Kokoda Diary - Trekking the Kokoda Trail

Mike's Kokoda Track Diary

2020-01-01T22:22:00.006+11:00

This is the diary of Mike Muskens, and his trek across the challenging Kokoda Trail.

Mike trekked the Kokoda Trail in August/September 2009, with Adventure Kokoda.

He was with a small group of only 5 trekkers, plus 1 trek leader and 16 porters.

The weather was mostly fine, with only one day of rain.

Mike was inspired to walk the trail by his grandfather - Staff Sergeant Walter (Watty) J Wilkins NGX421. Watty, throughout 1942, at the age of 37, was detached to the Commando's of Kanga Force to fight behind enemy lines in North East New Guinea. Like many diggers, he refused to talk of his experiences...

If this version is too long, have a look at the 'Condensed Book' version at Mike's website.

Day 12 - Sogeri > Port Moresby > Brisbane

2009-09-04T21:13:00.002+10:00

A late start today - breakfast was at 7:00AM, but I was awake at 6:00, so got up and had a shower. Just being able to have a shower, flush a toilet, and drink water without having to put tablets in it and wait 30 minutes is fantastic.

Everyone was chatty at breakfast, and the plan was to be at the airport for check-in at 8:30AM. It seems that flights are often overbooked, so getting in early is advised. I was on an Air Niugini flight at 2:30. Alex and Catherine were going to a diving resort off Port Moresby, and Paul and Sam were on a 2:00PM Pacific Blue flight to Brisbane.

We arrived at the airport, after experiencing Port Moresby's version of peak hour traffic, and I was the first to book onto my flight - it went without a hitch. They even gave me an exit row seat! Paul and Sam had to wait till almost 10, so we had a coffee and sat around.

After that we went to a local arts shop, where I bought presents for the kids, and then back to the Foodland store for lunch. We had planned to go to a flash hotel, but time was against us, so Foodland for a sandwich it was.

We said our goodbyes to Peter, Alex and Catherine at the airport, and Paul, Sam and I went and waited. We chatted about the good times. It was all good times. They left, and I was there by myself, lost in my thoughts.

So what did I learn?

I learnt that in the jungle, there is no point whinging, bitching, complaining. The only option is to find a solution and get on with it. I learnt that a lot of things go buggaup in New Guinea. Live with it. I learnt that it doesn't matter how well you prepare your body for this trek - the thing that will ultimately let you down is your mind. I learnt that the New Guinea natives are the most caring, giving people I have ever come across. And I learnt a bit about myself. I've got some ideas for when I get home. I've changed. Things will change. It is a trip of a lifetime - that every Australian should make. It would change our country for the better.

With these thoughts, I boarded the plane. I had a screaming kid sitting next to me. I wasn't in the exit row. I couldn't see the TV. None of that mattered. Yes, I cared. But it didn't matter.

You see, that's because it's not what happens to you that matters. My big lesson was it's how you deal with it that counts. When things go bugaup, you've just got to -

"Get over it. Get on with it."

I hope you have enjoyed reading about my little adventure. If you are looking to trek the Kokoda Trail, I implore you, stick with a reputable company that will give you the best chance of survival if things go wrong. You may be able to save $1,000 with a cheapie - but how much is your life worth? I highly recommend Adventure Kokoda - give them a go.

Day 11 - Goldie River > Owers Corner > McDonald's Corner > Sogeri Lodge

2009-09-03T21:29:00.001+10:00

Despite being exhausted when I went to bed last night, I woke at 12:30AM, and couldn't get back to sleep. I was still awake at 2:15, with thoughts of the trek racing through my mind. I must have drifted off, because the alarm woke me at 5:15, and the final morning pack was started.

We all had some tinned fruit, plus Salada's and vegimite for breakfast, along with a cup of "Readymix". It turns out that on the last morning, the boys mix all the milk, milo, coffee, sugar and tea that is left over into a pot of boiling water - and that is Readymix! Tasted ok, but really sweet. After brekky, with the knee again feeling good, I went down to the river and found my sweat rag. I was happy, for a while.

It was a really strange feeling as we walked away from our last camp. I didn't want it to be over. I hung around the back, talking to the boys. They advised me to not bother putting my boots on, as we had to cross a river that was about knee deep. I walked slowly down to the river, took off the boots, and waded across. The group was in front of me. No-one was talking. I guess we were all lost in our thoughts. On the other side, I slowly put my boots on, and talked a bit more with the boys. I wished I had have got to know them a bit better. Sure, I'd spoken quite a bit to Warren and Dominic, but not so much the others. They were all great guys, and we owed them all a lot. They were in high spirits. I guess for them (apart from the quick pace), this was a relatively easy trek. There was no-one getting in at 8:00PM. There were no injuries - just a couple of tummy bugs. Everyone was pretty easy to get on with. So, for them too, a good trip. But we could see that they were in a hurry!

So, the last uphill. I held back so Alex and Catherine could get in front of me. I spoke with Alex a bit up the hill. The time flew. He took some photos as we went up - he was in no hurry. Before we knew it, we were all approaching the archway at the top. The boys had formed a guard of honour. As we walked towards and through the archway, they sang a going home hymm. It was really emotional, with more than one tear shed. And so, on our 10th day of trekking, at 7:35AM, the adventure was over.

The bus had been organised for 8:30, so while we waited, we were all presented with the trekking poles that the boys had carved for us. They cost K50 each, and the boys had been working on them most nights since we started. They had done a great job. Dominic had made mine for me, in between his cooking duties - I really don't know how he found the time. I had lent him my new pocket knife to do the carving. When he gave me my trekking pole, he returned the knife. I gave it back to him, and told him that I wanted him to have it so he could make a lot more trekking poles in the future. Such a small gesture, but his gratitude was like a wave of emotion rushing over me.

After some photos, and goodbyes to the boys, the bus and a troop carrier arrived at about 8:05AM. The boys jumped on the bus, we jumped in the Troopie, and off we went to McDonald's Corner for a quick look and another photo.

Then back to Sogeri Lodge, where there were rolls with sausages and onions waiting for us, along with icy cold soft drinks! It was an awesome meal! Then we unpacked, and gave the boots, crocs and poles to the boys for cleaning, and the dirty clothes to the housekeeper for washing. Then, a HOT shower! Fantastic. It was heaven. In fact, on arriving at Sogeri Lodge, it all felt very plush - quite different to how it felt the first time we arrived here! It's funny how perceptions have changed in such a short time.

After that, we headed into Port Moresby with Peter. We took a couple of boys for security, and jumped into the Troopie with Peter driving. Some of the bridges were in shocking condition - and we had to move the planks on them in order to drive across - scary!

In Port Moresby, we went to the ANZ bank to change some money. It was brand new, with a 15 car car park. 3 guards were in the car park. Then another inside, who ran the metal dector over us before, one at a time, we were let into a sealed room. When the door behind had closed, the door in front could be opened to go into what looked like a normal branch. There was 1 teller working, with 2 others watching her. After a 20 minute wait, it was my turn. I swapped $50 into Kina - and was charged K25 for the priviledge! I wasn't happy. Then I realised I was just whinging again - a habit I thought I had lost on the track. Will have to work on that.

From the bank, we went to the "Boroko on Gordons Foodland" store for lunch. It was just like a Coles Supermarket from the early '70's, with a cafeteria at the back! While the others tucked into sandwhiches, I had "Chicken Stew with Rice" for K18 (about $9), with a can of Coke to wash it down, and an icecream at the end - I've never enjoyed such crap in my life!

Then off to the Botanical Gardens for a guided tour. It doubles as a bit of a zoo for local wildlife, and was pretty interesting. Back to Sogeri Lodge for a lie down, and we cracked the first South Pacific Larger at 5:20PM - a beer never tasted so good.

Dinner and bed by 9:00 - where I fell into a deep sleep, for the first time in weeks...

Day 10 - Ofi Creek > Ioribaiwa Ridge > Imita Ridge > Goldie River

2009-09-02T20:04:00.002+10:00

"Ralph!" "Raallpphh!" "RRRAAALLLPPPHHH!!!"

One o'clock in the morning, and Paul is calling for his mate Ralph. Gee I wish Ralph would turn up.

Then, through my sleeping stupor, I realise it is something a bit more serious. So I get up to make sure Paul is OK. Peter has beaten me there, and is giving Paul a tablet to help settle the stomach. One of the camp dogs has turned up, and as quick as a flash has eaten everything that Paul provided. So we nickname the dog Ralph. It seems appropriate at the time. And the best part is that there is nothing left for us to clean up!

So, I went back to bed, and listened on and off to Paul calling for his mate for the rest of the night. Poor bugger. Today is going to be a big day - I hope he is ok.

Breakfast was as usual, although Paul had very little. He looked a little better than he did last night, and at least he had stopped vomiting. The plan for the day was to follow the original wartime track up Ioribaiwa Ridge. This is a really difficult climb, as it is very rarely walked. We needed a knifeman to cut a path, and the spademan to cut steps - though he didn't do too much of that. Being a difficult climb, plus a much longer track than the "Kokoda Highway" (the tourist track), Paul and some porters were sent on the tourist track to make things a bit easier for him.

Just as well too. The original track is hardly a track at all. Climbing a near vertical climb, with no steps cut in, with loose soil slipping from under the boot with every step made for a precarious climb. Another climb with nothing to hang on to, and a slip meant a hundred metre fall. I probably should have been worried, but was just to focused on getting to the top to think or worry about anything else. It was no wonder we were sweating by the time we got to the top.

This was the last ridge that the Japanese made it to. It is said that they could see the lights of Port Moresby from here - but looking from the top, that would have been impossible. Perhaps the glow of the searchlights at the airport, but that would be about it. As a result of it being the closest the Japs got to Port Moresby, with them having dug in here, there was a heap of Japanese trenches/spider holes to look at. It was a great adventure, and well worth getting off the beaten track to see stuff much as it was when the Japs quietly "Advanced to the rear", and started quietly pulling back to the North East Coast.

