29th July Dr Halls recollections of the Kokoda Track
On return from the Kokoda Track Dr Marguerite Hall penned the following description of her experiences……..
Deeply asleep, covered in a mosquito net tripod, the day begins with a tug on the leg. It’s pitch black outside - 4:30am - and we need to start walking at 6:30. Slightly disorientated, half asleep and grumpy without my usual cup of tea in bed, I lie still for a bit as the headlamps go on around me and the scuffling in packs begins. I listen to drifts of sporadic conversation, assorted mumbles and groans and the daily ritual begins: pack up the belongings, roll up the mat, breakfast, collect water and sterilize it by one method or another, morning stretches and the walking begins. Don’t forget to slap on the ‘Bushmans’ and take the anti-malarial pills. It’s hard to believe but it can take two hours for 18 trekkers and 36 porters to get ready for the days walking.
I’m lucky to have my own personal carrier, Fabian, to offload my pack on to and he will be there to help me through the day whenever it is required. Initially I felt reluctant to accept his help but as the days went on we developed a very amicable camaraderie and enjoyed walking quietly or talking a bit.
As it becomes light and we look back up at the steep gully that we have just descended in the dark, walking poles at the ready, I am thankful not to have tumbled down into the fast flowing river at the bottom. I am also thankful for the relatively dry conditions which means that the mud is not as treacherous as it could well be. Walking steadily through the pristine rain forest, mind freed from clutter allows time and space for different thoughts to flow. It is a revelation to be able to relinquish all responsibilities and the need to make decisions.
Time on the Kokoda Track is different from real life time and the freedom from worrying about time enables reflection and peace. This feeling is amplified by the awesome nature of the towering trees all around, the giant stilted pandanus palms and the silence punctuated only by birdsong and people. It feels like nothing has changed here for aeons and time seems to move slowly if at all. It is hard to imagine for now that a bloody conflict took place beneath these moss covered titans of trees. Flashes of colour imprint themselves upon the eyes as an enormous butterfly or flowering tree is passed and then just as suddenly all birdsong stops and a profound silence descends.
Sooner than you expect it’s lunchtime and a welcome rest is enjoyed by all, as is the view over mist shrouded peaks. Injuries, blisters and tiredness are attended to as we eat and rest.
As we walked the Kokoda Trail we gradually absorbed more details of the conflict that occurred. We pass the significant sites, we see the plane wrecks and we see the killing fields in chilling detail from the gun position perched high on a ridge line. The horror of the deaths, the fighting and the noise is in stark contrast to the peace and calm underneath the forest canopy.
We continue on negotiating river crossings, short sharp climbs and slippery descents. Conversations amongst the group of 18 trekkers and 36 nationals meander here and there, from the intimate and personal to global problems. Friendships are made and cultural barriers diminish. The group has become a bit scattered so a volley of ‘call and answer’ singing echoes from the trek master at the back of the group to the trek leader at the front. Soon our carriers and leaders know where everyone is - no one can get lost. At our next break in the late afternoon we reach a small, high clearing in the forest. Our local guides drop their packs, gather together and treat us to a magnificent, spontaneous a capella performance of traditional songs. In the amphitheatre of the forest the harmonies are so intricate and perfect, the sound so resonant, you would have to be deaf or made of stone to fail to be moved. For me it was the same spine tingling brilliance as when I first heard the “Tallis Scholars” sing the sacred music, Allegri’s “Miserere” in the Cathedral. We reach our destination in the afternoon and there is plenty of time to sun bake, swim in a rocky pool in the river, sleep in the sun or play guitar and sing.
While retrieving my washing from a tree I am dive bombed by an angry wasp attacking my face. Immediately I am taken off and treated with a ‘magic leaf’ and charcoal, its effect is immediate and although I looked a sight, the stinging had completely gone. Other magic leaf treatments had been used before for all manner of soreness, stiffness and leg problems, to good effect. We are enjoying the hospitality of one of the small villages along the track and have been shown traditional cooking methods of cassava and bananas soaked in coconut milk and baked in pandanus leaves. Watching the young men in our group playing touch rugby and hacky sac with the men from the village and playing with the small children is a delight. However any romantic notions about the charms of life in the village are rudely dispelled by a word from Stanley, the village chief. Life here is hard; growing enough food is a struggle, there is an aid post but no nurse or health worker.
Dinner is served, our dishes are done for us and we sit back and digest the stories of the day. It is quite a surreal sight to see our 18 white mosquito net tripods lined up in neat rows along our raised sleeping platform. We are roofed over by a high arch of pandanus palm with low walls and open windows – perfect to catch the cool breeze and provide much needed ventilation. The sound of cicadas, frogs and rushing water is so loud that even the dedicated snorers are outdone.
It is easy to fall asleep lulled by an immense satisfaction with the day, the physical exertion and the refreshing simplicity of it all. Another day on the Kokoda Track has passed us by.
By Marguerite Hall
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