JUNGLES AND THE SEA
The Gazelle Peninsula:
Walkabout:
I had been in and out of Melanesia over the course of many months. After one of my returns to Rabaul, I decided to take a walk through the Gazelle Peninsula just to see what was there. Some friends wanted to go with me; so off we went into the unknown, and accomplished nothing ... well almost nothing. Came across one chap in a village practically dying from malaria. His friends had basically locked him up in a grass hut with a fire inside and full of smoke to drive out the sickness. I could hardly breath. Of course they had no medicine so I gave him some aspirin - which does nothing except make you feel better for awhile, and told them to get rid of the fire and smoke and bathe his forehead with cool water. They thanked me profusely for my "monumental wisdom" and off we went.
Later we emerged from the jungle into another village in the midst of some loud angry debate in the middle of the village. A bossy guy came over, told us we were not welcome and to leave. It was getting dark so I said no. He then put us up in a grass hut on stilts and said, "Don't come out till morning." Soon afterwards a little pathetic middle-aged shriveled up woman came in, told us she was nursing a baby no one wanted and could we help because she was almost dry. Good grief what could four guys do about that? So on the next day we left, found a little village store further on, bought a small tin of dehydrated milk and sent it back to the angry village with strict instructions to only mix boiled water with it before giving it to the baby.
I had been in and out of Melanesia over the course of many months. After one of my returns to Rabaul, I decided to take a walk through the Gazelle Peninsula just to see what was there. Some friends wanted to go with me; so off we went into the unknown, and accomplished nothing ... well almost nothing. Came across one chap in a village practically dying from malaria. His friends had basically locked him up in a grass hut with a fire inside and full of smoke to drive out the sickness. I could hardly breath. Of course they had no medicine so I gave him some aspirin - which does nothing except make you feel better for awhile, and told them to get rid of the fire and smoke and bathe his forehead with cool water. They thanked me profusely for my "monumental wisdom" and off we went.
Later we emerged from the jungle into another village in the midst of some loud angry debate in the middle of the village. A bossy guy came over, told us we were not welcome and to leave. It was getting dark so I said no. He then put us up in a grass hut on stilts and said, "Don't come out till morning." Soon afterwards a little pathetic middle-aged shriveled up woman came in, told us she was nursing a baby no one wanted and could we help because she was almost dry. Good grief what could four guys do about that? So on the next day we left, found a little village store further on, bought a small tin of dehydrated milk and sent it back to the angry village with strict instructions to only mix boiled water with it before giving it to the baby.
Lost?:
It's easy to get lost in jungle bush. Can you find my three friends in this picture? One is near the bottom of the picture, the other is near the center of the picture and there is a sliver of the third guy above him and a little to the left of him. I imagine using the current camouflage of today's military you probably couldn't see anyone. |
Highway in the bush:
We finally found a "highway" built by the Catholic church to one of their plantations. Amazing what industry can do. A German bishop had engineered development in the area and we were fortunate to spend the night with him after we emerged from the bush. However, he wasn't too friendly and only offered us shelter because we needed somewhere to sleep. In a country were people were friendly I never imagined a person could be so cold. In fact he was positively rude ... but hey a bed is a bed, and we were dead tired. |
Tarzan vines:
Maybe Tarzan didn't know it, but the "vines" he swung around the jungle on are a source of fresh water!
I was dragging. "Here," Aletty said, "take some of my water." I couldn't; It was unfair. "No that would not be right," I said. He smiled, dropped his pack on the ground, reached behind his back where he stored his bush knife, walked over to one of the "Tarzan" vines hanging from at least one hundred feet above into the jungle canopy, whacked off the end, then lifted it up and a slow trickle of water entered his open mouth. He handed it to me and I swallowed sweet fresh water - as sweet as that from any virgin mountain stream. It was slow going but while I stood there with my mouth open like a little bird being fed by its mother I had time to realize that had I been on my own I could have eventually collapsed and died, even though I was surrounded by fresh water. From then on I always got some young man to go with me if I ventured into the bush to save my sorry self just in case.
Maybe Tarzan didn't know it, but the "vines" he swung around the jungle on are a source of fresh water!
I was dragging. "Here," Aletty said, "take some of my water." I couldn't; It was unfair. "No that would not be right," I said. He smiled, dropped his pack on the ground, reached behind his back where he stored his bush knife, walked over to one of the "Tarzan" vines hanging from at least one hundred feet above into the jungle canopy, whacked off the end, then lifted it up and a slow trickle of water entered his open mouth. He handed it to me and I swallowed sweet fresh water - as sweet as that from any virgin mountain stream. It was slow going but while I stood there with my mouth open like a little bird being fed by its mother I had time to realize that had I been on my own I could have eventually collapsed and died, even though I was surrounded by fresh water. From then on I always got some young man to go with me if I ventured into the bush to save my sorry self just in case.
