Kokoda Trail - Owers’ Corner

I started the morning with slightly damp boots at the base of the Maguli Range and its nine false peaks. Heading through grassland, the first false peak was at 3,280ft (1,000m). I counted each one of them, so I knew how many I had left before I reached the top at 4,429ft (1,350m). It was very tiring, and it felt demoralising when each time I reached a plateau thinking I was at the top, there was the next false peak just waiting for me.

Of course, just as I reached the top, having climbed 1,960m (600m), I had the equal descent down to Ofi Creek, with a good dose of muddy terrain awaiting me for the next 2,296ft (700m). I kept going, passing through Ioribaiwa village, flanked by more kunai grass, crossing over small boulders at Va-Ule Creek and then another steep descent into dense forest until I reached Imita Ridge.

Imita Ridge was Australia’s last stand after a relentless two-month Japanese advance. With tin helmets and bayonets, the Aussies dug themselves in and waited but the Japanese never came as they hadn’t advanced beyond Ioribaiwa Ridge. With exhausted supplies, starving and in a terrible state, the Japanese were ordered to quietly retreat all the way back to the north coast. For the Aussies, the arrival of fresh reinforcements gave them the strength to start their counter-offensive in early to mid-October. Within a few more weeks the Japanese were pushed back to the north coast at Buna-Gona. By January 1943 with the assistance of United States forces, the Japanese were completely routed from Papua New Guinea.

From Imita Ridge, I descended to Goldie River – 82ft (25m) wide and 3ft (1m) deep, the river had a strong current with no logs for crossing. Boots off and steady fording, I waded through the river to the other side. Back in 1942, the trail from the river to Imita was further east and ascended via the “Golden Stairs”. The stairs consisted of over 2,000 (some say it was 3,000) timber steps cut into the mountainside, climbing 1,312ft (400m), descending 1,640 (500m) before climbing another 2,296ft (700m) over a distance of 3mi (5km). This was an exhausting climb for the troops, each soldier laden with 44-66lb (20-30kg) of weapons and supplies. Once they reached the top, they needed to be in fighting form to defend Imita and then engage in the counter-offensive.

With a final uphill push and over one more false peak, I crossed beneath the Kokoda Trail Arch at Owers’ Corner. Turning towards the north, I marvelled at the enormity of my accomplishment, having conquered the Kokoda Trail. I was in awe of the soldiers who, through a seesaw of advancement or retreat, never wavered, pushing through rain and slushy mud, climbing numerous peaks (some near vertical) and crossing endless rivers.

Humbled by the history, yet empowered by my experience, I take my leave from Owers’ Corner and head for Port Moresby for a very long shower and a mighty hearty feed.

This poem is an apt description of what the Aussie soldiers endured during their time in the Kokoda campaign: https://www.kokodawalkway.com.au/a-poem/

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Kokoda Trail - Maoro

Following a short descent, I hiked up a very steep section, hugging the mountainside before the track became “just” steep. I emerged onto the grassy ridge of Brigade Hill. The biggest battle of the campaign was fought here in early September. Brigadier Arnold Potts decided that Brigade Hill was an excellent defensive position due to its high ground. He set up his headquarters near a knoll and had three infantry battalions, spread apart on the opposite side of the hill on Mission Ridge. This strategy created a weakness which the Japanese exploited by infiltrating the line and cutting Potts off from the rest of his troops. Suffering heavy casualties, Potts ordered a withdrawal. The retreat was disorderly, with one of the units finding themselves deep in the jungle, taking weeks of trudging before they reunited with their comrades.

During the campaign the mountain ridge was forested but today it was cleared for a campsite and a very simple war memorial that consisted of a plaque and several rows of sapling trees equally distanced, representing each Australian who died defending the hill.

From Brigade Hill there was an extremely steep and tiresome descent dropping 2,296ft (700m) of elevation, placing a significant amount of pressure on all the major muscles in the legs and the glutes.

Another log crossing later, I walked into Menari, a village where Potts’ troops withdrew to. It was also the site of a famous photo of the 39th Battalion taken after weeks of fighting in the dense jungle. The photo became the cover of the book, Those Ragged Bloody Heroes by Peter Brune.

A steep climb up to the saddle was rewarded with views back to Menari and the nearby peaks of Mt Tamata and Mt Victoria. The final descent was met with swampy terrain, where the trail was difficult to follow. Reaching the wide Brown River, the typical tree logs used for crossing were under water in several sections. Removing my boots and socks whilst standing on the muddy bank was a fine balancing act. Holding onto a rope, I made my way into the fast-flowing river and cautiously moved through it until I reached the other side of the bank.

