Wai Do I Chose To Do These Things? – Papua Part One

Everything happened so fast the next morning. I was up at 6am, shoved some toast and peanut butter down my throat while Minous and Kassar, my second porter, loaded up our food and other supplies. A short becak ride (bike with a box in the front for sitting) and we began hopping on and off bemos until we got to Kurima, the starting point of our walk.

The adventure truly began here. With just about nightly rainfall the normally small to medium sized rivers have transformed into raging torrents. Our first obstacle was to carefully climb down a large clay bank to the river bed but within 5 minutes of starting the trek I was stuck knee deep in clay. The Papuans who weren’t killing themselves laughing at the foreigner stuck in the mud assembled themselves to yank me free. It took about 4 men to get me out and I wasn’t even in the clear yet as the river had washed away the entire bridge and a makeshift one had been made out of a completely submerged tree. I made it across only because I had multiple Papuans on either side bracing me otherwise I would have surely gone bobbing down the Baliem.I had read some internet reports stating Papua was some of the most difficult trekking in the world and after just 10 minutes I was ready to say the same.

Over the next few hours things became much drier and much more enjoyable as the trail opened up to some dramatic mountain scenery and we met many Yali heading home along the way exchanging greetings of “wai wai wai” The walk to Hitugi was a steady incline but far from demanding or challenging and although my porters were struggling with their loads, I found myself barely breaking a sweat. Just prior to entering Hitugi village a group of women erupted into song and dance as I passed by which was a lovely welcome as I would spend my first night in Hitugi.

After eating for the first time since breakfast I had a short wander around the village before sundown along with a couple kids from the village who were more than happy to show me around. I shook countless hands in greeting the local Dani people and encountered my first elder wearing the traditional Dani dress outside of Wamena. Up until about 10 years ago most men would have worn koteka which is a gourd hollowed out and lined with a soft leaf that fits over the mans penis. Everything is then fastened in place with a thin string made from a tree and looped around the waist and testicles. As migrants from other parts of Indonesia arrive and with westernization knocking at the door, this is becoming less and less common than it used to be. It may look primitive and exotic at first glance, but I found myself barely taking notice after just a few days in the highlands.

Heading back to my sleeping quarters I noticed some adolescents playing a game of volleyball and was invited to join. The villagers who previously had been tending to their daily business suddenly dropped everything to watch the foreigner play a round of volleyball. While certainly not my sport of choice, I’m not horrible, but after an hour of having the ball spiked in my face by people a full two feet shorter than me I decided to pick my game up. I redeemed myself by putting a ball straight down into another players face directly from the movie Meet the Parents with Ben Stiller and was rewarded with cheers and high fives all around including from the player who took the worst of it.

The next morning we left with an extra porter as Minous and Kassar were struggling to carry the supplies themselves. I agreed one more porter would be necessary and so Whanous, or Hitugi as he would be known, was added to our group.

Our second day was a miserable one to say the least. While the trail was not difficult, the weather opened up mid morning and we spent the next 6 or so hours walking through the pouring rain. While I was covered in Gore Tex I was still extremely damp and miserable but the group of Papuan ladies who walked with us all the way to Yugosen village did not seem bothered by the weather in the least. With nothing but some tree bark to shelter them, I was encouraged by their smiles and shouts of encouragement. I breathed a sigh of relief as we climbed over the final hill and our destination village came into view. I was to stay in the missionary building and immediately set about trying to dry my stuff out despite having a bag cover, just about everything including my sleeping bag was soaked. The rain did not let up for the entire evening and through the night I fell asleep listening to the pitter padder of the rain against the tin roofed building.

