Going my way?

I like a plan. Really, I do.

It suits my personality to have a plan, and a backup plan, in place at all times. I like to know what I am doing, when, where, why and with whom. In PNG though, plans are rarely this clear or reliable. I am sure there are some PNGns who equally like a plan and I know there are some Aussies who thrive on having no plan, but me, I like a plan. Let me illustrate changing local plans for you through the adventures of my two trips from Ubuo to Kikori.

The first time I went to Kikori from Ubuo, we had asked around for several days if someone was going that direction. In the end we got a tip-off that a boat was going from Karati. We sent messages to let the people know we’d join the boat there and were told that all was well. On our way to Karati, for a meeting and to join the boat, we passed them going the other way, already underway for Kikori. Mid river we stopped for a chat and a planning session. No, they had not got the messages the day before. Yes, they could wait for us to join them after the brief meeting we first had to get to at Karati. We went on our way.

At Karati we found another boat leaving for Kikori. It was decided that it would be better for me to travel with them and several phone calls were made to tell the first boat to continue without me. I’ve no idea if they really received the message, or if they just continued without me as they figured I’d find another ride. The second option worked out and we headed off to Kikori in good time. There was a stop of nearly an hour while the driver bought extra fuel at a village along the way, but I made it to Kikori in the end… about 15 minutes ahead of the first option. As they had a 15hp engine and we had a 40hp, we clearly spent a lot of time buying the extra fuel.

Refuelling while underway, although it still was not enough!

The second time I went to Kikori, I was planning to go on ‘fortnight’, or the Friday every second week when people get paid. The previous fortnight several boats had gone from Ubuo to Kikori, so I thought I’d be fine, but no one seemed to be going. Discussions were held and I was told there was a plan. Friday morning it rained heavily and continued all day. One person who was to come pulled out, meaning the whole trip was on hold. By Monday the rain had stopped and enough people committed to the trip that I made it to town.

A beautiful short cut (that actually is shorter!) on the way to Kikori

On the Thursday I started asking around about any boats going back towards Ubuo that I could get a ride in. At the town market I caused much curiosity as I asked around for any Kope people, found a cousin-sister of a village-sister of mine and put in my request. I asked the hospital administrator if he knew anyone. I stopped by where the dinghies and dugouts pull up and asked if they knew anyone going my way. I sent an sms to the village to see if they knew anyone planning a return trip. I cast a wide net and waited to see what would happen. On Friday I repeated my request.

Late on Friday someone came to the door. They’d heard the doctor wanted to go to Ubuo. I am not a doctor, but as I was staying in the doctor’s house, the confusion was understandable. One of the hospital staff recommended the person, he was from a neighbouring village and a plan was made. I gave him money to buy fuel as my contribution towards the trip.

Sunrise in Kikori, looking across the river

The next day the boat turned up, a little later than expected, but that was not really unexpected. I loaded myself and my things and we headed off. As we took bends in the river, it seemed like we were taking a different route to what I expected. I couldn’t do much about it but trust the people who helped with the plan and pray that things were on track. After a few hours we were pulling into a village near Paia. I thought we would just drop someone off and be one my way, but the whole canoe and all its contents was emptied out… except me. Um?

Heading back to Ubuo by dugout

‘We will just get some fuel at Paia and be on our way’, I was told. ‘Do I have extra kina for more fuel?’

We crossed the inlet, rafted our dugout up to a timber company tugboat and sent someone to town to buy fuel. The store was closed and we had to wait a few hours. As we waited, the story came out that although the driver was from a neighbouring village, he lived in his wife’s village in a different area. His brother, who worked at the hospital, had convinced him he had to take me back to Ubuo, even though it was out of his way. In trying to be helpful, people had actually ended up causing frustration for both of us.

Eventually the fuel was purchased, we were under way and we made it back to Ubuo, where they dropped me off and promptly returned to Paia. What would have been a 3 hour journey if direct had taken nearer seven hours because of detours and delays.

After these two adventures in getting to Kikori and back, I have been thinking about buying my own boat and motor. This will of course create all sorts of other frustrations, but my hope is that they are less than the frustrations of not owning one.

I like a plan, and to always be asking ‘are you going my way?’ is not a plan that works for me.

Road Trip

Last week I went to Lae for a few days. This is a 10km drive from our home in the Aiyura Valley to the Highlands Highway, then about 210km along the highway to Lae. In many places, a 220km highway drive is a matter of a few smooth hours. Not here!  We spent four hours bumping through or swerving around potholes, breaking suddenly and holding our breath.

