Back to Mt. Hagen. 13 July

It isn't entirely clear that we will be able to take off from Lumi and arrive in Mt. Hagen today as planned.   Lumi (Gloomy Loomy, Jim calls it) has to wait for a plane to arrive, either from Wewak or Mt. Hagen.   And the plane in the other location won't take off unless the weather in Lumi is decent, and there's some blue sky.   The plane definitely won't fly out to fetch us if there's any chance of rain when they ring up.  So there has to be a window, of about 4 hours, where the weather is acceptable.    After some mildly intense nail-biting and casting about for Plans B (Jim could drive us 8 hours to Wewak, but there's some concern that the axe-wielding maniac might attack us; from Wewak we can easily get a plane to Moresby...) and C (Jim says the Chief of Police in Lumi needs to go to Wewak this week, and he could take us there, and we'd be relatively safe from maniacs with weapons).   In order for Rachel to participate in the wedding of her friend, Alexandra, on July 18th, we must make all the connection exactly from here on out.   (I sure hope Alexandra appreciates the trouble we went to to ensure that Rachel got to the church on time!)  And there are still 5 flights after this next one, in order for Rachel to get to Washington DC on time.   I on the other hand, would be just as happy to stay two or three more days in Australia, but not at the expense of Jim and Jean's time and energy, which our delay in Lumi would tax.   


The day of our departure from Lumi arrives, and lo and behold, the weather cooperates, and there is a window for air travel.   It's a bit tricky to get in and out of Lumi, especially in the rainy season, but one never knows, even in this current dry season.   A few days ago, it poured rain.  Jean uses her cell phone to contact MAF in Mt. Hagen (and hour and a half's flight from Lumi) and they tell us a plane will be there to fetch us sometime after 1pm.   So we can take our time packing.


We set aside everything we can to give to Jim and Jean.   Although, stupidly, I forget to give them my small cache of extra AA lithium batteries.   Which of course, are extremely valuable here, and not available in the local "store" (pretty much nothing is for sale there anyway).   I kick myself for this, as I cannot send them batteries in a care package from home.   


Rachel and I are both in need of baths today.   After another exhausting hike yesterday, we were in no shape to do this last night.    So we get a large bucket of (cold) water from one of the big tanks near the guest house, and a smaller scooper, and we pour cold water on each other's heads in the guest house shower stall.  We are screaming from the cold (no serious heat and humidity in Lumi) and laughing.   Jim and Jean, who are thankfully not too nearby, may not have heard us.    


Jean and Jim are busy, Jim is running a training course in the training center, attached to the guest house.   As I pack, I can hear him teaching a course on "How to Use a Stopwatch", in Pidgin.   "Ok, pressim button!" I hear him exhorting the class, and the class laughs at something.  He laughs a lot too.  


We are ready to go, and Jean assembles some of their staff to help us with the luggage, back the 1 km road to the airstrip.   We chat all the way to the airstrip, of course, then round the bend and there it is.   


After a brief wait, Jean is the first to spot the tiny shape of the plane approaching from the southwest, and we hear it's engine buzzing softly in the distance.   In no time, we are on the plane with a nice pilot from Switzerland, Philip.   Wistfully, we wave goodbye to our new friends in Lumi, and zoom down the runway to Mt. Hagen.   The 2-hour flight is uneventful, and as we are the only passengers, and I seem interested in planes, the pilot allows me to sit in the co-pilot's seat.  Even over the roar of the engine, I can hear him just fine, and from time to time he points out various things below... landing strips for MAF and others.   Mostly, the strips are either for missions or mining operations.  But, as in all of our other flights, the endless carpet of green forest below is virtually undamaged, that is, until we approach the Waghi Valley, the seat of the oldest tradition of agriculture in the world.   From the flights we have taken thus far, we have the (erroneous) impression that PNG's forests are relatively unscathed.   Jim has told us that there are big oil palm plantations on the north side (ocean side) of the Torricellis (which we have not seen), and we are also told that the large PNG islands of New Britain and New Ireland have been virtually deforested for oil palm.


When we arrive in Mt. Hagen at the MAF (Mission Aviation Fellowship, founded by Christian mininsters) terminal, we wait for our pre-ordered transport to the Quality Inn Hotel Highlander, and, despite 2 phone calls to their dispatcher, the transport never arrives.   We are not going anywhere in Mt. Hagen without a guard or chaperone, and we continue to wait patiently behind the big iron gate that separates the MAF terminal from the public.   Finally, our pilot, Phillip, comes forward with a friendly Nova Scotian man named Greg. They say they have a car, and are happy to drive us to our hotel.   Normally, we would be very circumspect about accepting a ride from relative strangers, but in this case, as I've trusted my life to Philip once today already (to fly us to Mt. Hagen) and since they are both clean-cut, Christian white men, we jump at the chance faster than flies heading to honey.  We hop into their well-used vehicle, and they drive us through town, cheerfully chatting with us to all the way to the hotel.   We ask if they are both Christian, and they say, oh yes, of course, all the pilots at MAF are.   Further, Greg grins cheerfully points out that, "You don't come to PNG unless you have a very strong calling to Jesus Christ."   Yah, I think we understand what he means.      Me, a fallen-away agnostic Catholic, and Rachel, a non-practicing agnostic Catholic-Jew have had some moments where we might have been, dare I say it, praying to someone out there.


Although the exterior of the Hotel Highlander is downright depressing, inside it's not too bad.  Except for the vast area where a major renovation is taking place.   And there's even a bonus that they have a captive tree kangaroo.   We're not sure of the species, I'll have to find out from Jim.   Her keeper comes out and finds us taking photos of her in the cage, and explains that her name is Oy-Oy.   He says that during the day, they let her out, and she wanders the property, mostly hanging out in a tree.   She can't get out, razor wire everywhere.   It's not the greatest life for a tree 'roo, but not the worst either.   She's reasonably safe, and they have left various greens out to feed her.  Which she hungrily accepts.  

Tree Kangaroo at the Hotel Highlander,
Mount Hagen, PNG.

Our room is pleasant enough, and quiet enough, like a motel 6.   There is a restaurant here, and a bar filled with the usual men (who we try to ignore), no women.   We order our usual 2 glasses of white wine.   An Australian man named Andrew joins us at the bar, and we have a nice conversation for a while.  He's about my age, and is a geologist.   He quickly figures out we are just to the right of tree-huggers, and he makes apologies for working with "the enemy".  Remarkably, he doesn't tell us anything particularly alarming about PNG, just the usual.   Rachel and I beg off, and head to a dinner table, then to sleep well, before the onslaught of flights tomorrow.