Blog 330 – John Hankin, Walking the Kokoda Track in 2025, Part 1 – 24 September 2025
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The start of our trek at the Arches in Kokoda village. John Hankin photo 3rd of August 2025.
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The Kokoda Track outside of Kokoda on 3 August 2025; John Hankin photo. The track at this point – just outside Kokoda – looked like a track. It soon deteriorated into something that no mountain goat would ever accept should be called a track.
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Deniki in the evening of Sunday 3rd of August 2025; John Hankin photo.
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The Herbert Kienzle Memorial Museum at Kokoda; John Hankin photo.
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I flew into Port Moresby in the afternoon of Saturday 2nd of August 2025, on the same plane as many of my fellow trekkers. We were taken by bus to our hotel.
A group dinner took place that evening during which our trek leader Dave explained the logistics of our trek and what we should expect to happen the next day.
We were scheduled to catch a very early morning flight to Popondetta on the north coast of Papua New Guinea. From Popondetta, we were to travel by bus to Kokoda, visit a museum and then walk for about 2 hours to Deniki. We would camp overnight in Deniki.
Late that evening, Dave knocked on my door. Our flight to Popondetta would be delayed. I could sleep a little longer than scheduled
I woke up at 3.00 am on Sunday. My body refused to let me sleep. I managed to get a black coffee from the hotel dining room. Breakfast would not be available for hours. I had trouble remembering the rescheduled times for our flight that morning. I had discovered the day before I left Australia that international roaming was not available on my phone. The information I needed had been sent to my phone but I would not be able to access it until I returned to Australia.
My fellow trekkers were in the dining room shortly after 6.00 when I went for breakfast.
To enter the Port Moresby airport, we had to join a long queue to clear security clearance. The queue was extremely slow moving but Dave somehow got us through in time to catch our plane.
There was another security clearance when we left the departure lounge to board our plane. Everything moved in slow motion that day.
I had not previously met anyone in our trekking party. I am not naturally outgoing and I was nervous. What on Earth was I doing? At age 76, I was about to start one of the most difficult walking treks on the planet. I desperately missed Margaret and I did not really know why I was doing this. I choked back my doubts and looked out the window at the mountains beneath the plane. I needed to do this.
The Popondetta airport terminal was a tin shed and our buses were not buses at all. Wooden benches had been fitted on both sides of the trays of vehicles which in Australia we call “utes” (utility vehicles - in America they would be called pick up trucks). There were canvas awnings above the ute trays. We held on as the utes jolted down what was officially called a road from Popondetta to Kokoda.
Kokoda was a much prettier town than Popondetta. Popondetta could easily have been mistaken for one of the towns in a Clint Eastwood Spaghetti Western, but Kokoda was pretty and clean.
We met our porters and visited the museum in Kokoda. It was after 4.00 pm when we started walking out of Kokoda down the track towards Deniki. The track at that point actually looked like a track. Cars could drive down it.
I had trouble talking to my porter Tony. Tony was such a lovely man, but I had no idea what I should say. Despite years of public speaking, in conversation with people I do not know, I often have trouble knowing what to say.
It was starting to get dark when we started walking up our very first mountain. I had been told the mountains were steep, but I could not have prepared myself for this. It went straight up into the growing gloom at an angle of about 80 degrees. If I placed one foot in a foothold indented into the mountain, the next foothold was usually about 0.6 metres (about 2 feet) straight up from where my foot was trying to push me up to it.
There was no gradual transition from the flat track to the almost vertical mountain climbing.
One moment I was walking along a flat, rough track. The next moment I was scrambling up a near vertical mountain using footholds on a track that had no resemblance to any track I had ever walked before.
Although Tony was carrying my backpack, I still had to carry my day bag. The day bag was very light, but I discovered it was a real burden when climbing a near vertical mountain in ever growing gloom.
After an hour of very hard work, I staggered into camp at Deniki just before nightfall. I was the very last of the trekkers to arrive in camp.
I felt worn out already.
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To be continued …
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