With my boots back on, I trudged through the swampy track. With each step, my boots sunk into the muddy holes, the excess water spilling into my shoes and wetting my socks. I carried on until I finally reached Naoro where I cleaned myself up, gave my boots a good scrubbing and put them out to dry. Exhausted, I passed out into a deep sleep. No dreaming this time.

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Kokoda Trail - Efogi

The climb up to Mount Bellamy was so steep in some places I thought I was walking vertically. The ground was very muddy and slippery. The small brown snake slithering across the path just added to the mental challenge, although I’ve been reassured that it was not poisonous. Of the 100 snake species in PNG, 53 are poisonous, never mind the spiders, scorpions, wild bees, and numerous other critters making the jungle their home. I know I’d prefer to see PNG’s national bird, the Raggiana bird-of-paradise, with their fantastic reddish-orange plumage and long tail feather or Queen Alexandra’s Birdwing, the world’s largest butterfly - it has a wingspan of 12in/30cm, 10 times larger than the average butterfly.

Anyway, I managed to stay upright, not burying myself in the mud and with a great deal of elation reached the highest point on this journey, Mount Bellamy’s summit of 7,185ft (2,190m). I cannot fathom the difficulties the soldiers endured carrying supplies or the stretcher bearers carrying wounded men.

Having made it to the highest point, I thought I was on the home run, but what went up had to come down. The incredibly steep descent was eye-watering. Though the track was drier, I felt the load on my knees, and I needed to be wary of the kunai grass flanking the trail before Kagi Gap. This perennial grass has a fluffy white, cylindrical flower but it is the sharp blade-like edges of the grass that is of concern as it easily cuts the skin. The leaf has silica crystals embedded in its finely toothed margins and as the soldiers moved through the trail it would tear through their clothing, slashing their skin.

As I exited the forest into the open grassland, I could see Kagi Village downhill in the distance and after a descent of 2,296ft (700m) I walked into the village. I stopped long enough to refresh myself and pushed on further downhill on an even steeper track until I reached a small creek at an elevation of 3,215ft (980m). After another log crossing, I was back up a very steep ascent. The track opened up into a clearing and into Launumu Village.

A small Japanese monument was raised in the village by Corporal Nishimura who was the sole survivor of his troop of 42 men. He survived by hiding in a hollow tree stump for two days. He pledged that he would return to release the spirits of his men and he did so 37 years after the war.

After another steep descent, I entered Efogi, a large village with a population of 350 residents. It was kitted out with both a primary and secondary school, a health centre, and a communal campsite.

Making my weary muscles as comfortable as possible, I settled in my tent and fairly swiftly dozed off, fitfully dreaming about the next significant downhill trek.

Photo © Jonty Crane

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Kokoda Trail - Templeton’s Crossing

The next round of hiking was extremely difficult. Each short section of the steep climb made me think I had reached the peak of the mountain, only to find out that there was another peak up ahead. The continuous false peaks, burning calves and tight thighs felt eternal. This section of the trek is home to numerous leeches. These very thin black worms like to attach themselves to humans, get their fill until they’re fully bloated and then fall off, many of us, and I’m sure especially the soldiers, found these parasites aggravating. With my long pants tucked into my boots and a good dose of mosquito repellent on - apparently, they hate the chemical DEET in it - I pushed on until I made it to the actual peak of this section of the mountain. I gained 5,249ft (1600m) of altitude since I left Kokoda and I was standing at an elevation 6,266ft (1,910m). However, this wasn’t the highest point on this journey. That was yet to come.

Descending again through swampy creeks, the trail was slippery and boggy, making it hard on the knees. A couple of times, I had to climb over big fallen tree trunks, but I took the time to appreciate the beautiful red foliage of the Cordilyne Fruticosa as it dotted itself amongst the green jungle. 

I arrived at Templeton Crossing and just like Eora Creek, it was the site of two separate battles. The retreating Australians fought a short battle in September, but the bigger battle was during the counter-offensive in October.

Although ordered to withdraw, the Japanese were still very keen to capture Port Moresby. With well selected positions at Templeton, they lay in wait for the advancing Aussies. Not seeing the camouflaged machine gun muzzles until it was too late, the Aussies suffered severe casualties until they came back with fresh troops and managed to dislodge the Japanese and push them back to Eora Creek. 

