PAPUA NEW GUINEA
EXPEDITION
AN UNMOTORISED CROSSING
4th June 2014
Week 12: The Fly River,
Sturt Island to Daru
Rubbish and Betel nut stained our landing bay, but we ogled with rapture at the gloriously trash strewn end to our journey. Relief.
As we stepped out of the boat, we could not process our achievement, and as I sit here writing this, I am still in garbled shock. Two years of preparation, anticipation, fear and focus, the pinnacle of our plans is finally achieved.
We remorselessly left our vessel, with little sentiment and no backward glance to the buoyant boat which had brought us in to bay. Homing in on the first available beer, both of us felt extremely proud.
No rest for the wicked, and so we booked the first flight out of Daru, arriving in Port Moresby that same afternoon. The British High Commission in Port Moresby have followed our expedition for the past three months, and we’ve been extremely grateful for all of their support. In particular, our arrival in Port Moresby has been cushioned by the generosity of Catherine Thorburn, who invited us to spend our remaining days in her own home.
The days since our arrival have been frantically busy, and we have felt especially glamorous as we, and our newly acquired beards, have conducted interviews with the local and Australian media. Thursday 5th June will see us departing from Papua New Guinea, within a whisker of our final visa date, organised and co-ordinated by Brunel- Victor and David in particular.
Thank you to all for your kind and supportive words throughout our expedition, you really did make it easier when it seemed impossible. In a dreamlike state I sign off our last post from this spectacular country, whose support, people, and idiosyncrasies have undoubtedly left us with one of the most surreal and hard hitting experiences of our lives.
A more detailed reflection will follow next week.
Richard Johnson
[blog called in via AST Satellite Comms]
On Monday 2nd June at approximately 11am local time, we arrived in Daru, 83 days after leaving our start point of Vanimo.
We were anticipating a relaxing few final days, floating down the Fly River to the finish line, but unfortunately, Papua New Guinea had other ideas. If stage one and two tested us physically, the final 10 days of our expedition really stretched our mental barriers. Moral frequently plummeted as we worried whether we would make our flights home, through the open sea in what the locals were calling a 'Suicide Sail'.
After leaving Sturt Island in our new bigger boat, it wasn’t long before we felt the wrath of the tides. With high winds blowing against us and waves crashing over the deck, progress was insufferably slow. On the occasions when the weather tolerated us, each painfully short 6 hour tidal window made the final 150km seem endless.
The mighty Fly River widened from 2 to 95 kilometres. Its channels, straits, currents and torrents form a mighty vacuum, the opposing edge never in sight. Tougher tides combined with tumultuous waves to batter our fresh, and more fragile, boats, which increasingly crumbled and were replaced. We were constantly on edge, waiting and expecting the boat to capsize, sending ourselves and our luggage overboard in an expedition stunting sweep.
Countless proclamations were given, pronouncing that Daru would be sighted ‘that evening’ or ‘the next day’. Daru felt untouchable, teasing us, allowing us to travel a few hours each day but never reach our destination.
So, with the weather against us, no one willing to travel with us and the boats not up to the challenge of open water, it looked like a real possibility that we would have to walk the final few days. Thankfully we finally found three Papuans mad enough to join the ‘suicide sail’. We communally paddled, sailed and walked for our final days, sleeping for no more than four hours each night. After four days of paddling through pelting, perpendicular rain, we finally saw what was to us, the most beautiful sight in the world. Daru Island was in sight.