Paradise accommodation in Wewak

In Wewak, I had noticed a motel on the way into town from the airport when I was here with Ted Stuyvender. So this time I decide we might give this a go. So we take a cab from the airport and the motel looks great. It’s right on the beach and the verandah outside the dining room is joining the sandy beach. We book our rooms, pick up a hire car in town and spend the rest of the day at the beach outside the motel which is called 'Windjammer'.

I know Wewak, having been here before and after we serviced the units at the army base, we drive to the hospital where we are told we can only switch the air conditioning off on a Sunday. It’s used every other day of the week, so we have to wait a few days for Sunday. We spend most days sight seeing in Wewak and on the beach outside the motel. It’s just like being on holidays, but we're getting paid.

Windjammer Motel in Wewak - Sepik District

We meet some interesting people in the Territory. Here in Wewak we meet a Belgian chap who is here buying artefacts at the Catholic Mission. He tells me he comes to the Territory twice a year, ships the stuff to Paris and makes a great living selling the artefacts there. He always flies first class. So there is  good money in artifacts. He also buys mounted butterflies and tells us he can get up to $500 for a good species. And there are lots of rare and beautiful butterflies in Papua New Guinea.


He asks us if we're interested in supplying him with butterflies for which we will pay top dollars. He shows us on paper what we would have to do, how to kill them and mount them so they're not damaged.

My mind starts thinking. Here I am in the Territory, getting paid to travel around and have great opportunities to buy artefacts which I could easily ship to Europe, and catch butterflies for him to collect once a year. I too could make a great living. We exchange names and addresses. I'll think about it.

Ken takes us to a Sing Sing

Jap cemetery Rabaul

        Walking back to the car, we see a side track leading off to the left. I wonder where that goes, says Ken. We explore and come to what looks like a Japanese cemetery. It has three white concrete posts all marked with Japanese writing down the sides.

        The following week, Ken’s mate Emile invites us to a Sing-Sing up the mountain from his village. As we’re invited, the three of us drive back to Kurutegete  on Saturday night. The entire village is dressed for a night out and we walk on a track up the hill. First we come to an open field and there is a church. It’s made in a traditional Native style, with grass roof and walls open windows. Ken’s mate explains that’s where everyone comes tomorrow morning for the service. It’s a catholic church but we don’t see a priest.

        We continue up the hill on a track through dense jungle for some time when we get to a clearing in the jungle. There are lots of tables and benches and a lot of Natives from other villages already there. We are introduced and greeted by the other people. There is a beer tent next to the tables, with lots of bottles of beer.

          We sit down at a table and are each given a bottle of beer. More people arrive from other villages and before long singers and dancers assemble on the side and start their performances. It’s great to watch them. We are very privileged indeed to be here.

           The singers and performers wear traditional grass skirts and use original Native drums and sticks to assist their singing. The performers change frequently while others sit down for a beer themselves.

           We’re there a few hours and into our fourth or fifth bottle of beer when the rain starts. Not hard, just light drizzle, not enough to stop the performances, but we feel a strange atmosphere in the crowd. The natives look at the three of us in a strange way.

          Ken’s mate whispers to Ken, they think you white fellows brought the rain. It’s better if you disappear. Ken passes the message on. As the rain increases, we are now being openly abused by some of the other villagers. It’s time for a retreat. Ken’s mate points in the direction we came and the three of us make our way down the path we came on.

         It’s now raining quite heavily, it’s after midnight and pitch black. The path is hard to see. We hear the noise of the villagers in the background still singing and boozing.

          Even though, we almost run through the jungle, it takes over an hour for us to reach the village near the coast road where our vehicles are. We’re totally relieved when we get there, and soaking wet, but unharmed. I’ve been blamed for a lot of things in my life before, but never for making it rain. I guess there is a first for everything.