Once we got to the top, we cut across the ridgeline, and really had to cut our way through the undergrowth to get back to the main track. We had organised to meet Paul at the top, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was another memorial to a fallen trekker - a super fit police officer who had died of dehydration on day 1 of his trek. We sent one of the boys back down the track to see if Paul had been held up - but no - he must have been doing well and just kept on walking!

Sure enough, as we walked down the other side of Ioribaiwa Ridge to new Ioribaiwa Village, there was Paul sitting down enjoying the view. He was going well, despite feeling a bit weak from the bug, and was keen to keep moving. So were we - there was no shade in the village, and the sun was beating down on us. After the difficult morning climb, we were all a little hot and tired, and keen to get to the morning tea spot at the bottom. The day before yesterday I had drunk 8 litres of water, and it looked like today would be the same.

We arrived at the creek at the bottom where we had organised for morning tea - but there were no boys to be seen. Twice in one day things had gone buggaup! But, get over it, and get on with it. So we sat down and had a muesli bar and a well deserved rest. Soon after, Dominic (the 2IC cook) turned up. Apparently the locals had said the water here was no good to drink, so they had pushed on another 30 minutes to a place where a fresh creek joined this creek from the side. It was a quick pace, and we were all glad for another rest and cup of tea/coffee/milo when we got there.

From morning tea, it was a trip along the creek to lunch. Not on a track beside the creek, but rock hopping along the creek bed, crossing the creek about 9 times. It was hard work, and again Warren was setting a cracking pace, with Sam hot on his heels. I was sweating bucket loads with the sun on my back, and working hard to keep up - keeping balance, not able to use the trekking poles as much, hopping from rock to rock with a 16kg backpack on, and finding it tough - even on the flat.

So I've got to say, I was very happy to see the lunch spot on the side of the creek. Peter immediately ripped his clothes off and jumped into the creek. I didn't have the energy. I just wanted to sit down, have a rest, something to eat and relax for a while. Catherine was worse. She had been shitty all morning, and looked like she was struggling.

Paul had done really well for someone who was crook. His mate Ralph had followed us (Ralph's owner was travelling with us on his way to Port Moresby), and was sniffing around Paul at lunchtime. Unfortunately for Ralph, Paul again only had a bite to eat in an attempt to quiet his stomach. Catherine too only had a little. Unlike me, who made a pig of myself. In fact, I felt a bit ill I had eaten that much. So when we were told we were moving out in 10 minutes, I wasn't very happy.

Paul headed off with his porter straight away, while we spent the next 10 minutes preparing for what promised to be an even longer and steeper climb than the one this morning. I was still hot, I was over-full, and not feeling like a big climb. Which led to my second dummy spit of the trip.

"Don't let Sam walk behind Warren" I snapped. "He walks so close that Warren has to speed up so he doesn't get trampled." It wasn't deserved. Although Sam did have a habit of treading on the heels of the people in front (Catherine had had a dummy spit about it this morning), he didn't need me to tell him to ease off.

Peter suggested that Sam head off in front of Warren the Spademan, with myself, Alex and Catherine following. That was all Sam needed, and he was off to catch up with Paul. Peter followed him, while our little group started trudging up the hill.

The heat was oppressive, the humidity was energy sapping, and the steepness of the hill was soul destroying. After about ten minutes Warren stopped and turned around to see how we were getting on. Alex and Catherine were about 20 metres behind Warren and I.

"Is she ok?" Warren asked me.

"I don't know" I said. "She didn't have much to eat at lunch."

"Hmm" said Warren. "You walk ahead. I go back and see."

So, with 50 more minutes of walking to get to the top, it was just me and the hill. I started walking, thinking to myself that I wouldn't mind catching up to Paul, Sam and Paul's porter Barry, so I had someone to pace myself with. So I tried to up my pace. Ten minutes later I was shattered. The sound of my heartbeat was pounding in my ears, my pulse was racing at 190bpm, I was breathing hard, and sweating fiercely. I had to stop for a breather. I gave myself a minute, then headed off again. Every step took immense concentration. Every breath seemed to be strangled half way down. I was having trouble sipping water. I was exhausted.

"Keep moving feet" I said to myself, repeating it over and over.
"Little steps"
"Keep moving feet"
"Little steps"
"Keep moving feet".

It was like mantra in the deep recesses of my mind that kept me going. Then, up ahead, I saw Paul, Sam and Barry, stopped for a breather. My spirits soared. I was getting there! Then they moved off, and I was still 20 metres behind. I stopped for a breather, then went on with renewed energy. But my feet were so slow. My breathing so laboured. I could not believe how hard this was.

"What's wrong with me!" I screamed silently at myself. "I have to pick up the pace!"

Then, up ahead, Paul, Sam and Barry again - this time closer. I stopped where they had been, recharging for another assault. Then, behind me, Warren, Alex and Catherine.

"How have they caught up!" I screamed at myself, and headed up the hill again, this time with renewed vigour.

Then, up ahead, I heard cheering, clapping, whooping. Then words of encouragement for Paul and Sam. I must have been close! I upped my effort again, and within two minutes I could see the boys at the top of Imita Ridge - sitting in the shade. Then they started cheering for me - whooping, hollering and yelling encouragement. It was the best moment of the whole trip! I redoubled my efforts, and strode the last 20 metres to the crest of the ridge, the whole time with them yelling. It was another one of those moving, amazing moments.

"Where's the next hill?!" I yelled back at them. "C'mon - bring it on!!" I continued in a kind of delirious outburst of relief, pride and exhaustion.

I dropped down in the shade, and drank some water, amazed at Paul's achievement to get to the top in his condition. I struggled - how the hell did he do it? Then, within five minutes, Warren, Alex and Catherine appeared.

The cheering and hollering started again, this time with me joining in. They made it to the top, and collapsed on the ground, looking as shattered as I felt. They didn't say a thing - just looked away from the group, motionless...

As each of the porters arrived at the top, the ovation was repeated. Every person who made it to the top was made to feel special. Another example of great leadership, and camaraderie that had been developed during the trip.

Then, out of nowhere, from the other direction, appeared 4 guys running up the hill! They got to the top, slapping each other on the back, and lit a cigarette! It turned out they were army combat engineers (in PNG on exercises, from the CER (Combat Engineer Regiment), part of the 2nd RAR), and had just run in from Owers corner in three hours. Half a dozen others joined them over the next ten minutes, none of them with enough water.

We started walking down the other side, now in the shade, with a sense of achievement. We were just two hours away from our last nights camp at Goldie River - and we were all looking forward to jumping in the river for a wash and cool down. As we went, the army guys went past us, on their way back to Owers Corner. The last one (accompanied by a mate) was staggering and stumbling. He was coherent, but not in good shape. We had seen an army doctor, and this guys mate was very interested to find out where the doctor was. I hope they made it out ok. Interestingly, the group had two security guys from the PNG Army accompanying them with fully loaded M16's...

We made Goldie River by 3:00PM. Alex and Catherine dropped their packs, and just hugged each other for about two minutes - not a word was spoken.

Peter then suggested that with Owers Corner only 45 minutes walk away, we could walk out tonight if we wanted. All agreed it would be best to camp, and present the porters with a token of our appreciation, rather than rushing things to get out tonight. Besides, we were all looking forward to the river, and our last night on the track.

Then Sonny (Boskuk) rushed up to us all agitated. Apparently, Ralph had eaten all the breakfast cereal, as well as most of the rice the boys were going to have for dinner tonight! Bloody Ralph! Get over it. Get on with it. There's always a way. So, the boys were to share our dinner, plus have the spaghetti and baked beans that we were to have for breakfast. We would have a normal dinner, and our own muesli bars for breakfast. We would eat when we got to Sogeri Lodge if need be. So, no problem. All sorted.

So, for the last time. Unpack. Down to the river with my soap and tiny towel. Jump in clothes and all. Slowly undress, and wash each garment as I take it off. Throw it on the bank. Take off the next thing, wash it, throw it on the bank. All the others did the same.

I tried to walk up the bank to the campsite, and my knee was in screaming agony. It was again swollen, and again I couldn't bend it or straighten it. I struggled up the bank fighting back the tears, and collapsed at the table with a cup of coffee.

Everyone had mellowed - and Alex and Catherine were both talking again. We had a small dinner, then gathered around the campfire to present the porters with a small gratuity from the group. The individuals who had personal porters then presented them with a further gratuity. Alex stood up, and despite not having a personal porter, gave a gift to Warren for his assistance on the trek to both he and Catherine. It was a generous gesture, and one that told us all the impact Warren had had on our couple from Perth. There were sad faces with the knowledge that the adventure was almost over, and in all likelihood, we wouldn't see any of these people ever again...

We headed to bed at around 8PM. I knew that I had left my sweat rag down by the river, but I physically couldn't walk down and back up again to get it - my knee just won't let me. Hopefully a couple of Nurofen Plus will fix it overnight, and the sweatrag might still be there in the morning. A big day - no, a huge day was over, and so too was the trip - almost.

Day 9 - Agulogo > Ofi Creek

2009-09-01T20:16:00.002+10:00

Well, Paul certainly slept better last night. So much so that he snored, and kept everyone awake. I have to say, he did look a hell of a lot better this morning, and he commented that the pillow did the trick, and he had a much better night's sleep. As far as toilet arrangements went, it was another site with no green barrels, and just a hole in the ground. I decided after my last encounter, I could wait a day...

A look at the day's map showed what we had all been dreading. Looking at the map, today looked like the day that the uphills never ended. In fact, looking at the trek diary showed that we were going to climb 1,800 feet today, then descend 2,200 feet! We'd all been looking at the morning map all trip, and all been dreading this day.

But, my knee felt really good again, the sun wasn't too hot, the dogs were ready for a pig hunt, and the world was a good place. So off we went, with an easy trek through a swamp to start with. We were all pretty glad is was dry weather, because it looked like the swamp would be diabolical when it was wet. As it was, we did it pretty easy. Funny enough, it was also here that Alex was complaining to Catherine about something. I couldn't quite hear what it was about, but it certainly made Catherine pooey with the world, and she remained that way - short and shitty with everyone - until the trekking for the day ended.

