Kokoda Review 2008 - Marc Stafford

As we all step on to a light aircraft at Port Moresby international airport, which was no more modern than the 1970’s, the twelve Kokoda trekkers are full of enthusiasm. We fly over the beautiful jungle of southern Papua New Guinea and turn to land on what looks like an oversized grassed cricket pitch. Still full of enthusiasm we meet our local porters who will carry our tents, food and some personal belongings for the 8-day trek. I look down at their feet and to my surprise at least a dozen of them have no shoes or are wearing an old worn away pair of thongs or sandals past down from a previous trekker, not quite the same as the $250 boots most of us from Bayside bought a few months prior.

We soon depart on our way to Deniki, a fairly easy 4-hour walk south of Kokoda village. It is not long before everyone gets a sense of the thick jungle terrain that awaits us in the coming days as we soak in the picturesque surrounding mountain ranges covered by cloud and fog. After a strong 45-minute climb at the end of our first day, still half out of breath we turn back to look at the sun setting over Kokoda village and feel proud of the distance we have conquered in our first day. Our shower for the night comes from the crystal clear water of a nearby creek and beautiful vegetable pasta is welcomed by the whole group. We all sit and laugh about the day and especially the most memorable comment that came from little Angela Recchia as she reached the top of our tough 45-minute non-stop climb, “I GREW BALLS TODAY!”

We all awake early on day two, 5:15am for most trekkers. It is still dark but we start to get our bags packed and clean up our tents and the guesthouse. Already named ‘the old moles’ of the trip, Peter Black and John Wilson are made fun of as they act like an old married couple asking if each other had cleaned their teeth and if they can help roll up each other’s fancy mattresses. It strikes 6:30am and we hear a ‘war cry’ from our local lead porter Peter who gets us moving on time.

We are told that we have a moderate day ahead of us, six hours of walking plus lunch and breaks. After walking through amazingly lush and bright rainforest we come to our lunch destination – Isurava. Dave our Australian guide tells us the story of the 4-day battle that took place here. As he is telling us stories of a courageous and heavily out numbered Australian battalion we look over gorgeous mountain ranges and valleys in the background that have before them four pillars with the words ‘Courage’, ‘Endurance’, ‘Mateship’ and ‘Commitment’. Everyone gets the sense of how special Isurava is, however it is not till later in the expedition that we fully understand the importance of the four words scribed on the pillars. Most of the trekkers would agree that pondering over those words in later days would nearly bring a tear to their eye.

Our camp that night is a further 2-hour climb to Alola village. In the late afternoon we sit eating popcorn and play cricket with the local porters. Everyone’s spirits are high. There have even been comments about the track not being as hard as everyone thought. Bedtime is 7:30pm.

We rise on day-3 around 5am to the crows of a rooster from the local village. Emma Freeman has been up most of the night with stomach pains and what is suspected as gastro. Doubtful about the day ahead Emma is supported by the group and given effective drugs by one of our nurses Simone Skillington.

The first two hours of our day are straight down hill on the side of a mountain range. At many points a 30-50 metre clear drop is only 30cms to our left hand side. It is foggy and a bit slippery so we are all careful of where we place our feet between tree roots and rocks. We do not know it yet but day-3 would be the hardest day for many.

The first seven hours before a late lunch is full of steep declines and inclines. We also encounter a number of creek crossings that are nothing more than cut down trees and bamboo used as bridges. We have now encountered heavy mud for the first time and the enthusiasm from the group is diminishing. As we keep trudging in mud and up-hill we pass many ‘man holes’ or ‘bunkers’ that were used during the war. One can only imagine how our soldiers climbed the terrain in the mud with weapons and fighting starvation or a bad dose of malaria, not to mention also being shot at.

We stop to bunch up the group again around 12:30pm and many of the trekkers at the back take off their packs as they reach those at the front. Dave our guide tells the group that we are not at lunch; we still have another hour to go. Many of us are disheartened. Karen Whalebone has a moment and starts crying and at the same time proclaims she doesn’t know why. Simone Skillington complains and yells out “Brighton mums don’t do this type of thing…why am I?” The group soldiers on and we finally reach our lunch site.

After lunch we climb to 1900m above sea-level where the temperature is noticeably cooler. To get through the afternoon Gabe Freeman starts singing out loud to the group the old 80’s song ‘Pump up the Jam’. She also finds the walk hilariously funny which is her way of dealing with the endurance needed to complete the day. Her laughter picks up the spirit of the group.

