Papua New Guinea had been in the news regularly for all sorts of wonderful things like sorcery killings and rape / murder of tourists, so naturally it sounded like an ideal place to visit (I would just have to rein in my passion for public prestidigitation). In its defense, most of this violence happens in tribal villages / the highlands area of the country, and this was not where we planned to spend our time. Our intention was to go a bit further afield, and spend a fair amount of time underwater.
Spirits high and bags bursting with dive gear, we headed to the airport. Our plan was to fly from Sydney to Brisbane, Brisbane to Port Moresby, Port Moresby to Alotau (where we would head to Milne Bay for diving), Alotau back to Port Moresby, Port Moresby to Kimbe (for more diving), and then returning to Port Moresby, Brisbane, and eventually Sydney. That's 8 flights in 11 days, just FYI.
I suppose this is also an appropriate time to mention that shortly before we were meant to fly out, we found out that Air Niugini had canceled one of the two daily flights to Alotau, and moved us to the earlier one. And by 'found out,' I don't mean they'd informed us well ahead of time with an e-mail or any sort of notification. They did nothing. We only found out when we were looking at the flight schedule online. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem, with the tiny exception that our departing flight left an hour and a half before we were even scheduled to arrive. Tim had ever-so-kindly volunteered to liaise with Air Niugini regarding compensation, and after much back and forth, they had finally agreed to 'help us find accommodation,' whatever that meant in all of its glorious vagueness.
The flights to Port Moresby were fairly uneventful, with the exception of a moderately humorous moment right off the bat. I had been assigned a window seat, and Tim was given an exit row, despite requesting a window seat. I chose to use this opportunity to gloat, since I would have a lovely view of the country as we flew into Port Moresby, and he would have to attempt a semi-obstructed lean to get a view. Sadly, my feeling of superiority did not last long.
Yes, my 'window' seat was an exercise in
optimism. Mainly because there's no window.
I could hear Tim chuckling heartily from a few
rows back.
The good news is that the flight was barely half full, and shortly after takeoff, I moved toward the rear of the plane, where I had not only a window, but a row all to myself. I watched out the window as we crossed over the Coral Sea.
It was a mostly clear day, allowing us to
see some stunning reefs as we flew over.
Reef II: The Reefening
Papua New Guinea's verdant hills were suddenly
below us, and we circled around until we reached the
Port Moresby airport.
Upon arrival, we headed to the Air Niugini customer service desk to sort out our hotel as instructed. A fresh-faced young local boy was the first to help us, and Tim took the lead in explaining our situation. He seemed to be buying whatever it was we were selling, right up to the point where he called over his superior, a large woman with a face like it was carved from a granite cliffside who looked as though she wanted to eat Tim alive and pick her teeth with his bones as soon as he opened his mouth. Right away you could tell she was in no mood, and was sticking to her defense of 'you should have called to confirm your flights before flying.' Tim stuck to his guns despite the clear and present danger he was facing, and after much 'I hope you've learned your lesson-ing,' we were finally given vouchers for a hotel + dinner. Feeling victorious, we strode out to the curb to wait for the hotel shuttle. We'd only planned to stay in Port Moresby for a single night later on in the trip, so while we weren't pleased we had to stay an added night, we were elated by the fact that it was now paid-for.
The shuttle took some time to arrive - what I think ended up being close to 2 hours. We busied ourselves chatting with people whose shuttles actually arrived at some point, as well as a friendly curbside concierge named Eddie, whose arms were riddled with a plethora of mysterious tattoos.
Finally, our shuttle arrived and we trundled through the streets of Port Moresby on our way to the Hotel Lamana. This was where the gorgon from customer service had chosen for us to stay, so we were expecting the worst. As we drove through the city, we peered out the windows. There seemed to be quite a few businesses, but a lot of people were just sort of standing around. Or sitting around. And many of them were chewing betel nuts, the fruit of a ubiquitous palm found across much of southeast Asia. The chewing of the betel seems to have effects akin to nicotine, with one noticeable difference: it makes you look like you're bleeding profusely from your mouth. The inside of the nut is blood red, and you can tell a betel chewer by the fact that his or her teeth are stained this color. To make matters worse, the chewing of betel is much like tobacco, where the chewer spits regularly, leaving what looks like blood splatters all across the sidewalks in the city. The betel nuts are also gathered in great quantities and kept in nets on the side of the road. Because they are harvested in such large amounts, they just sit there, eventually rotting and attracting hordes of flies. Not a pretty sight.
