Oceania

[Visited: August 2023]

The Kokoda Track had caught my attention before, but reading the descriptions, I somehow thought it would be too hard to do and shied away from it. But when I had one month in Papua New Guinea, I decided to do the trek. I work out very regularly, and I realized that I should be able to complete. When I arrived late in Port Moresby on a Friday afternoon, I was afraid I would not be able to get it organized after all. Fortunately, both the authority issuing the permit, and the local guide, were patiently waiting for me and we had things in place within an hour. A day and a half later, I walk out of my hotel, and meet my guide and porters who are in the back of a pick-up. We do some last-minute shopping, and drive to the Bomana War Cemetery. Kokoda Track became famous because of the fighting between Japanese and Australian troops in 1942 - and most of the Australian (and allied) servicemen who died and whose bodies were recovered, lie here. Seeing the many rows of white marble stones, on which the early sun is casting its light, is an impressive and sobering sight. It becomes even more pungent when you read the texts on the stones: mothers loving their son, families their father, or the many tombs with an unknown soldier. There is a circular monument on top of a small hill overlooking the cemetery, with names of places where battles took place. A sign next to the cemetery gives the history as well as a three-dimensional representation of the track. It looks pretty impressive. We drive up Sogeri Road, on an ever climbing road taking us higher in a beautiful valley, until we turn left on a dirt track. A little while later, we reach the end of it. We have arrived at Ower's Corner, the beginning of the track. It sits on top of a valley, and we have sweeping views towards the north, towards the mountains of Owen Stanley Range. This is the natural divide that we will cross in the coming days. The backpacks with tents, food, kitchen utensils and other stuff are weighed, and it is decided we need two porters. We take some pictures, and then we are really on the way. We start with a steep descent towards Goldie River. I have heard about the many river crossing, and am looking forward to them. It will give us an opportunity to take off our shoes, wade through cold water, and replenish our water before we continue. I wonder how deep the water will be, and if I can keep carrying my backpack all the time. Every river crossing also means a next ascent is waiting for us on the other side. Indeed, after we reach the other side, we quickly climb to a point roughly the same altitude as where we started. We meet a small group of Australians who are near the end of their track. They have taken eight days, and one of them claims to have trekked an impressive 128 times. I quickly discover that I am much faster than both the guide and the porters, especially uphill. All my training now bears fruit, and I push on every time the trail goes up. Once, this ascent had the Golden Stairs (in fact, made of wood), but now, we are just making our way up over roots of the countless trees around us. I reach Imita Gap, an opening in Imita Ridge.
This is where a small group of Australian soldiers were waiting for a Japanese attack coming from the north - but that attack never came. I now begin to understand the difficulty of what soldiers on both sides had to deal with. High temperatures during the day, while it was cold during the night. All kinds of diseases. The terrain very difficult to either attack or defend. Soldiers had to carry not only their personal stuff and food, but also the arms and ammunition on the very steep ascents and descents. It must have been a brutal war, too: one-on-one battles on or off the narrow trail, or in the surrounding jungle. Supplies could almost only come over the trail. It was hard to carry the wounded to medical assistance, while the dead often remained in the jungle. The track is hard to hike, but of course so much harder to fight a battle on. When my guide arrives, he points to the next ridge, Ioribaiwa. He explains that that was the furthest south the Japanese ever got. Apparently, they could see the lights of Port Moresby, their ultimate goal, in the distance at night. But they would never reach the city, and could never seriously threaten Australia. We hike a long way down, use stones to walk through and cross a creek, to end at Va Ule Creek, which is where we have our lunchbreak. One of the porters, the youngest guy with us, has started to limp a little, and I am worried about it: we have, after all, just started. My guide waves away my concern, and all I can do is hope he is right. There are some more river crossings, but we can keep on our shoes and step or jumo from one stone to the next - until I slip, leaving my right shoe completely soaked. What follows is another steep climb through a forest. Then, I reach an opening, and when I look back, I see the sun hanging above the mountains, I see Imita Ridge and several other ridges whose names I don't know. I have arrived at our first campsite. I take off my sweaty shirt and my soaked shoes, and watch the sun sink over the Papuan landscape. The next morning, after a first cold night in my tent, my shoes are almost as wet as the evening before, as is my fast-dry shirt. Humidity is high, so much is clear. I wonder how much colder it will be in the next days: we are under 800 metres here, and the highest point where we will sleep will be at around 1700. Good thing is: shortly after we start climbing to Ioribaiwa Ridge, we get warm again. We reach the place where the Japanese had their southernmost stronghold, where a large cache of weapons was found much after the war had already ended. They might have seen the lights of Port Moresby from here, during the day we can only see the landscape of abundantly overgrown valleys. We have a steep descent to Ofi Creek, and then