But before that was the hill. The mother of all hills. I don't know how many false peaks there were on this hill, but certainly more than ten. You would think you were getting near the top - but no, another false peak. You know, I kind of enjoyed the fact that there were all these false peaks. Because wherever there was a false peak, there was a relatively flat part for up to 25 metres where we could get our breath back. We stopped 3 times on the way up, and we just walked at New Guinea pace. The pace was easy, the sun wasn't too hot, I was feeling good, so it was not nearly the killer that we thought it would be. It wasn't easy, but it certainly wasn't the hardest thing we'd done so far, and at no point was I feeling buggered.

Half way up the hill we stopped for morning tea at Naoro Village - even though it was only 8:30AM! Then up, and up, and up some more.

Going down the other side was easy, and again I powered on. It was on the way down the other side that we came across a (yet another) memorial to a trekker who had died. This memorial was for the 30 something year old mother who had died just a few months ago, heading in the other direction. Apparently, she had had an asthma attack. Her trekking company didn't have enough porters to carry her to some flat land where a chopper could land. Nor did they have a satellite phone, or a medic, or the medication that would have saved her. Instead, they sent a runner ahead, who after a few hours came across an Adventure Kokoda trek. AK sent a team of porters armed with a medic, medications and a satellite phone to assist. Unfortunately, the six hour return trip was just too long. The poor lady has passed away, leaving a husband and two young kids at home. The Adventure Kokoda boys carried her body the half kilometer to a flat piece of ground, and cut away the undergrowth so a chopper could land, and take her body back to Port Moresby. She had saved a thousand dollars or so going with a cheaper trekking company - but it had cost her her life. A senseless, pointless, frustrating waste. All the way through our trek, we had seen trekkers with other companies, with only 3 or 4 porters. They laughed at us having 16. We were lucky so far to not have had any problems. But, we weren't finished yet, and I was pretty happy to know that if I did have a problem, I would be out of there one way or another in a couple of hours - hopefully before it was too late. Whereas, if we only had 3 or 4 porters, chances are they would leave me on the side of the track while they went to get help...

After that sobering memorial, we had an early lunch at 11:10AM. Catherine actually started to thaw out after lunch, and we heard her talking for the first time since the swamp, which was good. Alex, on the other hand was having trouble with his knees, and wasn't too happy. Paul too was sore above his knees, but wasn't really complaining. Sam was doing really well, though still not eating too much. At least he had stopped farting...

After what was really a pretty easy day, we made camp for the night at 1:30! It was perched on the side of a hill, just up from a beautiful creek. We all spent a lot of time in the creek, washing ourselves, washing clothes, and generally taking it easy.

Not long after we finished washing, the group from the previous night's camp arrived, and had a swim too. They had wanted to share our campsite. However, they weren't carrying tents, and needed a village guesthouse. That would have meant our boys would have to crowd into one guesthouse, so we suggested that his group walk the extra 90 minutes to the next camp. They agreed. After their swim, they started walking across the log to continue on their way. A guy in his 20's, carrying some pretty impressive SLR camera gear lost his balance on the log, and fell in - camera gear and all! You've never seen a bloke jump back onto a log so quickly in your life. Poor guy - the few porters that they had helped him back to the bank, and dried his camera while he dried himself. But, another example of where that would not have happened to our group. Whenever we cross a river, there is always a porter in front ready to help, and one behind making sure we are ok. I suppose you get what you pay for, though I hope the kid and his gear are ok...

After a really long relax in the creek, the rest of the afternoon was spent relaxing around camp. We all sat around and chatted, relaxed, wrote in the diary, and watched Peter beat Alex in chess again. Catherine had come good again by mid afternoon. It is funny the way she puts the big "everything is great" act on at breakfast time, then is quiet till the afternoon or evening. She actually admitted thisafternoon that she "doesn't thaw out till after lunch". She says that her ankle is ok, so I don't know what it is. Alex's knees are still troubling him after our big descent, and once again I can't bend or straighten my knee.

So, feeling pretty good, and with a big day tomorrow, I went for a nanna nap 3:30. After about an hour I gave up, and got up to join the others. I was tired, but couldn't sleep.

The dogs didn't catch a pig today, so the usual pasta for dinner. Then, after dinner, we heard the boys singing in their guesthouse. We went over to listen. They invited us in, and for 45 minutes we were treated to their soulful, moving, amazing voices.

I was a little emotional, and very tired when I went to bed at 8:10. I have lent Paul my wet pack again for a pillow, so hopefully he sleeps well - but not so well that he snores. The others are up chatting, and I'm falling asleep listening to their hushed voices...

Day 8 - Efogi 1 > Brigade Hill > Nevlogo > Menari > Agulogo

2009-08-31T20:28:00.001+10:00

Bloody roosters! Woke me this morning at 4AM - and kept me awake till 5:10 when I got up for a wee. I wanted to kill the bastards! Last night was a warmer night, but still needed the sleeping bag. Paul had let rip a few times during the night - which I'm sure isn't making Catherine too happy. Paul again looked pretty haggard this morning. I asked him about it, and he admitted that he was having trouble sleeping. Apparently, he is having the same trouble with his pillow as I had originally had with mine - and that is causing him to wake constantly during the night. Poor bugger - I know how he feels...

After the usual breakfast, we visited the local museum within the village. Within were unexploded grenades, bullets and mortars, along with Bren Guns, 2" Mortar, helmets, rifles and boots. But these were special boots. They still had the foot bones in them from the poor bugger who died in them. It seemed so normal for the locals - to me it was quite disturbing. I walked away still a little shocked. Not sure how the others felt.

Catherine was quiet again this morning. There had been a few good farts let go overnight - and I don't think she is impressed. Whatever it was, she was quiet - and quite often turned away when being spoken to. Perhaps it was the emotional journey we took through to Brigade Hill...

You see, from Efogi 1 we went downhill for quite some time, then tackled a pretty big uphill. This uphill led us past Mission Ridge, where the diggers had dug in in an attempt to slow the Japs down. We heard their story a bit later, after more of an uphill, when we arrived at Brigade Hill. Here, Peter took all our trekking poles, and stuck them in the ground in two rows, about 2 metres apart. We sat down on Brigade Hill, and heard the story of the diggers on Mission Ridge. About the ones that were cut off, and travelled back through the jungle desperately trying to rejoin their unit. About the shot that almost killed the commanding officer as he headed to the loo, but instead hit his assistant. About the heroics, and the deaths. The deaths. We turned around and looked at the trekking poles. Then we noticed. Two long, long lines of indentations across the ridge, from one end to half way to the other. Over 80 graves of diggers who had died defending the hill. Yet another one of the major battles along the Kokoda Trail that we never had a chance to learn about in school. We were both saddened and angry that this important part of our history is ignored. So, perhaps the emotion of that was too much for Catherine. I don't know. I do know that she isn't herself.

After the Brigade Hill briefing, we walked another 100m to where some villages had the equivalent to a local Woolworths set up. Twisties, Coke, and local pineapple and bananas. The pineapple was amazing! So sweet and juicy - it was heaven. The bananas were pretty damn good too. It was good to recharge, as the legs were feeling a bit weary after the mornings big uphill. Perhaps that had contributed to Catherine's withdrawal - I don't know, but Paul noticed it as well. He also noticed the cross words Alex and Catherine had exchanged yesterday morning. Then again, he had seen me have a bit of a dummy spit when 3 times in a row as I was trying to take an action photo of the group coming down a hill, Catherine had jumped out of shot at the last second, leaving me with a photo of her half in shot. It annoyed me, and I had my first dummy spit of the trip. Oh well. I'd better calm down...

After Brigade Hill, we took a detour to a little village called Nevlogo. This is the village of one of the senior porters who works for Adventure Kokoda, and was waiting for our arrival. We were to have delivered the rugby ball, books and pencils that I had brought with me as a donation to the villagers. We were told in our final briefing email that the porters would carry them for us. At Sogeri Lodge, I had specifically put aside the 4 books for the "Bring a Book" programme that were to go to Port Moresby Grammar School, and kept them separated from the gifts for a village. I was suspicious at Sogeri when Warren Bartlett (who organises things for Adventure Kokoda there) said "The villagers don't need gifts - they're better off than you think". So I had confirmed with Peter that the gifts would go to the village - he had even said that I could present the rugby ball to a kid, and have a photo taken doing it. You see, my son had heard that the villagers didn't have much, so he had offered to give one of his rugby balls to the village. He had chosen the ball with the most grip to give away, because, as he said, "it rains a lot up there, so they will need the good one".

I was pretty pissed off that a private school in Port Moresby was getting the ball, books, and pencils, while this village got nothing. And I let Peter know. But, this is New Guinea, the land of the unexpected, and things going buggaup is a way of life. So, I just need to get over it.

The villagers had put on a special treat for us (which made it even worse when I couldn't give something back)(get over it). They had laid out the red carpet, in the form of banana leaves covered with red flowers. They had also put on a feed for us - the most amazing cucumber, bananas and cooked stuff. The cooked stuff was taro, and a cake-like thing called sago pudding. Peter told us it was like banana cake, but actually tasted like pumpkin mixed with cement! I had a piece, and then didn't discourage Sam or Alex from having some too. The looks on their faces was priceless, and they chewed away, trying desperately to swallow the stuff! Really hilarious! Meanwhile, I'd asked Sam how his bowels were after his recent stomach bug. Catherine got huffy, asking why we had to talk about bowel movements. Paul took this as a cue for him to describe his, I threw my description in, and we asked Catherine about hers. Alex tried to stay clear, but he was also brought into the conversation, admitting that his movements had been a bit soft for the past couple of days. Catherine was pretty pissed off, and stayed that way for the rest of the day. A little chink in her armour, which had been exploited to stir her up. Not the right thing to do, but we were all a little edgy, and I guess this was the result.