We soon made it through the city to the large iron gates of our hotel - which was really more a compound than a hotel. There was some noticeable colonial influence, with squat, white buildings, columns, and wooden shutters. Upon entering the lobby, we realized we hadn't done half-bad with our hotel luck. They gave us each our own room, we dropped off our things, had a quick shower, and made our way to the outdoor bar / games / club area. Sitting there for some time sipping stubbie bottles of SP, the local brew, we people-watched. Immediately apparent was the fact that we were pretty much the only white people there. Most everyone else appeared to be locals. One other guy wandered in at one point, but he finished his beer fairly quickly and made his exit.
Sitting there taking in the scene also had additional benefits, such as the free snacks they regularly brought around to our table: chicken tenders and popcorn. We debated how long we could sit there and if we could make a meal out of it. Then we remembered the dinner vouchers we had been gifted, and opted to use those instead.
After a brief rest, we reconvened at the restaurant. Their menu offered a variety of cuisines, all of which were very tempting, but we finally decided on Indian - naan, papadams, chicken tikka, biryani, and samosas. That, paired with a few drinks, and we were both fat and happy by the end of the meal. We agreed that this was some of the best Indian food either of us had ever had, which was saying a lot considering both of us have been to India.
Once we were at a point where we could walk again without groaning in pain, we decided to check out the bar, where we could hear music and muffled singing.
A band was playing some (what I assumed were) traditional
songs. It wasn't exactly what you'd call dancing music,
more stand and slowly nod your head music.
At one point, a couple of patrons turned around and engaged us in conversation by asking if I was in the Navy. I'm not sure why - perhaps they get a lot of seamen through there. I'd also just gotten a fairly short haircut. And I was wearing a hat that said 'US Navy' on it. Really, it could have been any number of things. We made small talk until an older, much drunker man stumbled up, shouted something slurred, smiled, and wandered off through the crowd with his drink toward the pokies (a notably Australian influence).
A couple more songs down, and we retired to our respective chambers (basic, but very comfortable), eager for the adventure to fully begin the following day.
Up bright and early to catch the shuttle back to the airport, we dined on an airport meal of beef pies and chocolate milk (how I managed to actually lose weight on this trip is beyond me - most meals consisted of pies and beer). We also ran into Eddie again, which would become a regular occurrence each time we passed through Port Moresby. After a slight delay, we were finally in the air and on our way to our first destination, Alotau.
I have to say, I absolutely love tiny rural airstrips. I'm constantly flying from one major international airport to another, and while they're great on amenities, they're short on charm. There's something really special about seeing a narrow, grey smear of asphalt across a green canvas and knowing that yes, now you're getting away from it all.
Our plane touched down on the tarmac, and we exited to go collect our bags.
Some of the smaller airports I've been to have a miniature
baggage carousel (holding ~10 bags). These guys just opted
for a shelf. Hey, it works.
Immediately apparent was the fact that it was absolutely bucketing down rain. The deluge seemed to be planted squarely above where we were, but some of the locals seemed convinced that it would break at some point. Ah, well - at least rain doesn't matter when you're underwater.
We met our driver, hopped in a large shuttle that seemed to be held together by twine and hope (neither of which were terribly effective), and started what would be a 90-minute drive further along the peninsula to Milne Bay.
The ride was quite fun, provided your idea of fun is little-to-no forward visibility, constant rattling and shuddering from the suspension, and a window that would slowly creep open with every vibration of the van. Fortunately, that is my idea of fun, so I was pleased as punch to just watch out the window as we ambled along.
The rain had been good for one thing: the passing scenery
was extraordinarily green.
The downpour had also flooded some of the causeways,
leaving us to drive through waters of questionable
depth and safety.
Just when we thought we couldn't get any more remote, we reached a pier, where a small boat was waiting for us, merrily bobbing up and down in the grey water. Tossing our gear down and climbing aboard, we made our way to our final destination at Tawali.
Damp but pleased - the boat ride to the Tawali pier.
The mist hung low over the vegetation, which grew right
down to the water line.
At long last (well, another 20 minutes on the boat) we reached the pier. Making our way up the wet wooden boardwalk, the main lodge eventually loomed before us.
