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Monday October 23 – Sydney to Rabaul

“They’ve cancelled the flight and we’re all on our way to domestic to catch a flight to Brisbane!” Mike told me when I rang him from the traffic jam on the M5. I pulled out of the tollway before the tunnel (again) and went via Bexley.

So the adventure had started. After some fuss I arrived at the check-in queue in time for a long wait. Mike had already gone and I was standing in line with some other cruise passengers just chatting as they very slowly processed us and gave us new instructions. We left Sydney on a Qantas flight bound for Noumea and transferred to our original flight aboard Air Nuigini in Brisbane, where I caught up with Mike and Dallas. Off at Port Moresby and quickly through to the little Fokker 100 jet that took us to Rabaul via the tiny airstrip at Hoskins (near the major town of Kimbe) on the island of New Britain.

The new airport at Rabaul is now south of the old town at Kokopo, so we were picked up and driven the 40 mins to our hotel, run by a young Australian woman. Mount Tuvurvur is still erupting, throwing great dark clouds of volcanic ash into the air which then rains down like fine gritty snow, covering everything and getting into your hair and clothes. Just a week or so ago, it made one of its really big eruptions and scared the [stuff] out of everyone again.

Rabaul has been described as one of, if not the most beautiful town in all the Pacific, but keeps getting trashed by the volcano. It has a beautiful sheltered harbour, lush fertile plains and a ring of hills looking down on the town from all directions. There was huge damage and loss of life in 1937, then the Japanese invaded and occupied the place and there was lots of bombing and then another HUGE eruption in 1994 that flattened most of the town. It’s slowly coming back to life again.

Tuesday October 24 - Rabaul

We didn’t have to board the boat until 2pm, so we went on a tour of the town and surrounds. This was good, because I saw the bits I missed out on last time; the war museum with old Japanese tanks and bits of planes everywhere, the military cemetery where so many young Australian men are buried, the old Japanese barges hidden in a big cave and the lookout over the town. All the while the volcano is intermittently roaring and throwing up these huge clouds of ash.

After lunch at the hotel we transferred to the boat with all the rest of the passengers and just settled in. I have a nice big cabin all to myself. It looks exactly like the one I had last time. That night the ship pulls anchor and we sail out towards the west.

Wednesday October 25 – Witu Islands

After breakfast we arrive at the Witu Islands about 300kms west of Rabaul and stop at the biggest one, Garove. It looks like an upside down U because it was once a volcano and the caldera has collapsed on one side letting in the ocean, much like Deception Island in the Antarctic.

On a little peninsula inside the caldera we can see a tiny church and that’s where we are headed to meet the villagers of Witu. Just like I remember from my last trip, our tender boat with everyone on board pulls up at their little wharf and all the village has turned out to meet us. There are drums, chanting and dancing again from men and boys with their faces painted brightly. I have to laugh because some are wearing their Nikes, watches and sunglasses.

We’re lead up to the church grounds where their school, St Michaels Primary is located. Some much smaller kids, again with brightly painted faces, are lined up to sing the welcome song. As always, they sing like angels and make everyone’s hair stand up on the back of our necks.

For the next hour or so different groups of kids and young adults come out to perform and sing. Of course I get some great photos and the kids are laughing hysterically when I make clumsy jokes to get them to smile. It’s fantastic fun for all. The ship has set up a special fund for the students who have to pay to attend school on the big island of New Britain.

After lunch I go scuba diving and snorkeling with a few other passengers and check out some sunken Japanese barges destroyed by allied bombers during WWII. The water is a bit murky (it’s called ‘muck diving’ in PNG) and there’s not a lot of sea life, but we do see an interesting little pipe fish. Little kids come out and hang around in their canoes as everyone dives and swims. The divemaster is Denis who gave me diving lessons aboard Coral Princess II when I went to Lizard Island in early 2005.

Anchor is up by evening and we continue west.