It was a really tough walk after Nevlogo. Uphill and downhill and uphill some more to Menari. When we arrived there for lunch, we were all pretty buggered - Alex in particular dropped down to the ground in relief. Despite having had a swim half an hour before Menari, in a beautifully cool creek, I was finding the day tough too. It was hot, we'd done a lot of hills, and a lot of distance. Everyone was a little edgy. Sam had been trying to lighten the mood by dropping his guts every time he exerted himself - which Paul and I found somewhat amusing - but it just seemed to piss Catherine off more. At least we got a laugh out of it. Even Warren, our "Spademan", gave a wry smile on a couple of occasions. It was good to see him enjoying himself, and also good that Sam was on the mend, and starting to have a better time.

It was great to have lunch in the relative cool of a hut at Menari. The villagers had again provided bananas, along with some cherry tomatoes. I almost had one, then remembered Peter's advice, to only eat food that has a natural wrapper on it - you don't know what has been on the food that doesn't. Paul had a couple, and said they tasted great. Catherine said nothing all lunch time...

After Menari, we had an almighty uphill. In the heat. After a big morning. It was hard work, and I was sweating like never before. Two drops per second of my sweat were hitting the ground when we stopped at the top. We all looked pretty hot and bothered, but we were at the top of "The Wall". It is called that, because coming from the other direction, it is like coming up against a vertical wall. We started off downhill, and trekkers coming the other way looked shattered. There were a couple of kids - about 9 and 10 - with a porter, who asked us how far to the top. For them it was about five minutes. Then over the next half hour, the rest of their group came past. They all looked just about ready to pass out.

I led the way down the hill, and I was really glad to be going down. I seem to be able to go downhill quicker than the others - picking my footing quickly, and just moving the feet. I don't know if it as a result of a bit of mountain bike riding, where you're always looking for the best route, or some other reason. Whatever it is, I quite enjoy the downhill - and this was a doosey! I headed off at a pretty quick pace, with Sam hot on my heels. I suppose it was him close behind that made me go a little quicker, and eventually I hot about 10 metres ahead of him. By the time we got to the bottom, we were about 3 minutes ahead of Paul, and 7 minutes ahead of Alex and Catherine. They didn't look happy.

My knee had taken a pounding on the way down - a bit silly of me to have gone at that pace. So I was pretty happy to go along the flat through a swamp, which due to the dry weather, wasn't too muddy. We were still going at a good pace, to the extent that when we arrived at Agulogo to camp the night, the boys hadn't finished putting up the tents. I chose one, threw down my backpack, got some soap, and went down to the creek. I jumped in clothes and all, and sitting in the cool, fast flowing water, slowly took my clothes off and washed them, then washed myself and rinsed my hair. Because there was another group already there with a view over the creek, I kept my skins on, and washed my nether regions under the water. After about 15 minutes Sam, Paul, Alex and Catherine joined me. I'd finished and was heading back to the tent when another 2 trekkers arrived - one guy in his 30's, the other in his 50's. They were heading in the opposite direction, and the guy in his 50's was struggling with a bad knee. I didn't envy him with what he had ahead of him - was a nice guy - hope he makes it.

The camp dogs made a nuisance of themselves this evening. Luckily, we have wooden panels we can put up at the doorway to the eating/drying hut. A couple of the dogs snuck in while we were having dinner, and tried to get what was on the table. There seems to be about 15 dogs in the village - apparently they are pig hunting dogs, and the boys have asked the villagers if they can get a pig for us to eat tomorrow night. I don't know if I like that idea or not.

A quiet evening this evening. Everyone is pretty beat after a big day - which started at 7:00AM and despite the quick pace, finished when we arrived here at 5:15PM. My knee is really sore. Due to swelling, I can only straighten it to 165 degrees, and only bend it to 85 degrees. I've taken two Nurofen Plus - hope they bring the swelling down overnight. I had trouble walking back up from the creek after my wash. Really hope I'm better in the morning, because despite the big day and feeling tired, I'm still feeling really strong.

Before heading off to bed at 8:10PM, I lent Paul my other wet pack for him to use as a pillow. With any luck he will sleep better tonight, and his bowels will let us sleep better too...

Day 7 - Bomber Camp > Naduri > Kagi > Efogi

2009-08-30T21:07:00.001+10:00

Blessed relief this morning. A green barrel loo, and bowel movements a bit firmer - but still not quite right. The followed the coldest night so far on the trek. I woke around midnight freezing cold. But too tired to get the thermals out. I closed the hood so there was just a hole big enough for my mouth, and went back to sleep. Even though the pillow is much better, I still seem to wake on a regular basis. At least now I go back to sleep quickly. There was a bit of noise from Alex's tent early last night. I think he might have had a visitor...

After the standard breakfast, we walked the 2 minutes it took to get to the wrecked bomber. The Americans had dug a huge hole trying to recover the bodies of 2 American airmen still in the bomber. Unfortunately, there are also 2 unexploded bombs with the aircraft. The more the Americans dug, the further one of the bombs slid down the hole. It is one of the rare cases where they have left the remains of their dead within the aircraft - they didn't think it was worth the risk of blowing up the recovery team. The hole they dug is about 30m across, and full of water. So it was only the ripped bits of aircraft, plus the second bomb that we could see - everything else was under the murky water - including the two Americans. A little spooky - glad I didn't know about it last night.

From there we visited an ammunition dump used by the diggers. It was still full of ammo. I don't know how more people aren't killed by this stuff here. It was full of mortars, grenades, bullets. We were careful not to step on any of it.

Sam was feeling much better today, so when Peter suggested a little excursion to have a look at a Cessna 206 that crashed last year on Little Myola, we agreed. Through the stinking mud again, and there, in the middle of nowhere, is a more or less intact Cessna. The engine was recently taken away for investigation - but the rest of the plane is there. The pilot died in the crash landing, but the two teachers he was carrying managed to walk away. There are still books, pencils and paper strewn around the aircraft. It is somewhat surreal. Apparently this happens all the time in PNG, and with no-one investigating the crash, the planes just stay where they have hit.

From there we powered on to Tovovo Lookout, and had morning tea on the side of the track. Another group passed us while we were having morning tea, then we passed them a bit later. Alex was a bit more talkative today, and I had a really good chat. He isn't impressed with the backwards ideas of many in Perth / WA. I can see his point. Maybe he was a bit more chatty because his gut (like mine) is feeling a bit better today, and no longer feels like I have a brick in a washing machine for a stomach. On the other hand, Catherine was a little uptight. Especially in the morning. Not responding when we talk to her. I wonder is she is still upset about the hard time she got the other night. Whatever. Her loss.

After Tovovo Lookout, we had a really steep descent down to Naduri Village. Here the locals brought out scones and mandarins for us. Sonny (Boskuk) brought us some jam - and we were in heaven! With the second morning tea in our bellies (I'm sure I'm not losing any weight on this trip!), we headed further into the village to meet Ovovu Idiki - who is claimed to be the last surviving Fuzzy Wuzzy angel. He sang us a song that they used to sing during the war. A really proud old man - it was an honour to shake his hand.

From there we went past the Kovovo School. There are a few modern buildings, and a few traditional ones. We looked inside the two K-2 rooms. They had pictures of cars and boats strung up, which they had cut out of a Deals on Wheels type magazine. The room was very primitive, and the rugby/soccer oval was worse!

From there down a steep but short hill, then a sprint up the other side to Kagi village. I've got to say, with the pace and the heat, and the sun on my back, I was puffing by the time I got to the top. I seem to be ok and able to go all day if the pace is slow, but as soon as it picks up a bit I get puffed, and REALLY sweaty.

100m past Kagi was our lunch stop, and I once again had too much to eat. I'm really starting to enjoy that Spam and (what is this stuff?!) other meat on Salada's with cheese, followed by pasta and a cup of tea.

After lunch was a very, very steep and slippery descent. With my fear of heights, this one really scared me. Not just the steepness, but the slipperiness. At the bottom was another creek - and it was paradise to rip off the clothes and jump in. We had turns riding the current under the bridge, which was a heap of fun. Really refreshing after our pretty hard day so far.

Unfortunately, after the river was the steepest ascent I have ever seen. Unbelievably steep. And slippery as all buggery. It was like walking up a ladder for 30 minutes, with no hand holds and butter on the steps. It scared the crap out of me - one wrong step or slip, and it was straight down a 200 metre drop. I was really pleased when it was over. Then another 40 minutes of climbing which was again pretty steep, but by comparison a walk in the park. It was tough going in the sun, but we all did it pretty well. We got to the top, and Alex seemed spent - he dropped to the ground. Peter gave us a briefing - we were in Efogi 2 Village, where Corporal Nishimura erected a monument to his fallen comrades. As we were sitting there eating a banana, listening to Peter, 2 guys from the group we had seen in the morning came up the other side of the hill. The were sweating and puffing, and spent 5 minutes telling us how hard that climb was that they had just done. They went on and on. They were shattered. We didn't have the heart to tell them we had just gone around the long way, and our hill was twice as long and twice as steep...

From there is was a simple down and up to camp at Efogi 1, which we arrived at at about 4:30. There was a shower with a shower rose - but the water only came out in a trickle. Catherine got out with here towel wrapped around her waist - but it was only a camping towel, and only just went all the way around. We all had a laugh at her trying to bend over to open her tent, and get in while staying decent! I had a shower and rinsed out my clothes - I had sweated so much I was prepared to have wet clothes in the morning.

Then one of the boys lit a fire in the drying room, so we all hung our clothes up in there. They were still damp and smokey at bed time, but at least that was better than sweaty.

Sam was much improved by the end of the day. Paul has done some ripper farts - never in front of Catherine though. Someone also snuck out a few sneaky ones at dinner - everyone looked at everyone else wondering who to blame.

After dinner we went to the drying hut where 4 local ladies and 5 kids sang for us. Just amazing voices. So smooth and moving. Today too was a food drop day, where I had my second half snacks delivered. I have hardly eaten any of my first half ones! So it just means an extra 750g of weight in my backpack. I had also packed a big self saucing pudding, which I shared with everyone after dinner. And, for the boys, I had packed a 24 pack of Tim Tams, which I got Waho (the 2IC) to distribute. I hope they all got one...