Fresh coconuts were thrust into our hands. Nothing
tastes as good as milk straight from a coconut.
We checked in, headed to our room (which was long enough to park ~4 buses end to end), and then went to have a wander around the property. It was still raining at this point, just not as hard. We walked back to the main pier, along the water to the pool (which, oddly enough, was drained), to the resort's far pier / dive shop. In between these two piers was a house reef, visible from the walkway as we made our way across the property. At the second pier, we looked into the crystal clear water and immediately saw a lionfish clinging to one of the pier's support posts. I took this as a good omen and got even more excited about some of the diving we'd be doing over the next week and a half.
After another nap (it had been a long day already), we went to check out the dinner situation. It was predominantly western cuisine, but tasty and filling, nonetheless. I'm not a big beer drinker, but I really started enjoying SP after a while. The resort was fairly quiet that evening, as a group of Japanese tourists was scheduled to arrive the next day.
Bedtime. Diving tomorrow.
We awoke the following morning to some completely
different scenery - the rain had stopped, the mist had
all-but-cleared, and the sun was starting to shine through.
Breakfast was quick, and we sauntered down to the dock to board the dive boat. Several others had joined in the past 12 hours, including some Aussies and the Japanese tourists. Once we were all gathered, we pushed off and headed out to the dive sites.
There's a lot to say about the diving, but not a lot to show, as I had neglected to bring along my underwater camera. Tim got quite a few shots while we were under, and has posted those separately. As such, I will do my best to describe my experiences for you in spectacular 3D vivid detail.
Departing the dock early in the morning, hoping to fit
in 2-3 dives today.
Our wake, and the well-known and respected nautical
flag of our ship, The Mop.
Shocks of iridescent blue shone through the water as we
motored by shallow reefs. There were 30-40+ dive
sites in Milne Bay.
A small island in the distance, fringed by reefs. Actually,
I think it's just the island from the previous picture with
a much wider lens.
Local islanders sit on the beach. All that sand and no sign
of a sandcastle competition. Missed opportunity.
View of our boat deck featuring a few of the Australians.
The crew members were all excellent - competent divers,
great at swapping out our gear, and just generally fun
to be around.
Much of the topside time was spent on the front of the
boat, which was surprisingly roomy. There's not much
else to do while you're off-gassing nitrogen aside from
sit in the sun and relax.
Tim in classic adventure pose. Avast!
Our first day diving was extraordinary. The water was bathwater warm (~30C on average), allowing me to dive only in a swimsuit and t-shirt. The visibility was a good 20-30 meters. Life was everywhere on the reef, from the almost invisible little pygmy seahorse, to hollow coral barrels so large you could fit into them. Regarding the former, our DM would regularly spot them on fan coral. How, is beyond me, but he was somehow able to pick out something the size of half a grain of rice amongst the other silt and detritus clinging to the coral.
We saw a small stingray, an assortment of turtles, a whole host of sharks, bumphead parrotfish, schools of barracuda hundreds of members strong, swimming slowly, shifting slightly, eyeing you always. Nudibranchs abound on every rocky shelf. A lone cuttlefish made an appearance at one point. Puffer fish of various sizes and varieties flapped their tiny fins to maneuver.
At one point, a reef shark attacked a turtle we had been following, yet our shelled friend managed to escape unscathed.
However, our biggest and best surprise came on the last dive of our first day.
We were sitting at around 15 meters in clear blue water. The group was beginning to bunch up since we were getting ready to turn around. I was floating there, just lazily glancing around. Suddenly, out of the cerulean depths, swims a whale shark no more than a few meters away. While it's difficult to tell underwater, I suspect it was 8-9 meters long. I froze - less out of fear, more out of awe. You could see the exact moment each of the other divers noticed the fish; they froze, some subconsciously took a kick or two back. Over the span of a second or two, all eyes were on the whale shark. It seemed in no hurry to move on, and continued at a leisurely pace right by us for what seemed like a small eternity. Then, as magically as it at appeared, it vanished into the edge of the visibility.
We all looked at one another, and erupted into joyous, bubbly cheers underwater. Fists pumping, flippers flipping, expressing as much elation as is humanly possible while holding bits of rubber in your teeth.
The best part is that we hadn't expected to see it. We had known that they had been sighted in the past, but you never actually expect to see one.
It's been my dream to swim with some sort of large sea creature, and it's something I won't soon forget.
