Archives for December 2015

Into the land of the headhunters (Part 4 – Mount Giluwe)

December 16, 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

We had agreed to get up around 5am. Although there is some stirring around that time, the chilly air is a disincentive. There is still a glow in the fire but little warmth coming from it. As the fire ebbs during the night, my snugness also reduces so in the latter hours my sleep is broken. Even in the tropics, when you are at 3,400m (11,200ft) it can be cold. It does occasionally snow up here. It is time to climb Mount Giluwe.

We manage to be up and eating watery porridge by 6am. The youngsters are going no further. They are instructed to tidy up the hut and take the spare gear and food back across the valley to our outward route where they will meet us. Gedion, his brother and I are on our way by 6.30am.

And what a morning it is. I am so lucky. As I mention in a previous blog, the Papua New Guinea dry season just means that it is slightly less wet than the wet season. The day before has seen clouds swirling around the plateau and the summits with occasional patches of rain. Today there is not a cloud in the sky.

In the shadow my breath condenses in the air. An almost full moon is in the sky ahead. To start the way is hard working our way up the slopes of long rough grass. But we gradually trend left and re-cross the stream we had crossed the day before. Now two steps take us across. On the other side a faint trail appears.

Up to the right is the summit, seen in this zoomed shot.

To the left the sun spills over the subsidiary summit, sunbeams piercing the way ahead.

After the initial steep slopes we enter a shallow bowl.

Ahead is a grassy headwall topped by a ridge that links the main summit with the subsidiary summit. We follow a solid path that slants up to the right to meet the ridge near its low point.

Here is the view of the way ahead.

Although it looks straightforward, the steepness is significant as shown in this shot.

Indeed previous visitors (Russians I believe) had deemed it necessary to bolt the route.

Today it is a grassy scramble with the occasional tiptoe on narrow grassy ledges around the rocky outcrops. At times the exposure is quite great. If the grass had been wet, there would have been a constant danger of a slip, likely to be quite serious. On the lower slopes, Gedion’s brother decides he is too tired to continue. So we leave him with our bags. I just take my camera and a water bottle. The scramble at times requires grabbing on to grasses where there is no rock to do so. I have to be careful to hold live specimens. The dead ones come away in my hand.

A final grassy gulley is met and there above us is a pole that marks the summit.

Gedion insists I lead this section. We are at the top at 8.45am, just over two hours after setting off from the hut. I shake Gedion’s hand. There is a chill breeze on the top that I notice for the first time, the effort of the climb and the shelter provide by the summit block having masked it. The views, of course, are stunning.

Here is the valley in which our hut is situated with the plateau we crossed behind.

Here is a short ridge off.

And here is the subsidiary summit with the linking ridge. The slanting path I mention above passes below the rocky knoll to the left of the ridge.

View to the north

Panorama

Gedion on top

Me on top

Another view north

Close up of the jaggedy subsidiary summit.

Zoom to Mount Wilhelm which is PNG’s highest mountain – seen over one of the pinnacles of the subsidiary summit.

View across the plateau.

After 25 minutes on top it is time to leave. I have still not made the decision whether to spend another night on the mountain or to try and make it back to the village. Here are some shots taken on the initial descent. We pick up Gedion’s brother and our bags on our way.

Back to the summit.

Looking down from the ridge – the woodland with the hut is the small one in the middle.

Guides pointing the way! In fact we go down into the valley which is behind them and then up onto what looks like a ridge line which is also behind them just above their heads.

At this point I was feeling quite chuffed. And during this part of the walk out I notice lots of flowers that I had missed on the climb that morning. Here is a selection.

And here is the path that we are following

We descend down into the valley and find the kids who had brought the gear from the hut. Here are yet more flowers/plants and Gedion posing in front of the summit block.

We stop for some refreshments. Gedion’s brother says he has a headache so I fetch some paracetamol out of my bag and gave him one. I take my sleeping bag and a few spare clothes from the boys and pack them in my bag. Then I offer them a treat as a reward for bringing the gear – some jelly babies. I ask Gedion’s permission first. The boys look suspiciously at them at first. But the moment they are popped into their mouths smiles appeared on their faces. The adults now want a try so another couple of rounds are distributed and my supply is severely depleted.

We now have the small matter of 300m (1,000ft) of climbing back up on to the plateau. It is now quite warm and the climb is energy sapping. Our little group spreads out – though in the case of Gedion and his brother it is as a result of a further cigarette break. Here we are about ¾ of the way up having just re-crossed the squelchy level section half way up. [I have marked the approximate route of our ascent/descent so far as it is visible in this photo. You may need to click on the image to see the red line.]

