A Circumnavigation Of Lake Wanum

Niugini Dirt Adventures’ Peter Boyd tells one hell of a tale about getting lost and losing bikes in Papau New Guinea, the land of the unexpected…

“11 hours and 50 minutes after leaving our cars for an early morning ride at Lake Wanum, we returned to the cars on the back of a ute – minus the bikes…”

The last hour had been spent walking through thick bush, stumbling over coconuts, fallen trees and getting our gear continually stuck on razor sharp vines. We finally stumbled onto the 4WD track 3km from our cars, to find our rescue vehicle bogged in mud. Our elation at being found (when we were unsure which direction we were even going) was tempered by the thought of a 3km walk through a muddy track. We’d had no water for a long time, were all physically exhausted and in without a doubt the worst condition ever after a ride, and we’d left our bikes an hours’ walk away.

Luckily, our rescuer Rahui (our hero), located a guy with a tractor. After pulling the land cruiser out we were off. The ride was bumpy as hell and every part of our body hurt already but we knew our cars and a cold SP beer were minutes away.

The first energy drink didn’t hit the sides, and we rehydrated enough to finally smile and remove the mud encrusted gear. We were covered in it from head to toe – during our walk we had to cross two creeks that had mud lined sides. For a short fat guy, getting out of a one-metre tall mud covered riverbank was comedy for all except me. The water was incredibly refreshing, but with constant calls of “watch out for the crocodile” the panic got the better of me several times.

The drinks were heaven and the injury toll was revealed. Blistered feet, cramped arms and legs, arms scratched, muscles aching, every part of the body sore and sunburn like you would not believe. Walking for days afterwards was agony, along with the constant itching from wearing sweaty gear for 12 hours.

Our relief was tempered by the thought that we could have been in some serious trouble but we all agreed that it was the most incredible days riding any of us had had – a once in a lifetime experience.

The Tale

It all started when we discussed how easy it would be to circumnavigate the lake. “It’s a f#cking highway,” declared Chris the night before on our twelfth beer. Considering we had done 1km of the 12km journey in four hours two weeks before, he received a few strange looks but we made plans for a 6am departure from Lae the next day. The 6am start became 7am as we discussed the trip for some time that night, getting up our courage with a few more beers.

Five riders set off from the cars on bikes at 8am. Myself, Chris, Brad, Framey and Rahui – Two KTM 300cc two-strokes and three big-bore four-strokes. Brad, Chris and I had been down maybe 10% of the way before, and somehow forgot about the off-camber grass hills and two-metre kunai grass, and were telling the boys how much fun the hill climbs were.

Brad set the tone for a hard day by slipping off the side of a ‘track’ (once one bikes been through, it’s a track) on a dodgy slope and bike and rider landed a long way down. It took four attempts to get across to us but he finally made it. The combination of the slope, two-metre tall kunai grass and the sun almost finished Brad off before he started – lucky he was riding a KTM, not some pretty boy bike (ie: just pick your favourite boy band or Mardi Gras colour), and showed true courage to fight his way back to us.

We’d prepared seriously that morning. We each carried five litres of water plus we all hydrated properly beforehand. Someone forgot to tell the sun gods as Lae experienced one of its hottest days in years. The next couple of ridges were conquered with ease, till we came to a long steep downhill. Rahui went first and in the process lost his two kina sunglasses – resulting in us all spending half an hour looking for them, as he claimed they were his most valuable possession.

It was at this time Framey’s KTM became temperamental, and did not want to start. The battery didn’t last long, and the continued kicking in the blazing hot sun soon destroyed him.

He got it going eventually and we were off, finding more unexplored ridges and sensational views. Soon Rahui and Framey said they had enough (this was around 9.30am) – as there were the highlights of a “Parade” in Sydney they desperately wanted to watch on TV, so we waved goodbye to our fairy friends.

Open grassy hilltops, hill climbs to challenge the best rider, burnt off ridges with sheer drops on either side and stunning scenery greeted Brad, Chris and I over the next few hours.

We made our way down a two-metre wide ridge to a small inhabited area and had our first view of the lake from close-up. The brackish smelly water we expected and what everyone had assumed was not present, instead crystal clear water made for a refreshing place to cool ourselves down, with a view to rival the best resort. Our conversation was about one thing only – crocs (or pukpuks in Pidgin) and were they present? We later found out YES.

