FROM SEA TO SEA ACROSS PAPUA

New Zealand Listener, Volume 7, Issue 165, 21 August 1942, Page 8

FROM SEA TO SEA ACROSS PAPUA

OW difficult is the journey across Papua? Can the Japanese move over in force, or is the mountain chain really impassable? Very few in New Zealand know, and very few in Australia. But the territory is by no means terra incognita. As far back as 1906 it was crossed‘from east to west by an Australian Commission which was investigating conditions in Papua for the Commonwealth Government. The journey took 22 days, and was fully described by the leader of the party (Colonel Kenneth Mackay), in a book published 33 years ago. We referred briefly to this book last week. Now, owing to the Allied offensive in Papua and the Solomons, we quote more fully.

N the morning of October 15, we saw long lines of black figures (every second one carrying a pole), marching along the beach to the Government Depot, and at eight o’clock we went over the side and were rowed ashore, armed with revolvers and water bottles. Passing through a village, we tramped along a narrow track which would have been a quagmire in bad weather, through tropical forest broken by open patches of high, coarse grass, and eight miles out, crossed a broad but shallow river, and camped in at least comparative safety, as malarial mosquitoes were not so numerous from here on. After a wet night, the day came in fine, and striking camp at 7.15, we almost at once left the main track and plunged into primal Papua. Following ‘native paths, we clambered over a rude fence to find ourselves in the largest garden we had yet seen. Here, amidst a perfect riot of vegetation grew plantains, taro, sugar-cane, and other edible fruits and roots. Then on we tramped, the great trees making so thick a canopy that even the tropical sun could not find us, by the banks and through the channels of crystal streams fringed with great bullrushes, while around and above us were palms and vines, trees and plants in indescribable variety. | Crossing a plain of high grass and fervent heat, we approached, amid cries of "orokolo" (peace), a small but beautifully clean village. Here they came and laid wooden bowls of sago, boiled yams, and baked plantains before us as offerings . . In what part, I wonder, of civilised and Christian England or Australia could a hungry man walk into a town or village and have the best its people possessed put at his feet unasked, and on the off-chance of being paid for? We marched again into the forest at 7.20 next morning. After a walk of one and a-half hours, through dense bush and hot patches of grass, we struck the Yodda Road once more, and tramping on through splendid aisles of timber, came to a picturesque river. Native Gardens On resuming our march after a meal, we waded through lakes of grass breast high (the path so narrow that we had to brush the stems aside), and bordered by towering trees, vines from 30 to 40 feet long (and thick as ropes), hanging from them, while over all glowed a wealth of colour, which rain and sun alone can give. Then, hot and sweltering, we reached the end of the last patch, and passing once more into the shaded distances of the forest track, got into camp just ahead of the rain. In the morning, we did 12 miles at a pace which took it out of my leg, the

country being densely-wooded, and in parts we marched through acres of old native gardens, overgrown and full of wild plantains. One of the first things that must strike a visitor, accustomed to even the sprawliness of much of our Australian farming, is the almost universal Papuan custom of deserting a garden after a year or so and starting a fresh one, the old one, I was told, being often left unused and utterly neglected for 10 or 12 years. Every now and then, we crossed beautiful streams by means of single logs, sometimes from 30 to 70 feet long, and often slippery as glass. To the Kumusi River Starting at 6.50, we did the first five miles in great form, constantly crossing streams on logs and "sloshing" through wet patches, for we were on falling ground to the Kumusi River, a broad, rapid, and picturesque stream where first we touched its right bank. We camped on the river bank in a native-built Government house. Just in front, the Kumusi, here confined between high banks, rushed swiftly by, on the opposite shore a meadow of dense kangaroo-grass spread, bounded by wooded ranges stretching away to our right front. On our left rose Mount Monckton, its rugged peak shooting 8,000 feet into a cloud-strewn sky. Behind us was the tropical forest, and all about us the palm-shelters of our carriers. The hills looked lovely when at 7.15 Little and I crossed the Kumusi in a cage-so called. This cage is in reality a round stick to sit on, with two ropes above to cling to, and is hauled over the water along a single wire rope. Leaving the river, we pushed on for six miles, passing over several most picturesque native suspension bridges. In constructing these, vines are used as cables, and trees take the place of stone or steel towers on each bank. Some have floors of split softwood lashed in place with fibre, the protecting rails being vines pulled taut. Others are all cane, three or four being stretched across and tied in places for foothold, while the sides are of an open wicker-work. One we crossed had, I should say, a span of 60 feet. "The Divide" Soon after, we had to take to the bed of a gorge, clinging by roots to its sides, the foothold being often a matter of inches, then, on crossing the slippery head of a beautiful waterfall, sheer in front of us rose "The Divide." It was only about 250 feet high, but so nearly perpendicular that a slip meant a roll half-way to the bottom, and after the level country the climb landed me (Continued on next page)

