wouldn't be adopted on white-fellas land”

Source: Wikipedia 

 

The Totem 1 used at Maralinga to carry nuclear warheads

 

Let’s make that leap to 2009 where the Australian government gives the land back to their rightful owners..

Would ‘you’ go back there? To live?

  

The insides of a Rolls Roys engine used to launch rockets

Grey Bits

September 27, 2016 marks the 60 year anniversary of the start of nuclear testing at Woomera. Information of an art exhibition to commemorate this occasion can be found on the following link
http://www.abc.net.au/news/2016-09-21/exhibition-to-mark-60th-anniversary-of-nuclear-testing/7865192

Photo courtesy of Google

In this blog I have focussed on the Indigenous population of the Maralinga area. Many of the soldiers and their families suffered terrible consequences of their exposure to toxic material at Maralinga. Read more at
http://www.news.com.au/lifestyle/health/health-problems/new-generations-of-australian-families-suffering-deformities-and-early-deaths-because-of-genetic-transfer/news-story/5a74b7eab2f433402aa00bc2fcbcbea4

This is where I read Yami Lester's speech.
http://www.abc.net.au/site-archive/rural/content/2011/s3326601.htm

Looking across Lake Hart to the Land of Thunder

Here is a link if you would like to read more about Maralinga and Woomera
https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/history/maralinga-how-british-nuclear-tests-changed-history-forever#toc0

Kokoda Epilogue

The moss still growing on an overhanging branch on the way to Kingsbury's rock

Walking from Kokoda airfield to Owers Corner somehow felt right. The first punch and retreat moves of the 39^th were with us every step of the way - finishing at Owers Corner - a grand finale. There is so much more to write about Kokoda and so much still unsaid. I feel I have only started to scratch the surface of this rich, intriguing story.



So much ground still to cover

Following in the footsteps of these courageous Diggers, we respectfully aligned ourselves with their plight as much as we could. After the service at Isurava, this hike in my opinion, became a pilgrimage or a walk with surprising personal reflections. 



The raging rivers of Papua

Nataly

When I read back through the story, I am struck by the huge emotional rollercoaster. One minute we were seeing the amazing beauty of the jungle, seconds later we were torn apart when confronted by the sadness and the rigors of war. There was laughter, tears and bucket-loads of sweat.



Disturbing finds in the wild

Many weeks later the dust had settled inside. I can wholeheartedly tell you from a personal point of view that a different person arose from that muddy track. Of course you can still tell me that I have a funny accent, of course you can still tell me my name is French – it just doesn’t matter any more. Being of Dutch origins will always remain, but there is a new found confidence of how I fit into this amazing country. The heart is now true blue.

At the service at Brigade Hill it became clear that ANZAC will be different for me in the future. From now on I will be commemorating, in some way, the soldiers that fought for our land and freedom as it stands today.

Anzac Hill in Alice Springs

There was no other nation fighting along side of the Australians on the Kokoda track. We looked after ourselves, protected Australia in this story of bravery and sacrifice. Our Australian identity - forever forged on this jungle track.

The sun rising over the red heart of Australia

Adam's boots standing at Brigade Hill



Kokoda just keeps on giving

The Kokoda experience has continued long after walking the track.

Facebook was buzzing after our return from Papua New Guinea. The first couple of days I was bombarded with friend requests by new found mates. I must say that the reactions and responses I have had, whilst devouring on anything that is the Kokoda, has been truly amazing if not quite humbling at times. This is what I received by Facebook from Kelsey:

Hey Marbles! Just wanted to say thank you again for the pictures of Kokoda. I sat down with my pop yesterday to talk about the experience and show him the pictures you took. It is safe to say it was quite an emotional experience for him and myself. Considering I only took 7 photos with my shitty phone camera, having them there as a visual for him meant the world! So thank you so much again.

Kelsey's pop fought in Papua New Guinea. Thanks to your pop Kelsey and to you for those words.



Kelsey at Owers Corner

I was recently strolling around a photographic exhibition at the Araluen Arts Centre in Alice Springs. I read the comments written next to aboriginal elder Steve Widders intense three dimensional photograph of the 'Unfinished Business' collection. Being diagnosed by Fred Hollows, many years ago, with a degenerative eye disease he couragesly walked the Kokoda track. I found out later he hiked with Kokoda Spirit to boot. It all fits together somehow.