Over the next hour the ridges got steeper – they were rock-filled and rutted and several attempts were required on some of the more challenging climbs. On some ridges you were faced with a line with no margin for error. Any mistake and you would face the possibility of watching your bike fall 100 metres down the side of the slope … with you following it down to your demise. 100% commitment was absolutely needed on these hills. Without it we would have been still out there.

Our second lakeside water stop was brought on by the incessant sun. I had lost my hat and was over heating badly, the result of several unsuccessful attempts at a hill which would have been difficult in the Roof of Africa or Romaniacs Extreme enduros. Not helping was my KTM was missing and dying on me at the worst possible moments. With no electric starter and short legs it got harder each time – even being a two-stroke. Brad helped get my bike up this hill (the first of many times, thanks).

The relentless heat forced us to seek shelter and we found a palm tree near the edge of the lake. This provided cover for an hour with us up to the waist in water and lilies. We applied water to our necks and heads non-stop as our body temps were so high you could have fried an egg on my bald head.

Riding in PNG in the tropical heat with 10kg of gear on, lifting the bike up a dozen times, with not a breath of wind, carrying a few extra kgs of ‘protection’ in the stomach area is not ideal – throw in the remnants of a pile of SP Lager, and people ask how can it be fun. Bloody oath it’s fun – days later.

It just so happens that after most ride days we wake up the next morning sunburnt, limbs aching and feeling the effects of our friend ‘dehydration’ – you simply cannot get away from it, the heat is relentless.

We swear never to ride until its cooler – then six days later we can’t resist it and we do it again and we never seem to learn. On the rare days it pisses down we are thankful for the drop in temperature then complain about how slippery the tracks become and pray for the dry conditions again.

We discussed what would happen if we could not make the second half of the journey – there was no possibility of returning the way we came, our water was almost gone and we were reluctant to drink the lake water. I tried it purely out of desperation, and no side effects were noted. As I said before we took five litres each and all that was nearly gone – it’s the tropics, not the New Zealand high country. It’s hot.

The boys began humming the deliverance banjo tune and talking about my ‘purty mouth’. It became funnier when they started talking about which part of the human body was the tastiest to eat. Pre-empting their interest in eating me (being the fattest one) I stood up, unzipped and boldly told them that this was the fattest part of me and if they were hungry to ‘suck on this’. The redneck jokes cheered us up no end.

Brad recorded a message for his partner, Jade on his GoPro advising that if she is watching this we have eaten the fat one, and almost made it. Chris piped up and said if Framey was with us we would have gotten all the way around.

One hill totally changed everything. This monster destroyed any fight left in us. Chris got up it, but no matter how heroic our attempts were, Brad and I couldn’t make it. We made the fateful decision to ride around the side of the hill which had a slope worse than anything we had done. Brad got about 20 metres then ended up sliding down beside the bike to the bottom. He then spent an eternity trying to get the bike off the bottom of the slope.

I got a similar distance, lost the bike and it fell on the wrong angle, the wheels facing upwards. After turning it around, I went two metres and it fell again, two more and so on and so on. I had progressed 20 metres forward and fallen down 10 times (did I mention it was so steep you couldn’t stand up?) and exhausted I lay in the grass as my skin was baking like a lobster. Brad had ridden his bike out and conquered the next major hill, and I was left all alone.

The smell of my burning flesh should have led Brad and Chris to me easily. Anyone who knows me knows I am seriously allergic to hot sun, and experience major problems when overheated. I knew that water was 30 metres below me, so courtesy of my new bark busters I simply kicked the bike over on its side, and again and again and again and it got to the bottom of the hill. How I was going to get it out was not on my mind at the time. I had felt my heartbeat earlier and it was off the chart. I started thinking of heart attacks, I was seriously panicking. Who would inherit my priceless babies (my two KTMs) and would they find my body at all?

Then my phone rings and its Cunno, (our non-riding drinking partner) wanting to go for a beer — I politely explained that I was a bit busy and would ring him back. Oblivious to my situation, our discussion about the All Blacks thrashing Australia at rugby (again) let me forget about my dilemma for a while.

Having a Digicel cellphone tower close by certainly helped us later in the day, as being able to communicate with Rahui kick started our rescue hours earlier than it would have. Half an hour later I heard voices, Chris and Brad were wading towards me from around the corner of the lake (I kid you not, wading in waist deep water towards where I was resting in the water). They found me in a distressed state up to my neck in the cool water – petrified of any movement around me. I admitted that I had sent texts earlier to them saying to go on and if they saw any locals in canoes to send one back for me — plus some other pathetic rambling which they have agreed not to mention! Chris had ridden down a long slope, Brad had left his at the top and walked down. But they came for me, and saved my fat kiwi ass.