To say the Papuan geography is rugged is a complete understatement. Its the jagged valleys and mountains which have kept its people so isolated and allowed different tribal cultures to exist almost side by side. While one valley might be speaking the Dani language, the next couple valleys over might be speaking Yali and without the universal language of Bahasa Indonesian, these tribes would not be able to communicate. Leaving Yogosen village we passed through the last Dani village of Kurima where I was met by a pack of curious and ecstatic children. A herd of 10 or so kids followed me as I passed through and when one kid quickly made a headdress out of flowers and grass I snapped a couple pictures. Seeing this just about all the kids began assembling hats and headdresses out of the local flora and posing for photos, letting out cries of joy when they could see themselves and their hats on the display screen. With our entourage of children we broke for lunch nearby a river and quickly a fire was stoked and we were dining on a hardy lunch of fried noodles and veggies and even some fried potatoes.

Heading out of Kurima we were heading into a much more wild area where there would be no permanent village settlement for the next few days. The Dani tribe territory was behind us and it would take us two days before reaching the other side of Elit mountain and be in Yali country. Due to a lack of air transportation in this area of the world, just about everyone gets back and forth on foot and the Yali people use the mountain trails almost as if they were highways. Makeshift forest shelters are used for the nights sleep and our next two days would be long, about 8 hours of walking and sleeping in these huts sharing them with other Yali families and millions of fleas known locally as “tuku”.

Wongol was the worst of the huts as it sits at an elevation of approximately 3600 meters and is practically a few sticks and moss thrown together for shelter.

Despite being close to the equator at this elevation, at night I was wearing two sweaters and a toque and placed myself right beside the fire, I was still freezing. I couldn’t wait to say farewell to the shelter and the next morning I was rejuvenated with the thought that I was going to reach Piliam village and get to sleep in something I wouldn’t be afraid would collapse on me through the night.

The trekking so far had been mostly through alpine trails and occasional bits of swamp but when we were crossing the plateau which sits at the top of Gunung Elit I was treated to an eerie landscape of Australian like flora which I had never seen. Things were muddy due to the amount of rain we had been having but I was transfixed by the awesomeness of such an exotic looking place.

My excitement and enjoyment would be short lived for when we came to the end of the plateau I came to face my ultimate challenge in the past 9 months. While I don’t really have any fears or phobias to speak of, unlike Lianna, heights do tend to make me more than a little nervous. I was horrified when I saw what I was to do next as Elit Mountain plunges straight down into a dense jungle below by about 400 meters.

The only means of descending are the homemade ladders consisting of some trees leaned against the rocks and a few nails and twine for reassurance.

To give my porters credit they were very concerned for my safety instructing me to put my foot and my hands where with just about every step of the way which of course made the going very slow but we all made it down safely.

The sun was beginning to get low and we didn’t have time to rest for some seriously thick jungle stood in the way before we would arrive in Piliam. The comfortable mountain trails I had gotten used to on the other side of the mountain were gone and instead were replaced with muddy swamps and large slippery logs to be used as a tightrope in order to make it to the other side. A few falls and bruises later we met some young Yali boys out hunting in the jungle with bows and arrows and they kindly navigated us to their village a few hours away.

Walking into Piliam, I was offered a glimpse of what some of the worlds great explorers must have felt like when they entered some of the most remote lands of their time. Many children still adorned the koteka and engulfed me in a sea of black smiling faces and snotty noses when I sat down to rest. Many, reaching out to touch my white skin. Old woman wearing nothing but the traditional grass skirt, and Yali men stumbled out of the honais and sat at a distance starring at the strange looking foreign face. My sore muscles and previous sleepless nights faded away immediately for I felt everything had truly been worth it to reach a village as remote as this. A lack of energy and lack of sunlight led me into my shelter for the night while I dined with countless smiling and curious faces peering in through the tiny doorway.

A solid nights sleep in a dry sleeping bag and comfy non flea infested floor and I got up early to have a short look around the small village. I couldn’t believe the amount of traditional dress I came across as from previous researched figured I would not see much while trekking in this day and age. While photographing the men’s honai where all the men spend the night, 4 men wearing koteka came out to introduce themselves and I was lucky enough to snap a couple photographs after offering some cigarettes and spent a few minutes conversing in some Indonesian I had been picking up along the way. After a hearty breakfast of some more fried potatoes and peanut butter to make things more exciting, it was time to hit the trail again.