Steve Widders amazing photograph

We have become good friends with Alison and Steve at the Temple Bar Caravan Park in Alice Springs. In the many conversations with Alison, she told me that her dad served in the 39^th and fought on the Kokoda track. She mentioned that her dad was affected by his experiences in Papua New Guinea but never spoke about it.




Alison at Lake Hart in South Australia

I have looked into the war records of Alison's Dad which made for interesting reading. With the other so called Choco's, he landed in Port Moresby on the 'Aquitania' on 27 December 1941. Parts of his records reveal that he was admitted to hospital for contracting dysentery on one occasion and given latrine duties on another. Edward Arthur Curran, part of the pack of underdogs that saved Australia. Thanks mate - and thanks to all your mates that battled it out with you on this trail.

Alison looks after her Dad's medals

Words are effortlessly spoken and meaning is easily lost. That is why, in the end, I have taken to research the word 'lest' and make sure I illuminate its true value.

lest

conjunction

formal

conjunction: lest

1. with the intention of preventing (something undesirable); to avoid the risk of

   "he spent whole days in his room, wearing headphones lest he disturb anyone"
   

   (after a clause indicating fear) because of the possibility of something undesirable happening; in case "she sat up late worrying lest he be murdered on the way home".

synonyms:

in case, just in case, for fear that, in order to avoid, to avoid the risk of "he cut the remark out of the final programme lest it should offend listeners"

Courtesy of Google 

'Lest we forget'

Grey Bits

Acknowledgements

First and foremost I have to acknowledge Cameron, our guide from Kokoda Spirit who made our hike a genuine learning experience laced with humor and energy. His personal experiences in warlike circumstances giving this track a connection to present day conflicts and an insight of the stern stuff a soldier has to be made of .

Cameron briefing us at Brigade Hill

Many thanks goes out to the people of Papua New Guinea for giving us the opportunity to commemorate our heroes in their country.

Thanks to you too

The fantastic porters carried our packs and food across the track but they did so much more than that by showing us the joy of Papua New Guinea. How lucky was I with Smiddy's care and radiant personality? Very!!!

Smiddy at Brigade Hill



Thumbs up from Jason

Throughout writing this story I have become more and more reliant on checking my facts with the Australian War Memorial web site  https://www.awm.gov.au/ This is a free website where I found the war history of Alison's Dad together with many others.

After a while I realized that those stunning, black and white photographs I used in my blog came from the exact same source and are kept archived ready for us to download. The two talented photographers Damien Parer and George Silk are responsible for most of the black and white shots of the Kokoda campaign. Both men are well worth researching. Damien Parer was known to run backwards towards the enemy whilst taking camera footage of the approaching Australians.



Damien Parer


Huge respect and acknowledgement goes to Peter Fitzimmons and his 'Kokoda'. The first third of his book a master class in history, the next two thirds a thrilling ride of jungle warfare. His personal touches in the book I found refreshing and of an intense reflective nature. With no commercial interest on my behalf, I can highly recommend Kokoda if you want to learn about our country's history or just want your socks blown off.

With all that happened on this trail, even before we could set foot on the track, it became pretty clear what a special bunch of people were hiking this trail. Thanks to you all for making this trip a phenomenal and an unforgettable journey.




The bunch splashing about

More Bits


During one of the news giving times at night in a small village in the jungle, my mates Craig and Jason sang ‘Hello Dolly’- a great touch which smothered the bamboo huts in a time warp where our Diggers may have been happier, later on in their lifetime. A life away from war and with the woman they loved bouncing on their knees, living life to the fullest.

Hello, Dolly
Translation in progress. Pleas

I said hello, Dolly
Well, hello, Dolly
It's so nice to have you back where you belong

Kate was there

You're lookin' swell, Dolly
I can tell, Dolly
You're still glowin'
You're still crowin'
 You're still goin' strong
I feel the room swayin'
While that ole band keeps on playin'
One of your old favourite songs from way back when




The boys on the track



So golly, gee, fellas
Find her an empty knee, fellas
Dolly'll never go away
I said she'll never go away
Dolly'll never go away again

Songwriters: HERMAN, JERRY

 

Kokoda 10. The last breath

That morning we avenged ourselves. A small group of hikers snuck up on Major Cam's tent at 5:40am and surrounded his little lime green hiking dome. It was just before the wake up call. In Good Morning Vietnam style and in unison, they yelled out 'Gooooooodmorning Cameron!!! This is day eight on the Kokoda track'. I was later told there was a lot of frantic movement inside the tent with arms and legs flapping wildly, bulging up against the canopy. Cameron admitted the plan had been well executed and used one of his favorite sayings - ‘a little bit of poo came out’.

