Tuesday, 25 April 2023

KOKODA....

For my ANZAC Day post this year, I thought I would share some modern history - my 2008 trek on the Kokoda Track.

What an amazing experience that was!  After 6 months of intensive training - every weekday at the gym, every weekend off hiking somewhere - Wilsons Prom, Arthurs Seat, Mt. Donna Buang, Mt. St. Leonard - in all weather conditions, my daughter and I joined a group of 19 organised through my local gym and arrived in Port Moresby on 6th September to begin our adventure.

Kokoda Topography map - Anzac Portal (dva.gov.au)


The Kokoda Track runs from Owers Corner, about 40 km north of Port Moresby, across the Owen Stanley Range to Kokoda. It is a distance of around 96 km, made up of mostly single-file walking track up and down steep terrain through mud, tree roots and frequent river crossings.

The Track was the location of the Japanese advance from their landing on PNG's northern beaches in July 1942 and their subsequent withdrawal under attack by Australian forces, ending in January 1943.
During this campaign, 2019 Australians lost their lives with a further 3,533 wounded.  Many more would have been incapacitated by diseases. Japanese losses are estimated to be 5000 killed, 5400 wounded.
(source: Field Guide to Kokoda Track - a historical guide to the lost battlefields, by Bill James, Kokoda Press 2006)


DAY ONE - Port Moresby to Goodwater:
Our day began early, leaving Port Moresby for a bus trip out to Bomana War Cemetery. This beautiful and very moving cemetery contains the graves of 3,824 service personnel from the Kokoda, Milne Bay and Bougainville campaigns. Around 700 of these are unidentified - their headstones marked Known only to God. Many of these are British Royal Artillery prisoners of war who died of malnutrition and disease in the Solomon Islands. On a hill overlooking the cemetery is the Rotunda where 750 servicemen who have no known graves are memorialised.

You can read my previous post about my father's role in the Bougainville Campaign here.

Bomana War Cemetery
©Kaypilk 2008

 
Then back on the bus and out to Owers Corner for lunch and the beginning of our trek.  Owers Corner is the end of the road, and official starting (or ending) point of Kokoda Track. 

                                                            Owers Corner - the beginning
                                                                     ©Kaypilk 2008
  
We walked for about 3 hours the first day, with a slippery descent to our first river crossing over the Goldie River, arriving wet & muddy to our first campsite at a place called Goodwater. A quick wash in the river, dinner and into bed by 7.30pm.

DAY 2 - Goodwater to Ioribaiwa village:
Up at 5am and left camp by 7am.
First rest stop was at Imita Ridge, reached by a steep climb up the Golden Stairs.  Imita Ridge was the southern-most point of the Australian retreat, from where they fired their 25 pound guns at Ioribaiwa Ridge where the Japanese were entrenched.  From there, we had a very tiring, long, steep descent down to the Ua Ule Creek.  The track then followed the creek valley, crossing over and through the creek about 20 times. One of our group slipped and badly injured her ankle, needing the porters to rig up a bush stretcher and carry her to our campsite.  The climb up out of the valley included several very steep sections. We arrived at our camp in Ioribaiwa village at 3pm, having covered a distance of only 7.5km for the day.

Sunset from Ioribaiwa village
©Kaypilk 2008


DAY 3 - Ioribaiwa Village to Agalogo village:
A long hard day, beginning with a climb up Ioribaiwa Ridge to explore the trench-lines and fox-holes of both Australian and Japanese forces. A short break for a moment of reflection with reading of poem and a minutes silence. Then a steep descent down into a valley and river crossing of Ofi Creek, climbing up the other side to our very welcome lunch stop. In the afternoon lots more climbing and descending, including a particularly steep bit known as the Japanese Ladder, then a short stop at New Nauro village where we met some cute little kids and enjoyed spectacular 360 degree views. We had another steep descent down to cross the Brown River via a log bridge, and then a lengthy flattish walk through an awesome thunderstorm to reach our camp for the night, where we had a very welcome river bath.

