Book Excerpt
AFRICA
1970
17 Feb 70
The trip had a slow and difficult start. I took a Delta Convair from Macon, Georgia, to Atlanta. After arriving at the Atlanta airport, I had breakfast. I took the opportunity to check my lens and camera for the umpteenth time.
I then took Delta 20 to JFK. A Pan American Airways passenger rep met my airplane and took me in a limo to Pan Am terminal. Well, so far, so good. Then it hit the fan: my passport was not at the terminal! The travel agent had belatedly sent it to a visa service in DC to get the necessary visas. They were supposed to expedite it to the Pan Am terminal in JFK. Pan Am Special Services called around all afternoon. Ms. Denaveld over in hangar 14 was especially helpful.
Whilst waiting for the passport, I missed flight 2, a 747. However, my luggage made the flight and went through containerised. We called Trans World Airlines. Nothing was available. By then I had one last chance for Pan Am 154 to Rome–Jo’burg. But, alas, still no passport. So I miss all the flights. Off to a great start. I called an old friend of mine I’d been stationed with in the air force at Watertown, New York, Pat Motekew. He came to the airport to babysit me. We had dinner in the terminal restaurant. Finally I gave up on the passport and spent night with Pat and his wife, Sandi.
18 Feb 70
I arose at 0600 hours, called Pan Am and the post office again. Still no passport. I was not going to give up, so I called my squadron at Robins to have my military passport sent to me. Then I got a call from Pan Am: they found my passport in a nearby post office. Pat rushed me to JFK to catch flight 100, the morning flight to London. My passport arrived only fifteen minutes before flight departed.
Finally I was on my way aboard Pan Am flight 100, a Boeing 707. The service was impressive. Ms. Grey, the chief purser, was English. Bob, the flight engineer discouraged my getting a job with Pan Am. He suggested I try TWA. The in-flight movie was Cactus Flower.
I finally arrived in London. Of course, I had no luggage. It was off wandering around the world, God knows where, but not in London. Before I went downtown, I checked with South African Airways (SAA) for flight to Jo’burg the next evening. Then I took the Pan Am bus to the downtown terminal. It was raining, which was typical for February. PA made reservations
for me at the Royal Lane Hotel.
London was not as much fun as last year. But then again, this trip was not off to a bright start. I had tea and pie in Med Room. I went to bed after hot shower.
19 Feb 70
The rain had stopped. I caught the underground to Piccadilly, thence to American Express Office, across the street from Her Majesty’s Theatre. Alife Bass was still on stage. I walked through Soho with all its vegetable and flower carts. I continued on to Oxford Circus, thence to the Zambian Embassy to get a tourist visa. Then it was to South African Airways to book a flight. I ended back at the hotel for a rest.
I took the tube back to the embassy to get my visa. No way could they stamp it whilst I waited. I met a chap named Shawn on the tube. We had lunch together. I checked out of the hotel, took the bus to the BOAC city terminal, then the bus to Heathrow. It started raining again. I took the SAA flight to Madrid, on to Las Palmas, Rhodesia, and Jo’burg. They had a Boeing 707 on this route. In Las Palmas, I visited the cockpit.
20 Feb 70
We landed in Salisbury under a bright blue sky. This was my first time in Africa. Where are the lions? I met John Wangh; we discussed the pros and cons of apartheid.
Finally, I arrived in Johannesburg with not a cloud in the sky. I went to Customs and caught up with my bag, much to my surprise.
I took a taxi to the President Hotel. No room. I found the Victoria Hotel. A room was available, but the small hotel was under much-needed renovation. I took the room anyway. I walked around town and found a travel agent. I needed forty-one rand for the trip to Kruger Park, so I was back to the hotel to cash a cheque; then went back to the travel agent.
I had tea at a sidewalk cafe. Then I returned to the room for a hot shower. I had dinner at President Hotel, and then walked it off about town.
21 Feb 70
I checked out of the Victoria and went the President Hotel who kindly stored my bags for my return from Kruger Park. I was picked up by the Haai Safari Company, and Elka Smit, from Sweden, was the driver-guide. Mr. and Mrs. Reggie Oppenheimer from England were on the trip as was Mrs. Munchmeyer and Mr. Jerry Schoffield from Germany.
