Part 1: On how I spent two days waiting for an airplane in a small 'end of the road' town in PNG
Part 2: On how I spent a week in the PNG 'cities' of Mt Hagen and Wewak, trying to track down my lost companions
Part 3: On the sad tale of a truly 'buggeredup' trek through the PNG Highlands
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Part 1 of 3: Waiting for the Plane to Yengis
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On how I spent two days in a small 'end of the road' town in PNG
Prelude: I had signed up for an trekking tour in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea. After only one day of trekking, however, we realized that due to overweight packs, it would be impossible for us to finish the trek on schedule, so we decided to send as much excess luggage as we could (including most of the food) back to our starting point, the town of Kompiam, where it could be flown to the mid-point of the trek, the airstrip at Yengis. Thompson, the local guide we had hired, said he would take the luggage back and fly it out, and at the last minute I said I would go with him.
Wedn, afternoon: Myself, Thompson, two carriers, and about 80kg of excess luggage set off for Kompiam. There was a lot of tribal fighting in the area, and we passed a burned-down primary school and many abandoned huts. For the first part of the trip we were escorted by a group of impressive-looking local warriors (with feathers in their hair and 'arse grass' on their behinds), who carried spears and bows&arrows to protect us in case we ran into an enemy tribe. Unfortunately, though, these brave fellows decided to call it quits and go home as soon as we left 'friendly' territory. Fortunately, the enemy tribe did not make an appearance, and we arrived in Kompiam in one piece.
The local people think white men are wimps at walking, and I dare say they are right. We covered in 5 hours the same distance that took the full trekking party 8 hrs to cover on the way out, and the only reason we didn't go even faster was my presence. I have never felt so wiped out by a walk, and had to be helped over the last hill (45-degree slope, very muddy and slippery path) by our carriers, who were twice my age and were carrying packs which were 50% heavier than mine.
We finally arrived in Kompiam around 5:30PM. Kompiam was a government town, which provided services (primary school, airstrip, small hospital, police station, etc) to the surrounding villages. It was also, in the most literal sense, the end of the road. The permanent population was only a few hundred, although there were always several hundred villagers from the surrounding area who were in town for one reason or another.
There were no tourist accomodation of any sort, so Samson, the local district manager, very kindly offered to put me up in his house. I spent quite a bit of time talking to Samson, and gathered that he came from a pretty successful family, and in fact one of his uncles had been ambassador to the US - until he killed someone in a drunk driving accident and was forced to return home! It just goes to show you that diplomats literally do get away with murder ... Samson was from a coastal tribe, and assured me many times that the coastal regions of PNG were much more 'civilized' than the Highlands.
Thur, noon: The plane to Yengis wasn't due until Friday, so I spent the day hanging around town. Samson's brother and some of his friends showed me around, and took me down to the local river to take a bath. I wandered around the trade stores, talked to some school kids, and in general took it easy.
I was somewhat surprised when, in the middle of the afternoon, I came upon an argument between two men, one of whom accused the other of stealing $50 (a significant amount of money in PNG) from him. The amazing thing was that the argument, which included some nasty threats about what would happen if the accused ever showed up anywhere near the home village of the accuser, took place while the two principles, together with myself and several other spectators, were all lying on the grass beneath the shade of a large tree. No voices were raised, and no open signs of anger were shown. An on-looker might have thought they were discussing the weather, not making accusations and threats against each other. It made me wonder how peaceful other 'tranquil looking' Third World towns and villages I have seen were.
Thur, afternoon: Samson took me over to the local Baptist Mission, so that I could make reservations on the Friday MAF (Missionary Aviation Fellowship) plane to Yengis. As Kompiam had no telephones, telexes, or whatever, the mission people told me they would have to make the reservation in the evening, by radio. I was told to go to the airstrip on Friday morning, and just wait until either a plane showed up or until I recieved a message from the mission saying that they had failed to make a reservation for me.
The mission itself was a big surprise. I had (somewhat romantically) imagined myself as the only white man within 100 kilometers (except for my trekking companions, of course), so it was a shock to appear at the mission and discover a community of 10-20 white Australians, living a European life style (electricity, running water, flush toilets, ...). The contrast between the way the missionaries and the townspeople lived was quite striking (and, of course, the contrast between the missionaries and the villagers was even more dramatic), and I couldn't help but wonder how much these missionaries really were 'in touch' with the locals.