    

We climb the Matupit Volcano

Ken asks us if we would like to climb the volcano we flew over before landing in Rabaul. We agree and on Saturday, the three of us drive to the foot of the Matupit volcano. We have to drive on very narrow roads until we come to what looks like a bush track virtually overgrown. We have difficulties driving the car and have to get out of the car frequently to remove branches so we can pass.

Matupit vulcano in Rabaul

When it becomes impossible to drive any further, we abandon the hire car and walk the rest of the track until we’re at the foot of the mountain. There is no foliage on the mountain and we start to climb up. It is fairly steep and littered with brimstone from old eruptions of the volcano.

It takes at least an hour before we reach the top and are able to look down into the crater. There is smoke coming up through the far end of the crater about 30 metres away from where we are. Ken suggests we climb down into the crater but I’m not so sure. What if the volcano erupts while we’re in the crater. Ken assures us the volcano is quite save.

Ken on the rim of Mutupit vulcano

We climb down into the crater. There are lots of rocks everywhere, and as we look around the crater, a Qantas Fokker Friendship comes overhead, so low, you could almost touch it. We actually see the passengers looking at us through the windows as the plane banks overhead to get into position to land in Rabaul. I’ve never been so close to an airplane in flight without actually being in it. It’s strange. But I remember having looked into the crater a previous time when I landed at Rabaul.

What a great place to welcome people to Rabaul. So we gather enough rocks to write welcoming messages on the floor of the crater in big letters about 3 meters tall. No one will miss those messages. Afterwards we settle down for a few smokes and a break.

We settle down for a break and a few smokes.

We walk over to the smoking hole in the crater floor but the sulfur smell is overpowering and the heat coming out of the hole drives us back. We’ve seen enough and it’s getting late, we still have to descend the mountain and find the hire car. As we are near the foot of the mountain, we see native lakatoi boats being paddled on the lagoon, a very pretty sight.

Ken shows us more of Rabaul

Over the next few weeks, we continue with our job, changing motor bearings and one morning Ken comes over while are having breakfast he says his Native offsider has invited him to his village along the coast road for the weekend. He asks if we’re interested. Of course we are. I’ve never been to a genuine New Guinea Native village.

Saturday morning, we drive down the coast on the road to Kokopo.  Ken leads on his motor bike. We just follow him. A few kilometres out of Rabaul, he turns right up the hill on a dirt road, Phil and I follow in the hire car. We come to Kurutegete, a village with straw huts and lots of children and pigs. The women are dressed in colourful dresses and the men in shorts and bare tops. Ken introduces us to Emile, his work mate, Iapin his wife and Tatabu his seven year old son.

Tatabu on Ken's bike

We are made very welcome. Tatabu, the little boy is fascinated with Ken’s motorbike and when Ken puts his helmet and goggles on him and lifts him up he is very excited. Everyone is happy.

The village is amongst a lot of coconut trees and very soon some of the younger boys climb the trees to fetch some coconuts. They make it look so easy. They carry large knives and chop the coconuts from the trees and watch them fall to the ground. We too watch them but mainly to save our heads.

Back on the ground they rip the outer husk (mesocarp) from the coconuts and open the nuts by smashing them onto a metal rod sticking out from the ground.

The fresh coconut milk tastes good and refreshing. Even the flesh of the coconut tastes very good. The villagers show us around the village, explain this and that. I’m glad I came. We have a great day in this village, playing with the children, listening to the adults, observing them in their village life.


Tatabu is very interested in everything we have and do. I have my 8mm movie camera with me and the boy wants me to show him what it does and how I use it.

Tatabu is very interested in everything

I take lots of footage of the village and the people. Especially the men climbing the coconut palms, they make it look so easy. The milk from the coconuts they offer us tastes very good and refreshing in the heat of the day.


We spend a very pleasant day with Emile and his family. I am so glad Ken brought us here. These people live simple but happy lives in these villages.

Back to Rabaul

We leave Port Moresby and our first stop is Rabaul. I enjoy seeing the place again. After hiring a vehicle we checking into the Commonwealth Department of Works hostel in town.