We began by driving through the Transvaal. The gentle, rolling hills were accented with Dutch architecture and colourful round native houses. Some of these houses were made of tin, but still round.
We stopped for tea and lunch, thence into Kruger Park via Numbi Gate. Disappointedly, we saw no animals for the first mile. Had my first safari, and I expected lions to be chewing the tyres off the van. Finally, we did see a rogue elephant, then giraffe, impala, lion, baboons, kudu, hippo, and crocodile. We arrived at our camp, Lower Sambia. There were little round huts with straw roofs, which were very comfortable, and a most welcomed bed. We had dinner in a beautiful, clear night. I slept to sounds of wild birds and crickets—a jungle symphony under starlight.
22 Feb 70
We were up early and began a cool morning to drive to Skuku’s Camp. A big boar baboon perched on the roof of the car. We drove slowly along as he continued to sit there. He would peek down occasionally to see that we were still in there. Then he peed on the windscreen. What clowns, these baboons!
We returned to camp via the back roads having little or no luck in spotting game. We did see game we’d not seen previously, a little of that. We stopped at water hole for a rest. I made friends with two monkeys—as entertaining as oriental kids. We had lunch at Sambia. The afternoon drive was to Crocodile Bridge. We could see Mozambique from there. As for wildlife, we did see warthogs, zebra, African buffalo, and waterbuck.
After dinner, I had a long talk with Elka about the socioeconomic challenges of southern Africa.
23 Feb 70
We had a 0530 hours departure. We saw a pride of lions, then a leopard. This was a rare treat, as leopards were seldom spotted. We stopped for breakfast at Pretoriuskop Camp. Departing Kruger Park, we drove back through the Transvaal. The fields of corn here are used for meli meal (grits), a staple food of the native population.
Back in Jo’burg, I checked in at the five-star President Hotel. It has a beautiful decor and furnishings with a fantastic view of Jo’burg. I had dinner at Garden Grill. In South Africa, a lobster was called a crayfish.
I met Sean Mellon at the bar. He was originally from Zambia. We went to a local bar in the area, the Skyline Lounge. They had a good band and a vocalist.
24 Feb 70
I went shopping for lens filters and safari suits. It was a great day for photo shots around Jo’burg. I forgot to go to the mines. I had a lunch of toasted sandwiches garnished with tomato, gherkin, and lettuce. I noticed they use no ice in the drinks here.
Sean came by at eight. We went back to the Skyline Lounge where this bird was singing: she wore an extremely mini miniskirt. Of course we sat at the front table. Sean told me of his parents in Zambia and the difficulties they were having.
25 Feb 70
I took a car to the airline terminal. On this drive to the airport, I had to reflect on Jo’burg and South Africa. Many challenges lay ahead. The airport was crowded. I met Aunt Gracie and Uncle Ralph who’d just flown in from New York. Needless to say, they were a bit bleary-eyed. We then caught Air Rhodesia to Victoria Falls via Bulawayo. When we arrived at Vic Falls, we found there was no way to go to the Zambia side. After a lot of wrangling, the Zambia National Tourist Bureau finally sent a car to Vic Falls Hotel where we were waiting. Then we had difficulty with the Zambian customs and immigrations.
We finally got to the Intercontinental Hotel in Musi-O-Tunya. It was very nice. Ralph and I walked down to the falls. This was my first view of Victoria Falls. After Aunt Gracie and Uncle Ralph had a well-earned nap, we had dinner in the hotel. They brought news of the family.
(from pp. 296-297)
11 May 84
This morning we started with coffee whilst overlooking the barrier reef—what a nice way to start the day. We had waffles this morning for breakfast.
Yesterday Brian came jumping off the dock into the boat and put his foot right through the boat deck. Today we had a new board and we asked Brian to step a little more lightly.
This morning we again went outside the reef to an unnamed place. We called it Las Cuervas, the Caves. This was an area where the reef was just beginning to split. Large fissures and caves and tunnels were being formed. Cliff and I had no dive light. Basically we don’t like to go into something
It was a good dive as far as adventure, but little time to note coral or fishes with the exception of a large sea turtle.
On return we went to town for an ice cream and some batteries for the flash. It was hot.
