Kokoda 2018
Kokoda… for starters this is something so far from my usual routine of work, drink, sleep, repeat that when I said ‘YES’ to joining a fellow volunteer on a fundraising trek for Make-A-Wish Australia I wasn’t the only person who didn’t think I’d actually go through with it.. who knows, maybe I was still a little tipsy from Friday Night drinks when I was propositioned one Saturday morning at a Chelsea Make-A-Wish BBQ, and, maybe I didn’t quite know what I was getting myself into; I mean, I had heard of Kokoda and knew of it’s significance to Australian Military history, but that was about it.
Anyway, I had told too many people I was going to do it so there was no backing out now. I kicked off my fundraising and started to train… rain, hail and, a lot of the time, with a smidge of a hangover. In the 10 weeks leading up to my departure I stepped it up a bit… twice weekly hikes up Mt Dandenong before work, PT sessions, and longer weekend hikes. KR was convinced I would get abducted (or attacked by Foxes) hiking alone in the dark so she woke up at 5am to join me on these hikes, often in the rain, because… Melbourne… with a headlamp on; slight change from our usual hangouts over wine and cheese.
A sweet farewell from my nieces and some sound advice (which I didn’t take actually… the SP Lager was needed, and, I am older then them so must be much much wiser).
So April swings around, I’ve spent about a thousand dollars getting some vaccinations I likely won’t ever need anywhere else in the world, Malaria tablets and about $200 at chemist warehouse on mostly shit for my feet (totally worth it by the way). Despite the lack of belief in me and the relentless taunting from my colleagues that I am likely going to get choppered out half way through having failed with requests for photo evidence of me on the chopper, I fly out to PNG to meet the bunch of strangers I am about to spend 10 days with.
Our group (Team 3) was exclusively a charity trek group supporting three amazing charities (Make-A-Wish Australia, R U OK, and Soldier On) so, although from different walks of life we were immediately connected through our shared passion to tackle this track for a cause.
We were starting North at Kokoda Village (a strategic base for the Aussies because of the airfield) and were travelling South to finish at Owen’s Corner. The journey to Kokoda Village started with some excitement, a small flight to Popondetta on which we saw the sun rise over the rugged mountainous landscape of the Owen Stanley Ranges we were about to trek through. The thrill of seeing the untouched and raw beauty of this land from the air was heightened by what we were about to do…. Holy shit the mixture of fear and excitement; there’s nothing else like it! After a long and very bumpy ride in the back of a truck we arrived at Kokoda Village where we met our crew and had our first 2 minute noodles lunch.
At this stage they were novel; little did we know this was to be our lunch for the next 8 days straight. You go through waves of “oh great, 2 minute noodles again” to absolutely craving them the next day. The best was when we were freezing cold on Day 4, soaking wet, holed up at 1900 under a hut dripping with rain trying to warm up by a piddly fire (which was mostly just smoke because all the wood was wet from the rain) and our amazing crew served us up “spring rolls” made from leftover flat breads, 2 minute noodles and spam from lunch the day before. I don’t think three shitty leftover ingredients ever tasted so good; they were devoured in seconds before we had fresh 2 minute noodles for lunch and hit the track again for another 4 or so hours til our rest stop.
At this point (day 4) I had been sick for 3 days straight. I’d prepared for the physical challenge of Kokoda, but hadn’t expected it to be quite as tough mentally as it was, especially when unwell and having none of the comforts of home, like maybe a toilet I could actually sit on with flushing water and a couch to lie on and feel sorry for myself until better. No No, instead I had little to no sleep (bathroom runs… for the runs) some massive fucking mountains to climb, wet smelly clothes from the day before to put on, toilets with widely varying rating systems and, I just had to eat some rehydrated meat and potato mash and harden the F up (in more ways than one if you know what I mean…. Gastrex for the win!!!).
Days 1 to 4 got us from Kokoda to Naduri village camping at Hoi, Isurava, and Templeton’s Crossing. Despite the physical sickness, I had, by Day 4, managed to get over the fact that I had the runs and felt like shit because, well, our soldiers did it a lot tougher than this, and so do the kids that I meet that I was fundraising for. Day 4 I loved; it rained the entire day, it was cold and we were trekking through ankle deep mud at times; we were skidding through parts of the track, going ass up and just having an absolute ball of a time.
We were told before we commenced that the only way to get through Kokoda was to do it as a Team; sound advice from Jim from BackTrack and something Team 3 didn’t take lightly. From Mick and Tanya kicking off the infectious cheering at each of the rest stops to give everyone that extra push, to Bridge cleaning our boots at night, getting wood or making tea for anyone who needed it, Rose (our little millennial) who put her sports massage and strapping skills to good use, Mr Shane who kept me entertained with stories, jokes, shit stirring and everyone else in our Team who helped along the way.