The boys struggle up this part. But we are back on the plateau at 12.30pm. Soon after we stop for some lunch. Using the machete, Gedion’s brother chops up a pineapple and hands big chunks around. It is absolutely delicious. He also cooks a huge pile of rice and mixes in more corned beef and vegetables. I am too hot and dehydrated to eat much of it. The dehydration is odd because I have already consumed 2 litres of water. I should have had more I guess. But we do finish the jelly babies.

From our lunch spot we can look back at where I have been. Note the build-up of clouds. [Again, in the next picture I have marked the approximate route and it also shows where the hut is.]

We seem to make good progress across the plateau. 45 minutes after leaving our lunch spot we pass this nice tarn. We will drop off the plateau near the large plug to the right.

A few minutes beyond the tarn I am shown some more caves.

It would be feasible to use these as a launch point for the summit but it would be a fair way and one would probably have to return here after the attempt rather than get off the mountain. But this might be a poor weather option. Here is the view back to the twin summits 20 minutes beyond the caves.

And yet a further 20 minutes on past the annoying dip in the ridge we are almost at the plug that marks the descent off the plateau.

It then takes a further 2¼ hours to reach the edge of the forest. It is 4.15pm.

During that time I have been debating off and on with Gedion whether to try to make it back to the village. He leaves the decision to me.

I make the mistake of thinking that descending through the forest will be easier than ascending. This is not the case for two reasons. First, it simply is not. The obstacle course that is jungle walking does not make this possible. Secondly after 45 minutes it goes dark. Now it is normally quite dark in a rain forest, but the sun sets at around 6pm and by 5pm it was disappearing behind other high ground.

As dusk draws in the noises of the jungle starts. The most disconcerting is the screeching. It is loud. It is blood curdling, spine chilling. I am told that the noise is made by a type of bird. It could be a swarm of ghouls as far as I know, or Dementors. In the fading light I slip on mud and roots, ascend and tiptoe along rough fallen tree trunks, am snared by creepers and trip on hidden rocks. The boys disappear ahead, not to be seen again, at least not until the village. In my tiredness I feel this all taking so long.

When it finally goes dark I lend a spare head torch to Gideon and keep hold of another one. The yellow halo captures some of the traps in its ring of light. At one point I am told it is another hour to the village. Surely that is not right? We must be closer than that? But the obstacle course continues.

Perhaps it would have been best to stay another night on the mountain, perhaps in the caves. That would have been fun, at least more fun than this purgatorial descent. And then, and then…. the insects. I am still wearing my hat, though I am sweaty. It is as well that I do. I end up with a ring of red dots across my forehead where the beasts have crawled off the hat and sunk their teeth into the first bit of skin they find. Without the hat my whole scalp would probably have been attacked! I do wise up to this and there is carnage on my brow. But often it is difficult to fight a battle with the beasts on the one hand and keep one’s balance on the other.

This goes on and on. I try to remember the few landmarks from the ascent, but I see none. Are they taking me back a different way I wonder? No, relief, the trees suddenly thin and we are into the scrubland and then the grassland. And then the village!

Although I have exercised my option to require being taken back to the Magic Mountain Nature Lodge, it will be a while before my transport arrives. So I am invited into his home by Gedion. I am amazed to see that it had taken just two hours to make my way down through the jungle. It certainly felt a lot longer than that. I feel a bit churlish at having turned down also an offer to stay the night in the village. But being the softie that I am I am looking forward to a shower and a bed for the night.

The tale of the next two hours is told in my first blog on Papua New Guinea. But I spent a happy time with the family. Here I am with Grace, Yarex and Rendy, face flushed by the tropical sun and the heat within the hut.

Here’s another picture of the happy family.

Eventually the car arrives. I say my goodbyes. The whole family is there. It is strangely emotional, as much for them as for me. Racheal gives me a hand woven bag to take home for Kirsty. I slip Gedion a tip – not a huge amount in my terms but possibly equal to 5% of his annual income. Hopefully it will enable them to buy some chickens.

And I am off into the dark. The car bounces around before we get to the surfaced road in Tambul. Again I have a driver and one other to collect me. They are interested to find out if I managed to reach the summit. They are also interested to hear what I think of their country. We then talk about birds of paradise, the national symbol of PNG. Perhaps, next time, I can be taken to search for them.

We are back to Magic Mountain just before 9pm. Food is offered. I say that a sandwich or similar will do. There is time first to change and have a shower. I shower away the flies first.

I then go up to the dining room. The Turks have gone. Other guests are here though they have all retired to their lodges. A sumptuous meal is served – not sandwiches but meat cutlets and veggies galore. I actually make a good attempt at it and feel rather bloated at the end. I go back to my lodge and sleep well.

