July

Location: 143-00-00E, 3-21-00S, PNG
Time: 7.10pm, 31st July

An emotionless eye hung 2 metres above the water, and firmly attached to a big, airborne mackerel. On its downward arc the belly caught the sun with a flash of silver. Then back from whence it came, leaving me to cruise west on the breeze and a slowly rotating paddle. Graham left for Wewak at 5.15am so I did the same. 250km from Kairuru Island to Vanimo. I checked the map again for a way to chop the distance into four days. Not likely, so I settled back for 50km and maybe a few more. The copra was sun drying on the beach at Wakumbo when I landed. It's a small family village which suits my state of mind. Eat, sleep, paddle. Watch out for flying mackerel, eat, sleep, paddle. Smear hands with zinc cream, eat, sleep, paddle. Greet, explain, tell a story, eat, sleep, paddle.

Location: 143-30-00E, 3-21-00S, PNG
Time: 5.30pm, 30th July

From the open air living area of Graham and Irene's home at St John's farm/mission, I watch cows munching thick, green grass. It continues like carpet past the road as children walk home from school, and into the water where I'll launch tomorrow. Behind the house are 4000 egg producing chooks and much further up the hill is the lake that produces hydro power, and waters Kairuru island. A few kilometres along the road, through the gardens and scattered homes, is St Xaviers School. After Fred, the science teacher, found out I was from Tasmania I received a lesson on the cocoa plant. Apparently the Cadbury factory in Hobart is, or was the major importer of PNG cocoa. There's a connection I hadn't made before. This afternoon I have been extremely busy watching the cows eat grass and bananas ripen on the balcony. Five days to Vanimo. Unless you're a three-toed sloth, you can count them on one hand.

Location: 143-30-00E, 3-21-00S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 29th July

The shouts from shore were familiar. The villagers wanted a closer look. Normally I'd oblige, but I was mid channel with wind and current behind me. St John's Mission, my destination, was only 5km away. After 55km and a strained hand I decided to wave and carry on. The shouts became louder, I paddled harder. A man jogged along sending the message down the island to stop me. Things quickly spiralled out of control with children, women and probably even the dogs suddenly yelling and jumping into canoes to intercept. With a sailing advantage in my favour I liked my chances and bolted. Unfortunately the relay moved faster and I came ashore for the confrontation. "What's up fellas?" I asked innocently. No-one stepped forward so I quickly explained that I don't respond well to shouting and chasing thankyou very much, and I had a little bit further to travel today. We left each other smiling, and in case they'd heard of the pirate sneaking around in a liklik kanu, I gave them the benefit of the doubt. I've landed well and truly on my feet at St
John's, but I'll explain tomorrow. Looks like being a rest day.

Location: 144-04-30E, 3-15-00S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 28th July

Tangbwal dance is special to Koil and Vokeo Islands. Here at Dab village on Vokeo, the dancing tradition had been lost for 40 years. For the last six weeks a group from Koil have been banging the garamut drum and putting the beat back in Dab. Apart from having a tremendous white beard, Mr Dalle (chief and primary school teacher), allowed me to photograph this special event. Tomorrow I paddle more than 50km to Kairuru Island. In case it goes pear shaped with the current I'm leaving at 5am. This time next week I should be in Vanimo. The countdown is definitely on.

Location: 144-22-30E 3-23-30S, PNG
Time: 8.10pm, 27th July

Australia beat New Zealand in the rugby, and Essendon defeated Collingwood by 48 points. I only know this because, for some unexplained reason, the radio news was turned up full volume... at midnight. I was sleeping under Greg, the chief's house, and it was his radio. There was no escape. For the next two excruciating hours I listened to club dance music and advertisements for mobile phones. With another 50 km island hop ahead, I wanted to shout, "We're in a remote island village and this is NOT supposed to be happening." At 6 am I woke up the chief to say goodbye. He appeared bleary eyed and mentioned, as we rock hopped down to the shore, that he'd been up until maybe 12 or 1 o'clock. "Ten past two." I corrected him. And it was a tough crossing to Wei Island too. The Sepik River snakes far into the ocean with a ripping north current. I thought being 40 km from the source would be enough buffer! Small village of very friendly people here on the point. If being Seventh Day Adventist does this for you, I'm joining up. The smell of mangoes fills the tent- morning tea tomorrow.

