Into the Bismarck Mountains

Saturday,  July 12, 2014

Father Nicholas called us first thing in the morning.  He was all ready to set out on foot over the mountains to take us to our destination in the Simbai Valley.

 

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His wife was also ready.  Before leaving, she handed out the sweets we had brought along at the suggestion of Bishop Nathan.

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The first part of the trip was promising.  We had not actually come to the end of the vehicular road,  but after the previous day of bouncing about in the PMV, I was, at first, happy to be on my own two feet. We were heading north toward the ridge that separates the Jimi Valley from the Simbai Valley.

 

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Occasionally a pickup truck would pass by.  Evidence of the importance of getting the local coffee crop out to market.

 

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We forded a number of streams.  Though the water was barely ankle deep, I did not trust the slippery stones.  Father Nicholas's wife noticed my hesitancy. The soles of my fancy sport shoes were not as adherent as her bare feet.  She wasted no time in offering me supporting hands and pointing out the firmest stepping stones.

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After several dips, twists and rises, the road flattened out again.  

 

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We walked by gardens and, looking off between the trees over the downhill edge of the road, we spotted the gardens and hamlets on opposite slopes.

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The last stretch of road up to Dega village was steep and we were thoroughly hot and tired when we arrived.

 

As at our arrival in Kwima, we were enthusiastically greeted, this time with a hymn and good-natured laughter as villagers at the ritual gate showered us with chilly drops of water and marigold petals.

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We were shown to the schoolhouse where Father Nicholas, who had gone on ahead while we were being greeted, was already preparing refreshments.

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After everyone had eaten, Father Nicholas told us it been decided that, given our slow walking pace, we would not, after all, be proceeding to the Simbai Valley that afternoon. Instead, we were invited to settle ourselves in the school house for the night. We would set out again the next morning.  As impatient as I was to get to the other side of the Bismarcks, I certainly had to concur that we couldn't risk getting caught on the trail by nightfall.  

The unexpected interruption in our trek gave the people a chance to introduce us to their village.

Beyond the school house, the weekly Saturday market was in full swing around the edges of two simultaneous basketball games - one for men, one for women.

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I was invited to visit an Anglican shrine at the periphery of the village.  

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