What a few days!

Post Script

As I am down off Mt Giluwe a day early I spend most of the day wandering around the gardens of Magic Mountain and sitting on the porch of my lodge reading. It is most relaxing. At breakfast I chat with an American couple who have arrived for the Mount Hagen Festival. I know I am to be turfed out of my room mid-afternoon and taken to a hotel in Mount Hagen. This duly happens and I stay at the Airport Resort Hotel – just a few hundred metres from the entrance to the airport. It is basic but fine. The grounds are surrounded by high walls with barbed wire. The entrance gate is 5 metres high and the entrance is guarded from a watch tower. Welcome to PNG!

I am eating my breakfast the following morning and Pym arrives to say goodbye to me. That is a nice touch. I am then on my way. The flights to Port Moresby and then on to Cairns are on time. Julie is there in Cairns to pick me up, though not before I have had some fun with Australian customs. But that is another story.

End note

Mount Giluwe receives about 20 ascents a year at most. Very few Britons climb it, at least at the moment. British outfits such as Adventure Peaks and Jagged Globe are now offering trips there in tandem with a climb up Mount Wilhelm. There is a difficult balance to be struck here. Clearly the tourist dollar or pound or rouble (most visitors to Giluwe are from Russia (or former Soviet states) at the moment I was told) will be welcome to the PNG economy and, particularly, to families such as Gedion’s.

But if each group taken up by Gedion or other villagers produces a fire in the hut such as that I experienced, the slopes of Giluwe will soon be denuded of woodland. It is a fairly pristine environment up there. I saw one piece of rubbish (a discarded cereal bar wrapper as I recall) the whole time I was on the plateau. I hope that the impact of greater numbers of visitors will be well managed.

#volcanicsevensummits

Into the land of the headhunters (Part 3 – En route to Mount Giluwe)

December 9, 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Again it is up at 6am for me, though we need to be away today by 7am for our journey to Mount Giluwe. There is a bit of a drive to get to our start point. I feel fine after yesterday’s exertions on Mt Hagen. Hopefully the fact that I reached about 3,600m (11,800ft) will have helped with the acclimatisation.

I breakfast outside on the outside deck next to the dining area. It is rather pleasant.

We leave promptly. Arrangements for this trip have been made by Paiya Tours who run the Magic Mountain Nature Lodge. Paiya Tours is owned by Pym and Elisabeth Mamindi. Other than the disappointment on Mt Hagen I found the arrangements they put in place to be excellent. An advantage of organising a bespoke trip is that I could dictate the arrangements. This I did for Mount Giluwe by adding an extra day in case of bad weather (or the climb being more difficult than I expected). So I had the option of doing the climb in two or three days. The decision would be made once I was on the mountain.

Mount Giluwe is a shield volcano. Standing at 4,367m (14,327ft) it is the second highest peak in Papua New Guinea and the highest volcano in Australasia. Shield volcanoes compare to stratovolcanoes in that the latter form cones with a distinctive crater or craters in the middle rather like Pico de Orizaba in Mexico (see my November 2014 blogs), Mount Damavand (see my October/November 2015 blogs) or the classically shaped Mt Fuji in Japan.

Shield volcanoes on the other hand are “a type of volcano usually built almost entirely of fluid magma flows. They are named for their large size and low profile, resembling a warrior’s shield lying on the ground. This is caused by the highly fluid lava they erupt, which travels farther than lava erupted from stratovolcanoes. This results in the steady accumulation of broad sheets of lava, building up the shield volcano’s distinctive form. Shield volcanoes shape is due to the low-viscosity magma of their mafic lava”. (thanks to Wikipedia for that explanation)

So my first view of Mount Giluwe which was from around 16 miles (26 km) to the north east bore this out.

And here is a zoom from the same spot.

Such volcanoes tend to be low and flattish. But there are exceptions, including Mount Giluwe and the Hawaiian volcanoes. What they all have in common is that they each individually cover large areas of the Earth’s surface (because their lava flows are so much more viscous). Mount Giluwe is about 15.6 miles (25km) north to south and 12.5 miles (20km) east to west (that’s about 180 square miles).

Now for the final bit of geology. Mount Giluwe in its current state was formed around 220,000 – 300,000 years ago. In fact it sits on top of an even older stratovolcano which is significantly eroded but remnants of its volcanic plugs form the mountain’s various summits.