Our camp for the night is at Templetons One at the base of Mt. Bellamy our highest passing of the trek. The weather is cold as it starts getting dark. Michael Hamilton and I decide it would be a great idea to swim in the nearby river that is flowing freezing water from the top of Mt. Bellamy…what an exhilarating but stupid idea! As I film some of the night’s activities I interview the ‘old moles’ Peter Black and John Wilson. Both confess today was the hardest physical day of their life!

We all rise on day 4 after a solid sleep for many due to the length of yesterday. We feel excited that today we pass over the top of Mt. Bellamy, 2200m above sea-level, and start our slow decent towards Owers Corner our destination on day-8. A few people now have blisters and sore feet so much time is spent taping and preparing our feet for the day ahead. Our first hour of the day is a sheer climb, but what a glorious day. The sun is out and it is nice and fresh. As we reach the top of our first climb the views are worth every minute of burning muscles and heavy breathing. We take a moment to take in what is unexplainable by words and what no photo would do justice. We feel proud of reaching such a summit and our enthusiasm is restored.

The next three hours is a beautiful walk through rainforest and fairly flat ground. Shae Lane and some of the other girls are chit-chatting and can be heard from miles away. Roger Gee suggests that the boys should quickly get away from all the talk, so we push up the front. After such a nice couple of hours we were a bit naïve about what lay ahead of us for the rest of the day. We visit old airfields, plane crash sites and look at still live grenades and mortars. Peter Black is good with his history and gives us a quick history lesson.

Soon after it is time to climb again. Two hours of climbing followed by some severe down-hill terrain and rain takes the wind out of our sails. We are not unhappy, just tired. I walk alongside Rachel Smith on our way down and all of a sudden fall over, everyone laughs at me. Peter Black does the same thing. All we can do is laugh which makes the day more bearable.

We pass through the village of Nadoori where we meet the last ‘Fuzzy Wuzzy Angel’ who is 102 years old. After completing two full days of hard walking and getting more of an understanding of what our brave soldiers went through all of us wipe tears away while listening to a translator relay the ‘fuzzy’s story . The fuzzy asks for the photo I hold of my grandfather, who served on the track. He asks to keep it and wraps it up out of the rain. We spend the night in Kagi where many of our porters live. They are all happy to see their families and we are again high in spirits as we play with the local kids from the village. Even though day 3 was physically tough many of the group confess today was extremely mentally challenging and harder.

Day 5 awakes us once again with crows from the village roosters at 4:45am. There is enthusiasm within the group as we are now over half way however we are all disappointed as one of the members of our group, Roger Gee, has made the decision to be evacuated. Roger had rolled his ankle on day-1 while making his way to the shower at camp. Although in pain he had soldiered on until he rolled it again during our walk on day-4. We all walk out of camp leaving Roger behind. The group is quiet and upset. Roger does promise us however he will have a beer waiting for us all at the end.

The first hour is straight downhill; even three of our local porters fall over along the way. We walk slowly as we descend down a fairly dry stream that turns in to a waterfall down the bottom. The saying of “what goes up must come down” is exactly the opposite on the Kokoda Track. As soon as we reach the bottom of our descent we face exactly the same on the way up. However this time instead of being in lush rainforest we are exposed to the harsh sun and metre high grass alongside the track.

Our toughest climb for the day is just outside Efogi. In the harsh midday sun it takes us 35-minutes to reach the top. As we look down on our climb we get a view of the Efogi air-strip which is on the side of a mountain and definitely not straight. How the pilots land on it I do not know.

Our lunch stop for the afternoon is at Brigade Hill, a spot where a great battle took place and many Australians lost their lives. We listen to our guide Dave talk about soldiers who were told to walk back in to ‘harms way’ after breaking the Japanese lines only minutes earlier. They knew they would not return after heading back to defend the track. However they did so in a heroic effort just to defend Port Moresby and Australia. It dawns on many of us how many selfless Australian soldiers gave their lives in such fashion during the brutal war.

Lunch on Brigade Hill is a cup of soup; salada biscuits with vegemite, peanut butter or salami and cheese; and noodles. Mike Hamilton also pulls out a packet of Fredo frogs which are like heaven for the whole group, even if they had melted a bit after five days in his backpack.

After lunch we descend again for another three hours to the village of Menari. The walk is slow and feels like it takes forever. Many of us have sore legs and our concentration is starting to diminish. It takes great concentration to place our feet between tree roots which wind along the floor of the track. By this stage many of us are singing to make the time go quicker, there is also a reward at the end of today which makes us press on and bear the slow climb down to Menari.