A hard day, and late night saw us retire at 8:30. But, I'm feeling really good. Yes, the day was hard, but spirits are up, body is strong, and I'm just loving being here.

Day 6 - Templeton's Crossing #2 > Kokoda Gap > Big Myola > Bomber Camp

2009-08-29T19:55:00.001+10:00

I woke last night at 1:00AM - really hot. Then I drifted off to sleep again, but had a series of the most bizarre dreams, which kept me waking and drifting until the alarm went off at 5:15AM. I wasn't going to wait for the 5:30 cooee call, and risk holding people up.

On waking, my stomach was really not right. I packed quickly, got dressed into my sweaty but dry clothes, put some more tape on my foot (this time on the heel which was starting to show signs of a hot spot), and got out of my tent. Then it hit me. I HAD to go to the loo - and quickly. Now, what happened in the loo wasn't pretty. If you don't want to read about how a bloke with the squirts deals with going to a loo which is just a 10cm x 30cm hole in the ground, then skip the next paragraph...

There is something not so glamorous about having the runs when you are wearing skins.
You rush to the dunny - which you discover is a hole in the ground about 10cm x 30cm.
Taking careful aim, hoping the poop doesn't run down your legs into your skins, you relax your butt cheeks.
Nothing happens.
So you give a little squeeze.
The toilet cubicle only has three sides, and sits among 4 others, close together.
Your bum is pointing towards the door.
Just as you squeeze, one of the porters comes looking for a vacant loo - and is staring straight at your straining behind.
Then, all hell breaks loose, as the pent up runs are released.
You miss the hole by about a metre, and almost splash the porters bare feet.
But the only way you know he is there is because of the shout of terror you hear as you just miss him.
You don't care.
The blessed release of letting go.
You then re-aim the constant stream, trying to hit the hole.
You overcorrect, and just miss your skins and your only pair of pants.
As the stream recedes, you are careful to lift your butt that little bit higher, hoping against all odds that those last few drops don't land in your waiting pants.
You look down. Then realise.....
It's finished. But it takes 20 wipes to get your butt clean - and you only brought one roll of dunny paper with you.
You hope against hope that this doesn't continue for another day...

After the blessed relief of the loo, breakfast went down a treat. I was feeling quite a bit better, which was good, because at the briefing we discovered that today we would be climbing to the highest point on the track - through the Kokoda Gap and past Mt Bellamy.

So, no surprises, it was uphill, then uphill, and uphill some more. We started the day at an elevation of 5,800 feet, and climbed to 7,300 feet before lunch. It actually wasn't too bad. I was tired, but not exhausted. I wasn't sore at all. And my tummy, though still churning a little, was much better than it had been for the last couple of days. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said of Sam. He was really suffering all morning, and at lunch only had a tiny serving. He looked a little pale as well. Alex too has started looking a little sad, and has been making some small comments that make me wonder if he is finding the going a little harder. His stomach has been churning like mine for a couple of days. And Catherine is all bright a chirpy, but I get the feeling she is putting it on a little so that she doesn't bring the group down. Paul, the oldest of the group, is going like a champion. Though he doesn't ever look the best in the mornings.

Anyway, I was feeling ok at lunch on the edge of Big Myola. Even better when we were told we could leave the packs where they were while we walked across the "lake" to Myola Guesthouse, then on to have a look at a crashed American P40 Kittyhawk fighter. Sam was feeling pretty crook, so instead of the excursion, he went with some of the porters on to the nights camp at Bomber Camp.

The lake bed of Big Myola (or Myola 1 as it is sometimes called) is on old volcanic crater. It is funny the way that the jungle grows down to a certain level on the edge, then just stops, and is replaced by grasses and reeds. It had been raining all day, and as a result the lake bed was a little wet. By that I mean that we sunk to our ankles in stinking, black, slimy mud with every step we took. I was happy to have brought the ankle gaiters with me - I would have hated to see inside my boots otherwise.

We finally got to the other side of the lake, and arrived at Myola Guesthouse. One of the buildings had recently burnt down. We were told that it was accidentally burnt down by the porters from Adventure Kokoda. Oops. We are also told here that they were expecting us to camp there for the night. Apparently our schedule was different to what Peter had been given. Bugger. They even had a 44 gallon drum of water heating for a shower - which would have been great after a day of walking in the rain! Instead, Peter paid them the camp fees for the night, and we went on to see the plane.

It was a huge engine, with props buried in the dirt. 6 machine guns were still visible - some with live ammo still ready to fire. The rest of it was a shredded mess - you can even still see pieces of the shattered perspex windshield lying amongst the wreckage...

After the fighter, we headed back across the lake. It was getting late, but thankfully the rain was easing. However, we picked up the pace and got back to the edge of the lake where our packs and porters were and had a quick afternoon tea. Then put the wet, muddy pack back on, and headed off to Bomber Camp, which we got to at 5:10PM in the rain.

With the mud everywhere, I decided that I might as well have a wash in the creek, and wash out the clothes. The black, clinging mud was nearly impossible to get out of the clothes - I stood in the creek for almost 30 minutes trying to get the clothes and myself clean. It didn't help when the boys told us to be careful, as the water was polluted by toilets upstream. Ah well - better to wash in pooey water than have it in your pants I suppose.

Bomber Camp itself was really beautiful. There were all sorts of flowers planted expertly, as though the place had been designed by an award winning garden designer from Sydney. And, thankfully, the pit toilets had the green barrels for seats - I never thought I'd be so happy to see them!

As soon as I finished washing in the fast fading light, the rain stopped. But, with the amount of rain during the day, there wasn't a lot of wood, so there was no chance of getting the clothes remotely dry. Sam went to bed before 6:00PM, without dinner. By 7:00, we heard a terrible heaving sound coming from inside his tent. Yep, he had a big spew. Then a couple more for good measure. Paul rushed to his aid. We were pleased to hear that Sam had a plastic bag ready, so the inside of his tent didn't look like this mornings loo. Sam got up with a bit more colour, saying that he now felt much better. Hope he still is in the morning!

We were all in bed by 8:00, once again listening to the sound of rain on the tent. It seems a bit colder tonight, so I've done the hood up a bit - will put on the thermals during the night if I need to.

Day 5 - Abuari Village > Eora Creek > Templetons Crossing #2

2009-08-28T19:25:00.001+10:00

At last! A night without a cricked neck and sore shoulders! The new pillow worked. Soft enough to be comfortable. High enough to have the head level with the body. And with enough give that the head didn't roll off every time I moved. It was heaven!!

Until 3:40AM that was. Because it was at that time that the damned roosters decided to start having a chat with one another. There was one rooster at the top of the village. One at the bottom of the village. And one in the middle of the village. One would crow. Another would answer. The third would respond to the first two. And then they would do it all over again. And again. And again...

I dozed till 4:40, then got up for a wee. What is is with having to do a wee this early in the morning? It is starting to annoy me. Sure, I'm drinking about 3 litres of water plus 1 litre of 1/2 strength Gatorade every day, but I'm sweating most of it out. Dozed again till 5:25, trying not to listen to the roosters, then decided I'd had enough and might as well start packing. Not happy this morning. My gut is really churning. I'm tired. And I have some hot spots on my feet. Not yet blisters, but if I don't do something, they will be soon.

Went through the usual caper of smothering with Canisten Cream. Then got some strapping tape and wrapped it around the bottom of my foot, in order to cover my little toe and the hot spot on it. Did it wrong, and had to start again. Damn I'm cranky this morning!

Late to breakfast, despite my earlier start. I'll have to wake up earlier tomorrow so I don't hold everyone up. Had a small bowl of muesli - but the gut didn't want it. No fruit. No coffee. Others are ready and I'm not. Mixed the Gatorade - I think I'll really need that today. A briefing - looks like an easy day - thank goodness for that.

Then, what a way to start. Downhill for quite some time. Not too steep. Going at a really good pace. The air is cool - we headed off before 7:00AM - and these days of walking are now starting to become second nature. Funny thing I'm noticing in the morning is that my pack seems to be lighter than it is at night. Silly, because in the morning it is 4kg heavier, with full water bottles. I mention this to Alex. He kind of grunts as though I'm a nut case. I probably am. Gut is still churning...

After the great downhill, we arrive at Eora Creek for a very early morning tea. I take off the pack, and it is steaming! I've also got steam pouring off my back. I've started to notice that I am prone to sweating much more than the others. Alex doesn't seem to sweat at all. Peter does a bit - but not much. Paul and Sam - yeah, they sweat, but not as much as me. Catherine? Well, I saw her with a makeup compact this morning, and asked her if she was putting on makeup. She growled at me that of course she wasn't (I later realised it was a bit of pimple cream), so I've steered clear of her so far.

Anyway, a quick morning tea, then we left the packs with the boys, and headed over the creek to have a look at the Japanese defensive positions. It is so steep, and the Japs were so well dug in, there is no way I can imagine the diggers being able to dislodge them from in front. We climbed to the top of their defensive position, to where they had the mountain gun set up. You can still see the track dug out where they wheeled it in and out of the bushes. Looking from there straight across the valley at the Aussie positions, they would have been sitting ducks. Poor buggers.

Back down and across the creek, picked up the pack, and of course, the next section was uphill. A long climb. A really steep climb. We kept on climbing for an hour and a half. With the churning gut, it wasn't much fun. Would have been a lot worse if we had Japs shooting at us though. But the slow pace suited me well - and though it wasn't a struggle, I was still happy to arrive at the top and stop for lunch. Lunch was the usual pasta, spam, cheese and meat (what is that meat? Looks like cat food!), washed down with a cup of tea and a pack of 4 Oreo type biscuits. I had seconds of pasta/meat - but really shouldn't have. Felt a bit crook.