As usual I am travelling in a Land Cruiser. The driver and one other accompany me. We follow the Highlands Highway for a short while before turning left off it. Here the road deteriorates, although still metalled. At one point almost half the road has subsided down the hillside. I wouldn’t have like being driven there in the dark! A bit further on some locals are seated by the side of the road selling their wares. We stop. Food and some clothes are on offer. My driver buys some peanuts which we share between us.

We grind in low gears over some high ground (from where the Giluwe pictures above were taken) and then lose height again. Eventually we reach the town of Tambul where the tarmac runs out. In fact I would go so far as to say that once on the other side of Tambul the road runs out to all intents and purposes.

Now I have been on rough roads in my time in Namibia, in Egypt and in the Northern Territory of Australia. But this one beats them all. We end up driving over and along boulders. It is like being tossed around on a boat in a violent storm. I have to hold on hard to stop my head banging on to the sides or even the roof of the vehicle.

Eventually we stop. Here is the entrance to part of the village of Mailka. This will be my starting point.

I get out of the car with my companions and by the time I have also pulled out my rucksack I am surrounded by a couple of women, a few more children and some excited noise. I am led up the muddy path and this opens up to a level grassy clearing in which there are two huts. Gedion and his brother are waiting for me there. There is some discussion with a couple of boys over where some pots and pans are to be stuffed.

My driver and companion have some food which is distributed, and a tent. In my discussions back at the Lodge I say that a tent is not necessary. I am not entirely certain where I will stay the night. Caves have been mentioned. If caves are to be involved, that is where I want to stay. But the group insist that the tent is taken. It soon becomes apparent that the boys (Yarex and Rendy) are to come along. They are aged 12 and 10, I think.

So I am to be accompanied by Gedion, his brother and the two boys who I ascertain to be Gedion’s sons. As the final bits and pieces are being assembled it is suggested that the boys lead me off. They have shoulder bags and one carries a kettle in his hand. So at around 8.30am we leave the village.

Immediately behind the village we weave our way around a considerable area of these mounds. Here are where the village’s staple, the sweet potato, is grown.

Beyond, there is an area of maintained grassland. This is not grassland for grazing animals but long grasses that are cut as material for bedding, thatching and the like. Next we move into an intermediate area where the jungle begins with a mix of grass, stunted trees and larger trees.

The path is clear but sometimes consists of deep runnels where tropical rains have carved deep cuttings. Sometimes we walk along their sides, sometimes along the bottom. Soon we are in the jungle. Here is the path near the start.

The previous day’s outing on Mt Hagen has prepared me for the nature of the terrain. My guides move through it effortlessly. Gedion is wearing green wellies with holes in them. The others walk in bare feet. Conversation is sparse, in part because only Gedion has any sort of confidence with English. To start, the way is not so much of an obstacle course. Perhaps the villagers keep it clear near the village. The climbing is steady. There are a few branches in the path, thank goodness I have guides! Otherwise I would soon be lost. On occasions at a steepening in the path there is a staircase of tree roots.

It is difficult to gauge what progress is being made. It is warm and muggy. Looking straight up the blue sky is broken by large puffy white clouds. The sun dapples the ground. There is the occasion small clearing where a larger patch of sunlight finds the ground. But generally the jungle is quite oppressive as we weave our way ever on. After an hour and a half we descend a little to where a stream cuts its way through the jungle. We stop for a break. Although I understand from my research that the water is safe to drink in the jungles of PNG I decide to rely on the bottled water I have brought from the Lodge for the time being. Now is not the time to risk a tummy bug.

We set off again. At one point we pass a stick thrust vertically into the ground. It is charred and has a pointed end to it. I enquire as to its presence and am told that the locals have caught and then cooked a cuscus here. A cuscus is a type of marsupial the size of a domesticated cat. It is slow moving and nocturnal. So easy to catch perhaps, assuming you can find it in the first place.

Another hour later and the jungle shows no sign of ending. We have another brief stop. I pull a snack out of my rucksack. The elder of the two boys pulls out a catapult. He starts firing small rocks at nearby trees.

I decide that an English lesson is now in order. I ask him if he knows what he is holding is in English. Of course, the answer is “no”. So I say “catapult”; he tries to copy me: “cuttle”. Mmm. I try a different tactic. Cat – a – pult. Cat – a – pult (even more slowly this time). I ask him if he knows what a cat is and go “meow”. A grin appears on his face. Yes he knows what “cat” is. The others watch and listen intently, dad amused. So I say “cat – meow – a – pult” a few times. “Cat – a – pull” is the response. Ah ha, perhaps I am getting somewhere.

I have him repeat it a couple of times. Let’s see if it sticks. Meanwhile the two adults are having their third or fourth cigarette of the trip. Occasionally I would be toiling upwards and one or other would disappear to light up. They would still catch me up though soon enough!