Location: 144-48-00E, 3-37-00S, PNG
Time: 8.10pm, 26th July

"Small island, many people." The words of Paramount Chief Greg Kibai. He's not wrong. Biem is another smoking volcano. The steep slopes are under cultivation right upto the dead zone. Valentine led me on a tour of the 1000 strong village. There are no cash crops here, everything is grown or caught for consumption. With petrol at 6 kina/litre it's barely affordable to commute to the mainland, let alone set up trading lines. Small island communities are hard hit by high fuel prices. Greg said he visited the primary school last week and ten children were absent because they didn't have clothes to wear. A community rich in many ways, but clearly not the tropical paradise of a tourist brochure.

Location: 145-00-00E, 4-02-50S, Manam Island, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 25th July

Josephine Aung looked from the kayak up to my face. The faded blue ink of traditional tattoo and deep wrinkles told a story of work. The strong grip around my waist relaxed as she sank to her knees wailing. I crouched but didn't understand. Tony whispered over my shoulder that she was sad for me, travelling so far in a liklik kanu (small canoe). I pointed to the name, "Abu meri Hope na abu meri Grace (abu meri means grandmother), like you Josephine, don't worry, I'll stay safe." I could have added that I'm not the one living on the active volcano. Manam Island erupted 4 years ago and everyone was evacuated to the mainland. Perhaps half the villagers have returned. The smoking cone and scorched slopes must be a constant reminder of the breathing Earth. But like a long journey, the days pass and you adjust. Paddling 40km from the mainland feels normal for me, and living on a volcano is just fine by Josephine. We wouldn't have it any other way.

Location: 145-09-00E, 4-23-30S, PNG
Time: 6.30pm, 24th July

My sunglasses have a well known brand plagiarised across the nose. They cost 10 kina in Alotau, and are made from some mixture of putty and playdough. The frame snapped today. The right lens would fall out every time I turned my head or touched my hat. Many, many times. I am repairing them tonight. I watched Manam Island collecting clouds in the distance, or is the volcano (the whole island is one) letting off steam? A few years ago it erupted, forcing many of the villagers off the island and into 'Care Centres' along the mainland coast. I'll paddle over tomorrow and get more info first-hand. For the next week I'll stay offshore by hopping through the Schouten Island group until past Wewak. Oh, and the photos is of a Paddle-pop icecream from my dream last night... or maybe it's just the paddle in calm water?

Location: 145-29-00E, 4-32-00S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 23rd July

Discussion and reflection has me convinced that yesterdays encounter was with a Tiger shark, and that it was not an attack on me or the kayak. As the fishermen here pointed out, the shark was probably chasing a fish. A clever fish that was using my shadowy hull to confuse the shark. These guys carry spears to catch sharks for just this type of occasion. Knowing this, I have revised yesterdays aqua-bog rule. It now reads; aqua-bog may be utilised in extreme pressure situations, but only after five anxious minutes scanning for Jaws. I'm camped after an uneventful paddle on Allen Kalo's beachfront. His brothers family are 100 metres up the beach, but it's otherwise very quiet. Their local language is only spoken by two nearby villages, about 400 people all together. We used a bit of Pidgin and a dash of English and understood each other just fine. The language of 'I'm tired and salty', needs no explanation anyway.

Location: 145-48-00E, 4-51-30S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 22nd July

A distinct thump vibrated through the Hope and Grace. Just like hitting a submerged log, but the water was deep blue, calm and clear of debris. My paddle stopped and I looked under my right armpit. A 2 metre shark darted out of sight. Then the water exploded into a frenzy of white noise. I stiffened in the seat and raised my arms and the paddle above my head. A brief pause, another thump, and the turmoil shifted to my immediate left. Yet another thump, another heart-stopping flurry, and the fear seeped through the adrenalin. I loooked back down and the shark sat calmly just a metre below. My racing pulse tapped audibly through my head and chest. I looked again and it was ten metres below and dropping, then gone for good. Thirty seconds of madness in a day of peace. A new rule... no more aqua-bogs.