Friday 17 June 2016

I have seen countless generous acts from the Kokoda hikers towards their porters. Event though everything I was wearing was way too big for Smiddy and two of his feet could fit into one of my boots, I decided that he was the new owner of my trusted well-worn companions, my clothes and a brand new mosquito net for his children. I was told the porters like swapping shirts and shoes with each other. There were only a couple of items floating around in Paul B’s bag when he left Papua New Guinea. His porter Dick being the recipient of all sorts of  hiking gear.



The sun trying to shine through the canopy on the last morning

My body was feeling worn out that day. The intense downhill gradient caused my toes to attack the front of my boots, time and time again. Both my little toes were mushed beyond recognition. One of the nails was black, the other nail gone. The tiny pair looking an angry red raw and started oozing puss. Walking felt like trudging barefoot over broken glass until the endorphins kicked in.

We only had 45 minutes until we reached the end of the way - Owers corner. For reasons unexplained the porters left before us that morning. Just like I started on the Kokoda track, I ended up last trying to soak up the final stretch of green, tropical forest with a twinge of nostalgia. Can it really be over?

The jungle broke open

Nataly hung back to chat to me and basically snapped me into walking mode. The short walk, a lovely gentle incline, suddenly broke into open air where everyone was waiting for us on the last gravelly, zigzag of the trail. From above us came the joyful sounds of  harmonious Papuan song. The porters formed a welcoming line and were singing with gusto. I swear I could hear a couple of lines of Country Road thrown into the mix.



The end of the trail

One more last push and there it was, the arches of Kokoda. The longest row of excited, happy faces you will ever see greeting each other –  high fiving – bro hugging – Polar Bear hugging – tears of joy. It is done, Kokoda was ours.



Pandemonium at the finish line

This was the moment we said our goodbyes to the porters. Photos were taken and details swapped. It just felt like we were all mates for life.

Paul B, Simon, the Author and Jason. Happy times at the finish

After the quiet, green tunnel the sound of the two approaching buses was deafening. To send us off, the porters decorated our bus with banana leaves, muddy handprints, and with that same mud wrote the word Lauma, meaning Spirit in the local lingo.

The Spirit travelled with us

Unfortunately, the Lauma wasn’t strong enough to carry us up that first hill. With the smell of the handbrake wafting around us, half of the group had to exit the bus and walk up. The rest of us just waved them goodbye whilst driving past.

What followed, after we were all reunited in the bus on top of the hill, was the most hair-raising ride where the corners were taken at breakneck speed. I swear I felt the back wheels of the bus slide through the corner numerous times. The driver of the bus behind us resembled a beetle-nut, chomping gremlin who started to play chasey with us. Brandishing a wicked grin, he mischievously hung out of his window trying to touch our bus. All we could do was sit there and let it happen.



How fast?

Ironically we made it alive to the Bomana cemetery.

The war memorial at the cemetery

The Bomana cemetery is a large, well kept memorial site with many white headstones placed in rows. A fitting resting place for those brave soldiers that fought in Papua New Guinea. It is vast and stunning. A total of 7,500 Australians lost their lives on the Kokoda track. This cemetery is the perfect visual display, making those numbers way more tangible.



The headstones of Bomana Cemetery

We were on the trail only eight days. Spare a thought for the Australian soldiers. Most of the 39^th Battalion were fighting on this trail for two months. It wasn’t  just a lovely, self reflecting, butterfly spotting hike they were on . They dug trenches -  they carried heavy packs – they carried their rifle and amunition – they went days without food and supplies – they buried their mates – they laid waiting  for the Japanese mortar fire to hit -  they fought an enemy outnumbering them six to one, up close, and sometimes with fixed bayonettes – they saw the most horrendous acts possibly done to men - they were left to deal with the inevitable consequences without anyone, ever, to fully comprehend what it was like. Surviving the Kokoda track in 1942 was a remarkable achievement.