A truck parked on your side of the road?
No worries, just swerve around it.

The 10km to Kainantu is one of the worse stretches of road. At one point the road subsides over a metre, and the cars bump down into the hollow and back up again. At another point, the road has been patched up from what used to be one lane and a gaping hole where the creek stole the other lane. The bridge to Kainantu has also been patched up, with pieces retrieved from the river below where they had previously fallen. This bridge is slowly sinking down the river banks. When it is eventually impassable, we shall be cut off from the highway.

Looking ahead to a landslide which
we will soon go along the top of.

Once on the Highlands Highway, we first wound our way towards Yonki dam. This provides hydroelectric power to much of the nation. At all points you are sharing the road with pedestrians and roaming livestock, which adds an extra challenge. Along the edge of the road are villages, market stalls and fuel stalls.

 The beautiful view along
the Markham Valley.

Once we have crossed the dam, the next challenge is KassamPass. This is the switchback road which descends from the highlands to the lowlands. As we drove down we passed through a layer of cloud, travelling from clear air to fog and back to clear air again. The clarity gives a breathtaking view of the valley and the Finnesterre Mountains beyond…and of the precipice beside each bend that you take. Reaching the bottom of the pass I always breathe out a sigh of relief and breath in the humid air that says we have reached the lowlands.

The Markham River looking lazy.

The Markham Valley is flat, grassy and full of cattle. If you take the turn off to Madang, there are palm oil plantations. I have only ever seen the Markham River in a lazy state, but the breadth of the river bed, the sharp cliffs along it and the trees and rocks scattered about testify to the force of water which sometimes passes through. It has been known to take out bridges when in full flood.

The surprising house that seems
to have landed from somewhere else.

PNG is the land of the unexpected and nearing Lae there is a sight which made my head turn; a house which looked like it had been lifted from America and landed in PNG. Apparently it belongs to a local MP.

Once we reach the turnoff for Nadzab airport we are nearing Lae, although it is still over half an hour away. Maybe this distance would be shorter if the road were better, but as a heavily trafficked road, it is quickly worn down. The worst stretch of road is the last 10-15km into town. The unofficial rule is that you keep to the side of the road which is smoothest and to the left when there is oncoming traffic.

Potholes at a Lae corner.

In Lae itself the roads vary. The road to the guesthouse had been redone since I visited a year ago. It was smooth, had kerbs, gutters and lines marked. Another corner by a main shopping centre was so full of potholes that it required defensive 4WDing skills, in a 2WD van, while dodging the pedestrian crowd. As the potholes were full of water, we never knew how deep each one was until we splashed into it and out again, sometimes with more of a ‘thunk!’ than expected.

Stepping into another world to
have lunch at the Lae Yacht Club.

Our driver for most of this was Rebekah. Taking on the driving helped her defeat motion sickness, and surely has half the Highlands Highway talking about the white woman who was driving. Women driving in PNG, especially outside of a town, are rare. As security we had one of our male colleagues with us. He rode in the front so that everyone could see him and hopefully choose not to harass us.

The long receipt after we filled four
trolleys with groceries at one
supermarket. I have no idea why
this won't upload the right way up. 

Lae itself was a time for shopping, dining out, meetings, relaxing in the pool and generally enjoying being with friends and away from the computer for a few days.

Skeleton of a ute.

On the drive home we were laden with cargo. Organising a trip to Lae is a headache and for many of us only happens once a year. As it is our best accessible centre for shopping, we make the most of it and stock up while we can. The van was rather full!

During the drive home was Susie suggested that PNG cars include skeletons and zombies. Skeletons are the remains of vehicles which have ended their life by the roadside and left only remains. Zombies are those vehicles which should have died, but somehow keep on driving. We saw plenty of both. I hope you’ve enjoyed some of my attempts at taking their photos from a swerving, bouncing vehicle!

A truck that did not make the corner
and is quickly being stripped down
to a skeleton.

Arriving safely home in the highlands we offloaded cargo and collapsed into our various beds. Our three days away had been good, but tiring. Meanwhile, another vanload of people were doing ‘Lae in a Day’, leaving before 6am and returning after 8pm. No thanks!

Vehicle skeleton on the roadside.

A local PMV (Public motor vehicle).
Surely there is space for one more!

 I think that windscreen repair
qualifies this as a zombie truck.
Note also the number of pedestrians
we're about to share a bridge with.