An excellent day of diving in the books, we returned to Tawali.
Given that the rain had finally stopped, we could now
pose for photos without fear of getting drenched in
the process.
Interestingly, Papua New Guinea boasts the second-
largest population of saltwater crocodiles in the world,
after Australia. (Un?)Fortunately, we didn't come across
any during our stay, with the exception of this fellow. He
looks nice, but has a bit of a wooden personality.
The afternoon was spent relaxing on the deck overlooking
the bay. We were joined by the Australians, and a rather
eccentric couple from Alaska. Upon hearing we were
headed to Walindi after this, the Americans told us to
keep an eye out for Gary. They wouldn't tell us much
more, and we were left to ponder this cryptic omen.
As we whiled away the hours with beer and snacks,
we were treated to a beautiful sunset.
Blues and golds turned to fire on the horizon as the sun
slipped further downward.
The blues returned with red in hand and the scene darkened
to a twilight glow.
Two lone fishermen bring in their haul at last light.
Considering much of it is just floating there, diving is exhausting, and after another tasty dinner, I called it a night.
More diving the next day - we returned to the dive boat and set off again.
Spoiled again by sun and crystal clear warm water.
I was pleased that I could continue to work on my
awesome sleeve tan.
Many of the locals live independently in small clusters
of villages along the coast, using these hand-made single
catamarans to commute from place to place.
After another hard day of diving and stuffing my face
with these delicious coconut kina cookies, we were
all taken back to Tawali on a smaller boat, since the
larger one was staying out a while longer. It felt, for
some reason, like a different era. Just the group, the boat,
and not much else other than the vastness of nature.
Our penultimate day at Tawali after diving, given that we couldn't dive any more before flying, we opted for a tour of some of the local skull caves. They're exactly what they sound like - caves filled with skulls. As history tells us, earlier on in the century (but surprisingly later than you'd expect), when visitors would find themselves on some islands, the local tribes would kill them with a swift blow to the head using a sharpened wooden truncheon. The visitor was then eaten, and the skulls left in the caves as a warning to others. While the head-bashing custom has essentially stopped, the skulls still remain to this day as a macabre reminder of how things used to be.
And on that note, here's a hibiscus.
And now for something completely different, an interior
shot of the skull cave. The entrance can be seen in the
upper right hand corner.
Though small, the cave interior was actually quite
beautiful.
Close-up of some of the skulls. I spontaneously attempted
some Hamlet, and may or may not have brought an
ancient curse upon myself. On the plus side, free
ghost buddy.
This photo was an accident as I was attempting to
photograph some skulls further back in the cave.
Accident turns out to be terrifying.
These ones had actually been here so long that the minerals
dripping from the cave ceiling made it look like they were
melting together. Creepy / awesome.
Walking along the beach back to our boat.
As we pulled away from the shore, some of the local
kids ran after us. And I'll be damned if they weren't the
most photographic bunch I'd ever seen.
They attempted to persuade us to stay with their reenactment
of Stand By Me. Note the abs on the kid in the back.
Ok, one more.
With some extra time still, we were easily convinced to extend our excursion to go see some waterfalls. Always a fan of falling water, I couldn't say no. We went slightly further along the peninsula, and then made for the shore once again.
The local village had a couple of pigs - they don't provide
much in this form, but as bacon...
The mandibles of former pigs, hung ceremoniously
from a tree. They gave their lives for the greater
delicious good.
We passed these fruit trees on our way to the
waterfall, and upon inquiring as to what they were,
I was told they were breadfruit. Not quite ripe
yet, but we tried them anyway. Not bad - sort
of a sweet, tangy, plum-like fruit on the inside.
We had to cross vast, treacherous rivers on our
way to the waterfall.
At last, we reached the falls. The long exposure seems
to have had some adverse effects on Tim, whose face appears
to be melting.
Not wanting to miss a chance to swim under a waterfall, most of the group stripped down to their undergarments and hopped into the water. It was refreshingly cool and a welcome reprieve from the sticky hot air. We spent a bit of time in the water, and even though it was probably no more than 10m high, the force of the water rushing over the edge was still impressive.
Here's a shot without Ol' Meltyface in it.
Need for swimming sated, we returned from whence we came and started the trip back to the resort.
Almost.
In the distance, grey-black shapes broke the surface of the water. A couple at first, then many. Soon, they brazenly began their aquatic dance closer to the boat.