After lunch was an easy walk - a bit flat. A bit up. A bit down. And after only an hour, we arrived at our camp for the night at Templeton's Crossing #2. It's a bit of a misnomer - because there is no crossing here. The campsite is right on the side of the river, but I don't feel like going for a swim / wash.

All the others went down to the river to have a wash / swim. I just feel like being alone for a while. A little crook. Still a little cranky. The others each have someone to talk to. I suppose I'm feeling sorry for myself. Big girls blouse I am. So I write in my diary. Put some dry clothes on. Have a lie down.

Everyone came back from the creek and set themselves up in the drying hut to smoke their clothes. I didn't feel like chatting, so decided to go for a wash. The sun had disappeared, and dark clouds were coming in. Catherine has been saying for the last day or so that she hopes that it will rain, so she can experience the full deal. I kind of know how she feels, but I'd be just as happy to do without it.

The water was FREEZING! I really had trouble putting my head under. I had a quick rinse. Put the dry clothes back on. Peter suggested that it was better to have dry sweaty clothes rather than wet cleaner clothes. It suited me tonight, so I just hung my clothes up to air.

It became pretty cool - I figured that I might need my thermals tonight. I don't know how Alex and Catherine managed to have a full wash with soap and all this afternoon.

And then our first dummy spit of the trip. Hehe. I wondered when it would happen. I bit mean of me to be thinking this way. Especially when it was my fault. Catherine was whinging about being cold. Peter had told her to take a cement pill and harden up. Alex suggested that she should put some socks on. She refused - she might get them dirty for goodness sake! It was too much for me. I pointed out that she should put socks and a beanie on - as they were the two places that would let in the cold/let out the heat the most. She refused. Alex agreed. I pushed some more. Catherine spat the dummy and stormed off. Everyone went quiet. I felt really bad. Catherine came back 5 minutes later with socks and a beanie on. She seemed fine - I don't really believe it. Alex was great with her. Everyone acted as though nothing had happened.

It started raining after dinner. Not too heavy, thank goodness. I suppose we will find out overnight how good the waterproofing is in these new tents. The top seems fine, but I have condensation on my plastic bag every morning where it has been sitting on the floor of the tent. A bit of a worry.

The usual dinner. Everyone is chatty again. I'm not. Gut still churning. Feeling exhausted. In bed by 7:15PM. The sound of the river is really peaceful. I can hear the boys laughing in their hut. People in the drying hut speaking softly. Rain on the tent. I'm cold, so draw the hood of the sleeping bag up, and with my new pillow working wonders, drift off to sleep thinking that my kids at home are not yet in bed...

Day 4 - Isurava Memorial > Alola Village > Abuari Village

2009-08-27T19:44:00.004+10:00

That damned pillow! I just can't get it right. Either too low, or my head rolling off it, or both! So, another night of really broken sleep. It was a bit colder last night too, but the sleeping bag seems to be doing the job ok.

Because of the pillow, I again woke early. 4:40AM today. I lay there trying to get back to sleep without luck. So at 5:20 I gave up and got up for a wee. Back at the tent, I started packing my gear, determined to do it a bit quicker than yesterday. The wake-up "cooee" was at the standard time of 5:30, and I kept packing. At 5:45 I was almost done, when Peter called out to say we were heading down to the memorial for the dawn service.

I quickly threw on my clothes, which were still wet from washing them the night before. It wasn't as bad as I expected. With skins and trousers on, I threw on the crocs and raced down to the memorial, putting the wet shirt on as I ran. It was a cold morning, and I expected the wet clothes to be worse than what they were. Within 5 minutes I hardly noticed them.

Maybe that had something to do with the solemn occasion. At the memorial, Peter said a few words, then read a poem written by one of the diggers back in '42 - Sergeant Bede Tongs. It was about Private Bruce Kingsbury VC, who died not 20m from where we now stood, as he single handedly changed the course of the battle.

What do you say to a dying man?

What do you day to a dying man,

Do you call him Bob, or Digger, or Mate?

As you look down at the face you knew so well,

And the look in his eyes says, "It's late",

You remember your first hand-shake,

On a troop train going to war,

Training in various military camps,

Wallgrove, Greta, Ingleburn, Bathurst and more,

To have tired muscles,

To go hungry. Thirsty

And the pub - the Duke of York

Where we had our last beers

Before leaving Australia's fair shores.

A fleeting sad glimpse of his loved ones,

You knew that from being his friend,

And you know that if you happen to survive this onslaught,

They will surely ask you of his life's end.

Just three minutes ago he was so full of life,

Firing his bren from the hip,

The platoon attacking as it had many times before,

When all of a sudden - he's hit!

A Japanese sniper, so deadly,

Fires from a dark weapon pit,

And my best mate falls close to my feet.

"Tell them I tried" he said,

My words of goodbye froze on my lips.

by Sergeant Bede Tongs

After the reading, the boys sang a most haunting traditional song/hymn, followed by their national anthem. Dawn was just breaking, the sun rising. We were looking at the battlefield. The boys voices were uplifting. It was a scene of unbelievable beauty. More tears flowed. The trekkers then sang our national anthem. With choked voices, after the inspirational tones of the boys, we sounded pathetic. No-one cared. We weren't there for us. We were there to remember the sacrafices of those who went before us. Those who gave so much so that we might enjoy Australia today. We embraced the boys, and all walked slowly back up the hill for breakfast...

After the now standard breakfast of muesli, coffee and canned fruit, we were once again on our way at about 7:00AM. Up a steep hill, we surveyed more of the Isurava battleground. It is one thing to read about the battle, and look at the maps, but they just can't convey the ruggedness of the terrain, the placement of Front and Back Creek, the positions of the men. From there, past Back Creek along a relatively flat section, where there is a diamond shaped rock on the side of the track. It turns out that this is the rock that the doctors used as their operating table - amputating hands, arms, legs, stitching up torsos. Unimaginable in today's warm, peaceful surroundings.

After that it was downhill - WOOHOO! But, boy, was it steep. Some ups and downs, then down another really steep section. Morning tea in a village, then down a bit more to a river crossing and an early lunch. The water was flowing quickly, but it was too good an opportunity to miss - we stripped down to skins (sports bra and shorts for Catherine) and jumped in the water, with the lunch table set up just meters away. The water was FREEZING! I put my head under and washed some of the sweat out of my hair - no-one else was silly enough to get more than their body wet. It sure cooled the body, and put us in a great frame of mind for the next section. It was sad to leave such a beautiful location. The river, the mountains, the outlook , the stillness of the place was magnificent.

The next section - a damned great steep uphill! We were on another track that not many groups visit - Japs Track. This was the track that the Japs tried to send troops down to outflank the diggers at Isurava. The 53rd stopped them - but not well.

We hiked along the ridge, then had another downhill to a huge waterfall. This is where a group of Aussie officers were ambushed - there were still Australian water bottles sitting on the side of the creek. A beautiful, but sad place. You could almost see the officers bending down to fill their water bottles, and shots ringing out killing them in their tracks.

Of course, after any downhill, you know there is going to be an almighty uphill, and we weren't dissapointed. Only this time, because we were on a little used track, the uphill clinged to the side of the mountain, and was crumbling away under our feet. Behind us was a drop of hundreds of meters - not a place for those scared of heights. Yep - I'm scared of heights. And with the footholds crumbling underneath me, I've got to admit I was worried.

Then another climb up another damn great hill, until we arived at Abuari Village. It was hot. It was steamy. We had done some big hills during the day. And I was more than pleased to see we'd arrived. But the village is pretty big, so it took another five minutes to reach our campsite at 2:30. And what a feast awaited us. A huge spread of mandarins and passionfruit sat on a table decorated with ferns and flowers.

We quickly unpacked, and sat down to some of the best tasting fruit I've ever experienced. Then, to top it off, the villagers brought us plates of donuts! Not the light ones that we are used to with suger, but flowery, heavy ones. No matter - after our diet of pasta, they were delicious. Then out came the scones. Then out came some rolls. Then out came some biscuits! We stuffed outselves silly. I don't think I've ever felt so full.

Which was good timing for a shower. As usual, there was no shower rose, just a stream of water. But there were mens and ladies showers, and the mens was surrounded by 3 sides, with the 4th side looking out across the valley. It was an amazing view as I soaped myself up. Then, the water stopped! I was covered from head to toe in soap - and no water! I turned the tap off and waited. A small trickle after a couple of minutes. It took 10 minutes of this before I had enough soap off to risk getting out.

No sooner had I got out and dressed, and the water returned. So Paul jumped in the shower, while I used the nearby tap to wash my clothes.

We both went back to the hut to eat more fruit, where we found Catherine sitting looking out over the valley. "I could see you in the shower" she said to Paul. "But I didn't look". Sure enough, from the hut you could see right into the shower. I wonder how long she had been sitting there "not looking". Hmmmmm.

Catherine has actually become quite chatty. It turns out that she has a sore ankle - apparently she sprained it about 10 weeks ago, and it is just a little niggle for her at the moment. Alex has been quiet. He has a churning gut. I know how he feels - mine started churning today as well. Sam has started coming out of his shell (and has pulled a ligament behind his knee), and Paul has a fantastic laugh, which we tend to hear often during the day.

The usual dinner was followed by some great banter in the "Drying Hut". This is a hut that Charlie Lynn (the owner of Adventure Kokoda) has had many of the villages erect. It is a hut with 1/3 open sides, with 2 fires, and poles or ropes to hang wet clothes on and dry over the fires. Being a small group, there was plenty of room for all our clothes. Everyone was very chatty, and Alex took on Peter in another game of chess. It turns out that Peter is just learning, but he has been learning for about 17 years now. Poor Alex keeps getting beaten...

All the clothes were dry before we went to bed at 8, which after this morning I was very pleased about. Tonight I stuffed my dry clothes back into the wet sack, and used that as a pillow. A bit higher and a bit softer. Hope I sleep better tonight.

