We are volunteers so we took off on Friday to discover the iconic birds of paradise. A cruiser load of aging volunteers and one escapee Uni of Goroka ex pat heading for a lodge high up by Mount Hagen in the mountain rainforest. After 3 hours of driving we came on this traditional material lodge. A large lofty hall filled with faded settees, an enormous crude log burner with three kettles steaming and the whole place to ourselves. It was a warm welcome in all senses. At this altitude we were surprised but very pleased to find beds with electric blankets. Above the dining room there was a large viewing platform overlooking a large feeding table some metres in length. Honey eaters and birds of paradise along with exotic starlings fed on ample fruit. They came to edge of the forest for this regular feed and made an opportunity for camera and binoculars. No cages just regular habits and today all for us. Heather joined the others for a Saturday morning hike whilst I stayed back to enjoy the birds and rest the ankle. By Saturday evening a temperature was coming on, by the time I climbed out of the car on Sunday afternoon it took two hands to steady the key to open the door. A wrestle with the thermometer showed 39.5°C so back to the hospital where I was tenderly greeted by what Namibians termed a traditionally proportioned nurse. She decided my temp had dropped by a degree, something Rachel assures me is a good thing as my enzymes would have been changing shape above 39°C, how she knows I have no idea, I have never even seen one of my enzymes. Then the only treatment suitable for whinging white men - drop your pants, give that white bum a good slapping and a sharp jab. After she tried to persuade me that it was much better to take your paracetamol anally the sister had the cheek, no pun intended, to say I'll write sensitive on your notes. I was left meekly murmuring the nurse always says you will just feel a little scratch. She always lies anyway. The traditional lady smiled and said, Oh yes I forgot to say that. Somehow I think she has never said it. After they had extracted their armful I left still pondering the effect of asking some assistant in Exeter Sainsburys, where are the packets of 16 bullet shaped paracetamols?

Sometime Monday morning my temperature dropped and normal thought returned. Workshop preparation started to fill the day with Heather gently questioning whether we had decided to retire or not and Patrick returned with the brand new K120,000 Land Cruiser generously presented for VSO use by the Governor of Simbu less than a week ago. He was taking us back to the hospital for our blood results. Heather climbed into the back of the ten seater with side facing seats. Seat belt on. I sat in the front. Patrick released the brake and we started down the hill along the narrow road of stones. Patrick was trying to find the gear, we were bearing down on the deep ditch by the road all the time gathering speed. Surely he is going to turn the wheel I thought. The wheel caught the edge of the ditch and the vehicle fell the metre into the ditch. In a few yards we bounced up the end over the neighbour's drive and into the ditch again on the far side. We ploughed through small bushes and a young banana tree, stopped against a basket of stones holding back the bank and the car tipped then fell on its side. The whole time Heather's screams reached me but I could do nothing. When I freed myself from the seat belt Heather was suspended by her lap belt from the side which was now masquerading as a roof. The belt had prevented her from being thrown around the vehicle. I climbed through and lifted Heather with my back so she could free herself. By this time the street had arrived and helped us from the car. Patrick gathered himself and climbed out of the passenger door. Through it all I was virtually unscathed, similarly Patrick had a small bruise on his hand. However Heather has seat belt bruising around her lap worthy of entering a 60s abstract exhibition.

The recovery was a remarkable feat. Heavy chains and pulleys, branches and a tow truck crane were all used. But after 4 hours and into the dark it was the muscles of young men directly lifting 2 tons of truck that finally made the difference. This is not as incredible as it may seem here. A well told story is of men who when they met a impassable landslide on the highway simply paid local men to lift their land cruiser and walk it round the landslide. Whenever vehicles break down chains appear out of the bush to heave them by hand.

Love from Geoff and Heather