After lunch we went out beyond the reef again. First Cliff and I got a shot of the Explorers Club Flag. We photographed some sponges and then saw three beautiful spotted rays. Two of them were “flying” in formation, drifted gracefully off into the distance.
It had been a good dive. Our air was less than 1000, so it was time to go back to the boat. We were on our way back to the anchor line; Cliff and I were behind the other divers. Just beneath us the reef was developing crevasses or splits. Suddenly a large Bull Shark darted under us from behind and headed for the other divers. I grabbed my dive knife and began banging on my tank to warn them. They turned to see the Bull Shark speeding toward them. There was a dead fish floating in their midst; our guide Adolpho had speared it. The fish was bleeding, the shark had smelled it. That’s how they have made a living for millions of years.
Adolpho took the fish from his spear and freed it in the water next to Brian. Brian was trying to swat it away, but it kept floating near him. Cliff and I duck into a crevasse and were shortly joined by Larry. I was disappointed the shark didn’t take the fish, for he then adopted a very aggressive behaviour, swimming toward the other divers in a most threatening manner. The shark arched it back and stiffened its pectoral fins, which is what they do before attacking. Adolpho held it off with his sling gun, and then it began to swim toward the rest of us. Four of us were in a crevasse; Adophlo was in the open with his sling gun. Brian had ducked down in a crevasse under Adolpho; Perry was not so well hidden behind a pillar of coral. The Bull Shark, about 8 feet long, with a typical thick, husky body. He began to circle from one group to the other. As he would sweep toward us, we’d duck deep into the crevasse until he’d passed. And he passes very close indeed. It was a beautiful animal, very graceful. But as it passed my eye would catch its eye in a cold calculating stare. This was a predator doing his job. Just out making a living . . . 3 or 4 suckerfish were attached to his body.
He had us pinned down and we were running out of air as well as bottom time. Cliff and I checked our gauges after every pass and watched the needles drop into the red band.
This shark was aggressive. On each pass over our crevasse he arched his back and stiffening his pectoral fins, all the while, looking us straight in the eye. Then he’d speed off to the next group of divers, forcing their retreat.
Our air was dangerously low. We had to surface. I signaled “Go” and we sprang from our hiding places like frightened hares and headed for the anchor line. A glance over our shoulder proved only the shark was still stalking us. Even though we were “schooling” he could have attacked at any moment. We could not hide again. We didn’t have enough air. We had to make a run for it. I was certain one or more of us would get hit.
Finally the anchor line came into sight. I grabbed it and started up. The shark circled behind, my air needle read near zero. We all had to get in the boat and there was only one ladder. We all made it into the boat in a rather less-than-orderly fashion. Precision and decorum did not come to mind. On board, we sat in silence. Then Perry said, “Gentlemen, that’s all the excitement we need today.” Near the surface, the water was murky, but as I looked down I could see the silhouette of the shark as he passed back and forth over the sand areas below.
It was indeed a most exhilarating adventure. Back on the beach, we went to the bar and had a great laugh about it, albeit a nervous laugh. But on a serious note, I took Adolpho aside for a little prayer meeting. He was NOT to hunt on our dime. No more blood in the water.
The Bull Shark is in the family of Requiem sharks, which give you some idea of the nature of its temperament. It had been known to attack swimmers. It had triangular, razor sharp teeth, which are actually scales. It would normally grow to 6-8 feet long. They had been know to go up into rivers hunting—and this one was definitely hunting!
The rest of the fellows went on a night dive. I just didn’t feel like it. I needed to have some time alone. I walked downtown and found my friend, the bulldog. Bought some postcards and returned to await the return of the others.
After a late dinner, we called it a day. What a day . . . .
12 May 84
Sunday
I slept well, gentle rain showers during the night. After breakfast, our first dive was to 90’ for 30”. We saw no sharks this time. It was a nice dive into very deep canyons. We were very pleased with the reef here: good variety of corals and avifauna.
On return to shore, before lunch, Cliff and I walked downtown for an ice cream. Bloody hot, that little town at noon. After lunch we left on our last dive of the trip. It was a shallower dive. 40’ for 45”. Nothing extraordinary—which is not to say I’ve become blasé about such beauty, not at all. On this dive we just relaxed and enjoyed the scenery without making any technical observations whatsoever.