a long climb to Maguli Range. I find an open spot in the jungle, which gives me splendid views all around. The weather is just perfect: blue sky, pleasant temperature. I enjoy the long wait until my companions catch up and take their break. We are at 1350 metres now. The thing about Kokoda is: you climb and descend all the time, and you climb more than 1000 metres every day, but the net gain is much less. There is always a next valley and a new river to cross, after which another climb takes you a little higher. We continue through the jungle, with occasional views, and reach the attractive village of Naoro - it sits on a ridge and offers views ahead. Like all villages on the Track, it has a small station with solar panels, USB chargers, radio, and map of the trail. I take the opportunity to charge my phone, even though I will not have any connection anymore until shortly before Kokoda. We walk the swamp, the only stretch which is flat, cross more rivers, and reach our lunchbreak site at a lovely river. Women are washing clothes, and I decide to also give a rinse to my shirt. It is dry after our lunch, and after a few more rivers, we have yet another steep climb to a viewpoint, followed by an equally steep descent to Manari. This lovely town will be our resting place for the night. The next morning, one of the people working at the school asks me to take an envelope to a pregnant woman in the next village - three hours away. There is no electricity, no running water, and no roads: villagers depend on each other and on passersby for their communication (other than radio). I decide to carry the envelope, as it would get wrinkled in my backpack. So it is that I walk up Brigade Hill with an envelope for Mrs. Kennedy in my hand.
The hill was another site of gruesome fighting, and my guide tells me how soldiers jumped down the steep sides of the mountain to escape their enemy, how many managed to survive for days in the jungle while those less fortunate perished. We now reach Efogi after more climbing and descending, and I can deliver the envelope. We have lunch at a lookout point on a ridge, and can already see our destination for the day, Kagi, in the distance. Mighty mountains rise behind it: that is all still waiting for us. In Kagi, I have a good chat with one of its inhabitants, who explains how their community works, how they live, how they get married, how they take care of the dead, and how they build houses (he is building one himself). Kokoda Trail is not just a physical effort, it is also very much a great way to meet the friendly Koiari people who live in this area and learn about their lives which seem so peaceful. The next morning, we hike up to great viewpoints and then enter the forest, have a break at a crystal clear lake, and reach Mount Bellamy, at 2190 metres the highest point of the Kokoda Track. There is not much to see as I am surrounded by trees, so I start the descent to Templeton's Crossing 1 where we have lunch. It would be a mistake to think that it is only downhill from here: there are still many more climbs to come, but as Kokoda sits at only 340 metres, we will go down more than up. We camp at Templeton's Crossing 2, which turns out to be a lovely place reached by a rickety bridge. I put down my bags, take of my shirt and pants, and dip into the ice cold water. We are at 1700 metres here: our highest camp. Indeed, it is cold during the night, but I just manage to stay warm enough. The next day, we reach Eora Creek, where I have another dip in the water and a look at the fantastic bridge made solely of natural materials - after which we cross it to continue to our lunchsite at misty Alola, and reach the impressive memorial site at Isurava. Shortly after it, I see a small collection of rusty weaponry and ammunition inside a cage, and a flat stone which was used by the Australians to operate soldiers on. The war is never far away at the Kokoda Track. Our last campsite will be at the new village of Isurava, where i play football with a few guys on an open space. Some of the villagers seem surprised. After an early rise, we continue our walk down, and when we reach a viewpoint, we see a wide valley below - and the village of Kokoda. We have all but crosses the mountain range. I am back in the connected world, messages pour in, I send messages to loved ones. It gets really warm now, we freshen up in one of the streams we cross, and then I am stopped at the very last village before Kokoda. One of the elders tells me I won't be allowed to pass unless I pay - fully aware that the option of walking back is not realistic. We have a good chat, he tells me how the government doesn't support their community, I tell him how I paid a fair amount of money in a permit that the government had assured me would benefit local communities, and I remember that a few months before, groups were not allowed to pass here, effectively closing the track. My guide has prepared for this and hands the man an envelope, which he immediately opens to check. He seems happy, and I wonder if this is really the best way to support the village. He might as well buy betel nut or alcohol with it. Not much later, we reach the arch marking the end of the trail - we walked under a similar one at Owers Corner. Even though I never doubted that I would make it, I feel satisfied. After all the horror stories I read, Kokoda Track was actually easier than I had imagined. We visit the small museum, I get used to seeing cars, of seeing shops, offices. We have an early dinner and rest, wake up at 2am, and catch a PMV ride to Popondetta, where I catch the flight back to Port Moresby. By that time, my guide and porter are already hiking back on the track they know so well.

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Kokoda Track (Papua New Guinea)

Kokoda Track > Papua New Guinea > Oceania

[Visited: August 2023]

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