Crossing yet another river, I climbed onto the single plank bridge and held onto the single rope, slowly and carefully walking over it. Once on the other side, I took a load off, had a bite to eat, refreshed myself and mentally prepared for the steep climb to the highest point on this trek.

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Kokoda Trail - Eora Creek

A short distance after Isurava was a rest house where the Aussie troops took a defensive position. Slightly to the south of the house was a sizable flat-topped rock, just big enough to lay down a soldier with his feet protruding, that is now referred to as Con’s Rock or Surgeon’s Rock. Under minimal light, it is on this rock that Medical Orderly Con Vapp performed an emergency amputation on an Aussie soldier. The wounded soldier’s name and if he survived remains unknown. Many wounded soldiers had to travel over 44mi (70km) under their own strength to get medical assistance in Port Moresby. The seriously wounded were moved by local native carriers. It would take eight carriers to carry one soldier the full distance.

Above the rock was a plaque dedicated to the memory of Butch Bissett who died in the arms of his brother Stan Bissett. Butch was handing out grenades to his unit when he was shot. Stan was an intelligence officer and survived the war. Nearby was a neatly piled collection of rusty live ammunition - hand grenades and mortars – along with helmets, water flasks and a coil of signal wire. The ‘Do not touch’ advice from the guides seemed rightfully good advice.

The terrain was undulating with vines spreading through the jungle like a rug, followed by several steep uphill motions until I reached a small waterfall and crossed one of the many log bridges. The route was riddled with protruding roots; surefootedness was necessary and using hiking poles helped keep my balance. I came out into a clearing and reached the village of Alola.

Continuing on, the track descended for about 656ft (200m) where I crossed a creek over a beautifully arched sapling and vine bridge, then the ascent began again before it levelled out a bit all the way to Eora Creek. The log crossing here was 62ft (19m) long and somewhat precarious as the Eora is a raging river all year round. Log bridges often get washed away over winter and the locals have to rebuild them each year before the trekking season commences.

A small bronze plaque sat in a clearing describing the two battles fought here. In early September, over two days the retreating Australians successfully defended their position, allowing them sufficient time to fall back towards Port Moresby. Then in mid-October, the Japanese during their retreat dug themselves a solid defensive position. From higher ground, nine artillery units rained fire onto the advancing Australian troops, resisting their frontal attacks. It would take the Australians six days to overcome the Japanese. Once the Japanese found themselves nearly encircled, they abandoned their location and retreated back to Oivi (north of Kokoda).

The Eora Creek Village now lies abandoned with a few rusty pieces of ammunition as evidence of the tough battle fought here.

Photo © Jonty Crane



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Kokoda Trail - Isurava

My trek to Kokoda began at an elevation of 984ft (300m) above sea level. Heading up an old tractor track, through a rubber plantation, after only 2mi (3.5km) I reached Kovelo Village located in an open clearing with houses scattered around the edges.

After a brief rest, I entered the jungle via a single track and began climbing. A mist hung over the jungle, making the tropical heat more bearable. Densely forested, the track was wet but at least it wasn’t boggy. I could feel the elevation gain. Every now and then, I would stop to rest my burning calves.

Surfacing from the jungle into another clearing, I arrived at Deniki, a small village that sat at an elevation of 2,624ft (800m). Being on higher ground, Deniki opened to views of Yodda Valley on the north side of Owen Stanley Ranges and the Kokoda airstrip in the distance.

In late July 1942, Kokoda was the scene of a number of small but intensely fought battles. The Australians (Aussies) were waiting for reinforcements to be flown in but upon hearing that another Aussie company was overrun in Oivi (north of Kokoda) they gave up Kokoda and retreated to Deniki. They returned to Kokoda the next day with a force of about 80 men but once the Japanese were reinforced, they attacked the Aussies the day after. The Aussie troops withdrew yet again to Deniki. Joined by other companies, the Aussies tried to take Kokoda once again but were unsuccessful. Tired and short of food, by mid-August the Aussies withdrew to Isurava. It would take another three months (until November 1942) before the Aussie forces returned to Kokoda during their counter-offensive.

Okari trees grow around Deniki. They are a small mid-canopy tree with edible nuts very similar to almonds. Tucking a couple of them in my pocket, I pressed on and wondered at the same time at the massive vines taking over the abandoned native gardens. As I climbed up a steep, mostly clay track, I saw more vines spreading through the jungle and up the trunks of trees, seemingly wanting to conquer all plant life.

