Komodo National Park is made up of hundreds of dry barren islands but the main two are Rinca and Komodo and both offer a chance to see dragons. Rinca is much closer to Labuanbajo and is the best choice for a day trip. Rinca’s Savannah-like landscape makes it much easier to find dragons than the thick bush on Komodo island but also makes the experience all the more sweaty.

We started out with a short introduction to our Ranger armed with a forked stick to keep any curious dragons at bay and set off walking towards the kitchen. We immediately saw about 8 large dragons sitting out front lured by the smell of the rangers cooking lunch. Most seemed pretty docile and comatose in the mid day heat but we were instructed not to get too close for a single bite from one of these animals could kill an animal as big as a buffalo due to the neuro toxins in the creatures mouth.

When our hike actually started, we were told it was sometimes very difficult to see the dragons away from the bait of the kitchen as they were often laying low in the grass but not more than 10 minutes it we caught a glimpse of our first dragon scampering away down a riverbed.

The remainder of the 2 hour hike we came across some buffalo wallowing in their water holes as well as a few dragon dens which are used when the mother is laying eggs. The landscape can only be described as prehistoric and had a Tyrannosaurus Rex came down the path I would not have acted surprised. Sweaty and dehydrated we arrived back at the ranger station and said farewell to our guide.

Not wanting to simply fly back to Bali I had signed up for a boat trip with Perama tours which is a common way to get across the islands from Lombok to Flores. I still had a day to kill on the tiny beaches around Labuanbajo which was a relaxing and pleasent day to spend although the beaches are a little on the dirty side. I showed up for the boat trip that night just in time for the welcoming party and was surprised to find many people who had arrived on the boat that night were also doing the return trip back to Lombok. The boat wasn’t full for there were about 18 travelers aboard which made sleeping on the deck a comfortable experience instead of being crammed in beside one another. We were lucky for both nights were clear without rain and those of us with sleeping bags could lay out on the roof and stare out at the stars before falling asleep.

Our boat trip was not simply a direct route to Lombok and there were many scheduled stops along the way for snorkeling and swimming as well as my second time around trekking on Rinca Island. This time we started hiking at 7am and were rewarded with the dragons being much livelier and on our hike we came across 7 dragons moving around the grasslands including a few encounters which were probably a little too close.

The wildlife spotting didn’t stop there for the 2 days on the boat we saw literally too many dolphins too count, often throwing themselves completely out of the water. It came to the point when someone would call out “dolphins” and no one cared to even get up and look. We arrived late at night two days later in Lombok and I must say that although Perama has had some bad reviews on the conditions of the boat being basic, I found the trip from Labuanbajo to Lombok great and the food as well as the staff of the boat really made the experience. I would highly recommend it although it is surely no luxury cruise.

I spent a night in Sengiggi, Lombok before spending my final few days on Gili Trawangan. A lot of people I had talked to seemed disappointed with Gili T as it is affectionately named. How this could be I just couldn’t come to grips with. It may not be the perfect idyllic island with perfect beaches but a more laid back and slow paced place I had not come across. Aside from the large parties every third night there is next to nothing to do here which may have been many peoples reasoning for complaining. It was the perfect place to end my 9 months in Asia and I certainly did nothing more than drink more cocktails than I had in the past months and try as hard as I could to put back all the weight I had lost. The days flew by and the end was near but when I left Gili T that morning as I headed to the airport for my flight back to Canada, I had no regrets for I got to see some of the most incredible sites this world has to offer with the girl I love most over the 6 months we spent together and even got to challenge myself on some wild adventures to some truly remote places in the 3 months I spent traveling alone. I certainly enjoyed writing these blogs and hope everyone enjoyed reading them but I really don’t think this is the end of anything, in fact I really believe its really just the beginning.