Day 3 - Kovello > Deniki > Isurava Village > Isurava Memorial

2009-08-26T20:42:00.002+10:00

Another night of terrible sleep - and I thought last night was bad! Damn roosters started crowing at about 3AM. And that was after struggling with the self inflating pillow. Stupid pillow - to hard, and the head rolled off it every time I moved. Too soft and the head was at a 45 degree angle while lying on my side - which gave me a sore neck and shoulders. I had gone to bed in just the silk sleeping bag liner, as it was pretty warm on retiring. But by midnight I was cold, and had to find the sleeping bag. Then at 4:30 I was busting for a pee - but couldn't find the head lamp that I had been lent the night before. And with just a hole in the ground, I wasn't going in there without a light. Almost peed my pants looking for the lamp. Finally found it and rushed out of the tent.

On returning, I couldn't see the point in trying to get back to sleep, given that we would have a 5AM wake up "Cooee". So I started packing up my gear. Stuffing the sleeping bag. Stowing the liner. Deflating the self inflating pillow and rolling it up. Deflating the self inflating mattress and rolling it up. Putting all the the sleeping gear into a wet sack (or is it a dry sack? Not sure). Then changing into my hiking clothes. Packing up my sleeping clothes. Packing all the clothes into another wet sack. Putting Canesten cream on my feet to help stop fungal infection. Then socks on, and finally boots on. Then throw wet sacks, snacks, first aid kit, toiletry kit, toilet paper, water bottle and water bladder into the backpack, ready for breakfast. The whole effort took me 45 minutes - will have to get quicker than that.

Breakfast was good - muesli, tinned fruit and coffee. A quick rinse of the plate in the hot water, pack that away, visit the loo (not too stinky), and ready for the daily briefing at 6:15. It is here that we find out what lies ahead for the day. How big the hills are. How long we expect to walk for. Things to watch out for. Etc etc. It looked like a long uphill, but not too steep. "We'll see how good that preparation was" I thought to myself.

The first 45 minutes was easy walking along a wide, mostly flat track to Hoi Village. A nice creek ran through the middle of the village - but they had roosters too, so don't know if I would have slept any better. Then the climb started. It was ridiculous. This was supposed to be a moderately steep climb - nothing like what we will face in the coming days. But it was like climbing a ladder. With slippery steps. And no sides to hang on to. With a 16kg backpack on. And we kept climbing continuously for over an hour...

Finally we stopped for an early morning tea at Deniki Village. And I have to say, it was a welcome stop. Dry biscuits and coffee never tasted so good, as we looked back down along the valley we had just climbed up.

Unfortunately, after morning tea came more climbing. Peter told us that we were powering along, and that usually he would have called 3 rest stops on the climb to Deniki! No wonder I was tired. Then more climbing. And more. And more. About 15 minutes before we got to our lunch spot at Isurava Village, I was really starting to tire. It was really hot. It was really humid. And I was starting to physically tire. It was with relief I saw the village come into sight. But then, another bugaup. The No Roads group that had pinched our camp site the night before, had pinched our lunch spot as well! I have to say I was pretty annoyed. One good thing about Adventure Kokoda who I was with was the great organisation. They booked camping spots and lunch spots to minimise hassles. And to be tired and have No Roads pinch our spot again wound me up. Not so the boys (our porters - we called them the boys). They had simply found us another spot with some shade, lit a fire and had boiling water for tea and coffee ready, along with a lunch of pasta with some sort of tomato sauce, as well as Spam, cheese, meat of some description (bully beef perhaps?) and a boiled potatoe.

I took the boots off while I was eating and aired the feet. I'm determined not to get any blisters or infections on my feet, and airing them felt fantastic. Putting the wet socks back on after lunch wasn't so much fun.

As we were heading off, Peter suggested that because we were such a strong group, and doing so well, we should make a small detour to have a look at a WWII Japanese Navy fighter plane, which had crashed into the mountain. He said it was a bit of a climb, but would be worth it. So, we left our packs with the boys on the track, and started climbing. And what a climb - it made the mornings effort look like the hump on the Harbour Bridge!

My first step up the mountainside resulted in me shoulder charging the dirt, as I only had one trekking pole, with my water bottle in the other hand. So when my feet went from under me - bang - shoulder first into the mountain. I was more careful after that - I didn't relish the thought of falling all the way back down to the track.

The climb took about 30 minutes. In that time we climbed from 4,200 feet to over 5,400 feet! And when you consider that the whole morning we had only climbed from 1,000 feet to 4,200 feet, you can see that the half hour after lunch was STEEP! Funny enough, I did it easy. I don't know if it was the fact I was sucking on Staminade the whole way. Or that I wasn't carrying a pack. Or that I had had a good lunch. But whatever it was, I enjoyed the climb, and wasn't puffing at the top.

The plane was a shredded mess. It must have really gone into the side of the mountain hard. Apart from a bomb, the engine and other heavy parts, most of the plane was unrecognisable. We looked over it for 10 minutes, and headed back down the mountain.

Everyone seemed to find going back down harder than going up. There were about 15 slips/falls on the way down. But I was having a ball. Feeling really strong. Not slipping at all. Almost jumping down the mountain. It was a really good feeling.

At the bottom, it was packs back on, and a sprint to Isurava Village. Still I was feeling strong, and we got to our campsite at 3:30PM. Not bad for a group that had started 45 minutes further back than anticipated in the morning, then done an excursion up the mountain for over an hour.

The tents were set up for us, so we had a quick unpack, then a cold shower (where I also washed my clothes) under a stream of water coming from a small pipe. My back was a little sore after the shower, but the hips were good. There is the start of a little blister on my right heel - but more of a hot spot than a blister. I'm tired, but not buggered. I'm looking forward to dinner and an early night in bed. We're at about 4,500 feet, so tonight will be cool - and I'll definitely be in need of the sleeping bag.

At 4:00, we went down to the memorial for a briefing, and tour of the battleground. So much history. So much suffering. So much courage. It is a sad, soulful, inspiring place.

Dinner was soup and pasta. And I made myself a milo - great stuff! Sam and Paul are starting to open up a bit, and get a bit more chatty. So is Catherine. Alex is still a little reserved, and he seemed to struggle in the afternoon after we'd visited the plane wreck. Still, everyone is getting on well enough. And Peter is starting to tell terrible jokes...

After dinner, the boys lit a fire for us. They then got 5 pieces of wood, and in 20 seconds flat had them woven together to form a chair for Catherine - amazing! We all stood around in the cool night air, holding our wet clothes in front of the fire. It was a still, quiet, cool night. The stars were shining brighter than you would ever see them in Sydney. The fire was crackling. And then the boys started practicing their singing. Their voices were amazing.

The sadness of the place, the boys haunting voices, the beauty of the bush all conspired to bring a tear to a few eyes. It was with a feeling of great completeness that I hit the sack just after 8PM.

Day 2 - Sogeri > Port Moresby > Kokoda > Kovello

2009-08-25T20:12:00.001+10:00

I was pleasantly surprised last night on going to bed that it wasn't too hot or humid. Sogeri, being up on a tableland escapes some of the Port Moresby heat, so I was expecting a good nights sleep.

Unfortunately, that was not to be. Not sure why, but it seemed that I was awake every hour or two. I also woke at 4:20, my usual get up time, and couldn't get back to sleep. The good part was that I was able to complete my packing and have a shower with plenty of time till breakfast.

The pack weight feels ok, even with 4 litres of water. After Peter's help last night to lighten the load, I'm feeling a bit more confident that the pack won't weigh too much, and I might actually be able to do this. I must admit, I did put the Gastrolite back into the first aid kit - with my history of gastro bugs, if it's not in there I'm sure to catch one while we are away.

At breakfast (bacon, eggs, cereal, toast, coffee), Peter mentioned that we looked like a strong group. "What type of people do you worry about at this point?" we asked him.

"Well, there are two types of people who really struggle." he answered.

"First, there are the young guys in their early 20's, who think that their youth and fitness will get them through without having to do any specific training before they arrive."

"And then there are the older guys in their 40's who have lost 20kg, employed a personal trainer and bought all the right gear who think they will be ok, but still have more to do."

"Sh1t" I thought! "That almost exactly describes me!" I suppose I will find out a little bit today, and a lot more tomorrow if I am the one who he has to worry about...

After breakfast, we headed down the road to the old 'Koitaki Parade Ground'. This is where the troops, on returning from the track, chuffed that they had delayed a very experienced, well drilled, well armed Japanese army, who outnumbered them 6:1, were addressed by their General. The General castigated them, and gave them a right dressing down for being such failures. Apparently, he was lucky to get off the parade ground without being lynched. Now, the ground has been returned to the cows, and you can still make out the cricket oval where the men once stood 67 years ago.

To get to Koitaki, we drove along a pretty average road. The further we went from Port Moresby, the worse the road got, but the friendlier the people were, and the less razor wire was to be seen. We had to walk across a bridge on the farm to get to the ground. The bridge was two metal planks, about 4 metres above a fast flowing creek. The planks were spaced wheel track apart, and were about 30cm wide. I have to admit I didn't do well crossing. My knees were shaking and my feet were slow and unsteady. How the hell was I going to do another 50 or so creek crossings in the coming weeks, on unsteady logs, when I could hardly do this!?! I wasn't filling myself with confidence...

After Koitaki we trundled back down to the heat and humidity of Port Moresby, going straight to the airport. We arrived at the Hevilift terminal (a carport against the side of a shed) after the gate was opened by 2 security guards. It was 9:30, and our charter flight was due to leave at 10:30. Packs and people were weighed, which gave us all some peace of mind in that at least they were taking that part of safety seriously. A load sheet was completed, and the packs were taken through a doorway into the shed, ready for loading onto the plane. We waited. And waited. And waited some more. The door that the packs had been taken through was locked, and there were no Hevilift employees to be seen. Usually we would have flown Airlines PNG, but after their Twin Otter crashed near Isurava exactly two weeks ago on it's way to Kokoda, killing all 13 on board, they stopped flying to Kokoda. So, Hevilift was the next choice, but I was a bit nervous because all my money, and my passport was in the top pocket of my backpack, locked away in a shed with the Hevilift employees.