The lesson over, it is time to move on. Off we go. Eventually, three hours after setting off we emerge from the jungle and into the open grassland above.

We carry on for 5 minutes and we stop for lunch. I have some cheese sandwiches, juice and fruit supplemented by a snack that I have brought. Here is a view back to the upper edge of the jungle.

We stop for 40 minutes. I start off again leaving the adults puffing away on yet more cigarettes. The boys show me the way. There is a faint trail in the grass. The ground climbs a little more steeply now. The three of us are some way ahead of the adults now. I take a couple of shots back to them at varying level of zoom.

A little further on there are some caves. Unfortunately these are not the ones that we are to stay in. But from near the caves, looming in the cloud, I can see the first evidence of volcanic remnants.

This shot is another zoom. Here is the view without the zoom.

The trail trends up to the ridge on the left of the photo and skirts the little plug in the top left of the photo. In fact most of the way today there is a trail, sketchy in places. It takes about 50 minutes to walk from here to beneath the outcrops in the distance. Just as the ridge merges into the higher ground, the path veers off and to the left. A short section of undulating ground where another ridge joins is followed. There is then a descent into boggier ground.

But the landscape starts to become a little more interesting. Trending to the right a short valley is entered with volcanic plugs rearing above.

Here is a view back along that valley.

The ground now rises more steeply up on to a plateau.

For a while the ground is quite wet and rough before it opens up on the final rise. The ascent here will be around 200m (660ft).

As the plateau is reached we are surrounded by outcrops. It is now over 2½ hours since we stopped for lunch. We arrive at the northern edge of the plateau. The summit is nearer the southern edge.

There is then a short ridge with an annoying steep and deep down and up before the main part of the plateau is reached. Clouds sweeps over us from time to time. There is a little drizzle in the air but nothing too wetting.

Finally we are on the plateau. The plateau is wet. A few tarns are dotted about. As we cross, the majority of steps are accompanied by a splash or a squelch. But rarely is the water more than a few centimetres deep. Ahead there is a blanket of cloud that prevents much of a view. But 40 minutes later a brief break in the cloud allows me to take this shot of Mount Giluwe’s twin summits. We have been going almost 7 hours.

A few moments later I am able to take these dramatic zoomed shots of each summit.

Half an hour later this is what the view to the main summit looks like.

The team decide they want me to take their photo (note the bare feet and wellies). We have a brief stop for drink and a snack.

Although the summit (which is behind them in the cloud) does not look that far away, it is another 1 hour 45 minutes before we arrive at this point. This sight comes into view shortly after the start of a rather disconcerting 300m (1,000ft) drop into a valley separating us from the main peak. Tucked in out of sight on the slope below is a piece of woodland where I am told there is a hut.

By now, 9 hours after we have started out, I am becoming decidedly weary. We work our way down some steep grassy slopes and then cross a more level wet section before continuing our downward path. The woodland comes into view and Gedion goes ahead to check the hut. He comes back and says we will not be staying there – it has burnt down, or perhaps has been burnt down.

A brief explanation might be in order here. Gedion has explained to me that Mount Giluwe is on his tribe’s land. He has repeated this on a number of occasions. I know that ascents are made also from the other side of the mountain through other tribal lands. Gedion acknowledged this. There is therefore the possibility that someone from another tribe have been up here and have set the hut alight. He and his brother scan the valley and Gedion announces that there is another hut in a piece of woodland on the other side of the valley.

I look at where they were pointing. I can certainly see the woodland, but I can see no sign of any hut. So we traipse off across trackless tussocky grassland down to a large stream, hop across on some rocks and start climbing up similar terrain towards the woodland. Here is the view of the woodland. See the hut?

No, neither can I.

Well here it is.

We arrive at the hut 9¾ hours after we leave the village. The kids are sent down to the river to collect water in the pans that they have been carrying. They are then given a machete so as to cut some of the dry grass. In the meantime Gedion and his brother start wielding the axe to chop wood for the fire. I try to make myself useful by collecting smaller, fallen branches.

The hut needs some upgrading. A wall at the rear of the hut needs to be installed in order to make sure the air movement goes up to the gap in the roof rather than through the hut. So some significant branches are felled to do this. Within the hut there is a raised sleeping platform on one side of the hut, a fire in the middle and on the other side, and slightly below the fire, another area about a metre wide against the sloping boughs of the other long wall.

The grasses collected by the boys are placed on the sleeping platform and in the metre wide area and also used to stuff the gaps in the newly formed wall at the far end. Some spare grass will be used as kindling for the fire.