Rabaul Harbour in 1968

The following day, we drive to the wharf and pick up our crate of motor bearings and drive to the first job. It’s not an easy task, stripping down electrical motors in hot plant rooms, the task is tedious and quite frankly should never be done on a dirty plant room floor. Motors should be serviced and bearings changed on a proper work bench with proper tools and only when required. The fellow who insisted on having this clause in the contract was obviously a theoretical fellow and totally unaware of practical situations.

The occupiers of the buildings, mostly public servants, are not too happy about the situation either. The air conditioning is off for quite long periods while we strip down every motor. It’s far too hot in the Territory to have air conditioning off for such long periods.

It takes a while before we get the task down to a fine art. Phil is helping me, but it takes two people to strip a motor down, I’m beginning to see why Dave Scott told me it would take at least three months for us to complete this trip.

Jap tunnels in Rabaul

Someone suggests we have a look at the tunnels the Japanese built during the war while they occupied New Britain. So, Sunday we drive along the road to Kokopo and find the tunnels. Some still contain various Landing craft and other vessels in them. The tunnels dug into the mountain side seem to be endless, narrow and simply carved out of the mountain. Apparently that's where the Jap soldiers lived while they were in Rabaul.

With our torches, we explore these tunnels for some time, when deep inside, we hear a spooky sound, a bit like a wounded animal. Phil and I look at each other. 'What was that'? he asks, 'I don't know, I reply, we better get out of here'.

As we make our way back to the entrance, some bloke jumps out of a side tunnel in front of us. It  is a real 'change pants situation'. He laughs at us and is thrilled he scared the pants of us. He introduces himself as Ken Lyneham, a plumber from Sydney who works in Rabaul. When our heartbeats return to normal, he shows us the rest of the tunnels.

Jap craft in tunnel

Ken explains, due to the incredible pounding given to the Japanese base at Rabaul by aircraft from the air forces of USA, Australia, and New Zealand the Japanese defenders simply "dug in"!

The pumice hills of Rabaul were honeycombed with over 500 kilometres of tunnels, including 15 hospitals (one such being 4 kilometer in length, and having capacity for

2,500 patients). Indian P.O.W's captured at Singapore, and local inhabitants were used as labour for digging the tunnels - extreme hardships and many deaths resulted.

We go deeper into the tunnels and find the 4 kilometre hospital. The tunnels are very small and Philip who is tall finds it hard to walk in them and has to bend over like an old man. Ken and I manage better. It’s moments like these I don’t mind being on the short side. We spend a couple of hours wandering through the tunnels, taking pictures and when we finally exit and look back, Philip points out a couple of snakes just above our heads. It’s time to leave.

The big Service Trip is due

The next service trip is due and this is a big one. Once a year, we are committed  to change every motor bearing in every motor on every job in the Territory whether it need to or not. This one would have to be dreamt up by some inexperienced public servant in Canberra. It meant we would be away for at least three months. Dave calls me into the office and asks me if I would stay on at least until this service trip is completed. I agree.

We have to change bearings

Ted is working with Willie in Madang, so we need another refrigeration mechanic. Brisbane is advised and they send a young South African lad, Philip Heledon, just out of his apprenticeship. He moves in with Werner and me and sleeps in the common room. He is a skinny, lanky young lad with red hair, a big red nose and a South African accent. Him and his family haven’t been in Australia long. We soon find out, Philip is extremely tight with his money, we are sure his pockets are permanently sewn together.

He is to accompany me on our big service trip to all the sites in the Territory and check the refrigeration systems as well as help me change all the bearings. Hundreds of motor bearings are ordered and shipped to all the major ports for us to collect.

Another Swiss Electrician arrives

        We finished the installation and prepare to return to Port Moresby. Pius is very sad. He is a smart kid and I feel sorry for him. He hasn’t got many prospects in Manus Island, he is a good worker and would make a great helper back in Port Moresby. I get his details and promise to try to move him to Port Moresby for maybe an apprenticeship somewhere.