The trail continued on its upward trajectory, with several creek crossings and a couple of false peaks before I arrived at Isurava Village, the site of the Battle of Isurava, where Australian forces resisted the Japanese offensive. Up against machine-gun fire and hand-to-hand combat, the Japanese broke through the Aussie right flank. An Australian attack party countered when Private Bruce Kingsbury, shooting from his hip, charged the Japanese, either killing or scattering them, giving the Australians sufficient time to regain control and stabilise their position. Mortally wounded by a sniper, Kingsbury was awarded the Victoria Cross, Britain’s most prestigious award for valour “in the presence of the enemy”. In 1991, Australia established its own Victoria Cross award.

The Isurava Memorial was opened in 2002, commemorating those who died on the track in 1942. The circular Memorial consists of four black granite sentinel stones, each inscribed with a single word - Courage, Endurance, Mateship, Sacrifice - representing the values and qualities of the soldiers. Incorporated into the Memorial is Kingsbury’s Rock, the location where Kingsbury died.
 

Holding these four words close to my heart, I took some time at the Memorial, pondering the battle and the men who fought it.


Photo © Jonty Crane


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Kokoda Trail - Kokoda

Located north of Australia’s mainland is the third largest island country in the world, Papua New Guinea. Its capital, Port Moresby, is on the island’s south-eastern coast. With a population of eight million people, Papua New Guinea (PNG) has 851 known languages making it the most linguistically diverse country in the world. The majority of its people live in remote villages with only 13% of its population located in urban areas. Administered by Australia from the early 1900s, Papua New Guinea gained its independence in 1975.

During World War 2 a series of land battles were fought from July to November 1942 between Australia and Japan. The objective for the Japanese was to capture Port Moresby to take control of Papua and have a base from which to attack the Australian mainland and isolate them from the United States. Their strategy was to advance from the north coast through the Kokoda Trail and over the Owen Stanley Mountain range. The battle for the Australians was extremely difficult. Australian troops consisting of 2,000 soldiers were up against 10,000 elite Japanese troops who were determined to capture the capital.

The battle conditions for both sides were appalling. The Kokoda Trail was a narrow, single dirt track with steep climbs up mountains, followed by steep descents into deep valleys. Surrounded by dense jungle, movement was slow, exhausting and all on foot. Heavy equipment, ammunition and supplies had to be carried and when it rained – daily rainfall of 10in (25cm) was not uncommon - the track turned into calf-deep mud. If this wasn’t hard enough, add mosquitoes, leeches, heat and humidity to the already rain-drenched soldiers. Food supply was limited, a cup of tea or coffee was often just a dream.

Along with hundreds of hikers who walk the trail every year, I embarked on a journey to test my mettle and to honour the soldiers who battled in this campaign. My trek began in the town of Kokoda on the north side of the track where on the edge of a grassy oval were four white memorial stones, dedicated to those who fought here. At the edge of the village, I crossed beneath a set of arches that marked the official start of the Kokoda Trail.

From here I will be heading up the mountain for nearly 50% of the trip and descending for the remainder of the trek to Owers’ Corner. Steep elevation changes, numerous river crossings, deep vegetation and plenty of bogginess awaits.

Without further ado, I headed into the jungle.



Photo © Jonty Crane



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Torres del Paine - Welcome Center

 

I moved further inland and forged on around the base of the massif with the lake visible down below. On my travels I passed a horseback tour led by Chilean cowboys who are known for their excellent horsemanship. They are highly skilled trackers and guides who develop a very strong bond with their horses. Known for their strong sense of direction and ability to avoid hazards such as bogs and swamps, anyone travelling with them is in good hands. They source water and shelter anywhere and easily move through the night finding their way.

The Chilean horse, aka Criollo, is one of the oldest breeds on the continent. They are typically smaller than the usual North American or European breeds. The Spanish Conquistadors brought the horses in the 15th-16th centuries, and the criollos are their descendants. The breed has had hundreds of years to develop and adapt to the harsh environment of Patagonia.

I reached the entrance of Ascencio Valley, where the famous Los Torres (The Towers) peaks reside. The most magical time to experience the peaks is at sunrise. As the sun rises, the peaks are bathed in a fiery-orange glow. Timing the sunrise is crucial as the glow only lasts a few minutes.