Entrance to the hut

The chopping goes on for quite some while. I am offered the tent, but I decline. I haven’t come this far not to sleep in the hut! Gradually the wood for the fire grows to enormous proportions and is lit. It is soon raging. The smoke largely vents up through the slit in the roof though the atmosphere within the hut becomes a little smoky.

Gedion starts to prepare a meal. Yarex, who has been carrying a few sweet potatoes places them adjacent to the fire. Over the next couple of hours he turns them on a regular basis as they roast. Gedion concocts a mush out of corned beef and rice. This is preceded by soup made out of packets. Hot water accompanies. I am surprisingly dehydrated notwithstanding the humidity. So whilst I drink I do not feel all that hungry. I decline seconds and the rice pudding that was available for desert.

I take a sweet potato when it is offered but choose the smallest. It is a struggle to eat it and I need to wash each mouthful down.

Gedion, his brother and Rendy will sleep up on the platform. Being slightly higher than the fire that might keep them warm. They have brought no blankets (or anything to cover them). Yarex and I will occupy the small area on the other side of the fire. I have brought a light down sleeping bag with me.

At one point I go out of the hut to relieve myself. It is decidedly chilly out there. We are probably 800m to 1,000m below the summit – so at around 3,400m (11,200ft). Above the sky is clear and without any light pollution I can see zillions of stars. To the north, though, I see regular flashes of lightning. Let’s hope that that weather does not move our way.

Back in the hut we are ready to settle down. The boys are cold – so I lend them each a spare pair of socks that I am carrying. Yarex is also lent some gloves. Gedion’s brother also borrows some gloves. My guilt at being in the comfort of a sleeping bag is therefore somewhat assuaged.

I fall asleep with the warm glow of the fire heating my face looking forward to what the morning will bring.

Into the land of the headhunters (Part 2 – Mt Hagen)

December 3, 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Sunday 10th August 2014

My meeting with Grace occurred towards the end of my trip to Papua New Guinea. Let me take you back to the start. On Sunday, 10^th August I am dropped off at Brisbane airport by Julie for my flight to Port Moresby. The check in desk is not open when I arrive but once it does the process is over quickly and I then look for something to eat. I find a cafe and have some expensive but tasty pancakes for breakfast and to kill some time. WiFi is available so I check e-mails and the weather forecast for my mountain objectives. Not too bad.

The Air Nuigini plane is a 737 seemingly well fitted out and possibly relatively new. I have a decent seat in row 12 by the window. The plane is about 75% full. After take-off there are brief views of the Brisbane River and the coast to the north but it soon clouds over. At one point I think I can see a Barrier Reef atoll. There are no further views until the descent to Port Moresby. Refreshments comprise juice and a couple of biscuits. The first biscuit is quite nice so I decide to keep the other for later on the mountain.

Port Moresby airport comes into view, located in a valley beyond a small group of low hills from the city itself. The city has a few higher buildings and there is plenty of traffic on the roads below. Out to sea a reef protects the city’s harbour, broken low clouds hang over the land.

We land. Passengers descend the steps and walk across the apron to the terminal building. An entry card has to be completed. As I do not have a pen I have to ask an airport employee to borrow one! I am glad I obtained my visa in the UK as the queue for visas on arrival is long and slow moving. Immigration and customs requirements are straightforward and I make my way to the exit not really knowing what to expect.

The exit from customs is through an ordinary door and along a narrow passage with a dirty white wall on one side and a railing on the other. I see “James Stones” on a piece of paper among a sea of faces at the far end. I make my way to the sign and introduce myself. The “meet and greet” has been organised by my agent from Mt Hagen.

This is not quite as indulgent as might first seem. Although the onward flight is from the other, domestic terminal, I have to drop my bag in the international terminal and obtain my boarding pass here too. Once that has been achieved, we walked the two or three minutes to the domestic terminal in the hot and humid air. There my hand luggage is subject to screening. This is a bit of a laugh really because a little further on in the terminal there is an exit without any security which people are using as an entrance. Still in order to access the gate there is a further screening and my guide leaves me at this point. I now have a 90 minute wait for the onward flight to Mt Hagen.

The waiting area is quite basic. Whereas the international terminal had a mix of black and white faces, the domestic terminal is dominated by black faces. I spot one western face, a 50 something year old with a grey ponytail. Later an eastern European couple sit near me.

There is a rudimentary cafe which does not do much business and I while away the time by reading a book.

A Fokker 100 provides the onward flight. This too is by no means full. Again I have a window seat. The route follows the south coast to the west of Port Moresby. Views inland are limited by heavy tropical clouds but the coastline remains largely clear. The sea is that wondrous combination of blues that are only seen in the tropics. It is mainly fringed by forest or wetlands. I see a wreck. And reefs.