As we reach point 30-minutes from Menrai village we start to hear the strong noise of fast flowing water. Our reward for the day is a swim in the river and rock pools. This is greatly welcomed by the whole group as it is a chance to escape the 30+ degree weather and humidity. We all jump in crystal clear water that is flowing down from the top of Mt. Bellamy. The scenery is what you would expect in the rainforests up in tropical north Queensland. You can sit and relax on the rocks and let the water hit your back or swim around and enjoy the river. This is unless you are a female. As I turn around I see Karen Whalebone and Shae Lane start grouping the women together in a circle with linked arms. Maybe it was some kind of female bonding moment or maybe it was a chance for them to release tension after five days of walking. However like a teenage high-school movie, all the women started to jump up and down screaming. Peter Black, John Wilson, Mike Hamilton and I are not sure whether to be scared or laugh. However we are left dumbfounded as this lasts for over a minute non-stop. We don’t try to understand, we just put it down to the saying “It must be Kokoda”. The swim was fantastic!

We rise on day 6 to the now daily routine of organising our packs, preparing our feet and putting on our damp and some what smelly clothes, all followed by a bowl of weet-bix and cup of coffee. Today is a short day, only 6-hours of walking. We are given the choice of having an early lunch and getting in to camp around 3pm or pushing on without a break to reach camp early and have the afternoon off – we decide that an afternoon full of relaxing sounds the best option.

Once again the beginning of our day is a solid 45-60 minute climb always a great way to get the heart pumping in the morning. The mountain we are climbing has been named ‘nine false peaks’ so as you could imagine as we reached what we though was the peak of a hill we were greeted with only another peak in front of us. We would climb three of three of these peaks today and the following six tomorrow.

The morning is beautiful, it is fresh and the sun is out. The girls as usual are full of conversation and the guys are up front trying to remove themselves from conversations of cooking, menstruation and reality television shows. We soon hit Brown River for the first of many river crossings for the day. Brown River is too wide to lay tree trunks across for a bridge crossing so we take off our boots and walk through the fast moving water with only a rope to hold on to. We spend 30-minutes here to have a swim and freshen up

we are glad that we did freshen up because after leaving Brown River we climb and walk across ridges for other 3-hours until we reach Naoro village at 1:30pm. The scenery from the village is amazing; we sit and ponder how far we have come and feel proud of our efforts. We think the afternoon will be relaxing and quite uneventful however how wrong we are. In the distance we hear the sound of a helicopter as it gets closer and closer. We soon realise that the helicopter may be the same one that has picked up Roger Gee and some of the local porters who stayed with him. The group race to the top of the village where there is enough landing space for the chopper. As it lands Roger steps out along, with the local porters, and tells us how he had a great night in Kagi village with the locals. The helicopter could not land yesterday afternoon due to low cloud cover and fog.

It is hard to explain how seeing Roger injected a great feeling of bonding into the group. We wave Roger good bye as we see him disappear over the mountain ranges however it is not the last time we would see the helicopter during the afternoon. Later in the afternoon in very unlucky and unfortunate circumstances Angela Recchia walks back to the group in pain, she has fallen on her way down to the toilet at the camp and injured her hand. Realising that it is more than just mild soreness we call for the helicopter again which picks up Angela at 4:30pm in the afternoon. We would find out later at the completion of the trek that Angela had broken her wrist and had been flown back to Melbourne earlier than the rest of the group.

On the morning of day 7 we rise just before 5am. The group is on a bit of a high knowing that there is only one more sleep before finishing the track. As we start heading out of camp to conquer the remaining ‘six false peaks’ we talk about how nice it will be to sit on a normal toilet, have a warm shower and sleep in our own beds – it is amazing how the little comforts we have at home are missed dearly out on the track. Enthusiasm is also high with the thought of seeing our families again; many of the members in the group have small children waiting for them at home.

Well there is no other way of explaining the ‘six false peaks’ other than as an absolute bitch! Think about walking the stair master in the gym or a flight of stairs for 3-hours non-stop and you are probably only half way to understanding how everyone’s legs are feeling and the endurance and mental attitude needed to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

It all sounds tough, however, after six days of walking the track, it is as if the group has come to accept that this is just part of everyday and there is really no complaining. Rather, the group starts to sing and tell jokes to make the morning go quickly. And why would we feel tired, the sun is out again and as we look over the mountains and valleys we feel as though we are on top of the world.

After lunch just like the click of a finger our terrain changes. As we descend, we find ourselves walking through beautiful rainforest and along crystal clear creeks. Everything is so green and fresh. We wind along the river crossing it nine times before we reach our resting point for the night. Our camp for the evening is by the river and we make the most of it by spending 45-minutes in the cool water at the end of the day. The afternoon is relaxing; Gabe Freeman hands out stickers and pens to the local children and many of the men play kick to kick with the Aussie rules football that one kid in the village owns.

