Day 3: Kumi - Bundi

We were up at dawn after a fitful night's sleep for an exciting breakfast of beef biscuits. Beef flavoured biscuit - what could be better? This was also lunch - chicken-flavoured biscuit if you were lucky. Made you appreciate dinner I suppose.

Anyway, we walked up to the 1,200m site, which took almost 2 hours. And it was already a hot day. It did get a bit cooler as we ascended, mercifully. Our smiling, barefooted guide, Elios, was full of beans. I thought he was about 40 but he said he was 20. However, many PNGers don't actually know their age or have a developed concept of time (bit jealous actually!). He also told us that Russians used this track during the 2nd world war. His parents told him before they died. It seemed unlikely.



When we'd finished, Elios said he wanted to correspond with me! I didn't want to promise anything, because a PNGer never forgets. And there are no postmen. I said I didn't have a pen, which was true, and left it at that.



On the right is an insect infected by a clever fungus. Once infected, the fungus somehow forces the insect to crawl upwards and to cling rigidly to a twig or stem, thus providing the best chance for dispersal of its spores!





Alois arrives with our transport for Bundi.



Once again we were crammed in the back along with three women and two babies and a load of supplies. The ride was incredibly memorable. The road was predictably appalling and in parts, where the mountain side had given way, scarily narrow. Often the car would tilt enticingly towards the abyss. The women were totally unconcerned, and laughed heartily at our worried faces.



The views were fantastic, but getting my camera out was not an option - I was clinging on too tightly. We ascended into low mists and tall trees and the air was nice and refreshing. But then, the heavens opened. For half an hour we were battered by rain with no protection. It got much colder, and the rain gushed down my neck and pants. When we finally arrived at the St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Mission, Bundi, I was drenched to the bone and practically shivering. I jumped down from the pickup, my muddy boots were like ice-skates on the smoothed concrete floor and I went flat on my arse, as the nuns, Alois, and our co-passengers looked on. Good entry.

The mission guesthouse had hot showers, and boy how good it was!