We turn inland. There is mile after mile of jungle. But the flight is a short one hour. It is a race to avoid a rain storm on the descent to Mt Hagen. We lose, but only just. It passes by quickly and by the time we are disembarking the rain has gone.

Baggage is collected in the open next to the terminal off a pallet brought there by a fork lift which we watch trundle across the apron. By then I have met my driver who insists on carrying my bag. The airport grounds are surrounded by a two metre high steel palisade fence with eager or curious faces pressed against it. At the gate in the fence my baggage tag is checked to make sure that I am not making off with someone else’s bag. Once through that it is out into the melee.

I follow the driver to the car. Although I am accompanied I am offered lifts and other help by the throng. The driver leads me to a ubiquitous Toyota Land Cruiser. It is easy to see why a car of this type is needed. Mt Hagen is the third largest city in PNG with a population of about 46,000 and is the capital of the West Highland Province. It does feel as though you are entering a modern version of the wild-west. The airport is a little way out of the city.

After 10 minutes we pull up at the side of the road without warning. I am still a little tense, being in an alien environment. Why have we stopped? Wild thoughts enter my mind. Am I going to be robbed? Or put in the pot?! My driver’s English is limited to a few words. I am still not clear what is happening. Another vehicle draws up after 5 minutes. I am not sure if I am to switch vehicles. But no, an occupant from that vehicle joins us and we set off again.

Within a few minutes we are in what seems to be the heart of Mt Hagen. There is plenty of traffic that weaves between the potholes (some are truly enormous) and people walking in the road. Litter is everywhere making a mockery of the “Keep Mt Hagen beautiful” signs. I do not know what literacy is like, perhaps the populace cannot read English, or at all. People swarm about. Others sit around, looking bored. The windows in the Toyota are heavily tinted. I feel a bit whimpish but the fact that I cannot be seen from outside gives me some comfort.

My two companions decide that they want to buy some drinks and disappear into a shop with a battered and largely shuttered front. I am alone. I watch the throngs mills around nearby. Loose dogs scavenge amongst the rubbish. I try and discern what rules of the road apply here, but decide probably that there are none. If there is a pothole on your side of the road you swerve on to the other and a game of chicken occurs if there is someone coming the other way. If it gets too close, horns are blasted. My companions are not long and we continue.

I find out later that the main street was once the runway for Mt Hagen’s original airport. No wonder it is so straight!

Soon the city begins to merge with the countryside. Big advertising hoardings sit up high advertising mobile phone operators and Coca Cola. The standard of the road improves because we are now on one that is used by mining vehicles. We pass by small clusters of primitive houses. Fields grow corn and the density of trees increases.

The road becomes more windy and some elevation is gained. Mount Hagen is at 1,700m (5,500ft). We are going to the Magic Mountain Nature Lodge which, whilst it advertises itself as being in Mount Hagen, is in fact 12 miles away, 200m (660ft) higher and a 30 minute drive out of the city. Although it is the dry season, the road and the ground are wet. The road now cuts through the rain forest.

The dry season in Papua New Guinea merely means that it is less wet. In August there are an average of 22 rainy days a month as opposed to 26 in the wet season! That said the volume of rain is about half at a mere 6½ inches of rain. Over 12 inches fall in March. Mt Hagen has almost as much rain in February and March as Harrogate does in a year. It is a little warmer though!

Anyway, after our 30 minutes we get to a right turn and start up a track, now unpaved.

For a brief while the going is fine, if bumpy. A local gives a cheery wave. I learn later that he is supposed to be “improving” the track by shoveling little stones on to it.

We pass a few houses and a mobile phone mast. Then the gradient steepens. The car struggles. Finally the Toyota gives up and can go no further. We disgorge on to the mud. My companions help with the bags. It is only a 400m walk up to the entrance of the Lodge with its car park and vehicle turning area, but by then my shoes are well caked in mud.

We walk through the entrance and along past the lodges, one of which will be allocated to me.

I am left outside them whilst my companions go and look for a key. I wonder if I am the only guest. Out in front of the lodges is a sea of green. Clouds swirl around a jungle clad hill behind. I am told later that this hill is the Magic Mountain.

The key arrives and I settle into my accommodation for the next couple of nights. The room has two single beds and an en suite with toilet, shower and wash basin. The shower seems to be a magnet for hundreds of little flies that are crawling on the plastic surrounds. I will worry about them later.