Location: Madang, 145-47-30E, 5-14-30S, PNG
Time: 6.30pm, 21st July

Two bilums full of food. Enough, with extra fruit bought along the way, to get to Vanimo. Pop them into two dry bags, fold the top over at least three times, and prop them against the wall until morning. Charge the AAA batteries for the headlight. Wash the salt out of the pocket knife and sharpen it. Eat a spoonful of milo. Clean Lucas' fingerprint off the camera lens using metho and toilet paper. Lucas took two photos. This one and one of a blurry finger. With these small jobs done before lunch I visited Father Phil and Robin at Divine Word University. Two lovely German researchers stopped translating documents long enough to show me around and buy ice cream. It was good. I didn't have any money and had to ask for one kina to catch a PMV back to the resort. Before I depart Madang, I'd like to thank Sir Peter Barter for his generosity, and the Madang Resort and staff for a wonderful few days off the water. Band balang, I'm leaving Madang.

Location: Madang, 145-47-30E, 5-14-30S, PNG
Time: 7.45pm, 20th July

The bigger the space available, the bigger my mess. There's dry bags hanging off every hook and knob, battery charging gear strewn across the floor, and clothes and blankets dripping off the blacony. I'm too stingy to use the laundry service so I've washed everything in the bathroom sink. The despair on the cleaners face today was obvious. At lunch I had a chance to sit down with Sir Peter Barter, who told me a startling statistic. There are only 300 practicing doctors for the over six million citizens of PNG. Being a former Health Minister for ten years, he has a clear and ongoing concern for these issues. As much as I enjoy spending time in the villages and finding out about daily life, it's great to get other perspectives and a bigger picture view. Anyway I'll have one more day in this parallel, toast and jam filled, universe before departing Tuesday morning.

Location: Madang, 145-47-30E, 5-14-30S, PNG
Time: 7.45pm, 19th July

"Bang balang, I'm nearly in Madang." I sang to the Spinner dolphins across Astrolabe Bay. They flip-flopped, splash-crashed, and launched several trademark spins. The Madang Resort looked out of my price range but I dripped my way to reception just to check. Being right next to the water would be a big relief for the logistical corner of my brain. We struck a manageable three night deal and I settled in to watch Essendon take on the Tigers. A disappointing result, but what a treat! I'll clean, dry, recharge and resupply for the final push to Vanimo. Only two to three weeks.

Location: 145-58-30E, 5-29-00S, PNG
Time: 7.45pm, 18th July

The alarm is set for 5.30am. It's never the first thing to wake me. "Mr Henry, you awake?" a voice called from outside the tent. I opened my eyes and took a moment to orientate, where am I, and who might that be calling me Mr Henry? "Mr Henry, you awake now?" the voice loudly repeated. "Morning, maybe a bit more sleep be a good idea." I suggested. But the converstaion had started and there was no turning it back. Pulling the headlight on I crawled out to face a new day, early as it was and stiff as my shoulders felt. Paddled in light headwind or no wind from 6.30am - 5.30pm eating paw-paw, banana and biscuits. To cut across to Madang tomorrow there is no point passing Cape Rigny so I knew what I faced from the beginning. I took it slow and steady. Camped at Lila village with some excellent people.

Location: 146-18-30E, 5-36-00S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 17th July

!!NEWSFLASH!! Police Seeking Kayaker for Questioning over Piracy. Kayaker Slips Net. Report by Albert Ross.

The waters off Moor village erupted into controversy today over a novice kayak sailor. Eyewitness accounts report three village canoes speeding to the kayaker just hundreds of metres past the village. Facts remain hard to come by but the exchange that followed went something like this;
Villager: You must come with me now.
Kayaker: Ahm, big day so I'll have to keep moving. Sorry.
Villager: No, no, the police must talk to you.
Kayaker: They must, or they want to?
Villager: They hear reports and want to see your papers, who you are...
Kayaker: Just a tourist, I'll be in Saidor soon and can talk to them there.
Villager: There are pirates around here, they must talk to you now.
Kayaker: I'm clearly not a pirate, tell them I'll talk in Saidor OK.

This went back and forwards for some time but the kayaker, gripped from two sides had little choice. He was heard to mutter something about pirates being hard to differentiate sometimes. The flotilla approached the waiting crowd but stopped 30 metres from shore.

Kayaker: Righto, get the police then, I'll just wait here.

The kayaker later confided that his mood was somewhere between wary and irritated at this point. The frantic arm waving of a village leader became impossible for the kayaker to ignore and he beached himself. After several tense minutes he was informed that the police had left already but it was good to have met. This reporter has been unable to contact police to verify events, and the kayaker says he returned to a bemused state of mind quickly. !!END NEWSFLASH!!