Dolphins!
Our skipper pulled hard on the steering wheel and we veered after them. We made large figure eights around the bay as we darted back and forth, attempting to close in on the dolphins. I should also note that it's quite difficult to photograph dolphins. Especially from a moving boat. In the middle of a turn. Using a 500mm lens. At any rate, here are a couple shots.
A lucky shot of 2 dolphins; one starting a leap, the other
finishing one.
A few more members of the pod.
After cruising around after the dolphins for another 10 minutes, we were finally on our way.
The sun was beginning to set behind us.
We reached the resort, and as had become customary, promptly settled in on the deck with some beers as the sun set.
The staff brought us some homemade chips made from
what sounded like cacao plants or something along those
lines. They were delicious.
This little guy also decided to come hang out with us
and watch the sunset. They're surprisingly interactive
little spiders. And by 'interactive' I don't mean they crawl
up your pant leg and bite your scrotum. I mean I made a
wall with my hand, and it crawled toward it, eventually
jumping onto it, then off, then on, then off again.
A shot of the resort's house reef. Even from way up on
the deck, you could still see numerous fish swimming
around.
Another dedicated fisherman making the most of the
dusk before darkness draws across the bay.
With one more morning to fill before returning to Port Moresby and on to the rest of our trip, we decided we'd wake up astonishingly early and attempt to go find some of the famed birds of paradise for which Papua New Guinea was known. We were up at around 4 or so, and met up with a couple of the equally-foolish Australians who also thought this was a good idea. Heading down to the pier, the winds had picked up a fair bit, and the boats had to be boarded with a well-timed leap from the dock.
The conditions were a bit choppier than they had been
the past few days, but that didn't stop us.
Shrouded in darkness, we boated to the trail head where the birds are most commonly sighted. We undertook a fairly steep climb in the gloom, hiking through mud, vines, and leaf litter. Around 6 am, we finally reached a more heavily-trafficked location. And then we waited.
And waited.
And waited.
We waited until it got light, and while we were able
to hear the birds of paradise, none, it seemed, were willing
to make an appearance.
Birdless, we returned to the resort to catch our shuttle back to the airport. We had been incredibly lucky the whole week with weather - it had only rained the first day we arrived, and now that we were leaving Milne Bay, the rain seemed to be returning. Other than that, it had been gorgeous and warm. The closer we got to the airport, the heavier the rain became. I don't mind getting wet, I just hoped it wouldn't affect our flight.
Our plan was to return to Port Moresby and spend the night there, catching a flight the following day. Sadly, we didn't manage to make it back to Lamana, but Tim had booked a place called the Wellness Lodge, which would do for a night. Despite the name, however, there was very little Wellness to be found there.
Yeah, it sounded like a ton of fun (I was predominantly
concerned with the first one - I don't usually chew my
food, anyway).
They had kindly given us one room with one bed. Not wanting
to inadvertently roll over and smother Tim in the middle of the
night, we asked that an additional mattress be delivered, which
Tim found quite comfortable.
We killed time by eating dinner in the restaurant (of which we were the only customers) and watching crap television (the Australian version of The Voice was on). Spending a good amount of time made me realize that The Voice is scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel when it comes to talent. Several of the singers seemed like they had been told what the song sounded like, but had never actually heard it. But they did their darndest - I just wish we'd tried harder not to make fun of them.
One of the other things the hotel had no supply of whatsoever was drinking water. You don't want to take your chances with the tap water in PNG. We enquired about getting some bottled water at the restaurant, and they didn't stock any. Eventually, it was explained to us that just around the corner was a small grocery kiosk who would have some water. Even though it was about half a block away, one of the house guards insisted on escorting us. Fair enough.
We walked around the corner in the dark to the brightly-lit kiosk. Asking for water, we were met with a sympathetic (or apathetic) look from the store owner. They didn't have any either. We were stuck, so I bought a couple cartons of chocolate milk. I know, it's not the most refreshing beverage in the world, but it did the trick.
Returning to the room, I had a closer look at the ingredients of my chocolatey beverage.
I have no idea what most of these things
are, but I do know that I need to know where I can
find some butter flavor.
Stomachs full of questionable contents, we fell asleep.
Waking up early the next morning, we had some spare time before our flight. As is my M.O. in most places, I needed to find a zoo. And fortunately, Port Moresby had its own zoological gardens. We took in some sights on the way there.