(from pp. 638-543)
I had been in somewhat a quite mood today. Understood by some; interpreted as anti-social by others. I was concerned about tonight’s climb.
12 Sept 85
Thursday
It rained all night. At 0130 we got up and discussed the possibility of concealing the climb because of the danger of falling, hypothermia, etc. Jerry Wolfe, who was a good climber, and three guides went out to the first pitch on a recon. They came back and reported, “Not that bad.”
I made the call: It was a “Go”. A light rain continued. The trail up the first pitch was like hiking up a waterfall. It was very muddy and slow, but not too cold.
By daylight we were on the ridge. The rain had stopped. As the sunrise shone through the clouds I had a good view of the lakes below, Piaunda and Aunde.
We traversed across the bottom of peaks. We’re going too slowly. I left the group. Jerry, being the strongest climber, and the two guides were ahead, leaving us pretty much on our own. The clouds rolled back in. It began to drizzle. I was above 14000. I began to see ice and frost. There were several “false peaks” above plant line. As our guides had abandoned us, I had no idea which was actually the peak of Mt. Wilhelm. This one? That one? Above the plant line, I had only rocks and snow. The trail was hard to follow except for the tracks in the snow of those who were ahead of me.
It got colder. It began to snow. I met Perry and Larry who were turning back and on their way down. They said I had over an hour of ice and snow to go. Wind and fog howled up the gullies. At this point I always question the wisdom of these affairs.
I kept telling myself it couldn’t be far. But I couldn’t see any peaks. All the peaks were obscured by clouds. I met a guide on his way down. He didn’t make it either. He said I had only 5 minutes more to the summit. About then Brian caught up with me.
Jerry had just come down. He turned around and continued with us. Last 150 feet were extremely difficult. It was a technical free climb. The rockswere wet. The light snow continued. About 0900 I finally pulled myself to the top of Mt. Wilhelm, 14800 feet, thanks to Jerry.
Jerry, Brian, and I flew Explorers Club Flag #151. What a thrill! Hugs and congratulations. There was no view because of the clouds, but who cares? WE MADE IT. Wilhelm’s peak was somewhere around 16,000 feet, depending on which map you used.
We started down and met Joe Rude. Jerry turned around again and took him up. Brian and I continued down. It was a slow, muddy trail. Most of snow melted, but with the mud and ice, we still had our slips and falls. My left knee began causing problems. The descent was as hard as the ascent.
The trail down was more confusing that the trail up. We ended up on dangerous, narrow, snow-covered ledges leading no where. We had no safety ropes. A slip here would have sent us hundreds of feet down.
In retrospect, had I seen it in the daylight or had I known how difficult the climb was, I doubt I would have tried it. Ignorance was good. As we got lower, the weather began to give us a slight break.
We passed an airplane crash not visible to us on the way up. It was an old WWII, B-24.
Finally we made it back to base camp at 1400. Now we were behind schedule for the return drive to Minj. My knee was hurting. Jerry and Joe were no where in sight. They were at least one hour behind us now. After a while I was relieved to see them coming down the trail.
I gulped down a sandwich and coffee. My friend John was waiting on me. He carried all my gear. The trip down the trail to Keglsugl was muddy and difficult. We were ankle deep in mud. The rain continued. I enjoyed talking with John. He told me how their houses were built. We discussed their old customs: hugs (old) vs. handshakes (new). The western handshake, not the Shimbu handshake. He said, “Old custom better.”
Pigs are very important to the people here. People are killed over pigs. Pigs and wives mean wealth. He told me if I were driving and ran over a child, that would be sad. But if I ran over a pig, the “people will get very cross with you.”
We finally got to Keglsugl by sundown. I met John’s uncle. Apparently he had told the whole village about me as they all gathered around. I was totally exhausted. We still had a long drive home over tortuous, muddy roads. We finally arrived at Tribal Tops at 2130. We had a quick dinner and to bed. I slept most soundly.
Because of all the rains and the flooding rivers, the raft trip was cancelled by Sobek. Further, there was tribal warfare between the Shimbu’s and Kokas. I was disappointed.
We were in Papua-New Guinea during the celebration of 10th year of Independence from Australia. Everyone was celebrating. We drove by small village and all were out in traditional dress and dancing. This was called a singsing.