Bali has a reputation as one of the worlds great tropical island getaways but upon arriving in the dirty congested and hassle infested streets in Kuta, I began to wonder just what everyone was raving about. Kuta is where everyone heads to upon arriving in Bali due to its proximity to the airport and is also known as Party Central of the island. Blaring disco’s jossle for space with massive resorts and tacky tourist vendors attacking everyone in hopes of making a sale of their junk. I hated it! I was faced with a decision to move to a quieter part of the island to spend my last few precious weeks (in Bali’s defense, Amed and Lovina are supposed to be nice) or head off to another far flung corner of this amazing country. My time on the beach was going to have to wait as I opted for the latter and purchased a flight out the next day to Labuanbajo, the gateway to Komodo National Park.

I had heard some rumours about the incredible diving in the waters just off shore in Komodo and this was my primary draw but also the chance to walk amongst the unique Komodo dragons was certainly going to be a once in lifetime chance. My feet on the ground in Labuanbajo, Flores I liked what I found. An actual Indonesian fishing town lined with a single street of dive shops and a couple backpacker-esque restaurants and locals smiling ear to ear in greeting and I felt a million miles from the nightmare that is Kuta.

It took a little searching to find a suitable place to stay as their seemed to be a lack of accommodation options in Labuanbajo with most of the backpackers staying in Gardena which only had one very sad looking room available for what I thought was an overpriced rate. In fact, all the accommodation options in Labuanbajo seemed slightly overpriced for what they offered but eventually I was happy with a room I found for 12 USD at Bajo Beach.

I signed up to do some diving the day following with Bajo Dive Club since it was recommended to me back in Sri Lanka by some friends we met. I spent the remainder of my day talking to some dive masters from another shop in the small breakfast restaurant and getting acquainted with speaking the English language to native speakers again.

When it came time to dive, I was pleased to see our boat had only 6 or so other divers which makes things far more enjoyable underwater when you are not bumping into each other for space trying to look at a 1 inch long nudibranch. Our first site to dive was Manta Point which was going to be a shallow drift dive over a Manta Ray cleaning station where the giant rays come to be cleaned by small fish called cleaner wrasse. Having dived multiple sites in the past where these rays are occasionally seen and been unlucky thus far, I had my fingers crossed that here in Komodo I would see my first. Upon entering the water, the site is less than thrilling as most of the coral is damaged and pretty boring to look at. It was clear this site was going to be one of those where you are looking for nothing but the main attraction which the site is named after. After 20 minutes or so I was discouraged and felt the dive was going to be a bust, but just then out of the blue came 4 Mantas gracefully swimming against the current as they moved past us with ease. These would be the only manta’s we would see on the dive but everyone was ecstatic over it and I felt the dive was a great success.

The second site for the day was at Batu Balong, a small island with huge currents ripping by but was reportedly one of the best sites in Komodo. This time I learned why Komodo is commonly referred to as one of the best places in the world for diving. My neck was sore by the end for the entire dive I did not know where to look with coral gardens stretching as far as an eye could see.

There were large groupers, sweet lips and sharks crusing around in the deeper holes and psychedilic nudibranches and crabs hiding amongst the the fluroescent corals. What did it for me though was the sheer number of fish swimming surrounding our group of divers. It was an amazing dive and I craved more and immediately signed up for another days diving when we arrived back at the shop.

Everyone from the day before had moved on and I found myself the next day with just one other diver who had never seen Manta’s and hoped we could go to Manta Point. I wasn’t going to miss a second chance to dive with such an amazing animal and so I agreed it would be fine with me to go again on our second dive of the day. The first dive was at Tatawa Besar and was another sensory overload of colours with pleasent currents and plenty of biodiversity. My dive buddy was hellbent on seeing the manta’s and when we arrived at manta point and the rays were thowing themselves out of the water (think 4 meter pancake coming out of the water) we were both pumped to get in there. Thinking things could not get better than seeing four the day before I was again proved wrong. While hanging on to the bottom to remain still in the current we had a large manta pass infront of us before moving into the blue and returning back this time right over our heads.