Flowers at the Bomana cemetery

Don did his best, but it was little enough. Though he dressed Butch’s wounds, and gave him morphine to ease the pain, the look he gave Stan confirmed the obvious – it wouldn’t be long.

They talked of the days on the farm. That time with Uncle Abe. Of Mum and Dad. Their sister and two other brothers. Sang songs of their childhood. At that moment, they knew, Mum would be just likely turning in after making Dad a cup of tea. What about the time during the floods when they were on their raft and Stan had nearly drowned, only to be saved by Butch getting to him in the nick of time? They talked of rugby, of days with the Powerhouse Club, of things that happened in the middle east. 

Finally though, at 4.00am, while Stan was holding Butch’s hand there was a sudden slight shudder then he went limp. Stan squeezed Butch’s hand, hoping for some return pressure, a spark of life left, but there was nothing, stone cold nothing. His brother’s hand was already cold and clammy.

Butch was gone. Stan wept.

The story of the Bisset brothers as described in an excerpt from 'Kokoda' by Peter Fitzimmons

The last resting place of Butch Bisset

Next to Butch, there lays Captain Owen, Private Bruce Kingsury and way too many others that took their last breath on this muddy trail to Kokoda. It is completely mind-blowing how many unknown soldiers are buried at Bomana. The quote on their head-stones reading

A soldier of the 1939 – 1945 war.

Known unto God

We all scattered through the cemetery,each of us deep in thought. What would life have been like if they were still alive? How many lives were impacted by the death of just the one soldier. How devastating would it be losing your son to war?



The universe as we knew it - ended. Another universe without son - began.

A Soldiers Farewell To His Son

I stand and watch you, little son,
Your bosom's rise and fall,
An old rag dog beside your cheek,
A gayly coloured ball.
Your curly hair is ruffled as you
Rest there fast asleep,
And silently I tip-toe in
To have one last long peep.

I come to say farewell to you,
My little snowy son.
And as I do I hope that you will
Never slope a gun,
Or hear dive-bombers and
Their dreadful whining roar,
Or see or feel their loads of death
As overhead they soar.

I trust that you will never need
To go abroad to fight,
Or learn the awful lesson soon
That might to some is right,
Or see your cobbers blown to scraps
Or die a lingering death,
with vapours foul and filthy
When the blood-flow chokes the breath.

I hope that you will never know
The dangers of the sea.

And that is why I leave you now
To hold your liberty,
To slay the demon War God
I must leave you for a while
In mother's care - till stars again
From peaceful heaven smile.

Jo N taking a quiet moment



Your mother is your daddy now,
To guard your little ways,
Yet ever I'll be thinking of you both
In future days.
I must give up your tender years,
The joys I'll sorely miss,
My little man, farewell, so long,
I leave you with a kiss.

H Bert Berros

                                    

We all piled back into the bus after spending a good deal of time at Bomana. Driving back into Port Moresby was a new assault on the senses. We had all been used to the peace and tranquillity of Pandan forest and jungle. The Gremlin still in hot pursuit.

In the afternoon we all celebrated our achievements at the yacht club, where we had a lavish meal and drinks spending our left over Kina.



The view from the yacht club

That evening, my brother-in-law Simon lent me his phone to call Julie. At the moment of the call I had a sudden allergic reaction, causing a flow of tears when I saw her on the mobile screen. This was the first time we had been able to talk to each other for eight days. Many moments I wished she was sharing this experience with me, but it would have been murder on her knees.

The cocktail of panadol, neurofen and beer knocked me out. With regret, I missed the presentation of the certificates for the completion of the Kokoda track - I was fast asleep in my hotel room. An unpredictable, unscripted finish to a tremendous experience.

Grey Bits



Peter soaking it all up

If you would like to walk with Kokoda Spirit, here is their website http://www.kokodaspirit.com.au/



Mark all smiles at the finish

The fighting in 1942 didn't stop after the Japanese advanced to the rear. They were dug in at Gona, Buna and Sanananda. It took one of the bloodiest battles in Australian history to clear those beach heads. If you would like to read about this conflict, please click on this excellent link

https://www.awm.gov.au/sites/default/files/2013%20James%20Brien,%20Bloody_Beachheads_Ver_15.pdf


Australian soldiers on their way to Gona