When we got back from the mission, I discovered that Thompson (the guide our group had hired to lead the trip) had left town and gone back home. Apparently, he had decided that the 50% advance we had given him, together with the airfare money to fly to Yengis, was sufficient, and he saw no point in finishing the trip. I later found out that Thompson had quite a bad reputation in general, and had been fired from a previous job because he had been caught stealing from the till. When I eventually wrote a nasty letter to the company which 'organized' this fiasco, their choice of Thompson as a guide was my biggest complaint.
Fri, 8AM: Samson dropped me and the 60kg of excess luggage off at the airstrip (Thompson had thoughtfully taken about 20kg of gear, of which perhaps half actually belonged to him). Kompiam airstrip consisted of a runway and a small corrugated iron shelter, where I was to spend the next several hours waiting.
A small Cessna appeared around 9:00, but it wasn't going to Yengis. The pilot told me, though, that a larger Twin Otter would come by later, and it might be heading that way. About 10:00, a man from the mission (a local, not an Australian) showed up, told me everything was arranged, and proceeded to 'check me in'. I have never before been 'checked in' in a corrugated iron shelter, but the man did it all, including carefully weighing my luggage and charging me exactly 9 Kina ($11) for excess luggage!
It was actually quite fun waiting for the plane, because various townspeople dropped by to keep me company. The most interesting was a guy who was running the local 'vocational school'. The vocational school consisted of 2 thatched huts next to the airstrip, but apparently it was enough to make the 'headmaster' a regular on the international development circuit. He told me he was going to a conference in Okinawa in a week, had just come back from a workshop in Israel a few months ago, and had been in Canada a few months before then. And here I thought I was a real traveller ... But then, you always meet surprising people in Third World towns. On my previous trip, to Ecuador and Peru, I had asked the owner of a $2/night hotel I was staying at (in a small village in the Ecuadorian Amazon) where her children lived, and she answered that while most of her children still lived in the same area, she did have one son who was going to Princeton ...
The Twin Otter finally showed up at 1:30. Feeling quite relieved that the plane had actually appeared, I went over to talk to the pilot, only to discover that he wasn't going to Yengis, since he had already been there, and had no intention of going back! 5 minutes of pleading, of pointing out that my companions might be in serious trouble if they didn't get the food I was carrying, had no effect, as the pilot pointed out that he couldn't go back to Yengis even if he wanted to, because he didn't have the enough fuel.
So, there I was, sitting in the 'end-of-the-road' town of Kompiam with 60kg of junk, including about 15kg of freeze-dried food, and separated from the trekking tour I had paid $$$ to join. Meanwhile, my companions were out in the bush, with no food and no guide. The situation did not look promising ...
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Part 2: Searching for my Companions
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On how I spent a week in the PNG 'cities' of Mt Hagen and Wewak, trying to track down my friends, with no luck until ...
Synopsis: I had signed up with an organized trek in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea, but had been separated from the group when our guide and I had gone to the town of Kompian to fly some excess luggage and most of the food to the trek's half-way point, the airstrip at the village of Yengis. Abandoned by the guide, I waited two days for the plane, only to discover, when it arrived, that there had been a slight change of schedule ...
Fri, afternoon: A bit stunned that the Twin Otter wasn't going to Yengis, I went back to the corrugated iron shelter and sat down, feeling pretty lousy. Just at this moment, the Australian from the local mission who had supposedly 'booked' me on the flight to Yengis roared up on a motorcycle, gave something to the Twin Otter's pilot, shouted a 'Sorry, Mate' to me, and roared off. I must admit this didn't make me feel much better.
Fortunately, Samson, the local district manager who had befriended me, also appeared on the scene at this point, and offered some more constructive advice. Since the next flight out of Kompiam wasn't until Tuesday, Samson suggested that I had better get on the plane anyways, and reach some place with telephones, banks, and so forth. We discussed the choices, and decided that Mt. Hagen, the plane's home base, was my best bet.
So, I got on the plane, with my 60kg of excess luggage and freeze-dried food, and waved good-bye to Samson and to the 200 or so villagers and townspeople who had come down to the airstrip to see what happened to me (and who formed a circle 10-deep around Samson and I as we discussed what I should do!).
The Twin Otter took off, and made various stops on its way back to Mt. Hagen. At one of the stops, we picked up another trekker, Monica. Monica had actually come from Yengis, via some devious route, where she had been with an Australian army trekking group which had been supposed to meet up with my group. Monica had flown out because of a knee injury, and she told me that as of Friday at noon, no one at Yengis had heard anything of my group, which meant that at best they would arrive at Yengis sometime on Saturday (a day behind schedule), and at worst they were badly lost.
Friday, night: Monica and I arrived in Mt. |
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