In the end our manta total was 6 rays including a few black tip reef sharks as an added bonus. We had signed up for the three dives that day and after lunch we headed over to Tatawa Kecil aka Current City, a name that should not be taken lightly. Already a little tired from the previous dives the current on the third site was a sharp reminded of why we need to respect the ocean and despite my confidence in the water, I am not the most experienced diver and for the majority of the dive, struggled with the currents while also trying to admire  the underwater life.

I returned completely exhausted but still made it out for a little socializing in one of the few western restaurants serving up pizza and plenty of cold beer which was the perfect way to finish an already perfect day.

An hour or so outside of the village we came across some wonderfully friendly Yali children walking back home to village just outside of Angguruk with the young girls carrying sacks of potatoes and the boys wielding massive machetes. I was again the focus of everyone’s attention as the children stroked my arms and pinched my skin checking to see if I was real possibly? We continued trekking over the mountain and reached a large swamp area which the kids seemed to navigate almost effortlessly despite having just bare feet. It was a few hours of some of the most muddy and uncomfortable trekking thus far and already 6 days into the Papuan highlands, I began to hope my luck might be good enough that there would be a plane waiting for me in Angguruk. Once we climbed over another large mountain we descended into a valley where Tingalmo village layed.

It wasn’t long before I was again surrounded by curious locals in the village as I was brought some fresh fruit and sugar cane to snack on after a hard days trekking. From the village it was easy to see Angguruk was only a few hour walk away but do to it becoming dark we decided to stay the night in Tingalmo. Using my basic Indonesian, I overheard one of my porters asking about a plane in the next few days and when I heard a reply saying there would be a plane in 2 days I was filled with joy as the idea of walking back out through the swamps and up Gunung Elit was just something I did not want to even think about. I went to bed early that night with dreams of airplanes and a hot shower occupying my mind.

It was a pretty straightforward 4 hour walk to Angguruk still with plenty of ups and downs and a few rivers needed to be crossed. Angguruk is the main Yali village of any sort of size and had been the main place for missionaries to base their practice during the time of the Dutch. Complete with an airstrip and small hut which could never seriously be called an “airport”, we made a beeline for this building. After speaking to about 3 separate individuals my worst fears were realized and the airplane we had heard about the day prior was due to come in a few days but would not be stopping in Wamena (our destination) but would be flying to Sentani, which of course did not help us in the slightest. Morale was down for the day as it wasn’t just me who was feeling exhausted. Just about all of us had sore knees and backs and since we were now going to be walking out, we spent the rest of the day resting up.

I spent the evening wandering around Angguruk and meeting some of the locals before heading off back to the family home I was staying in before dark. We started out late the next day as we were almost through all of our fresh food and needed to stock up at the local market nearby. A bag full of cigarettes, fruit, and vegetables and we were quite sure we had enough for the return trip.

Morale was still quite low but mine was lifted when a few hours later we arrived in Walma, the village of some locals I met along the way to Angguruk. I had an entourage of 20 or so children guiding me through their village and the surrounding villages but we had to turn back when the sky opened up and it began to rain.

I slept in Walma that night and enjoyed every mintue of it for I knew the next few days were going to push my limits for I had nothing but forest shelters and “tuku” to look forward to. We trekked faster and harder than the previous week as we were hoping to cover more ground but this proved to be a mistake as Minous took a bad fall on a log and twisted his ankle badly which certainly was going to slow us down. His ankle wrapped and loads redistributed, we continued on and met a young teenager who agreed to carry some of our cooking supplies in exchange for food and cigarettes. We kept him along as we were able to keep our pace despite having a pretty serious injury. We made it up Gunung Elit without an incident which we all were happy to have behind us.

Things got a little scary on the other side when I was climbing down a large tree trunk and grabbed onto a rotting piece of wood which gave way sending me backwards about 15 feet down to some large boulders below. I was certain I would have had serious injury or worse had Minous not thrown himself underneath me breaking my fall. We laughed it off but said nothing and luckily neither of us had anything more than a few more added bruises.