On the morning of day-8 most of the group wake a little earlier, with great anticipation of finishing the track. Between 4:30am - 5am everyone starts to appear from their tents and start to get their packs organised. As we have breakfast we joke and laugh and even get ready to set off 15 minutes prior to our departure time of 6:30am - something that we had not done all trip.

We are aware that even though today is a relatively short day of roughly 5-hours there are a few strong climbs to conquer before we reach our destination of Owers Corner. One of these climbs is Imita’s Ridge which is an hour in to the start of our day. For some reason I decide that it would be good to have a race up to the top. Dave our guide tells us that the fastest time he has seen completed is 36-minutes so most of us take up the challenge to beat it. I take off first closely followed by Mike Hamilton. After ten minutes of serious climbing I wonder why the hell I decided to make this a race, maybe it was the adrenalin running with knowing that the finish line was not far away. Whatever it was I now think it was a stupid idea. I can feel my heart pounding against my chest and my legs feel like they have two bricks attached to them. While saying this, local PNG guide Peter stays just in front of me looking like he is hardly breaking in to sweat and just taking it in his stride.

We see the top only 50-metres ahead which brings great relief to me and the rest of the group. The front of the group reaches the top in 27-minutes and the rest bring up the rear not far behind which is testament to how fit our group is. As many of us sit or lie down in an effort to get our breathe back and to stop our heart pounding, Peter our local guide pulls out a cigarette and puffs away like he had only been on an easy Sunday morning stroll. As we all are amazed by his fitness we also think at the same time ‘you bastard’ as we gasp to get our breath back.

With the old saying of “what goes up must come down” in mind we start to descend for another hour down the ‘Golden Stairs’ towards the Goldie River. The excitement is taken out of the group a little as the descent seems to drag on longer than expected. We are so keen to reach the end though our legs are weary and time seems to be dragging on. It is funny but most of the group agree that they would much rather walk uphill in comparison to down. The down hill after a couple of days puts a lot of pressure on the knees and quadriceps. The girls however try to pick up our spirits by singing and playing tricks on the guys.

We finally hear the sound of fast flowing water; the Goldie is not far away. As we reach the river many of the group start taking off their boots and replacing them with sandals. Peter Black and I decide we can’t be bothered and decide to walk across with our boots still on, our thoughts are that we are so close now who cares if our boots and feet get wet.

We all re-group on the other side of the river and look ahead. All we have is one last climb and then we have conquered the Kokoda Track. Peter and I look at each other and question whether leaving our boots on was the smartest decision as it feels as though we have an extra couple of kilos to carry now.

We start to climb, in excitement many of us sing as we know the hard work over the last 8-days is about to pay off. There is no way you can explain the feeling of elation, relief, anticipation and self-satisfaction that is flowing through all of us as we trudge proudly up our last incline. For a bit of fun we start singing old favourites like Tina Turner’s ‘You’re simply the best’ and other songs which make us laugh.

However, as if to say “Don’t forget me!” the Kokoda Track dishes out one last climb that takes the stuffing out of you. As we hit 30-minutes in to the final climb, we walk out from underneath the sheltered canopies and in to the harsh mid-day sun. There is only ten minutes left of walking but boy is it going to be tough. Gabe Freeman is leading us but can’t talk and the rest of us are happy to not talk that much anyway. As the sweat pours from our bodies and the legs burn, we look behind us and see the most beautiful mountain ranges we have just conquered, the views are absolutely amazing but the climb is a bitch.

We group one minute from the top and reform our line oldest to youngest. We believe the last 8-days have probably been harder for those who are older and they deserve to lead us through the Kokoda arch and to the end of our trek. John Wilson leads us to the top at the age of 56 years while Shae Lane brings up the rear of the group at 25 years.

There it is; the arches are just in front of us! The feeling mentioned previously that can not be explained comes over everyone again as we walk through to the finish of 8-days of gruelling walking. The first scream comes from Simone Skillington and the rest of the group embrace each other in hugs, many of the group shedding a tear. We are on top of the world. The feeling which flows through all of us is that we can do anything, conquer anything that is put in front of us and beat any challenge that is given to us.

After rejoicing we sit down to a cooked barbeque and a few celebratory beers. We joke and look back behind us at what we have just conquered. “God we are great” is spoken by members of the group. You talk about a natural high then this is it! The words inscribed on the monuments at Isurava - Mateship, Courage, Endurance and Sacrifice could not be any closer to the truth.

Completing the Kokoda Track is one the greatest personal achievements you will ever experience and a great mark of respect to honour the soldiers who fell while protecting our country. These new friendships formed over the past months and the last 8-days will last a lifetime.

Term 4 Group Fitness Training Timetable

The Body you want this summer - workshop notes