Along some coasts:
Thomas came from a small island very near the larger Umboi Island. He cooked, quickly learned to steer by compass and was a great fisherman, but he didn't like being inside. He had lived his entire life outside. One night at anchor I awoke to the sound of heavy breathing and saw him standing over me hyperventilating and shaking. I had to lead him topside by hand, as if he was a little old man, and put him "to bed" on our deck out in the open. Once there he fell sound asleep.
Thomas' small island near the entrance to Umboi Island. An Australian lived here too. He had lost the use of his legs and was married to a local woman. The Australian would make food supply runs to Madang every so often in his outboard. The distance was over 100 miles.
We got a second Tom on our trip, who just happened to be a cousin of the one above. He too was a great crewman - loved to cook and steer the boat. But one fine day at sea I panicked when I couldn't find him and ended up screaming, "We've lost Tom! Oh God no. Tom's gone! He's fallen overboard." Then for some reason I ran to the bow and there he was sitting on the anchor below deck level, dragging his feet through the water to cool off. I yelled, "What ... are you doing!?" He looked up sheepishly and embarrassed and started to climb back onto the deck when I checked him, got my camera and snapped this.
Rabaul and Duke of York Islands area:
Japanese gun: The location is on a 100 foot hill 100 meters from the beach in New Britain. The gun laying on the ground is a testament that war came to the islands. I have thought of putting it back together, although I suspect it was never whole. Perhaps the Japanese never had the chance before the war ended. The thing that actually holds the barrel is sitting behind it and the carriage is nearby. The gun pointed - or was supposed to point - out into St. George's Channel. But here is a scary fact. The ammunition and other old explosives are still under the ground to the right of the chicken! We know. It was all uncovered and the local police said, "No worries mate, just cover it all back up." Beautiful Rabaul:
There was a time before the eruption when Rabaul was possibly the best place to live on earth. They had everything but then Tavurvur changed all that. Perhaps, one day Rabaul will rise again like the Phoenix. The quality of these images is not the best but the photos and music will give you a feeling for the place and for those of us who lived there once - maybe a little misting of the eye? |
"Fresh" water from the ground tasted like a laxative concoction, but not this beautiful river on the island of New Britain. Its water is cold and sweet! The two bridges were later destroyed by storm waters barreling down the gorge to the sea. And the water was so clean I could see clearly down the 20+ feet to the bottom. This area got up to 400 inches of rain a year! The island just oozes water; it even seeps out of the beach sand.
Sylvester lounging inside the Manginuna Village boyhouse - a residence of boys after puberty and for visiting males. He's sitting on a bamboo "mattress". This is the way it works. Lay down and slide around rolling the bamboo poles until you acquire some level of comfort, pray that nothing crawls onto or into you in the night and go to sleep. This is what I thought before my prayers ... humm, they do it so I guess I can too; "Dear God ......."
An old man mending his fishing nets in Manginuna Village on the south coast of New Britain.
Deadly mosquitoes:
This fine young man, (my nephew), from the Duke of York Islands - mid-way between New Ireland and New Britain, in the St. George's Channel - succumbed to the most dangerous animal in the world: the Anopheles mosquito. There are many illnesses that kill large numbers of people, but none as much as malaria. His name was Eset and he died a year after I took this photo. Malaria is a parasite - a little bug in the blood - that eats red blood cells. It incubates in the liver for about 2 weeks first, then whacks you hard. 
Tavurvur:
Volcanoes are a real threat in Melanesia, which is part of the Pacific's ring of fire. This volcano (Tavurvur) erupted back to life in 1994. A previous eruption was 1937. However, it has had another major eruption recently in August of 2014. The picture here was actually taken after the major 1994 eruption that, along with the other volcano Vulcan, all but destroyed the beautiful town of Rabaul, which sits to the left in this photo. I shudder sometimes when I think of the time I actually climbed down into this volcano's crater and walked around on the plug. At the time it was about 700 feet high. Now it has grown to about 1000 feet. |
Huck Finn?
His name is Benjamin, but I could have called him Huck Finn II. A freer spirit I never met. He came from a poor family of about a dozen siblings. I lived in a tiny house across the street from his mother's hut in a squatters village settlement nestled in a sparse jungle that bordered the street, and the kids from there would sometimes cross the street to play in my big yard - especially on rainy days when they could run and slide across the grass (under an inch of water), on their bellies . Benjamin, however, often wouldn't go home and instead hung around to see what he could get out of the white man. I ended up helping him with his homework and watched him use his fingers and toes to do math.