The hardest parts behind us, things got a little easier again although I couldn’t shake my hot shower and hot food fantasy from my head. I realized around Day 10 that I was ready to get out. As much as I love the great outdoors and trekking, 10 days is my maximum. I hadn’t seen a single foreign face or even had a full conversation since I set out and I was craving a little more socialization then the few sentences and questions I had picked up in Bahasa. You can imagine my joy when we came across three Frenchmen and their 10 or so porters on my second last day. They were at the start of their 2 week trek and still fully supplied with cookies, sweets and all the good things I had eaten up in my first few days of trekking. They were kind enough to share as we sat around the camp fire with tea and I shared a few stories of what they could expect in the coming weeks. I chuckled to myself for I have always said no matter how remote you think you are, there will always be a French or German traveler their before you.

Saying farewell we set off for Hitugi early as we had a lot of ground to cover if we hoped to make to the village before darkness. Finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, we covered ground at a Yali like speed and made it to the village well before nightfall where I was greeted by my first Coca cola in two weeks. My final night in a village ended perfectly sitting around listening to my porters and some other porters from a Dutch group strumming their homemade guitars singing some lovely traditional Lani songs.

The final day was a short 4 hours of walking and a few bemo rides back to my hotel in Wamena. It was sad to say goodbye to my porters who I had befriended in the last 2 weeks despite a large language barrier at times. I couldn’t have asked for better companions.Papua had given me everything I could have asked for in a long trek from amazing scenery to incredible cultural experiences. It’s so easy to see Papua as a place of cannibals and “primitive savages who used to eat other people ” but after spending a significant amount of time in their villages and homes it really becomes apparent that we are all apart of the human race and what makes us human never changes. Despite being from a place half way around the world, I felt a connection with the people of the highlands that will be something I can never forget. So if your ever heading into the New Guinea highlands, Don’t come for the naked savages and cannibals, come to meet the most friendly and hospitable people anywhere in the world.

I’ll finish with a video that I took in one of the local churches. Is there really anything better than children singing together?

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.

I’d be lying to say I had never once dreamed of an earlier time when the world was less explored and some of the worlds great secrets still lay hidden in its forests and jungles. While I have been many places family members may consider remote and far off it always surprises me just how easy it is to travel to these so called far off lands in today’s modern world. I craved somewhere inaccessible, where getting there would be half the challenge. For me, this was the island of New Guinea.

What is not interesting about the second largest island in the world and certainly one of the least developed? With perfect beaches rimming its coastline to unbroken jungles and the highest mountains this side of the Himalaya complete with glaciers, there really is something for everyone. New Guinea’s natural attractions are only trumped by its local cultures which speak 280 different languages. Some tribes in the interior were not “discovered” until the 1930′s and continued to cannibalize their enemies all the way to the 1970′s. Its thought by some that in its most remote corners these practices may still occur although their are also many skeptics as well. Due to a terrible public image of cannibals and tribal war, high costs for traveling, and a serious lack of infrastructure, the average tourists stays clear of the place except for the extremely wealthy on all inclusive package tours or a growing number of intrepid types.

For those unfamiliar with the geography, the island is split into two with the east belonging to Papua New Guinea and the west to Indonesia with the province title of Papua (formerly called Irian Jaya).

My first view of Papua met every expectation as I gazed out of the plane window at the endless trees which seemed to blanket mountains almost rising from the beach and not a single road in sight. Once on the ground, my first two days were spent booking a flight to the interior and securing a Surat Jalan which special permit for visiting other parts of Papua. The permit took all of an hour to get at the local police station and cost me nothing although I learned later that a small “donation” is appreciated.

I stay in Sentani which is the town the airport is situated in but has a descent attraction itself, Danau Sentani which is a massive lake complete with island villages and an other worldy looking shoreline. I planned to spend a day around the lake but decided to save it for the return trip as I was too excited to get into the highlands.