DAY 4 - Agalogo to Efogi 1:
Today commenced with an almost vertical climb up what is known as The Wall.  Even our porters claim not to like this section of the track. We walked through the village of Menari and on to lunch at Brigade Hill, which on 8 September 1942 was the scene of one of the most intense battles between the Aussies and the Japanese. 62 Australians fell during that battle and the subsequent withdrawal.
We spent some time here, having a short memorial tribute to the fallen and some beautiful singing by our PNG porters. Then a 2 hour afternoon walk to our camp for the night at Efogi 1 village.

The Track
©Kaypilk 2008


DAY 5 - Efogi 1 to 1900 Camp:
Possibly the most difficult day of the trek for me. More climbing and descending, plus a longish walk through open country in direct sun. One of the men in our group called it quits when we stopped for a rest in the village of Naduri.  We left him behind awaiting a helicopter to take him back to Port Moresby.  After stopping again for lunch at Kagi Gap, we took a side trip off the track in the afternoon to view the remains of an American B-25 Mitchell bomber which had crashed near Myola village, with the loss of 7 American airmen. There is still an unexploded 230kg bomb embedded in the ground there.
We then walked through the eerie Moss Forest, full of giant Pandanus palms with huge buttress-rooted trunks, and Beech trees draped in trailing columns of moss, to our camp at 1900 campsite.  We were told that the porters say this place is full of spirits and will often not sleep while they are here.  It was a very intense place, with the sound of the wind through the Pandanus palms, and crickets making a continuous high-pitched almost screaming noise. The porters built a huge bonfire and we spent the evening sitting around it listening to them singing with their beautiful harmonies.


Camp 1900 bonfire
©Kaypilk 2008



DAY 6 - Camp 1900 to Eora Creek:
On this day we reached the highest point on the Track - a ridge of Mt. Bellamy at 2190 metres, and then a long steep downhill walk with several river crossings to the Eora Creek campsite. Very hard on the knees, especially since it was slippery mud most of the way.  Eora was a village which became an Aid Station during the war.  It was also the scene of very heavy fighting and losses on both sides during the withdrawal and advance.

Crossing Eora Creek
©Kaypilk 2008


DAY 7 - Eora Creek to Isurava village:
We spent the morning exploring the surrounding ridge which had been a Japanese encampment, with a big gun trained directly on Eora Creek village. The remains of the gun with lots of ammunition, some of it still live, are still there. Another village visit meeting the local children, and then on to Isurava battlefield and Memorial site.  On arrival we had a magnificent view from the memorial looking down the valley towards Kokoda, but within minutes the cloud came down and there was no view at all.
The Isurava Memorial is very impressive - four massive granite blocks representing Courage, Endurance, Mateship and Sacrifice.  We had a short memorial service there before the rain really set in and we had a very wet walk down to Isurava village for our camp for the night.

Isurava Memorial
©Kaypilk 2008


DAY 8 - Isurava village to Kokoda:
Our last day on the Track! Set off in the rain, which hadn't let up all night. The walk required total concentration for every step. By mid-morning the rain had eased, but still heavy cloud cover prevented us from seeing the reportedly spectacular views from the village of Deniki. The afternoon was a long straight and mostly flat walk into Kokoda.  96 kms, or 156,569 steps in 8 days - not sure where I got that number from, but it is what I wrote in my diary at the time.
One of the men in our group went to the general store and bought a slab of beer, so we all sat round and enjoyed the most welcome beer I have ever had. 
After a welcome bush shower and change into clean dry clothes, I and another nurse in our group collected up everyone's left over first aid items and took them across the road to the local Kokoda Hospital, where the nurses were happy to show us around. They were desperately short of even basic supplies.
Finished the day with a delicious traditional PNG meal of chicken cooked in the ground with ginger and lime, sweet potato, sweet corn and greens, cooked by our porters who also entertained us with more of their amazing singing.

The end of the Track
©Kaypilk 2008


DAY 9 - Kokoda to Port Moresby:
Explored the Kokoda memorials and the small museum there in the morning, then a 45 min walk out to the airfield which was located next to a large palm oil plantation. Very hot down in the valley, with no breeze to cool down.  Time to risk my life boarding a 52 year old, 18 seater twin prop aircraft operated by Airlines PNG for the short 35 min flight back to Port Moresby - and hot water, clean clothes and a good foot massage!