        We return to Port Moresby. I wonder what’ll happen when the new materials arrives on the base long after we have left.

Some weeks later in Port Moresby, Werner Utzinger also arrives from Brisbane for a stint in the Territory. It is good to see him again. Willie had gone to Madang for a job, so Werner moves into his room at Barlows. I again have a drinking buddy, and a Swiss one at that. It’s great.


Sunday morning and we all drive to a remote beach which Willie calls 'Swiss Beach'. It's about an hour's drive from Port Moresby. It's a nice spot and we cook a bar-b-que and have a few beers. All the Carrier staff is there except Dave and his family. 


Very soon the kids from nearby villages come over to investigate us and we organise an impromptu soccer game with the kids. Someone has brought a spear gun and we all try our luck at spear fishing.

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Above (top) - we play soccer with the local kids

Above (middle) - time for a swim

Above - (bottom) - spear fishing Swiss Dude

We need to Help Ourselves

Being Sunday, the naval base is deserted so we have a good look around. In one of the workshops I discover a sailor’s hat, so Peter takes a photo of me wearing it, to send home to Switzerland.

Hello Sailor

The crates with the air conditioning ducts, equipment, refrigeration pipes are awaiting us in the Naval Depot, but no electrical stuff. No cables, conduits, nothing.

I phone Dave Scott who tells me all the crates came directly from Brisbane. He phones Urs, who makes some inquires and apologises. They forgot the electrical stuff and they would send it immediately on the next boat. That means four weeks. There is no way I wait four weeks up in this heat for cables and stuff.

Pius my new offsider and I help Peter installing the ductwork and when a week later Fred arrives, I mention my dilemma. We take a walk through the Naval Base and discover an electrical store in another Nissan hut. It has large wire doors and we can see quite clearly, conduits, rolls of cables, everything I need. We find the store commander and ask him if we can buy or borrow some of the stuff we need to do this installation. No way, he says. No matter how much we plead and assure him that our stuff is on the way from Brisbane, he is adamant, he cannot and will not help us. Bastard!

        There is only one thing to do. That night the three of us sneak up to the store in the middle of the night. Peter with his tin snips Fred and I with torches, and Peter cuts a neat hole in the back door just big enough for me to squeeze through. I climb into the store and grab a few rolls of cable, some lengths of  conduit, saddles and conduit fittings and pass them through the hole to Fred and Peter.

        Afterwards, Peter fits the cut out section and sticks it neatly back with small sections of silver tape. It looks great but the silver tape is shiny and you can see the joints in the door. No problem, Fred says. He spits in his hands, rubs the spit onto the silver tape, takes some dirt and rubs it onto the wet tape. We stand back, shine the torches onto the door. You can’t see anything unless you knew what to look for.

      We make our way back to our Nissan hut and in the morning carry our newly acquired possessions boldly through the base to the job.

     No one even noticed, but when the workshop foreman seers us installing the conduits he said, ‘I thought you said you had no electrical materials’. I said, ‘oh we found the stuff in the refrigeration crate after all’.


        I guess they must have realised what happened when four weeks later, after we had gone, a crate of cables and associated electrical material arrived from Brisbane.

        

I join the Australian Navy

 My car has arrived and I now have my own transport in Port Moresby. It’s great, not have to rely on other people.

They send us a chap named Fred Harrison, a refrigeration mechanic, who arrives complete with wife Wendy and a couple of small children. Dave finds them a flat to live in.  Fred is a cheerful fellow and within a short time is liked by everyone. Being married, he gets the company ute to take home with him, but has to drive us around if needed.

One of the first jobs Fred is given is at the Australian Naval Base in Manus Island, part of the Admiralty Islands near the Equator. A new air conditioning system needs to be installed and they send Peter Fides, a sheetmetal worker and myself up there to start the installation. Fred is to follow a week later to do the refrigeration work.