Day 5, Naduri Village at daybreak… I haven’t slept, I’ve been back and forth to the loo all night and even had the pleasure of shitting my pants; I went from 3 pairs of undies down to 2… not ideal when the only luxury you afforded yourself when packing was that 3rd pair that would hopefully mean you had something dry to put on under your wet clothes each day. One of our fellow team mates is getting a chopper out and I need to decide whether I join him or continue on. I decide not to be a pussy because Leigh was clearly way worse than me and actually if he’d waited another 90 minutes his recovery would likely have been a very different scenario. It’s a shorter day anyway so I pop some pills, eat my porridge, get my busted knee strapped and continue on to Brigade Hill. All of this interspersed with me crying (sorry Team 3), but, BEST decision ever.
Brigade Hill 25/04/2018 - Definitely one of the most memorable and emotional Anzac days I will ever experience. Our Trek Leaders from Team 3 and a couple of other BackTrack teams on the track at the time pulled together the most personal and moving Dawn Service I will ever have the opportunity to be a part of. Not to mention, probably the most remote. Our crew had made each of us a bouquet of flowers that they had picked along the track the day before, the villagers from Efogi village trekked up in the morning and kicked off the service with some amazing choir singing, followed by readings from some of our teammates.
Brigade Hill was the site of one of the most horrific delaying battles the Australian’s were forced to fight while withdrawing over the Owen Stanley Range. The Battle of Brigade Hill claimed 100 Aussie lives of which 52 bodies were found and buried on this knoll we stood on, prior to being moved years later to Bomana Cemetary. What an extraordinary historical site for this to take place.
Anzac Day on the track was another of my faves. After Dawn Service and a porridge breakfast we started with a steep descent down Brigade Hill. I had started to find my groove on the track now that I wasn’t sick and Tanya (who is a machine) had taught me how to almost run parts of the track, all while trying to convince me to do a spartan race when we get back to Australia….. no chance. We arrived at camp with the sun still up, the gorgeous Agulogo creek to swim in and some daylight to play a few rounds of shitthead before being banished to bed for some “much needed rest”.
Agulogo Creek to Ofi Creek; Day 7… we’re on the home stretch now; our crew bust out the Backtrack war cry before we venture through swampy flatlands, cross the floodplains of the Brown River and climb the 9 false peaks of the Maguli Range… enough said... those false peaks were torture. We arrive at Nauro Village, one of our rest stops for the day; we bought some bananas, sat in the shade and looked back in the distance to Brigade Hill where we were just the morning before while we waited for the rest of our team to arrive. At this point we are feeling pretty good about ourselves having already tackled nine false peaks… we might have even nicknamed ourselves “Team 3 Alpha” because we had smashed those false peaks and were waiting for the rest of the team to catch up. We were soon enlightened by our guide that we hadn’t even started them yet. I think a little bit of me died at this point.
What goes up must come down though, so once we reached the top of the Maguli Range and had some….. SURPRISE…. 2 minute noodles and spam for lunch we commenced the steep descent down the ‘Japanese Ladder’ to the boulder-strewn Ofi Creek. While most of the team were dreading the climbs, I was hating on the descents; my old ACL injury had been flaring up for three days, as was my back, and I was in a world of pain. I threw myself in the freezing waters of Ofi Creek until my whole body went numb, got freshly strapped up by Rose, popped some Voltaren and the next day was rearing to go again.
It’s not yet daybreak but we are fed, have packed our gear and while the sun starts to rise we are venturing up Ioribaiwa ridge; we dump our bags on the side of the track and blindly follow our leader bushbashing through to the remnants of some Japanese trenches. Through the trees we could see the outline of Imita Ridge which we’d be climbing later that afternoon. Today the track leads us through Ioribaiwa Village (the most southern point of Japanese advancement) down the slippery muddy steps to the rainforest sheltered waters of the Ua-Ule creek system. It was here we swapped boots for reef sandals as the next few kilometers we waded across the sweeping bends of this creek 11 times until we reached our lunchstop.
After having been lulled into a false sense of security from a few kilometers of flat track creek-crossing, we lug ourselves up the steep ascent of Imita Ridge. Our crew decide to show us how its really done and run it (with a 20kg backpack mind you) just for a laugh. The rest of us regular people tackle it at a normal pace. Our final night’s camp is at Goodwater. I’ve stacked it a bunch of times on the descent in the rain today and am covered head to toe in mud so I throw myself into the river to clean off, we eat our final dinner in the darkness… seriously they could be feeding us anything… and I nod off to sleep to the sounds of our crew sitting around the campfire singing.
Day 9 - Our last day on the track… A bitter sweet morning; our crew sing to us before we depart Goodwater for our last few hours on the track. We’re climbing til the very end and those last few steps through the arches of Owen’s Corner are the hardest and most satisfying steps I’ve ever walked in my life. Part of me doesn’t want this to end; the other part of me just wants a shower and to take my water logged feet out of these boots and not walk another step in them EVER AGAIN!