We went to a bird sanctuary. They were all in cages, but at least we saw some. I suppose a cage was just about as sanctuary as one can get. During lunch the river rafting cancellation came to a head with Sobek’s manager. Some of us feel like Sobek was pulling one here, that they cancelled the trip so that the rafts could be repaired. The conversation ended with neither resolution nor capitulation.
After lunch we went to small nearby village. Many villagers were in traditional dress, celebrating independence. They showed us how to start a fire and how they cooked vegetables. They also demonstrated how to shoot bow and arrows.
The tribal custom here was that the men have their own house; women, pigs, and kids have separate houses. Each man had his own plot of coffee trees, and the beans grown and sold as individuals.
Kokan was spokesman of village. He was an elderly man who could rival the Swiss with his yodel. He proudly showed us his gardens and demonstrated how to sharpen axes and knives. He also showed how the tribe fights with spears vs. bows & arrows. The battle formation was men with shields and spears up front, followed by archers behind.
All in all I found the afternoon very interesting—probably more so than had we gone rafting. I could go rafting in the US. I could never see this over there.
After dinner at the hotel we had a “Turnum Het.” This was a ceremony were young ladies sit in a circle around a fire, alternating boys and girls, front and backs. Singing, they turn their heads side to side until one of the girls “likes you” and rubs noses with you. Because their faces were painted, I ended up with a very bright red nose. The “Turnum Het” leads to a “Carrie Lek” that leads to the bush out back . . . .
14 Sep 85
Saturday
Our driver was waiting when I went to breakfast. He had a very small VW bus for 12 of us plus our dive gear. The laws of physics simply defied the success of this venture: only so much mass can go into a space. Thanks to the expertise of Jerry and Perry (both FedEx pilots) we packed all the remaining luggage in the small bus with us. We ended up sending the dive gear by plane to Madang. I doubted I’d ever see it again. It was yet another Third world hassle.
It was very difficult to get the bunch going today. This was the most challenging part of managing a big group. But all loaded up we finally left the Wahi Valley. We drove over the pass into the Asara Valley. They had a surprisingly good highway all the way. We stopped by to see the Mud Men, a very commercial, tourista affair, ending up of course with their hands out for a tip. OK. We arrived in Goroka at the Bird of Paradise Hotel.
Goroka, pop 35000, was very western. The men all wore western clothes, not so much so the women. There was a Singsing at the Tech College. We watched four very interesting tribes. A unique tribe from the highlands had hats made from hair.
After the singsing we were supposed to go to a commercial trout farm. However, two weeks ago during a payback, the avenging tribe pulled the plug on all the tanks and killed the stock. Such were local politics. So we drove around town for a bit, and then back to the hotel for tea.
We had a nice dinner at the hotel.
15 Sept 85
Sunday
After breakfast we loaded up and drove down the Asaro Valley, through its rolling hills and grasslands. We arrived in Keanantu for lunch. It was a very pleasant British-style lodge with a lunch in the garden. I met an Aussie couple that had been here for seven years. They also had a charming tree kangaroo for a pet, Susie.
Rose Mary, the proprietress, had a favourite village where she bought vegetables. She asked if we’d care to come along. The village was far off the road, up in the hills. The villagers were delighted to see us and all warmly shook our hands. (A European influence; hugs are traditional.)
This village was different than the previous one we’d visited in Minj. Here the couples live in a single house with the kids. It was a change from the old ways, a Lutheran influences. The pigs still lived by themselves.
I talked with a young man, 15 years old, who spoke very good English. All his people were individual farmers, growing food for the family and for profit. Coffee beans were grown, picked, dried, and then taken to the highway where a licensed buyer makes his rounds.
Sometimes the men will go to a large coffee plantation where they work for 40-50K a fortnight. This was about $US4 to 5/day. The money from their work and their produce was spent on clothes (Western dress) and basic supplies.
My new friend introduced me to the tribal Chief. With my friend as the interpreter, I asked the Chief if he remembered the Japanese. “Yes, he fought them. Would you like to see his weapons?” We walked briskly up the hill to the chief ’s hut. He brought out a handsome bow and deadly arrows, all handmade by him.
