19.09.09 - 26.09.09

It's the hols. Again…..

We left on the Dash 8 aeroplane from Kundiawa to Port Moresby, on to Kavieng, then by banana boat across to Nusa Island Resort in the dark. We were shown our room and we wondered how many other guests would be sharing it. But no, it was all for us - two double beds, two single beds (we tried them all out for a bit of variety), a balcony with a bed and a hammock as well as lounger chairs. Heaven. The bush material 'bungalow' on stilts was cathedral-like inside having a high ceiling and spacious accommodation.

Being a small resort, you got to know everyone staying there very quickly - the bar and a few G & Ts helped aid the process of course. Inevitably, it seems in PNG, we met people who knew people we knew. Imagine our surprise when the next day, a banana boat came in carrying 3 familiar faces. It was our friends from Port Moresby. Neither of us knew the other was going to be there.

Richard organised a snorkelling trip for the following day and we took off in fine weather. It wasn't long before we looked more like a scene from a very wet day in Yarmouth, the rain reducing visibility to 25 metres and requiring the wearing of Sou Westers for our own protection against the stinging rain. This abated after ½ hour and we arrived at an uninhabited island the perimeter of which you could walk in 5 minutes. As we arrived some dolphins came to greet us, though they disappeared all too quickly. So snorkels and flippers on, an incredibly steep and deep fall from the beach to be met by the most wonderful coral reef sights - far superior to anything seen on the barrier reef at Cairns back in June.

The resort is home to a resident mischievous hornbill, which roams freely about the place. It feels free to come onto your balcony, sit on the window sill, jump up on the dining tables, perch on the chairs leaving its mess behind or enter your bedroom searching for any goodies. Mike just got back to the room as the packet of peanuts was being lifted and managed to snatch the packet from its menacing beak.

Later when we found a sealed packet of biscuits (saved from the aeroplane) torn open and half eaten we immediately laid guilt upon the hornbill. However on closer examination of the evidence, Mike spotted a hole in the bottom of Alison's rucksack and wished it had been the bird rather than what was obviously the work of a rat. We slept well that night!

The toilet had little in the way of plumbing (thought you'd like to know that Peter) - no S bends, no water inlet or outlet, no stopcock. In fact it was a very good and environmentally-friendly way to pass the time (or whatever it was you happened to pass at the time) and to manage waste. For this was a deep-drop compostable loo with no water, but no smell either. After each use, you followed it with ½ a coconut shell full of sawdust - which apparently aids the process.

The wash basin was a clam shell fitted with a plughole and a tap (with running water). Mike had his shave whilst staring out to the sea and islands - which beats looking at yourself in a mirror (of which there was none).

The food here was superb. We'd missed having seafood up in the highlands, but each night a buffet was laid on and it was delectable: fresh lobster, sushi tuna, prawns, crab, various fish freshly caught ……

Of course, all good things come to an end and we'd debated whether to travel by air, road or sea to get to Rabaul. We took the more difficult of the options and brought our boat tickets, thinking that travelling along the moonlit coast of East New Britain overnight would be the most romantic. Surprisingly when we arrived to catch the boat, it was already full - 'surprising' because as a rule the PNG people arrive at the last possible moment if not much later than scheduled. All the seats inside the boat were taken it seemed. So we clambered up the stairs onto the top deck covered by a tarpaulin with a few plastic seats. It was going to be a long night. The boat was built for 49 people, but we swear there were 149 at least on board. Mike kept doing a quick count of people and life-saving aids. It never quite added up. Worrying.

Within minutes of our departure, the rain came and came and came, incessantly heavy and too overwhelming for the holes and gaps in the tarpaulin. Everyone on top deck stood to squeeze under the shelter, what little there was. No-one escaped saturation. Alison went down below and found one seat which we shared for the 16 hour journey. Little sleep was had. You couldn't move as people slept in gangways, on stairs, in fact anywhere there wasn't an inch of space. It was a long night. The reward was the dawn and the sight of the volcano spewing clouds of ash into the air. Mike also earlier saw a pod of dolphins swimming towards the boat.

Our weekly 'You couldn't make it up' slot:

On arrival at our 'hotel' in volcanic-ash-covered Rabaul, a man was scooping up grey slush - wet volcanic ash - into a wheelbarrow. He was surprisingly cheerful and gave us a hearty welcome. The owner of the hotel told us he'd been doing this daily thankless task all day and every day since the time of the eruption 15 years ago!

The hotel was in a sad and sorry state. The whole area was destroyed - not by volcanic larva but by the sheer weight of the ash that fell when the volcano erupted 15 years ago. It was filthy, eerie (like a moonscape) and amazing, particularly as we heard some explosions from inside the crater whilst standing close to it. The ash is constantly falling - and got in our eyes, hair, nose and, worst of all, our mouths - like grainy sand. It was unbearable. We took a tour to the hot springs where underground water is heated by the volcano and comes to the surface at a boiling temperature. Mike was going to bathe in it but changed his mind when he saw the whole surroundings covered in a metre of ash. What chance of coming out and keeping clean?No marble steps descending into the water and no shower at the site. The owners of the hotel can't sell up as the hotel is worthless, but can't leave as their life's work and savings are tied up in the hotel.

Keeping the hotel lobby, the restaurant, the rooms, the bar etc is a constant battle against the ever-falling ash. There are no vacuum cleaners, just traditional sweeping brooms. On our departure day Mike nipped outside for 30 seconds, only to come back in with a layer of grey soot in his hair (not that you'd notice), on his shirt and shorts and on his arms. Living here, you'd want a shower every ½ hour. The rain is 'dirty rain'. Black spots on everything and the cleaning process starts again.

Amazingly enough we had a very good Chinese meal cooked at the hotel on our one evening's stay - an amazing feat given the circumstances. We were thankful that we did only plan a one day/night stay. We were pleased to leave the soot/dust/ash behind though we're pleased to have seen an active volcano in such close proximity.

Anyway, love to all

Alison & Mike