With Brad riding my bike and me walking we got out of that shitty valley. It took 45 minutes and six attempts from Chris and Brad to get up one hill but we got out. I think walking with riding boots on was the worst part of the day – (walk up a hill with riding boots full of water in one-metre high grass some time). The bogging problem my bike experienced was gone courtesy of it tumbling down the slope.

Throughout the next 20 minutes we covered close to a third of the entire distance around the lake, all the ridges led onto each other, we were racing around in hill climb paradise and had forgotten for a short while the perils we’d been in – strange, that!

We’d received texts in the day from Rahui and Framey updating us on their own perils. Not knowing the short way out they went back the way we came, which was bloody hard in reverse. Framey’s bike was still playing up and with a lack of any shade the boys were getting cooked badly. Rahui made it up the last major hill climb first, Framey got there but the bike died and tumbled and cart-wheeled two times. Where it lay was not an ideal place to go up or down so they were forced to drag it 10 metres up a hill – 10 metres is a mile in that heat. The boys rested under makeshift Kunai shelters.

Half an hour later Framey braced himself and kicked the hell out of the bike, and kicked and kicked and kicked. Then Rahui remembered the fuel was off… Unbeknown to Framey, Rahui had turned the fuel off earlier when dragging the bike to avoid fuel loss while on its side.

I don’t know what words were exchanged but it would have been funny to see the look on Framey’s face, the kicking had killed him again so 15 minutes was spent resting. They found the track and made it out shortly after, but when they got to the vehicles disaster struck – the esky with water and beers was locked in my car. Framey thought about smashing a window but Rahui talked him out of it. They settled for a hot coke from the nearby trade store. They got safely home but suffered badly from dehydration.

Our group of not so merry men had reached the tree line at 6pm, and we knew we were about 1km from the 4WD track. That put us 4km from the utes, with 15 minutes of daylight left. It gets dark in PNG 6.15pm daily, and we absolutely knew we were up shit creek in a barbed wire canoe without a paddle – in other words, we were f#cked.

In front of us was thick PNG bush. We tried to find some sign of life that would mark the way to the 4WD road. I’d texted Rahui earlier and requested assistance as it was obvious then we had to walk out. We found an old track which led away from the hills and this led us away from the hill. We got our bikes 100 metres along it and came to a creek –two metres wide but a metre and a half deep, half full of water, and walking in it we sunk to our knees in mud. We couldn’t cross so we left the bikes behind – that pretty much finished us.

We heard a motorbike and Brad wanted to light a fire using fuel from the Hondas tank to attract attention. Chris was against the idea as we wanted to leave the fuel in the tank and then light it! We said goodbye to our bikes with Brad worried that they would be stolen. I said that if they could steal them from where they were left they would be better riders than us. One long hour of walking through the bush, worried about getting lost, terribly thirsty and fatigued and we hear the bike engine close by, its Rahui going to fetch the tractor to get his cruiser out of the mud.

Reaching the 4WD Track we exchanged relieved looks with each other. Our little tantrums with each other and the blowups were forgotten. Too exhausted to talk we fell to the ground. Having our rescue vehicle stuck in a mudhole just added to our shitty day. All we could do was look on and wait. Our day was summed up by one of the locals looking at us in shock when we commented on swimming in the lake, advising us that there are people eaten by the crocs in the lake – classic!

Weeks later we had a track cut in the bush and were able to reach the lake within 15 minutes of leaving the car. On a later trip Chris and I attempted to ride to the top of Mt Ngereneno – (needing to ride around the edge of the lake to access the mountain which towers over the lake).

We got to within 50 metres of the summit but in a bizarre incident Chris’ Honda went over the edge of a hill, bounced, bounced again and bounced another half dozen times, coming to rest 80 metres down … in more than one piece. Our expressions were ones of shock, we looked at each other in disbelief. I take photos of every ride, this time there was no camera to record the photo of a lifetime. You couldn’t tow it out, we couldn’t double the rider out and with boots on you couldn’t walk out. There were 15 large ridges to go up and down and there was the non-stop heat.

I went for help, unsure at the time what I could do. Plus we had a piss-up to go to at 2PM!