Thursday October 26 – Crown Island

Again, after breakfast we arrive at our new destination. It’s another tiny island called Crown Island, next to its big neighbour, Long Island about 100 kms directly east of the mainland town of Medang.

We visit a really tiny village, more like a camp with just a dozen or so folk. It’s amazing to see how these people exist. They have a garden with a few plants, a couple of noisy pigs, some chickens a well and the rest they get from the nearby dense forest. Most of us go for a walk in the jungle to see the few birds and plants. It’s not such a big deal, but we did find this humungous insect hiding under a branch. About as long as a mans hand from tip of finger to wrist it was a creepy little bugger with long legs - apparently some relative of a stick insect but fatter. Mosquitoes are very few, thankfully.

Time for another dive after lunch and this time much more interesting with bright coral and lots of colourful aquarium fish. Dived to nearly 20m, about as deep as I’ve ever been. Rest of the afternoon on board.

The evening is a typical one on board with a lecture, lovely dinner and a DVD before bed. I’m being careful not to each too much and every day is swimming and walking, so the exercise is good.

Sailing during the night is to the NorthWest and in the morning we will wake up in the mouth of the mighty Sepik River.

Friday October 27 – Sepik River

Dawn broke over the muddy waters of the mighty Sepik River and Oceanic Discoverer began its journey 60 miles upstream to Angoram. Lectures and sightseeing all morning as we steamed against the current, all the while villagers turned out along the banks to wave and launch their canoes to intercept us.

After lunch the entire passenger complement raced further upstream to a tiny outlying village for trading and a ‘singsing’. The carvings and handicrafts were a bit plain, but the dancing was spirited and energetic with lots of flourish and gesturing. The dancers really responded to the cameras and we all got some great pictures. As usual we were mobbed by kids yelping and waving and a flotilla of canoes followed us out to the main river when we left.

A quick detour to the main village were we were presented with a stunning array of carvings, masks and storyboards This village apparently specialises in the storyboards which are carved murals of legends and folklore. Quite impressive. I grabbed a couple of terrific smaller masks but later noticed some tiny holes in the back. Mmmm… borers. They’ll get a dose of Mortein back on board and a prayer for Customs in Sydney.

It’s Chateau Briand for dinner and to bed early for a birding walk at 0600 tomorrow.

Saturday October 28 – Sepik River and Madang

Okay, so I slept in and missed the birding cruise, so after my usual light breakfast of soy milk and cereal, it was off to another little village. This one is called Bien and is the largest in the lower Sepik with about 400 residents.

The ‘main street’ is more a promenade along the bank of the Sepik with fishing canoes and outboards lined up on the bank, a dirt track extending the full length of town with stilt houses and huts on the other side. At the far end of town is the little sports ground and school house where today’s performance was taking place. Not quite as flamboyant as yesterday’s affair, they nevertheless delivered a rousing display. Time for a little tour of the school and some of the residents’ wares, including a poor little cassowary destined for the pot and a few clipped birds offered as photo opportunities.

Back aboard we steam off out of the Sepik and toward Manam Island where the volcano erupted violently about two years ago and still shows signs of steaming and venting today. Some the villagers evacuated then are making their way back now and a few canoes come out to meet us.

I choose the Chateau Berone over the Swordfish for dinner. Can’t lose either way.

Sunday October 29 - Madang

We arrive on Sunday, so the town is pretty much closed but we take a minibus tour around town; Museum, lighthouse, etc. The first thing I and everyone else notices is the trash all over the place. What a shame. I heard Madang is a pretty, and although much of the German colonial architecture was blown to bits in WWII there are still wide streets and great big fig and kapok trees lining boulevards.

Our village visit is to little Bilbil, a neat seaside settlement facing its namesake island just offshore. These folks are big on pottery, so we get the cultural tour admire their neat pots and vases. A colourful dance is put on again for us and we see another variation of the tribal costumes we’ve seen elsewhere. The chief’s little grandson, about 3, leads the procession and scores most of the photos when he bangs on dad’s drum. The guide explains the initiation rites where the local lads of about 16 or 17 are taken to the island to be sliced. A well-worn old chap amidst the dancers is introduced as the ‘chief surgeon’ and he is mercilessly dubbed ‘The Butcher of Bilbil’.