Peter and I arrive at the Naval Base called ‘HMAS Tarangau’ and are given a Nissan hut to ourselves. It is quite large with about ten bedroom cubicles with walls about 2 metres high and open above and there is a communal kitchen, which we don't use as we are eating at the Petty Officer's Mess. 

I sometimes listen to Swiss Radio
International on shortwave

There is absolutely nothing to do in the naval base so we work long hours. I sometimes listen to shortwave radio for news from Switzerland.

 There is a young native boy hanging around the hut. His name is Pius and he tells us he’s still at high school. He is an intelligent young native and I employ him to help me with my installation. On Sunday, Pius calls to our Donga and I ask him if he can get us some coconuts from one of the many palm trees outside our hut. 'Of course', he said and proceeds to climb one of the trees with the aid of his handkerchief with which he ties his feet together and up he goes right to the top where he dislodges a few coconuts.

Pius climbs a palm tree

I am amazed, here I am on a tropical island of the Pacific, so very far from my home in Switzerland, watching a native boy doing what comes natural to him, climbing palm trees to get coconuts.

Back on the ground, Pius takes the husk off with his teeth, a bit like we peel a banana. The milk of the freshly opened coconut tastes nice and in the heat is very refreshing.

Wewak Catholic Mission

We only stay a week in Wewak. There is not much there, only the hospital which has two systems, one in the operating theatres and another in the maternity ward. The other air conditioning system just outside  Wewak is in the army base, about a half hour drive out of town.

But while we are in Wewak, Ted says he wants to show me the Catholic Mission in the hills. We drive up there one afternoon and come to a series of timber buildings with corrugated roofs. We stop and walk into the Reception area. 'Can we see the artefacts father', Ted asks. 'Sure', the priest says and takes us across the yard to a much larger building. He unlocks the door and when we enter I am totally surprised. The building is packed full with all sorts of Native masks, carved statues, bones and other typically New Guinea Native artefacts. They are all on tables and have price tags on them.

At the Wewak Catholic Mission 

We stay about an hour in this room and I buy a few small masks for a few bucks to send home to Switzerland. We pay the priest and return to Wewak. But the image of all those artefacts stays with me for some time. I want to come back at a later stage and spend much more time in that shed.

We fly back to Port Moresby and I am back working at the Papuan Medical College. Carriers have picked up a lot of projects in New Guinea. Not surprising, as we are the only large air conditioning company in the Territory. There are a couple of small operators in Port Moresby but they can’t handle large projects. We now have so much work that Dave Scott advises Brisbane, we need someone permanently commissioning and testing finished projects.

Wewak Next

My three weeks in the Territory are up and I phone Dave Scott in Port Moresby. He is surprised to hear I was only going to stay three weeks. He had asked Urs for a permanent electrician, not a temporary one. Naturally, he wants me to stay. (Another ‘porkie’ from Urs). I have come to like life in the Territory, so I agree to stay for at least three months. Dave is very happy with that. I ask him to get Urs to ship my car up from Brisbane, on company expenses, of course.

We stay another couple of weeks in Rabaul and when we have finished all the services, we return the hire car and book a flight to Wewak. Another Fokker Friendship takes us there and from the airport in Wewak we take a cab to town. We stay at the Wewak Hotel right at the end of town, which is built quite high above the ocean. We look down about 100m to the beach below. We move into our rooms and find a hire-car place.

The hotel at Wewak is up on Wewak Hill

At dinner time we walk into the dining room and Ted heads for a table with a chap sitting there already. Why can’t he pick an empty table?

Ted introduces us and the chap tells us his name as well. He is another traveling salesman in town trying to sell medical equipment to the medical practitioners and the hospital.

I’m from England, Ted announces. So am I, the salesman replies. 'Where abouts', he asks. Ted comes out with some unheard name of a small village in Surrey. This gets the other chap very excited, So am I he beams. I shudder, this is going to be very good. I wait.

That’s when Ted backs down, 'well no, he says, 'actually I am from the United States. My mother came from Surrey'. Nice one Ted.