The final section was fording the Ascencio River, heading past Las Torres Hotel and ending my journey back at the Welcome Center where I began. Here, I stopped for refreshments and took the time to look back at the massif with Almirante Nieto being the bulk of the view to the left, Los Torres peeking from behind and Cerro Nido de Condor to the right. It was fascinating to see the green, flat landscape before me but as I scanned upwards the landscape changed to hills, then craggy snow-capped mountains followed by jagged granite peaks.

Contemplating the journey, I was in awe at the varied landscape. There were the wide-open plains and old forests; glacial lakes, rumbling rivers, and the magnificent Grey Glacier; the endless peaks seen from every angle and deep valleys leading into the interior of the massif. The constant throughout the whole trip was the blustering wind. Relentless and intense, it added that extra challenge to my travels.

Now I bid you farewell, until the next time.



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Torres del Paine - Los Cuernos

The descent from Gardner Pass was quite steep and hard on the knees but I travelled through some more beautiful forest until I emerged adjacent to Grey Glacier with views of the lake in the distance. Southbound, I was now on the western side of the massif. After trekking for 3mi (5km) beside the glacier I crossed the first suspension bridge over a very large ravine. The ever-present wind gave the bridge a nice little wobble.

Barely a mile later I crossed another suspension bridge. By this time the glacier ended, and the lake became my companion until I turned the corner yet again, hitting the southern portion of the massif. Lake Pehoe with its deep turquoise colour was on the downside and on the other was the tallest summit in the park, Cerro Grande Paine, standing at 9,462ft (2,884m). It is a bulky mountain with four peaks and a huge glacier on top that is usually hidden amongst the clouds. This is one of the most challenging mountain climbs in the park because besides the ice, rock and excessive wind there is always the threat of an avalanche.

This next stretch of the hike on a relatively flat trail was a combination of open areas and forest until I reached the third suspension bridge in French Valley with a warning sign saying: "Only one person at a [sic] time on the bridge". The French River was raging in full force beneath the bridge, tumbling over large rocks in an awful hurry to empty into Nordernskjold Lake.

Once on the other side I trekked down to the edge of the milky-blue Nordernskjold Lake which runs pretty much the entire length of the massif's southern part. The trail heads back inland and over a rubble of rock where I was afforded the spectacular views of the Los Cuernos (The Horns) peaks. Besides the incredibly jagged edges of the peaks, what was striking about them were the contrasting colours between the light granite of the central bands and the strong darkness on their tips. Closer to the base, between the two horns, was a narrow waterfall plunging somewhere below that I couldn't see.

Trekking a little further, I stopped at a campsite for a rest before I tackled the remainder of this circuit.

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Torres del Paine - Grey Glacier

I left Dickson Lake and followed the Los Perros River toward Los Perros Glacier. The trail meandered through beautiful old beech forests with occasional views of the mountains beyond. The river flowed swiftly, tumbling over its rocky bed. It was a welcome change from the wide-open terrain of the Steppe where the force of the wind can reach 100mph (160km/h) and literally knock hikers off their feet. With no landmasses to break the winds, the Patagonian Steppe is open season for strong gusty winds.

Sheltered amongst the forests, I enjoyed the peacefulness of the location listening to the river's flow, soothing my senses. The trail then opened up and the river forked. The left arm led to Los Perros lagoon that was fed by Los Perros Glacier which was spilling from the top of the massif. The right arm of the river, the route I took, navigated around the lagoon but I still had views of it and the glacier.

The trail led me back into the forest for a mile or so and when I surfaced, I was deep in a valley flanked by the gargantuan peaks of the massif. Ahead was the most strenuous hike uphill over the John Gardner Pass. The elevation gain was over 2,200ft (670m) on a rocky trail dotted with massive boulders. There were no trees or vegetation, it was grey and seemed desolate with the wind blustering away but, in this barren, almost Mars-like terrain, I could see the magnificence of this isolated place at the bottom of the continent.

When I reached the top of the pass, the grand Grey Glacier appeared before me in all its expansiveness. The glacier is part of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field, and it flows south into the lake of the same name. It is 17mi (28km) long, 3.7mi (6km) wide and 98ft (30m) high in a stunning shade of cyan-blue colour. I kept an ear out for any thunderous rumbling in case the glacier was calving but without success. Perhaps just as well because in 2019 two large icebergs broke off the glacier. The large one measured 8.8 hectares, that's about the size of 16 football fields or 12 soccer fields, and the second one was about 6 hectares. Fascinating as calving may seem, it is an indicator of rising temperatures that causes glaciers to retreat.

I found myself a place to rest and took in the majesty of the glacier as far as my eyes could see.

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