I opt out of diving in the afternoon, choosing instead a short trip back to town where Nancy kindly offers to let me use her office computer to send a couple of emails. The connection is painfully slow but I get a couple away regardless. I return with a quite magnificent carved piece that Nancy assures me is carved by a ‘master’ called Joseph K who kindly consents to a photo with the piece. I love it, it’s marvellous and cost K160 but I’m sure is worth heaps more.

It’s carvery night and Mike, Dallas and I bore poor Alex the local PNG agent with tales of Aussie football, car racing and horses.

Monday October 30 – Tuam Island

It’s another early start only this time I’m up. It’s overcast and threatening rain as Xplorer motors us in to the little beach on Tuam Island. It’s perhaps the only sheltered beach on this windswept isle and the blessing of near constant breeze, Nancy theorises, is the reason the villagers here live to quite unusual old ages.

We realise we are less than an hour ahead of the much larger German vessel, Bremen, which is transporting over one hundred German travellers and they are scheduled to land right behind us. There are the inevitable German “don’t mention the war” jokes but in truth, Nancy has chosen not to escort German tour groups anymore because their dour and Teutonic demeanour upsets the locals who are always quick to exchange smiles and cheery greetings. “What’s the matter,” they’ll ask, ever sensitive, ”didn’t they like us?”

We’re lead down the path into the neat little hamlet where beachside huts are creatively constructed from the ample supply of driftwood that arrives almost daily, giving a very rustic and ‘castaway’ feel. Then the entertainment starts.

Three separate areas are set aside for dancing, with the most popular being the muscular young men, painted and oiled, giving an enthusiastic and evocative performance. Our ladies are riveted and even the local females twitter with delight in the background as the boys twirl and glide along the tiny sand stage to the sound of throaty chants and drum beats.

Lionel, 85, a returned serviceman who spent much of his time in Rabaul and PNG was overwhelmed to meet not one, but three PNG WWII veterans and two with their wives. We also met the oldest woman on the island, perhaps in all of PNG, who was 96.

We leave just as the first wave of Germans arrive and the rain begins. There’s some poetry in that I think to myself. The rest of the day is at sea and we prep ourselves with more lectures from Nancy who describes to us the forthcoming spectacle of the Trobriands. I’ve volunteered to give a short talk and DVD presentation on Sir Hubert Wilkins which was received extremely well.

Tuesday October 31 – The Trobriands, Kaileuna Island

0900hrs and we’re aboard Xplorer for our landing in the Trobriands. Kaileuna Island is a smaller island just to the west of the main island of Kiriwina. More isolated and much less developed than Kiriwina on my previous visit, the little community nevertheless turned out en masse to greet the strangers and welcome us to town.

Landing was very tricky as the many reefs and mud flats made it impossible to bring the tender in closer than about 200m, so here we are wading up to our knees gingerly to the tiny gap in the coral rocks. The village is all abuzz preparing for our arrival with carvings, shell jewellery etc. Some very nice (and expensive) ebony pieces on display. The cane I bought on Gawa Island last year for less than K100 was about K500 here.

The dancing began and although entertaining and well presented, was nowhere near the standard seen on Kiriwina. The key performances were much briefer and the standard of costume generally lower. Shame, as we’d had quite a build-up.

After some shopping and a site inspection, we trek across the mud to the tender again, only this time the tide has risen a few feet. We’re escorted by a company of noisy kids all dancing and making cheeky noises.

The afternoon is spent either in, on or under the water and the other group of divers are positively beside themselves after swimming with a large dugong for a short time. Otherwise we see turtles, small sharks, big crayfish and lots of colourful fish both big and small.

A small group of canoes is hovering around the back of OD offering various produce and I spot some fresh painted crays. I and a couple other guests clean them out and present them to the chefs who prepare entrees for dinner. Average price for a fair sized cray was about K10.