Homeward Bound
©Kaypilk 2008

This trip was amazing, challenging, confronting, informative, inspiring, humbling, fulfilling and a whole lot more.  The heat and humidity, the mud and the wet, the lack of facilities tested us every day.
And we had the luxury of modern, light weight fabrics(which still were constantly wet) and hiking gear, carried a day pack while our porters carried our main packs, and the only shots we took were photos.  I cannot imagine how our Diggers did what they did in the conditions they endured. It must have truly been hell on earth.  

LEST WE FORGET.




Monday, 9 January 2023

Holidays...

January ... Christmas over and done with and on to the serious business of Summer holidays!

As a child, the long summer break seemed to stretch endlessly in front of us. I've written about our childhood summer holidays previously in The Shack

Being a clergyman, Christmas was a busy time of year for Dad, but come Boxing Day he took his three weeks annual leave, loaded up the car and the family headed off to Sandy Point.  We've continued that tradition as adults, spending time at Sandy Point every year.

This year, for a couple of reasons, there will be no Sandy Point summer holiday for me.  That's a whole other story for another time (maybe). In honour of summer holidays, I thought I would reproduce a story written by my mother about a holiday journey many years ago before I was born.

Between 1951 and the end of 1954, my father was the Vicar of St James Anglican Church in Orbost, in East Gippsland, Victoria.  Orbost was a remote township, almost 400 kilometres from Melbourne, and 300 kilometres from Sandy Point, so it was a long drive to undertake in the heat of summer with small children on board.  Roads of the 1950's would have been a lot more challenging than they are today.



I'm not sure from Mum's account which year exactly this event took place, but she would have either been pregnant and with two small boys aged 3 and 1, or they would have had 3 children under the age of 5.  Here is Mum's story:  

On one memorable holiday we packed the car full to overflowing with children and belongings, besides a trailer which Father managed to borrow from a friend and set off. Oh, the joy of freedom!  We had travelled a considerable distance when we realised that all was not well with the trailer.

A tyre had burst. Father changed it and we set off once more only to find another tyre gone not long afterwards.  We called in to a garage where repairs were made and set off on the longest stretch between civilisation, late in the afternoon.  Before long, we had another trailer blow-out.  This was too devastating, for we were miles from anywhere, and besides all garages were shut by then.

We considered our fate, and thanked God for the kind friend who had lent us a tarpaulin - at least THAT could not go wrong! Fortunately, Father's scout training stood us in good stead.  He made a nice little fire in true bushman's style, then went hunting for some water in what I considered a most unlikely spot, whilst I set about cooking some tea. Oh, how fortunate we had some provisions with us.

Afterwards, Father rigged the tarpaulin up beside the car where we curled up for the night.  The children had beds made up in the car, so we were all reasonably comfortable.

Next morning, after a little breakfast, Father decided to unhook the car and drive back to the nearest town, six miles away.  The loaded trailer could not be left unattended, so the children and I stayed along the roadside with it.

After a while the novelty of the situation began to pall.  There was nothing for the nips to do, and the day was becoming increasingly hot. Something had to be done to remedy the situation until Father returned.

Suddenly I remembered I had my violin in the luggage.  What a blessing! We then played gypsies. I fiddled nursery rhymes whilst the children sang lustily at the tops of their voices.  When we had gone through the repertoire of children's songs, we started on hymns.

Being on an inter-state highway, the reaction of passing motorists afforded much amusement.  I'll bet there were a lot of cricked necks that day - they were still looking backwards as they drove out of sight!

In due course Father returned, and we set off without further mishap until we approached our destination. Here we became bogged in sand 14 times over the last mile.

-------------

This story was originally published in a weekly column titled 'Within the Vicarage Walls' which my mother wrote for "The Anglican" newspaper in the late 1950's and early 1960's.

My mother aged 18, 1941
Pilkington Family Collection

That last mile or so of the trip was literally a sand track bulldozed through the bush. Becoming bogged was a matter of when, not if, up until the mid-60's when a gravel road was made.

The road to Shallow Inlet
Pilkington Family Collection