Location: 146-38-00E, 5-45-40S, PNG
Time: 7.00pm, 16th July

Hukup came along to see me leave this morning. He presented a traditional belt worn when dancing to the drums. "Like in the movies," was how he explained it. "And been used, and little broken sorry." He added, pointing out the cowrie shell buckle that's seen better days. My growing collection of bilums and shell jewellery might raise a few eyebrows at airport customs. Had a varied day on the water. A howling easterly storm sent me saiiling close to shore around Lepsius Point. The fisherman ashore waved me in, but I indicated that I was a mere passenger on the good ship Hope and Grace, and stopping would be by capsize only. The storm passed into the mountains and rumbled away with the odd lightning bolt shooting out. This forced smoke from the grass fires to sea level. I took a hurried bearing on the next point before visibility reduced to the 'water, water, all around' variety. Dinners ready so to cut a short story even shorter, all's fine and happy birthday Mum.

Location: 147-02-00E, 5-54-30S, PNG
Time: 6.30pm, 15th July

Slide over the round boulders into calm morning water. No hurry, the sou-easter will be along shortly. A fishing canoe hovers just along the coast, it's been wondering whether to come closer for half an hour. I wave it in. The men are from Wasu, around the point, and are getting some fish before the wind arrives. A few minutes paddling but the urge to eat mango is too strong. Pop the day hatch and rummage around. No rush, I'll be blowing along like a butterfly caught in car turbulence any minute now. The morning ticks past with only a gentle nor-wester. It's OK, the trade wind won't let me down. Two PM, no change. Three PM, nearing Reiss Point and feeling cheated. The sou-easter is proving to be a fickle friend. Stopped near Malasanga, the villagers are happy for me to camp on the beach. It's all very chilled out and tropical.

Location: 147-15-00E, 5-55-00S, PNG
Time: 6.30pm, 14th July

Vitiaz Strait looks like a great unruly mop of steel wool on the sou-easter. It was a fast and rollicking ride at times, and I'm glad it's behind me. The stepped, kunai grass covered hills were a brilliant patchwork of greens and recent burns. Berry, last nights host at Kunzarua village, explained that the burns are either done to clear land for new gardens, or to flush out wild pigs and bandicoots while hunting. I've landed at Vincke Point among the boulders and pandanus. It's been sunshine all day so I'm taking a while to cool down. A couple of recent emails have pointed out that the progress map puts me in some unlikely positions. It's either a problem with how the computer displays the map, or my coordinates are bodgy. On the map I use, 1mm equals 2km, but when I'm tired I'm easily capable of a 10km error. Hope I'm camped on land tonight!

Location: 147-40-30E, 6-13-00S, PNG
Time: 7.15pm, 13th July

A thump and grumble storm sweeps in from the south. Wind cracks into the sail as the lines tighten. For ten perfect minutes we have flat water and downwind speed. Then the waves build and crumble, build and crumble, falling over themselves and flicking foaming crests across the deck. The Hope and Grace picks them up without help. We slosh dangerously sideways in a trough, I shift my weight and drag the paddle hard to straighten up. The rain is relentless until 2 pm. I've lost track of map position as some points have passed beneath the gloom of my ocular radar, imprecise instrument that it is. The Vitiaz Strait is kicking up stinking dirty spoiling waves at unpredictable angles. I head to shore and land awkwardly through the dumping shorebreak. Many hands appear to drag us upward to drying sand. I look around, still seated, at the smiling and shocked faces. "Hello everyone... now where am I?"

Location: 147-51-30E, 6-37-30S, PNG
Time: 7.35pm, 12th July

Lady Amaring and her two granddaughters show me photos from an amazing family. Her late husband, Sir Zibang Zurecnuoc, was a politician,
businessman, and leader in Morobe Province and national affairs. I landed by chance on the nearby beach in Finschhafen and have been taken in, scrubbed clean, fed to the gills and generally well looked after. By another stroke of good fortune, Lady Amaring owns a trade store, and they sell Tiny Teddy's. I bought enough to get to Madang, which should take about 8 days. It doesn't get any better than this. I'd even be willing to bet that the Bombers did have/ will have a win this weekend.

