Dark eyes peered at me from wild-painted faces, crimson and yellow gold. It was hard going, slogging uphill though the New Guinea rain forest trying to balance over a narrow pig trail sloppy with mud. I was nervous, unsure of my footing and breathing hard. When I looked up from my mud-slimed boots, the painted faces had disappeared–along with Jack and the others in our group–over the crest of the hill, leaving me alone with a barefoot village boy of about twelve. At the hillcrest, the forest dissolved to a slick mud ribbon down a treacherous thousand-foot embankment to the river. At the bottom, I could see, the only bridge across the swollen river was a single wet log that looked about half as wide as my boot. Where the hell was Jack? Taking a deep breath, I stepped out on the trail, wobbled then slipped.
To be continued….
My session with the Huli witch doctor …
Our barbeque banquet…
Tensions with a rival tribe were at a boiling point. Our hosts decided we needed to brush up on defensive maneuvers for the trek that would take us on to our next destination … Humm?
Well, they do call it adventure travel…