The first in a series I would like to call,
'Port Moresby Needs to Update Their Signage.'
The city is part of the roundabout camp, and has
taken the extra effort to install large cultural decorations
in the middle of most of them.
We arrived at the zoo, which was all-but-deserted and had a look around.
First stop, a couple of snoozing crocs.
There was a sizable praying mantis statue by
the entrance. Or some native breed of giant praying
mantis. I kept my distance.
A school group on a tour of the zoo - we stood and listened
to the lecture for a little bit. The kids were quite knowledgeable
about a fair few critters.
The grounds feature many native plants and trees, and
was quite well-maintained.
This conservative hornbill's reaction to an off-color
joke I told. Birds are so uptight these days.
I heard this hornbill's call from the other side of the enclosure,
and was able to mimic it fairly accurately, at which point it
came over to pose for some photos.
The Victoria Crowned Pigeons as the Jets in the zoo's
production of West Side Story.
It was met with lukewarm enthusiasm by critics.
I am the Lizard King - no cage can hold me!
They did a really great job of letting a lot of the zoo
grow rampant, adding to a more natural feeling.
Numerous liana vines and supporting root structures
on the way to the cassowary exhibit. They had all
three varieties of cassowary - I'd only seen one before.
The first was the Dwarf Cassowary, so named because it
tops out at around a meter tall, whereas other species can
grow from 1.5-1.8 meters.
A St. Andrew's Cross spider hanging out nearby.
Another spider web catches the morning light.
One of the zoo workers got my attention and pointed
out these flying foxes hanging above the cassowary
exhibit. I eagerly snapped some photos. It was only
when I got home that I took a closer look at their feet.
I was also skeptical about this goanna - I swear it moved,
but now I don't know what to believe anymore. My life
is a lie.
The Northern Cassowary, notable for its golden
neck.
And lastly, the Southern Cassowary, most commonly
found in Australia. It's worth noting that cassowaries
More shots of the lovely grounds. Not pictured: hordes
of man-eating insects. Well, Tim-eating, anyway.
We reached the walk-through aviary and decided
to check if we could see our elusive bird of paradise
there. Just a green parrot so far.
This is the female of the species we're trying to find.
The zoo keeps these in the aviary in the hopes of
attracting males to the outside of the cage.
No idea - the yellow-helmeted blarglehooptie?
At last! We hear some distinctive calls from the
far side of the aviary, and the workers allow us to
sneak over the barriers to get as close as we dare.
This one was actually performing his mating dance,
which involved a lot of squawking and ruffling of
feathers. It soon flew off, and we moved on.
We found some tree kangaroos attempting to beat the heat.
There was something different about them, but I couldn't
quite put my finger on it. It's driving me nuts.
In loving memory of the two guys who came up with
the fake flying fox exhibit.
significance, relocated to the zoo for our viewing
pleasure.
the cigar store indian? You be the judge.
some of our kindly Australian faunae, would it?
the head feathers make it look like it has a monk's haircut.
By this point, Tim and I were positively committed to tracking down the male bird of paradise whose calls we'd been hearing for the past several hours. We slunk from area to area hoping to catch the elusive avian. Even with the help of some of the keepers pointing out where it was / allowing us to wander through some of the exhibits to get closer, it took us over an hour to get to the point where we were finally able to see one clearly.
This is as close as I was able to get, having unfortunately
put my enormous zoom lens out of service with a less-
than-graceful leap onto a boat earlier in the trip.
With that haphazardly ticked off our list, we returned to the zoo entrance, downed a couple of sodas while we waited for our shuttle, and headed to the airport and onward to our next destination, Kimbe.
I cautiously kept my mouth shut regarding in-flight seating this time.
Flying into Kimbe - every time we'd fly over land, Tim
would comment on the 'oil pans.' I shrugged this off as
an actual thing, until it finally registered that he was really
saying 'oil palms' and just has a ridiculous Irish accent.
Our adorable little landing strip. I always feel a bit
like Indiana Jones when flying into small, rural airstrips.
Minus the cannibalistic indigenous tribes. Though, who
knows...this time could be been different.
The Kimbe airport had an even smaller luggage collection
table than Alotau.