I began to feel sorry for him in his ragged clothes so one day said, "Hey Benjamin, would you like some new clothes?" He grinned from ear to ear, and off we went to town. I got him a new button down shirt, a new pair of shorts and even a pair of sneakers. He didn't need those of course because his feet were as tough as shoe leather, but he wanted them anyway, so I gave in. Benjamin would prance around town like a prince in his new clothes when he was with me, and I could see the envy in the other boys as we passed them.
One day I went to town by myself, and Benjamin went off in his nice new clothes to swim in the ocean. Of course no self-respecting boy from the islands swims with clothes on so he took them off, neatly folded them, and jumped in. After awhile he came ashore and guess what? Yup. The clothes were gone. Some boys had stolen everything. Probably the ones who had seen him prance past them one day.
I came home walked up to my door and saw a group of boys and girls around my tree looking up and laughing so hard some were on the ground. I looked up and there was Benyamin's face peering out from the branches. "Hey Benjamin what are you doing in the tree?" I said, turned and walked in, closed the door, took a few steps and it opened again behind me. I turned around and in pranced Benjamin as naked as the day he was born. He had walked the two miles from the beach all the way back to my house like that.
His name is Benjamin, but I could have called him Huck Finn II. A freer spirit I never met. He came from a poor family of about a dozen siblings. I lived in a tiny house across the street from his mother's hut in a squatters village settlement nestled in a sparse jungle that bordered the street, and the kids from there would sometimes cross the street to play in my big yard - especially on rainy days when they could run and slide across the grass (under an inch of water), on their bellies . Benjamin, however, often wouldn't go home and instead hung around to see what he could get out of the white man. I ended up helping him with his homework and watched him use his fingers and toes to do math.
I began to feel sorry for him in his ragged clothes so one day said, "Hey Benjamin, would you like some new clothes?" He grinned from ear to ear, and off we went to town. I got him a new button down shirt, a new pair of shorts and even a pair of sneakers. He didn't need those of course because his feet were as tough as shoe leather, but he wanted them anyway, so I gave in. Benjamin would prance around town like a prince in his new clothes when he was with me, and I could see the envy in the other boys as we passed them.
One day I went to town by myself, and Benjamin went off in his nice new clothes to swim in the ocean. Of course no self-respecting boy from the islands swims with clothes on so he took them off, neatly folded them, and jumped in. After awhile he came ashore and guess what? Yup. The clothes were gone. Some boys had stolen everything. Probably the ones who had seen him prance past them one day.
I came home walked up to my door and saw a group of boys and girls around my tree looking up and laughing so hard some were on the ground. I looked up and there was Benyamin's face peering out from the branches. "Hey Benjamin what are you doing in the tree?" I said, turned and walked in, closed the door, took a few steps and it opened again behind me. I turned around and in pranced Benjamin as naked as the day he was born. He had walked the two miles from the beach all the way back to my house like that.
Our new bush house: We moved to the bush, but at first it was just bush. Therefore, I bought a "Paul Bunyan" ax from town, went to the top of a hill near the coast and started cutting down coconut trees. It was almost like a celebration. Later my father-in-law, who knew much more about building from bush material, built us this neat little house with a bedroom, kitchen, extra room for whatever and a little other room for whatever else. Bamboo polls hold down the "store-bought" corrugated sheets of steel that became our roof. That's where we got our water and stored it in the 1000 gal. tank. Maybe this is a solution for drought-ridden So. California. |
A hand-made kitchen in the jungle:
Our little gas stove had two burners, a grill and an oven with a control that said Low, Med and High. We cooked everything in that thing. It worked amazingly well. Cooking instruction were on a single piece of cardboard. It turned out roast chicken, roasts, steaks and fresh fish from the open grill and all kinds of other stuff from the top. With it, our water tank, a soft bed and a wonderfully simple toilet (outhouse) we were in paradise overlooking the ocean, listening to the haunting sounds of the jungle birds, under the starry night sky with the Southern Cross protecting us overhead. |
Pomio Area:
Cape Cunningham "Airport":
The air strip seen here from the air was built during World War II. It's near the Pomio village in New Britain Island, Papua New Guinea. I'm not sure who built it. There's a derelict crashed bomber in the jungle to the left of this strip, but of course even from the air it would not be visible. The Solomon Sea would be behind you if you were sitting in this plane approaching this air strip. |
Taxi service:
Once you do land the transportation is free from the "airport" into the "town". It's a unique taxi and I've never seen anything like it in any other airport in the world. The back seat was a flatbed trailer. And the driver was, I think, a government mechanic who kept tractors and other things running. |
Respect is more profound than Love. I may love my dog, but would never put him in charge of my bank account.
Thank you and please come back. This page will be updated because nothing is static.
Thank you and please come back. This page will be updated because nothing is static.