The lodge has a small veranda with seats. I notice that the lodge next to me is occupied though the guests are not in. I settle on the veranda and look out over the lush garden and watch the clouds swirl around. It is cooler here than down in the city but still pleasant. Dinner is served at 6pm, half an hour off.

At 6pm I wander the 40m to the building where dinner is to be served. I enter a large room with a kitchen immediately to the left. A large red plastic table with matching chairs sits down the middle. Pictures of mountains line the walls.

I settle down and a sumptuous feast is delivered to me. Soup to start followed by fried chicken and vegetables. The other guests arrive. They are a pair of Turkish film makers who are travelling around the world to record the lives of tribes. They have already been to South America and parts of Asia. They still plan to go to Africa. In the meantime the owner of Magic Mountain Nature Lodge is fixing things for them. As you will gather, given that my Turkish is non-existent, they are able to explain this to me in English.

Tomorrow I am to undertake an acclimatisation walk so it is off to bed early for me.

Monday 11th August 2014

I am up at 6am for a 6.30am breakfast. I settle on toast and fruit. My guide, Edward, arrives for an 8am start. Edward is accompanied by a young chap with a machete. I am assured that this is to enable blockages on the jungle path to be cleared. Mmm.

The walk starts from the Lodge and we are soon engulfed by jungle. We are going to explore Mt Hagen (the mountain not the city). The young chap leads, he speaks no English. Edward follows on behind. The walk through the jungle is some of the most exhausting that I have ever done. OK I did not do a lot to make myself fit for this trip. I am relying on my fitness from Kilimanjaro (but that was 6 months before) and occasional visits to the gym. But I have been in Australia for the best part of two weeks with little exercise. But the walking is like an obstacle course. If it isn’t a creeper trying to trip you, then there are tree trunks to hurdle. Most of them are enormous. Some have fallen a long time ago so standing on them risks piercing through the rotting outer. And if it isn’t the trees then there are the mud and roots – a slippery combination. Naturally the locals take all of this in their stride as I huff and puff ever upwards. Here are a few photos of “spot the path” – OK the first one is easy.

Now then, Edward. He is the most rotund guide I have ever seen. Of course, in a country such as Papua New Guinea you do not expect to find “guides” in the sense that we would understand in the West. That said, he is actually more nimble through the jungle than I am – but this is his terrain.

After a couple of hours up the obstacle course the trees begin to thin. We arrive at an open area where there is a rectangular charred area on the ground. It is the site of a hut. Well it was. Apparently some men had been there with alcohol. No more needs to be said.

We pass, now walking on tussocky grass with the occasional soggy section, through charred stands of trees. A forest fire unconnected with the ex-hut has passed through. A broad ridge forms, still of rough grass. A faint trail can be followed. Cloud sweeps across from time to time. We press on. There are a series of rises followed by more level sections. A deep valley is to the left; undulating flanks cloaked with trees are to the right.

The ridge narrows still further. Not knife edged but much more prominent and a couple of rocky tors cap some of the rises followed by dips. We stop for lunch. Time seems to have moved on faster than my ascent. There are some soggy sandwiches in the packed lunch with which I have been provided plus juice and a mini banana. There is also a fruit with which I am unfamiliar – a sugar fruit. It is full of seeds but is indeed sweet. Here is a pic.

Edward wants me to turn around. But I am nowhere near the top. I can see that the ridge I am on joins on to another, higher one. To the left I can see a high summit. Ahead beyond another bump in my ridge is another slightly lower summit. Further to the right still the higher ridge continues.

Edward stops. I carry on with the machete youth. Twenty minutes later I am on the higher ridge on the lower summit. On it is a collapsed communications mast with an empty shipping-like container. I can now see the main summit. It is probably an hour away – so an additional two hours round trip at least. I feel I do not have time to get there without prejudicing my attempt on Mt Giluwe. I estimate that I am at around 3,600m in altitude, perhaps a little more. The main summit is at 3,800m. Mt Hagen is the third highest mountain in Papua New Guinea and a long extinct volcano.

Mount Hagen summit is top left in this photo

It is disappointing. Perhaps we could have started earlier. Perhaps I could have been faster. The information I had been given suggested that I could reach the summit in 4 hours, we have been going 5½ hours. Reluctantly I turn back. Half an hour later we are back with Edward. We return the same way. Back down the obstacle course. We are back at the Lodge at 5.30pm. The decision not to proceed was right. It will be dark in an hour.

Returning to the Lodge

I have a shower, first spraying the zillions of insects out of harm’s way. Dinner follows which, again, is good. I chat to the Turks who have been filming amongst local tribes people.

I turn in early and re-pack my rucksack for the next two or three days. It will be another early start in the morning.