(Continued trom previous page) at the top just a breathless bit of wet rag; and yet our carriers went up and down it for water as coolly as if it had been a patent lift. Before the rain set in, we got from its summit our first panoramic view of the country we had so far left behind. Leaving "The Divide" at 6.40 next morning, we met some rough walking over roots and seedlings, and, as usual, constantly crossed streams, and eventually touched the Mambare, a broad and lovely river running through and over huge pebbles, its water clear as glass. For a time we hugged its right bank, then turning into a native garden, once 300 acres of tropical plenty, now, thanks either to native habit or white intru-sion-I am not clear which-a tangled and overgrown waste, we saw above us the buildings of Kokoda, the farthest inland Government Station in Papua. Kokoda Kokoda is a most radiant spot, set" high on the edge of a small plateau. At the rear and right virgin forests fence it about, in front, in a basin, grow all things that tell of shade-great plantain fronds, broad and spacious as green sails, and many another plant with leaves of varied hue and shape, and all gigantic. About this basis dwell trees tall and stately, courted of lovely parasites. Near by, the water flows, and then the mountains rise fold on fold till Mount Victoria pierces the sky at 12,000 feet. Situated at the foot of the main range and 1,000 feet above sea level, Kokoda has a climate which is, from a tropical standpoint, good, while the plateau is rich almost beyond belief. As an illustration, in the station garden (30 acres being under cultivation), there grew taro, yams, sweet-potatoes, bananas (I saw 15 dozen in one bunch), Indian corn, coconuts, betel-nuts, paw paws, granadillas, pineapples, chillies, oranges, lemons, English cabbages, carrots, parsnips, radishes, lettuces, French beans, melons and swede turnips. From Kokoda right back to Buna Bay, the country is magnificently watered, level, and heavily timbered, and judging from the quantities of cane, vegetables, and fruit brought in by the natives all

— along the route, must be rich. With the exception of the Kumusi River, and even this can be crossed at a ford a short distance from the wire bridge, and the Divide, which could be made practicable for pack traffic at a comparatively small cost, the present track is to-day possible for horses and mules during the dry season. So there are no insurmountable natural obstacles in the path of development from the sea to Kokoda, when the right men choose to tread it. Into the Mountains At nine o’clock on October 26 we left lovely Kokoda, and putting the last outpost of the white man behind our backs, and plunging into the virgin forest, scrambled over roots and logs and along creeks for about an hour-and then up the mountain’s face. With breathers every 100 feet or so, up we went, getting foothold as best we could, now dropping for a little, but only to rise again. Atnoon we halted on a steep slope, and facing about saw Mount Lamington, and all the way we had travelled from the sea spread out before us. We were now 3,200 feet above sea-level, and had risen 2,200 above Kokoda. Starting again, we dropped for a while, and creeping along some nervy places, reached camp without mishap ahead of the rain. Striking camp at 7.45 next morning, we clambered over rocks and trees and along the edge of things till we reached a village perched above the valley. We were now in the region of leeches and scrub-itch, the former fastening on to boots or the natives’ legs as we walked; while touching a bush frequently resulted in a leech hanging to a finger. They crawled through any opening in a boot, and if putties are not well rolled, or trousers not tucked into socks, one was apt to find blood in one’s boots on reaching camp. On the Summit Then the trees grew more gnarled, the mosses richer, the silence one that could be felt-and at last we stood on one of the summits of the Owen Stanley Range, 8,690 feet above the sea, and out beyond the intervening valleys we caught glimpses of great distances, and saw (Continued on next page) -.

ACROSS PAPUA (Continued trom previous page) toothed peaks and broad plains, above and beneath the clouds, for part of Papua lay stretched at our feet, and part rose in splendid isolation sheer through the mists that floated far above our heads. That night, we camped well down the main range at an altitude of 6,786 feet, and consequently had a chilly time, but the wood was good, so the carriers could fight the cold, and we were happy. -The camp was pitched. on a high plateau completely fenced in by moun- —

tains, save where one long valley wound through the encircling hills towards Port Moresby. Some day, the road connecting Kagi with the capital will follow this route; the engineering difficulties at any rate as regards mule traffic being comparatively slight; meanwhile, the. native path leads up «nd down and along the crest of the ranges partly because the Papuan has no use for easy grades, principally for commissariat reasons, the villages being, as a rule, built on high ground, Alternately rising and falling, we at last reached a plateau, and looking back saw the crests of Mouni Victoria tower-

ing above the clouds, with a peak to the right that marked our march, and still further, the dark outline of the Gap. "Gardens of the Ghosts" At 6.45 next morning we left Maneri, and dropping down, crossed a stream to face a 2,000 feet climb, but here a track was cut, and some attempt had been made to grade it. Half way up, we got a view of the hill-tribes’ Valhalla, Mount Victoria, and saw the mists rising above "the gardens of the ghosts," to use the poetic imagery of these people. We found this land from Kagione an area of beauty and great richness, which some day must give of its plenty to the world, Here we ate lovely bananas and luscious pineapples, the latter fruit growing at Mount Knutsford at an altitude of as much as 5,000 feet. At Rigo, just above sea level they are huge, some ‘being 17 inches long by 1142 inches in diameter. At 6.35 we bade farewell to the final real mountain village, and tramping over range and valley, came to the last big hill, and from its top saw in the far distance the last of the Gap and all the mystic mountain land. Topping our last rise, we looked down on the plantations of Sogeri clinging to the opposite slope. Then down the decline we went, through the village of Sogeri, and walking in great form, reached a camp, and the end of our march, at 10.40 on the morning, of November 5, 1906, Prospects and Difficulties Our march showed us the rich possibilities of the country from Buna Bay to Kokoda, and from Kagi to Sogeri, taught us the disabilities under which digging and developmental prospecting is at present carried on; the potentialities of the northern and mountain tribes; the enormous difficulties of transport over the main range; the arduous nature of operations undertaken to punish recalcitrant tribes; and finally proved that, in this maligned climate it is possible for unseasoned men, starting in no sense in the pink of walking form, to get acfoss Papua (the main range thrown in), without contracting a symptom of malarial fever or any other disease. Our journey had taken 22 days, on 20 of which rain fell. All that lay ahead of us now was a ride of 35 miles to peer Moresby.