Finally at 12 o'clock we boarded the plane. There was much trepidation amongst the porters, and the trekkers too. The pilot was an American - about 50 years old - and seemed very competent. Takeoff was uneventful, and we were on our way to the 6,500 feet high Kokoda Gap. We were lucky that there was no cloud around, but it was still pretty thrilling to be flying through the gap with only about 500 feet separating us from the ground below - and not much more between us and sheer mountains on either side. Peter pointed out Isurava and several other villages on the track, and we saw trekkers wading through the choko fields below. Things were getting exciting!

An uneventful landing, and we unloaded our packs. Straight away I saw that the top pocket of my pack had been opened. I quickly checked, and was relieved to see that all my money and my passport were still there. Lucky!

We then donned packs and headed off in the heat of the day to Kokoda village. The village is on a bit of a plateau, about 25 metres above the surrounding area. Peter ran up the near vertical track, and we tried to follow. We were all breathing hard when we got to the top - and that was only a 25m climb! Following a 30 minute briefing, we sat in the shade eating pre-prepared sandwiches for lunch, then visited the museum while we waited for the rest of the porters to be brought from Port Moresby. We then had a look at weapons pits and the monuments, and waited. And waited some more. And some more. Although only a 25 minute flight each way back to Port Moresby, it wasn't until 3:30 that we finally started our trek proper. Not bad for a flight that was supposed to leave Moresby at 9:30AM for a 25 minute flight! But, this is Papua New Guinea - the land of the unexpected. I have a feeling we might see more things go bugaup over the coming couple of weeks.

The start of the trek was along flat ground, through an old rubber plantation. We were heading to Hoi Village, about a 90 minute walk up the track. However, after about 45 minutes we reached the outskirts of Kovello Village. Here, we were told that due to our late arrival, all the campsites at Hoi were being used (despite us booking one on the cool, refreshing stream there). So, the boys had decided that we should stay at Kovello instead. Just by coincidence, the locals had all dressed up in traditional costumes, and welcomed us with a traditional dance/sing along. It was only the women dancing - quite primitive. We learnt another word today - Wantoc. That is a relative or mate who you look after. I have a funny feeling that there was a bit of Wantoc at work at Kovello - it all just seemed to convenient.

The campsite was nice enough. They even had a shower of sorts - just a stream of water coming out of a pipe behind some plastic tarps. I had sweated heaps on the walk (though wasn't tired at all), so was very happy to be able to wash off under water which wasn't too cold. I unpacked ready for bed, when I discovered that my headlight/torch was missing from the top pocket of my backpack! I was really dirty with the little bstards at Hevilift! Luckily, Peter had a spare one. Then we discovered that Sam's torch had also been stolen - so he borrowed one from one of the porters. Not happy Jan!

Dinner was watery soup, heaps of Deb mashed potatoe, tuna with spices and vegetables of some sort, and was pretty tasty. My hips are sore from where the strap on the pack goes - hope they get used to that in a hurry.

We are now 45 minutes behind schedule, so will have to start 30 minutes early tomorrow. It's 7:20PM, and I'm tired. Peter and Alex are playing chess - apparently Peter is just learning. It's quiet. I'm pretty relaxed. So, it's off to bed.

A quick pee stop reveals toilets that are a big green plastic drum placed over a hole in the ground. At least I'll have somewhere to sit in the morning - which sends me to bed a happy man.

Day 1 - Sydney > Port Moresby > Sogeri

2009-08-24T22:06:00.001+10:00

You know that feeling when you are desperate to go to sleep - but sleep just won't come? That was me last night. So many thoughts going through my head. The trek. The plane trips. The people. What would it be like? Try as I might, I couldn't stop thinking, and it seemed that I was awake all night.

That is, until the alarm went off at 4:20AM. Then my eyes refused to open. I dragged myself out of bed, cursing the fact that I had still been packing last night at 10:00PM. Showered, said my goodbyes, and off to the airport.

I was lucky enough to be first in line at check-in. It concerned me that my bag weighed in at 27kg - but didn't seem to bother the lady behind the Air Niugini counter. Sure, I had clothes for Brisbane when I got back. And some books and gifts to give to a village along the way. But still - my pack was only supposed to weigh 12kg before water - I wonder how much it will really weigh...

I then tried to exchange some $AU for Kina. Unfortunately, they only had K50 notes - which would do me no good on the track when the locals charge K5 for a bunch of bannanas, so I decided to wait till I got to Moresby.

The plane trip saw me seated next to a couple of nurses from Tamworth, travelling with a couple of doctors to Rabaul. They were on their way to organise for a trip later in the year when they would do volunteer surgical work for the locals. The usual questions - "How long will it take?" (10 days trekking) - "How far is it?" (I'm doing the original wartime track which is 155km rather than the tourist route of 96km) - "What training have you done?" (5 months of intense work; 4 walks per week with 18kg backpack, 2 weights sessions (legs and core), 2 HIIT sessions) - "Are you catching the same type of plane as that which crashed?" (yes).

Unfortunately, the headwinds meant our flight was late landing, which meant that 2 planes arrived just before us. The immigration queue started on the top landing, went down 3 ramps, then snaked its way through the immigration section. The queue for locals dissapeared quickly - at which point the person manning that station went to lunch. Meanwhile, 1 person handled everyone who wasn't a local. It took an hour to get through.

Into baggage collection without a problem, then to the money exchange. I was pleasantly suprised to find that the exchange rate was about $1 > K2, whereas in Sydney it was $1 > K1.77 plus a $15 commission!

I was the last into the arrivals hall, where I met up with our group. Peter Davis, the trek leader, is a farmer from Orange, with a passion for all things PNG. He is also attending ADFA studying military history - specialising in PNG. Then there is the gym junkie couple from Perth. Alex (26) a mining engineer and Catherine (25), an admin person at a finance company. They met at the gym, and both play sport a couple of times a week. Very fit looking. Catherine is bubbly, and Alex a bit reserved. Perhaps his upbringing in Zimbabwe? Who knows. Will be interesting to see how they warm up during the trek. Then there is the father / son team of farmers from 6 hours south of Perth - Paul and Sam. Paul (50), the farther has a warm persona and a ready laugh. Sam (20), who is currently going to uni (studying farming of course) is friendly but perhaps a bit shy, with a ready smile. Paul trained on a rowing machine - but only for 10 minutes a day. Sam did some walks and gym work, and is carrying a few extra kilos. He would be my bet for the person who might struggle (after he listed the sport he plays as drinking...).

Then a bus tour of Port Moresby. Scary place. 5th highest murder rate in the world. Us "whities" should only travel with a couple of local security personnel in the vehicle. Nothing like what I remember as a kid growing up here. Razor wire everywhere. People on the streets looking lost/mean/disinterested. We're told that the unemployment rate is 87% in Moresby - and there is no such thing as the dole. Security guards everywhere. The whole place has a tense atmosphere. Not a nice place to be.

That contrasts with Bomana War Cemetery. A beautiful, well maintained, solemn place. Marble headstones of the diggers who died fighting to keep the Japs away from Oz. Thousands of stories buried with the boys. A few of them told by Peter. We'll hear more as the trip progresses, but the ages surprise - many of them in their late 20's and into their 30's. I guess that reflects the fact that many of these guys were the home guard - couldn't get into the regular army for age / physical / work reasons. Emotions swelled, but tears were kept in check.

From there we travelled up the hill to Sogeri. With at least 20 wrecks seen over the edge of the sheer sided road, the trip gave a feel for what was ahead.

Our "hotel" (the term used loosely) for the night was the Sogeri Lodge. Rooms were very basic, with a hard bed, harder pillow, bars on the windows, razor wire around the perimeter, and 2 bathrooms down the hall. A pretty good dinner of steak and vegies, with icecream for desert was followed by a trek briefing and allocation of backpacks. Alex and I are the only ones carrying our own packs. I hope I can keep up with him - I don't really care if I can't keep up with the others who are just carrying their water.

Peter reviewed what I was about to pack, and I was able to ditch half the first aid kit - which saved at least a kilo. My guess is that the pack will weigh in at 16kg when I add the 4 litres of water. More weight than I wanted, but nothing I can do about it at this late stage.

Missing Kerrie and the kids already. Luckily I was able to call her. In bed by 10, and pretty tired.

Tomorrow will see a 6AM wake-up call, with breakfast at 7. I hope I can sleep tonight...

Hit the sack thinking of the phrase for the day - "Gone bugaup". Which means it's broken/stuffed. Apparently it applies to lots of things in PNG.

Day 0 - The Day Before...

2009-08-23T22:35:00.002+10:00

5 months of training is now complete. 22 hard weeks. Starting as an overweight, unfit bloke approaching his 40's. But a bloke with a goal. With a vision. With a desire.

For five years doing nothing more than thinking about walking the Kokoda Trail. The occasional conversation - "One day I'll walk the track. One day".

Until, finally, I had had enough. "It's time to just do it".

There was always an excuse not to. Not enough time. Not enough money. Not fit enough. Too overweight. Kids are too young. Can't get away from the job. It will be too hard. No-one to go with. Bad knees. Hernia operation. The list went on. Then, finally, no more excuses.

It was time to make some changes in my life - and the Kokoda Trail is as good a place as any to start...

So tomorrow moring I'm off. Alarm is set for 4:20AM. Taxi booked for 4:50AM. A plane to Port Moresby, then Tuesday another to Kokoda.

Have I trained hard enough? Will my new boots give me hell after only 2 weeks of breaking them in? Will my knees hold out on the hills? Will I have the mental staying power to keep going when things get tough? What will my fellow trekkers be like? Should I really be carrying my own pack - is it too late to change that now?

A lot of questions will be answered over the coming 12 days. And no doubt a whole lot more questions will be asked. I guess only time will tell if I like the answers or not. So, regardless of whether I am ready or not, the time has come.

Off to bed, and hope that sleep comes - because from tomorrow night onwards, it will be a whole different world...