I remember my Birthday

We’re in Rabaul for a week, when one night we stand at a bar in Chinatown. There is a calendar behind the bar and I look at it. It’s the 20 February. My god, I exclaim, it’s my birthday! I shouldn’t have said that. I’m buying lots of drinks and consume much too many myself. When we leave Chinatown for the Boat club I’m totally drunk.

A familiar Date

I don’t remember anything after that and wake up in the morning with a tremendous hang-over. I can’t face breakfast and just have coffee. We’re driving into the mountains behind Rabaul to a volcano recording station some half hour drive away. It’s a new building, not yet occupied and Ted is finishing the refrigeration work while I sit in the shade, feeling terrible.

I’m very thirsty and look for water. The water is connected to the building but it is rainwater from a tank behind the building. The water runs out of the tap but is the colour of tea, it doesn’t matter, I need some, I’ so thirsty.

I drink straight from the tap, even though the water is discoloured, it doesn’t taste like anything and is warm, it feels good. I drink some more and go back to sit in the shade. Why did I drink so much last night?

Rabaul Plantroom

Ted is working away in the plant room and when he emerges ready to go I feel nauseous. In the car I hang my head out of the window and let the rushing air cool my head. I am never going to touch another drink for as long as I live.

It’s late in the afternoon when I start to feel human again. Ted wants to go to the club after dinner and when we get there, I drink orange juice the whole time we’re at the club.

I'm Learning how Air Conditioning Works

After dinner we walk down to the waterfront to a Boat Club. It’s very dark, not many street lights and the moon shines through the palm trees. There are a lot of natives walking in the streets. They say, 'Good Night masta', as they pass us and smile. The people of Rabaul are much more friendly than the native people in Port Moresby or Lae. Ted tells me that Rabaul is one of the safest places in New Guinea. 

We have a few drinks at the club and Ted befriends an Australian traveling salesman who is staying in Rabaul for the night. 'I’m from England', Ted proclaims. The salesman looks at him suspiciously, 'Really'? he says. I wonder why is he pretending to be English instead of American? I guess he must have his reasons. I can also see that our new found friend doesn't believe him.

Ted knocks on my door at 6.30 in the morning. We’re having breakfast at the hostel and drive off to the first job. It’s in the Administration Building in town.

Mechanical Switchboard

It’s only 9 o’clock but already it is very hot and humid. The plant room is big, has a very large switchboard, four compressors and an enormous air handling unit. My job is to service the switchboard, that means I have to tighten all the electrical connections, check all the operational functions of the various components and clean up any dust. Ted’s job is much more elaborate. He has to check the refrigeration system, which involves a lot of opening and shutting of valves of the refrigeration circuits.

When I first started work at Carrier Air Conditioning as an electrician, I didn’t know anything about air conditioning I just wired switchboards to diagrams, and tested them after they were wired. And still I didn’t know if they worked properly. I didn’t know what the functions were or what they did. For me as an electrician that was not important, as long as the switchboard worked.

Now, that I’m here in an actual working plant room I start to look around and observe Ted. My switchboard job is done within an hour so I ask Ted if I can help him. 'Not really' he says, so I just observe him what he is doing and ask him questions like what does this do or that?

Ted looks pleased that I’m interested and explains in great details how everything works, how the refrigerant liquid expands at the Thermal Expansion Valve, how the condenser turns the hot gas back into liquid and how the compressors pump the whole lot round and round. It’s fascinating. We climb into the actual air handling unit through doors. It’s nice inside, very windy but cold, about 16°C, in no time my clothes are dry from perspiration. It feels great.

Ted shows me the innards of the unit, the fan that supplies the cool air into the three floors of the building. The fan is very large, taller than me. Ted tells me to be careful not to be sucked into the fan. He shows me the evaporator coils where the cold gets picked up by the air moving over it  to be delivered into the occupied areas, it is all fascinating.

It takes us the whole day to finish the service at the Administration building, checking everything, cleaning and leaving the plant room in a spotless condition. It’s easy work, I love it.