Wednesday November 1 – Dei Dei Springs and Dobu Island

Today is my first repeat visit. We did the Dei Dei Springs bushwalk last year only this time the whole village and a few neighbouring ones as well have turned out to see us. It’s the usual outrigger canoe escort and whooping kids greeting when we wade ashore.

Dei Dei Springs are on Fergusson Island, a densely wooded volcanic island with a small geothermal area about a 30 min walk inland. The smells reminiscent of Rotorua waft through the air and little steamy geysers erupt here and there. The local guides are very concerned if we wander off the paths as there are lots of holes and hollows to fall into. The ground is brittle and fragile underfoot and it’s easy to imagine crashing through into the boiling underlayer.

The key event is the calling of the geyser spirit, Seuseulina. The locals believe that after a lovers tiff, a chief threw himself into the boiling spring. By throwing in rocks and calling his name, the geyser erupts in anger. Careful not to get too close as the spurts can be a bit erratic and VERY hot. Some interesting birds flying about including an impressive hornbill. On the walk back I can’t help thinking how the locals could make better use of their asset by setting up some thermal baths and maybe some mud packs.

After lunch it’s another case of déjà vu as we visit little Dobu Island and are treated to another round of singsings and dances. This time we were greeted by a troupe of ferocious “warriors” who stormed us throwing mock spears and hollering – quite a reception! I remember some of the gorgeous little faces from last year and they seem to remember me including sad-eyed little 11yo Septimus who re-introduces himself and holds my hand. I give him a camera to wear and he’s my assistant for the day, taking on some prestige in the task. There’s a village and cultural tour and a bit more singing, exchange of gifts and we’re away. Septimus is there to wave me off. One can’t help but be moved by these little moments.

Thursday November 2 – Bona Bona Island

Our arrival at Bona Bona Island was announced with the disclaimer that we had no idea what we were going to find or do. That’s the beauty of it. The company are looking for a stop between Alotau and Port Moresby and Bona Bona looked a likely spot.

Lush fjord-like valleys rose from the shore with hints of clearing and cultivation indicating there was a population somewhere. Our loose plan was to circumnavigate the island and see what we could find. We stumbled upon some startled locals ferrying some produce to market and they proclaimed we were the first tourists they had ever seen here. So, my own little ‘first contact’ experience.

We eventually stopped at a tiny group of huts that barely constituted a hamlet and chatted with the locals who were clearly deft canoe builders. A fusion of local traditional methods and modern tools left a nice clean finish on their craft. Capped of with a brief swim and snorkel we headed back for the obligatory recaps and much anticipated Captain’s Farewell drinks.

Friday November 3 – Port Moresby

With the harbour of Port Moresby bathed in a soft morning light, it occurred to me what a beautiful city this could be with its perfect harbour and buildings perched imperiously above the waterline. Instead it’s a smoky, dirty town wracked by lawlessness and not much else. There’s a lot of hanging around and to-and-fro as we are shuttled away on a bus tour of the dry dusty streets.

I manage to get a handful of postcards away in between stops at the tired and tawdry natural history museum and art gallery and the oversized parliament building where we are not permitted to wear hats or take photos. I leave mid-tour. We also stop at handicraft market, but it is not an experience to be compared to buying in the village. Lunch is at the botanical gardens with a half decent singsing although the variation in choreography is limited to a few stomps and chants. Otherwise there are dear little tree kangaroos in tiny cages and a few frustrated looking hornbills and impatient cassowaries. The aviary is a small saving grace and I wander off the path to shoot a couple of birds of paradise and parrots.

More kafuffle as we are shuttled to the wrong then right hotel. Struggle with the Internet then walk down to the boat where there is more hanging around while late stores arrive and bits are fixed (or not fixed) on the ship.

I get to catch up with Tony and Vicki while Mark makes his usual scant greeting and vanishes. Bye byes to Nancy and the departing crew then more waiting. Don’t leave harbour till after dark.