Lost in the Jungle

Thousands of bugs cry out in unison around us as we hurry through waist-deep water. What are we doing there? Just returning to POC after having lunch in an area village. We started off in the morning for a two-hour hike to the village of Kamba where we ate lunch in the local church: a collection of benches in the open air underneath the pastor’s house. After about an hour, it was time to head home with a national guide, this time by a “more direct route.”

As we approached a Y in the path, our guide was uncertain which way to take. We were fairly far from his home area. The path we took led down a very slippery mountain trail, and we all slipped and laughed the whole way down. At the bottom, we found a garden. Gardens in PNG do not resemble gardens in the US very much at all. They are formed by drying out and burning the surrounding bush, leaving charred, fallen trees strewn about the garden. Planted in the gardens are anything from banana trees to sago to rice, and they stretch quite far.

We carefully traversed the garden, being careful not to step on the plants, and came to a narrow river. Since many rivers course through the country of PNG, we had crossed several (or several sections of the same river) already that day. This one, however, was much deeper than any others we had encountered so far! Stepping out on the opposite bank wet up to my hips, I discovered the embankment on the other side was so steep and slick, I literally could not get any traction to climb it. I crouched on the slope, slowly sliding down, wondering how I would ever manage to get myself up it. A small tree, no higher than my knee, grew out of the side of the incline, so I stretched out to grab it and was able to pull myself up enough to reach the hand of the person in front of me.

In our group of ten, plus our guide, none of us were worried about how we would get home, but we all knew we were lost. About an hour and a half in, we stumbled across another garden. This one was occupied by two women finishing up their day of harvesting. Our guide asked us if it were alright for them to show us the way home. There was no dissent. They led us for another hour and a half up and down more steep inclines, through more rivers, and across a field of grass that looked like it previously had had no trail through it!

Eventually we spotted a familiar group in front of us: ironically, the self-designated “slow group” that had left Kamba after us. We had one more large hill to ascend; our legs were so sore, it was hard to keep moving. Finally, we made it back, with plenty of time to spare before dinner!