Location: 147-45-00E, 6-43-00S, PNG
Time: 7.25pm, 11th July

These lads recruited themselves as security guards last night. When it rained they huddled under an umbrella, I told them to keep up the good work. A scanning searchlight hitting the tent every few minutes proved their vigilance. I slept as soundly as you can without a mattress on lumpy ground. They politely requested a waterproof bag but I could only spare a bag of rice. Paddling conditions perfect with westerly tailwind and a handy current sweeping the coast. Plenty of time to sit back and marvel at the tuna demolishing schools of bait fish. Landed at Mange village. Mark, an out of work forester, took me on a tour of the village. We returned with about a hundred kids in tow. With more time and energy I'm less grumpy so we checked out the map of PNG and flipped the rudder up and down for a while. Some of the extra interest is probably because no-one can remember seeing a kayak like the Hope and Grace before. Novelty is a wonderful thing.

Location: 147-20-00E, 6-45-00S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 10th July

The Markham River, flushing out past Lae into the Huon Gulf, delivered a cool beverage just in time for morning tea. The things you find 15km out to sea! Plugged along in light winds until 5pm. The shoreline inching closer looked deserted, no village to be seen. A little closer and I could see gardeners trudging back along the beach in twos and threes. A fishing canoe came alongside and guided me through the shorebreak. Then WHOOMPHA! Dozens of Bukawa villagers appeared out of nowhere. It's difficult preparing camp, sharing my story, getting theirs, washing, cooking and writing this under the gaze of so many. Much like being a zoo exhibit I imagine. Tonight I just had to zip up and close my eyes for a while. The persistent ones peer under the tent fly and will be around all night. It's not all Tiny Teddy's over here.

Location: 147-04-00E, 7-01-30S, PNG
Time: 7.00pm, 9th July

Salamaua Peninsula, a wall of tropical finery plunging beachless into the deep blue. Hmm, hadn't expected this at 5.30pm. It's dinner time, not find a camp time. Nothing else for it but to paddle on, only faster now. Around the next corner, crash-wash-thunk, same problem. And faster. Next corner, aha, possibility. Crash-wash-thunk, keep paddling, getting dimmer. What's that? Rocks and sand, a break in the hillside. It looks like home tonight and just in the nick of time. It's jungle camp, all green and wet,with insects I'll have nightmares about, but it's clear of high tide and I'm not complaining. A collective thankyou for responses to the kayak trailer query, and other email too. It really is great to hear from you and I'll reply properly when able.

Location: 147-12-00E, 7-20-30S, PNG
Time: 6.30pm, 8th July

The early morning breeze retreated to the ranges. Splash, tinkle of the paddle strokes were left as the only sound. I stopped paddling. Pulling the sprayskirt back I sat with knees in the sun and feet flat on the cool plastic floor. The backs of my hands are usually the only skin to get direct sunlight so I let them dangle in the water. A large, dark triangle rose 30 metres to the right. Not a dolphin,maybe a shark or the wing of a manta ray? Whatever it belonged to didn't exude menace and I remained surrounded by liquid silence for some time. The problem I have with today's type of perfect calm is that I do more sitting than paddlingn than normal. It's as if my arms think that if nature can't be bothered today, why should we? Tomorrow I need to make the tip of Salamaua Peninsula to create the shortest possible route across to Huon Peninsula. I'll miss going into the hurly burly of Lae by cutting the corner. Because I bobbed around so much today it'll be a longer (42km)paddle than planned. Still, it's been an interesting afternoon, which I'll have to tell you about another time. Time for Tiny Teddy's and coffee.

Location: 147-23-30E, 7-31-00S, PNG
Time: 6.30pm, 7th July

He probably never saw it coming. WHAM. The tuna slices through the pack and hits him hard from below. But not quite a lethal blow for this one, I found it doing death-throe doughnuts on the surface. Scooping it onto deck I thought, 'bait', and headed for the nearest island. Any excuse for an early minute would've done today. The series of long days since Tufi has worn me out. I took the kayak out and landed 2 small coral trout for afternoon tea. Fred and his small son came past and gave me their local landowner permission to sleep here, and I've lost my watch. Don't know if those two events are connected???

Location: 147-32-00E, 7-39-00S, PNG
Time: 6.30pm, 6th July

Until Tuesday the three brothers seen here speeding towards me are fishing away from their mainland village. They'd seen the odd looking
sail from their island camp and came to investigate. Considering the effort they'd put in to intercept, I agreed to come ashore for a chat, and they promised a coconut. Bewa shimmied up the coconut palm while I drew a sand map of the journey so far. As I left they promised good winds at least as far as Lae. Of course that meant I had NW headwinds all afternoon, meaning the sail came down and was a nuisance flopping about on deck. It's demountable but not collapsible, if that makes sense. Camped alone on Hosken Island which I am finding very peaceful.