Our shuttle was punctual and promptly took us along the coast to our second port of call, Walindi. Nestled right along the coast at the base of the bay, we were in a prime location to access many of the excellent dive sites nearby. We headed toward the front desk.
And that's when we met Gary.
You'll recall earlier in our tale that the Alaskan couple we met wove a portentous web of intrigue surrounding Gary. We had shrugged it off as delusional babble, but soon came to realize the solemn truth in their words.
To attempt to summarize Gary in mere prose, would be a disservice, as he was one of the most fascinating people I've ever some across. From our many conversations with him over the coming days, we would learn more than we ever thought possible about him, about life, and about ourselves.
Gary is a man of no land in particular - sure, he would have started somewhere, but even after days of speaking with him, it was no clearer where that might have been. He's spent time all over the world. His accent has the faintest hint of a southern drawl, as though the vowels in his words are too-hot soup on a spoon and he's wrapping his mouth around each one. We were continuously impressed with his ability to be equally intolerant of such a diverse array of races and nationalities. We gathered that he's gone through at least 4 or 5 wives at this point. It was nearly impossible to follow any sort of logical thread of conversation with him, as you would inevitably start talking about the ubiquity of lighters in PNG, and a few minutes later be talking about lobster traps and 13-year-old mistresses. Then you'd look at your watch and realize that 3 hours had passed and that your dinner had long since gone cold, been cleaned up, and replaced with breakfast. He has the 1000-yard stare of someone who's seen more than you could ever imagine, to the point where he now seeks it out just for nostalgia's sake. He had also been a gun runner during the Vietnam War, and spent some time in Rwanda when everything was going down there. As we continued to converse, we got the sense that he had been present for every single global military coup, crisis, war, uprising, downfall, and event for the past several hundred years. I suspect that if you found an old painting of Genghis Khan and examined the faces of the soldiers closely, you would find one of them who resembled Gary. He's a real-life Wolverine, really. And we were richer for having met him.
After we checked in, we had a little wander around the grounds (which were built nicely into the surrounding jungle, and as a result, quite lush).
The resort also had a few pets who would wander
aimlessly around the common area, as well as lurk just
above head level on awnings and swipe at your hair.
Another of them surgically opened a part of my hand
with astounding precision. This is Chloe.
This was a positively ancient-looking tree that had
been overgrown with a bunch of other plants, vines,
lianas, and such.
It's a rare phasmid, sir. It's an insect that disguises
itself as a stick in order to confuse its predators.
The more we wandered, the more strange and alien
creatures we came across. Here's a mudskipper.
The following day, we headed for the dock to board our dive boat for the day, and the barrage of critters continued.
Here's a huntsman spider snacking on what I believe
used to be a small rodent.
Heading out into the bay, our streak of amazing weather
continued.
While they couldn't match the sheer gravitas of seeing a whale shark, our remaining dives were no less incredible. More schools of barracuda several hundred strong, numerous sharks and turtles, and a mind-boggling number of tropical fish. We passed the time between dives snorkeling among the shallow reefs, jumping off the top of the boat, and Tim took some time to swim with some of the local sharks on the surface.
More stunning weather - we took ample time to sit on
the front of the boat and do absolutely nothing except
get a fair amount of vitamin D produced.
Case in point, here's me sitting on the top of the boat
surrounded by placid, blue water, contemplating my
existence.
Here we see Tim, sporting the new Winter 2013 collection
by D&G - whether you're relaxing at home, or heading out
for a night on the town, this ensemble is sure to impress.
Hanging around some of the smaller islands.
One of the locals making a delivery to one of the nearby
waterside villages. Apparently he owns the most lucrative
pizza delivery business in the area, promising 'your pizza
delivered in 7 hours or less, or it's free!'
As a brief aside, Tim inadvertently set a fairly devious trap for me on the boat. There was a hole about the size of a large platter on the bow of the boat, over which he laid his towel to dry it. In my wandering around the deck, I managed to step into his makeshift punji pit, falling a foot or so to my demise, and severely bruising my foot.
Due to the fact that we were flying out early the following day, Tim and I had to sit out the last dive. The silver lining was that we were moored directly over an extraordinary shallow reef. We took a complete lap around the top, and then passed the rest of the time trying to eradicate the crown of thorns population from the immediate area (for those unfamiliar with this problem, the crown of thorns is a particularly vicious breed of starfish that is not only incredibly hardy, but more importantly eats the coral reefs). To make matters worse, they are spiny, and their tissue carries a fairly dangerous mix of toxins, making handling them risky business. Eventually, the other divers returned, we headed back to the resort, and dusk fell across the island.