The following morning I was due to fly out at 10am on the second flight of the day but due to some cloud cover I was grounded for 3 hours. I began having Fort Albany flashbacks waiting standby in a tiny little airport, only this time I was trying to get in to the isolated region, not out. Around 130pm we were in the air and beside me I was lucky enough to meet Vinna, a Javanese girl working for World Vision doing public education on HIV in Papua. When we landed we decided to split the transportation costs to the city which was a good decision on my part, for waiting in the terminal were a handful of English speaking guides in ambush. One guide quickly caught my attention for he appeared as Papuan as they come but spoke English with a strong Texas accent. Really blew my mind and when I asked him where he learned english he sort of chuckled and said he lived with Texan missionaries in his youth. Not interested in using guides who seem to be waiting for tourists I tried to escape with help from Vinna saying I was a guest of World Vision.

It was still early in the day and I had lots to do and decided to explore the small town of Wamena while following up some leads and meeting with a couple guides who had been recommended to me previously. It begs to be said just how different Papua is from the rest of Indonesia. When the Dutch let go of its hold on the Indonesian colony, they hung onto New Guinea in order to prepare West Papua for independence as in just about every way the Papuan’s shared no cultural link to the rest of Indonesia. Unfortunately Papua’s richness in natural resources was to be its demise and when Indonesia threatened to go to war over Papua, the peoples dreams of an independent state were crushed. There still remains a strong separatist movement carried out by a group called the OPM but with trans migrasi transplants from overpopulated regions settling in and a giant mine in Timika, its doubtful we will ever see a West Papua nation.

Having hired plenty of guides in the past, I was surprised by just how big a pain in the ass this was becoming to find one in Wamena. I was a little nervous for some Baliem Valley guides have created a bad reputation for the others by demanding more money half way through or leaving tourists stranded in the jungle and since I was planning a 2 week trek, I wanted someone I could get along with. I got a few recommendations from the hotel as well as a knowledgeable Japanese man who runs an internet cafe in town. All seemed very friendly but due to the distance and rugged trekking required to reach the Yali tribe as I wanted to do, charged preposterous amounts of money as a guide fee. I began looking at a shorter and easier option which left me feeling just a little disappointed until I met Younous. Younous was an older and very experience guide (as well as expensive) who understood my budget issues and offered to set me up with a couple porters he regularly uses and knew the route well but didn’t speak English. I met Minous the porter at my hotel that night and we came to a fair price with the help of Younous and agreed to meet the next morning to pick up supplies. When I first met him my first impressions were not good for he looked as though he just came from murdering his family for his face never changed from the scowl it displayed. I began having doubts if this would work out between us. I didn’t know it then but minous would be one of the greatest people I have met while traveling and may have possible saved my life.

With the annoying bits out of the way I met Minous for our shopping trip the next morning to pick up food and ask about the possibility of a missionary flight back to Wamena. Our plan was to spend a week walking to Angguruk in Yali country and with some good luck, fly back on a tiny missionary plane. Things did not look good for when I spoke to the pilots they regrettably told me my chances were very slim but if I was out there and so were they, they would happily fly me back. It didn’t look promising in the least but I tried not to think of an extra weeks worth of walking to get back.

The rest of the morning was spent at the Pasar or market where most of the tribes people come from the hills to sell their produce. A couple of large bags full of carrots, potato, cabbage, tinned tuna and packs of cigarettes for the porters and we were finished. I was happy to know I wouldn’t starve as it seemed to me at the time that we bought far too much food.

I left Minous and we agreed at 7am to catch a bemo to the starting point of our trek. I then headed over to the internet cafe so I could type a “If you don’t hear from me in two weeks this is where I might be” email to Lianna and made it back to my hotel just in time for Vinna to give me some more Indonesian language lessons. I went to bed that night wondering if I may just be in over my head this time.