Location: 147-32-50E, 7-54-40S, PNG
Time: 7.50pm, 5th July

Just as I sometimes wish for a freezer full of Callipo's fitted to the kayak, there are times I wish for a better map. Faced with a choice between two islands, one looking like a pikelet, the other a pancake, only a few degrees apart, my map let me down. I chose the pikelet and it turns out the pancake is Bau Island. I'm on Tawari Island instead, with shark fin and sea cucumber buyers. Every three weeks they make a run in their outboard dinghy from Lae. I thought about protesting the barbaric shark fin industry, and sticking up for the decimated sea cucumbers, but instead we talked of the price of fuel. Better to stay on friendly terms considering my escape route includes novice kayak sailing. The photo is from this morning, looking at garden hillsides. You won't be able to see but there's fences to stop the wild pigs. The walk up the hill would be enough to stop me.

Location: 148-04-30E, 08-03-00S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 4th July

Old Henry told me a story while I packed up this morning. Before the war came, that's before 1942, another man came like me. He was from Tokyo, a Tokyo-man. Towards Milne Bay he went in his small boat after a night in the village. Old Henry shared my opinion that he probably had a job in the cartographic (look it up kids) division of the Imperial Japanese Armed Forces! I stayed closer to shore heading north past Koirapusi, Ambasi and Deboin. If not for the tailwind and ideal novice kayak sailor surfing experience to be gained, I would have pulled in on the swept white sand of Deboin. As it was, I ended up doing less of the surfing type sailing and more of the folded arms, thousand mile stare variety.

Three related families live in the cove where I eventually made landfall. Morris (red t-shirt) is in Grade 6 and walks 2 hours each way to school in Deboin. He loves school but isn't a huge fan of the daily commute. I told him to toughen up.

Location: 148-12-10E, 8-25-00S, PNG
Time: 7.00pm, 3rd July

Being sneaky almost never works for me. It was a slog today with no wind assistance and not enough ripe bananas. When I spied a patch of empty beach at 5pm I stole in quietly for a peaceful dinner and sleep. Not quietly enough it turns out. Half an entire village happened to be coming back from cutting mangroves for a new building. Soon I was taking questions left and right and being bitten mercilessly by the dusk mosquitoes. The councillor tried to persuade me to let everyone carry the whole kit and kaboodle back to his village. I had to be firm and insist on staying here alone. The concept of sleeping in a tent on an unknown beach is ridiculous to the people here. Their first instinct is to save me from myself. It takes every effort to persuade them I'm well past that stage. As a parting gesture they tried to leave me poor Ronny for company. I only just managed to convince them that he would be dead from the biting hordes by morning. Still, I expect to see the torch flashes through the night as I'm checked on, just to be sure.

Location: 148-29-00E, 8-44-30S, PNG
Time: 6.45pm, 2nd July

There's carnage wherever I look. This one missing an arm, another with both legs completely gone. I take a deep, satisfied breath, and plunge the spoon back into the Tiny Teddies. With two or three captured I lower them slowly into the mug of steaming coffee. When their little smiling faces sink beneath the surface, I know they're ready. 23 packets left, so I can be fairly ruthless in my Teddy slaughter, but I'm trying to stop at a pack a day. After a long open water crossing, camped on a sandfly INFESTED beach, with coconuts teetering ten metres above, it's the small things that make a difference. Like Tiny Teddies drowned in hot coffee.

Location: 148-47-00E, 9-06-00S, PNG
Time: 7.30pm, 1st July

Six colourful sails of odd shapes flapped around Musa Point on the gentle westerly. The sailing canoes I usually see have a standard blue canvas sail so I wondered, perhaps hoped, that it was a group of fellow kayakers. But not to be, the Gobe villagers were returning from Popondetta loaded with supplies. Enough to give me two coconuts and a precious half watermelon. The wind finally turned this afternoon and I drifted in to Bendorode village. They're still recovering from last years disaster when the storm surge swept clean over their delicate peninsula. The dead trees along the foreshore for most of the day are proof of the intensity of last November. The sandflies... I don't want to talk about.