The arrows have barbs on the first 12” of the shaft. You don’t pull them out. The Chief said, “When I shot you, you dead for good.” I asked if he made arrows for hunting. “No. Only for killing people.” Brian gave him an American flag pin for his shirt. He was very proud of that.
We returned to the car to find our driver was terrified. “These are very bad people. We must leave immediately.” Somehow I feel he not we, may have been threatened. I felt as if I made friends!
Before dinner Jerry repaired the microbus. He was invaluable during this trip. Dinner at the lodge was lavish. We had a pleasant chat by the fireplace, then a feast of roast lamb, finished off with Pavolova and strawberries. This was followed by coffee and mints at the fireplace. Most civilised.
16 Sept 85
Monday
10th Anniversary, PNG Independence
Early morning fog covered the area. It was cool in the highlands. Aftera full breakfast we were off. About an hour down the road, Brian realised he’d forgotten his butterfly net. He was so distraught, I told the driver to turn around. He found it, right behind the door where he’d left it. Finally we were back on the road at 0905.
Part of being awarded the Explorers Club Flag was having some scientific purpose to the expedition. I was the leader of this expedition; Brian was the project manager for collecting insects for the Biology Department, University of Georgia. After capturing the insects we would put them in a “kill jar” with potassium-cyanide. After they were dead, they were sealed in a zip-lock bag.
Brian collected over 200 different species of insects, a handful were new to science. That’s why Brian had the butterfly net.
Continuing down the road, the early morning dew accentuated the spider webs in the coffee trees. They sparkled in the morning sunlight. We wound our way up the hills, rounded a bend, and faced several tribes! What ensued I could only describe as pure magic. It was a regional celebration of Independence Day. In the most fantastic costumes, the tribesmen chanted and played drums as they danced up a grassy knoll toward the ceremonial area. Other tribes appeared on the road and up the hill. There were thousands of people—and only a dozen of us white. There were smiles and celebration. The dancers swirled and sang. All wore freshly cut greenery, which gave the bright morning the smell of newly mowed hay. As far as the eye could see, thousands of warriors, dancing with their bows, arrows, and spears. Some of the teens wore T-shirts which read, “Kuntry belong yu me.”
It was with the greatest reluctance we left, but we still had a long way to go. Harry commented that one seldom sees Democrats in their native dress.
We drove past the hydroelectric scheme at Yonki, over the Kassam Pass for a terrific view of the sprawling, lush Markham Valley. We stopped at Ramu Sugar Project for lunch. It was run mostly by English. Ownership was 50% government, 25% Commonwealth Development Corporation, 5% management organisation, and 20% PNG corp. However, cost of production was 11 cents a pound; world market price was 3 cents a pound . . . . They owed the bank 70 million this year. Doesn’t sound good, but did sound like something an airline pilot would invest in. There are 65,000 acres of sugar cane in PNG. Most of the cutters came from the mountains and paid by the task.
We continued on the Ramu highway. It was a beautiful valley, but we drove on bad, potholed roads. That was not unexpected.
We drove through the Shaggy Ridge Gap in the Finnisterre range. Eventually the road found a torturous path into the mountains. We happed upon a PMV overturned. Miraculously no one injured. We set it upright and everyone was soon on his way.
The bumpy road really got old after a while. I really wanted out of that damned bus. Finally we arrived in Madang around 1600. I found—to my great surprise—our dive gear had been delivered to the dive shop. I had a nice cup of tea under the trees in the garden by myself.
At dinner, the hotel management sent over two bottles of champagne in gratitude for our “sense of humour and repairing their bus” for them.
17 Sept 85
After breakfast we assembled for our first dive. I buddied with Jerry at Magic Passage. There was a strong current. We flew the Explorers Flag at—90 feet. That makes it “PNG—Top to Bottom.” From the top of Mt. Wilhelm, 16,000 feet to—90 feet.
The second dive was 40’ at Planet Rock. Again, I buddied with Jerry. It was a very pleasant dive. We saw a Rockfish, and a scorpion fish.
We got back to the hotel around 1400. Took a nap and at 1800 we gathered for a night dive. We saw several Lionfish. It was a good dive, but we misjudged the current and overshot the boat.
Late dinner. We had a good group, good food, lively conversation.