It was a beautiful sunny day, the skies were clear, birds chirping and I was sitting in my office checking the details for my upcoming trek over the Kokoda track. “Oh great! Only 6 trekkers, should be a nice little un-eventful trek!”.
Boy was I wrong!
Now don’t take this the wrong way, ‘eventful’ doesn't always mean bad. Sure, we had some issues along the way, but each of them did something magic. For every step backwards we took, we took 2 forwards (which is normally the opposite on the track). For every hit we took as a team, we regrouped, united, and together, fended off the terrain, conditions, the bad jokes, and all made it all the way to the end.
Things ran quite smoothly up until a little drizzle on the morning of the 5th day, slicked up possibly the steepest, sketchiest part of the whole track. Great timing, I thought. After a long wait at the crossing below Kagi, I will never forget the sound of Raj’s scream of agony as he tried to weight his right leg to get down to us. He’d taken a slip, and was in a world of hurt. I ran up the hill to meet him with a few porters, did a quick assessment and made a call. “We need to get him to the bottom of this hill to rest and ice that leg”. In what I could only imagine was the same way these brilliant men, these ‘fuzzy wuzzy angels’, helped our forefathers in their time of need, they scooped Raj up, despite his objections, and seat carried him over the trail (while they were off it), in the most remarkable feat of strength and humanity I’ve ever witnessed as a guide.
A further assessment revealed no joint/ligament/tendon/skeletal damage. This was a good thing. By this stage swelling was quite bad, and bruising wasn't far away. We cooled Raj’s leg with wet wraps and cold rocks from the stream, once it had gone down a little, bandaged it all up, dosed him up with some various medications to aid in the inflammation and pain, and had the chat. “your leg’s bad mate. This is going to hurt, and hurt a lot, but whether you continue or not, we need to get you up this hill, there’s no way a chopper can get this deep in the valley.”
With the assistance of 2 porters, Raj soldiered on, all the way up the infamous ridge into Efogi. My honest assessment at the time was, if he can make it up this hill without being carried, and then to camp that night, with some good pain management, the help of our amazing local team, and his own sheer will, he’d make it to the end.
The support Raj got from the rest of our team, and the support they all receive in their own times of need (we all had them), whole heartedly embodied the spirit of what it means to walk the Kokoda track. The jokes, the fun making, laughs, tears, slips, all with an unbreakable underlaying care towards our fellow trekkers, constantly reminded me of the stories from journals of the diggers on the track during ’42. An Aussie spirit, passed down through the generations, and embodied in a bunch of strangers.
Some other highlights of the trip for me, and lets be honest thats whats important, Julie’s uncontrollable fits of laughter, ‘Brad’s random word of the day’ each day, never to be repeated due to risk of jeopardising his political career, Kate’s remarkable effort of taking each step with grace and not falling over for the whole 8 days, despite the soles of her shoes being held on with cable ties and spare laces! Joe’s sprint up Imita Ridge with full pack after being poked by the comment that his wife was beating him, Shereen’s gentle care and motherly instinct to help in a time of need, and last but not least, Raj’s unstoppable determination to complete his journey no matter the toll it took on his body or mind, in honour of his father and his plight.
In summary, dedication, will power and teamwork triumphed as the group walked not just as a team, but a new family, together, through the arches at Owers' Corner. A massive achievement to you all.
With honour and humility.
Boy was I wrong!
Now don’t take this the wrong way, ‘eventful’ doesn't always mean bad. Sure, we had some issues along the way, but each of them did something magic. For every step backwards we took, we took 2 forwards (which is normally the opposite on the track). For every hit we took as a team, we regrouped, united, and together, fended off the terrain, conditions, the bad jokes, and all made it all the way to the end.
Things ran quite smoothly up until a little drizzle on the morning of the 5th day, slicked up possibly the steepest, sketchiest part of the whole track. Great timing, I thought. After a long wait at the crossing below Kagi, I will never forget the sound of Raj’s scream of agony as he tried to weight his right leg to get down to us. He’d taken a slip, and was in a world of hurt. I ran up the hill to meet him with a few porters, did a quick assessment and made a call. “We need to get him to the bottom of this hill to rest and ice that leg”. In what I could only imagine was the same way these brilliant men, these ‘fuzzy wuzzy angels’, helped our forefathers in their time of need, they scooped Raj up, despite his objections, and seat carried him over the trail (while they were off it), in the most remarkable feat of strength and humanity I’ve ever witnessed as a guide.
A further assessment revealed no joint/ligament/tendon/skeletal damage. This was a good thing. By this stage swelling was quite bad, and bruising wasn't far away. We cooled Raj’s leg with wet wraps and cold rocks from the stream, once it had gone down a little, bandaged it all up, dosed him up with some various medications to aid in the inflammation and pain, and had the chat. “your leg’s bad mate. This is going to hurt, and hurt a lot, but whether you continue or not, we need to get you up this hill, there’s no way a chopper can get this deep in the valley.”
With the assistance of 2 porters, Raj soldiered on, all the way up the infamous ridge into Efogi. My honest assessment at the time was, if he can make it up this hill without being carried, and then to camp that night, with some good pain management, the help of our amazing local team, and his own sheer will, he’d make it to the end.
The support Raj got from the rest of our team, and the support they all receive in their own times of need (we all had them), whole heartedly embodied the spirit of what it means to walk the Kokoda track. The jokes, the fun making, laughs, tears, slips, all with an unbreakable underlaying care towards our fellow trekkers, constantly reminded me of the stories from journals of the diggers on the track during ’42. An Aussie spirit, passed down through the generations, and embodied in a bunch of strangers.
Some other highlights of the trip for me, and lets be honest thats whats important, Julie’s uncontrollable fits of laughter, ‘Brad’s random word of the day’ each day, never to be repeated due to risk of jeopardising his political career, Kate’s remarkable effort of taking each step with grace and not falling over for the whole 8 days, despite the soles of her shoes being held on with cable ties and spare laces! Joe’s sprint up Imita Ridge with full pack after being poked by the comment that his wife was beating him, Shereen’s gentle care and motherly instinct to help in a time of need, and last but not least, Raj’s unstoppable determination to complete his journey no matter the toll it took on his body or mind, in honour of his father and his plight.
In summary, dedication, will power and teamwork triumphed as the group walked not just as a team, but a new family, together, through the arches at Owers' Corner. A massive achievement to you all.
With honour and humility.
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