Mike's Kokoda Track Diary

This is the diary of a bloke called Mike, 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...

Day 12 - Sogeri > Port Moresby > Brisbane

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

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

"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

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

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

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

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.