Due to the fact that we were flying out early the following day, Tim and I had to sit out the last dive. The silver lining was that we were moored directly over an extraordinary shallow reef. We took a complete lap around the top, and then passed the rest of the time trying to eradicate the crown of thorns population from the immediate area (for those unfamiliar with this problem, the crown of thorns is a particularly vicious breed of starfish that is not only incredibly hardy, but more importantly eats the coral reefs). To make matters worse, they are spiny, and their tissue carries a fairly dangerous mix of toxins, making handling them risky business. Eventually, the other divers returned, we headed back to the resort, and dusk fell across the island.
The jungle had a few more critters in store for us.
This wasn't even the biggest one of these that
we saw, by maybe half.
At one point, I felt a tickle in my sandal, and attempted to shake what I thought was a leaf out from under one of the straps. When it refused to dislodge itself, I had a closer look, and was equal parts delighted and horrified that it wasn't a leaf.
This enormous rhinoceros beetle had gotten itself
stuck in my sandal. I eventually got him to let go.
He was a good 3 inches long, horn to tail. I quickly tried
to recall if I had seen any large gaps in the door or windows
of our room.
Another jungle beast pays us a visit, the tropical
swallowtail moth. Tim's finely manicured hand for
reference. Shortly after the photo was taken, it screeched,
latched onto Tim, and carried him off into the darkness.
Fortunately, there were some slightly more cuddly
denizens at the hotel, such as Lara, who loved to play
fetch. Especially in the dark. You could throw the
smallest twig out into the darkness of the beach, and a
few minutes later, she's come trotting happily back with
it in her mouth. I was impressed.
This is Red - not quite as friendly as Lara; tolerant
is probably a better word.
I sat back with a beer, relaxed, and reflected on what had been a truly excellent holiday, and hoped that wherever Tim was, he was doing the same (I kid - he was there, equally entrenched in a foxhole of beer). Just before the light went that evening, our perfect timing for the weather reached its limit, and the skies opened.
There was something very familiar about all of this. That's
when I realized this was exactly how the Enchanted Tiki
Room experience ends at Disneyland.
Waking up shrouded in murky darkness the following morning, we made our way to the airport shuttle and started our long drive back to our tiny airstrip. Arriving well before the plane landed, we busied ourselves with exploring the local area. Tim had spoken highly of the restrooms at the Kimbe airport, so we took turns briefly ducking in to admire the cracked porcelain, the walls smeared with feces, and the southern hemisphere's largest collection of rare flies. Gag reflex successfully stifled, we decided it might be better to explore outdoors. Around the corner from the small hut that was the combination check-in counter, baggage claim, airport lounge, and restroom, there was an even smaller hut belonging to another airline. Crowds were gathered around a cloth-covered casket, adding a somber light to the scene. Realizing we'd successfully killed 10 minutes of time and still had 90 minutes to go, we opted to walk up the main road leading away from the airport.
I'll say this about Papua New Guinea - for all of the horrific flak it receives in the news (and rightfully so, some of it is downright awful), it's an extraordinary country. Everyone we met was unabashedly friendly, and would often shout out a hearty 'good morning' to us from across their front yard, which was usually 100m of jungle. It's one of those unfortunate situations where a few bad eggs ruin it for everyone else.
Anyway, the country had a few humorous parting shots left for us before we departed.
If you want to encourage people to get into your van,
I've found that the word 'Candy' is much more effective
than 'Mistake.'
Tim and I both saw this sign and had the exact same
reaction to it. 'If you want things exactly as they have
been, vote Francis Marus!' The last thing a country like
PNG needs is continuity.
I have to wonder if they ever got around to actually
finishing that census.
The long and not-so-winding road back to the airport.
Nice day for flying, at least.
Out little plane coming in for a landing.
11 days, 17 dives, countless critters, too many laughs
to remember, and several very interesting people met,
we started our long journey back to Sydney.
Papua New Guinea gets a bad rap - it's a bit behind on the development curve in many aspects, but that's part of what made it so alluring in the first place. If you want to get away from it all, I mean really get away, there are ample opportunities to do it here, and if you're seeking adventure, I couldn't recommend it more highly.
