joneilphoto: I Survived the Road to Tawali or the Flat Tire

I survived the road to tawali or the flat tire

Getting to and from the Tawali dive resort in Milne Bay, Papua New Guinea is not for the faint of heart. Arrival goes along the lines of a 24 hour flight to Port Morsby from my home in Alabama, a puddle jumper over the Owen Stanley mountain range in a plane that has seen better days, and arriving in the metropolis of Alatou, PNG. This is followed by an hour van ride on a dirt road, and then another hour on what I suspect is a pig trail, an uncomfortable wait in the dark New Guinea night on an empty pier, a very wet 30 minute boat ride to the resort which sits majestically 100 feet above the dock in other words MAJOR STAIRS. Why do all of this?! Simple! The scenery and diving is as unspoiled and beautiful as any I’ve ever seen.

Moonrise view from Tawali Resort and a small fisherman in his canoe

Scenic Reef in Milne Bay, Papua New Guinea

Watching the morning sunrise, looking out from the cliff over the ocean as the local fishermen form their coffee clatch around the bait wells they’ve made on a shallow part of the reef, families rowing their kids by canoe to the next village for school, or a black tip shark making a final cruise over the shallow reef for a bite to eat, these are the sites that make the journey worth it. The first dive will erase every cramped airplane ride of the last two days. Mating cuttlefish, rhinopias, massive cleaning stations, great hammerheads and minke whales are just a few examples of the amazing beauty that awaits on these reefs. Like any trip though, all good things must come to an end and the thought of reversing the long travel is tiresome. We awake in the dark so that we can make it to the airport on time for the once a week flight back to Morsby. The boat ride back is extremely wet. Lots of dive gear filling the back and very little free board equals me being so soaked when we get back to the strange little dock at the end of the pig trail, I step behind a tree to wring out my shirt and pants. It was so dark with no ambient light, who would be looking in the dark Papua New Guinea jungle, well apparently the driver who had parked and I assume slept in the van and who stepped out from behind the same tree. Our van is loaded with 6 divers, massive amounts of dive gear, rediculous amounts of camera equipment, the driver, a mechanic from the resort and his tool box. The driver begins to load us up by putting all of the bags in the back of the van. Well as any good Alabamian knows, don’t put all the heavy gear in the back on those rough roads or we will blow out a tire. As we all try to move the bags forward, the driver becomes very upset, after all this is a fancy resort and he doesn’t want us to sit our wet butts in with the bags. We fought him as much as possible, but in the end the dive and camera gear had the van low riding in the back and the inevitable happened. Just as we came to one of the villages, our back tire is blows. Not to worry there is a spare under that mountain of luggage! We are all tightly wedged in this van and unsure of our driver’s ability to change a flat and very concerned about our ability to still make the weekly flight as all of us are certain we do not want to discover the Alatou motels! You should know, my dad bears a striking resemblance in personality to the dad in the movie, “A Christmas Story”. All my life the man has been a dedicated and speedy tire changer. We never actually timeed him, but I’m sure he was timing himself. Sadly though he was wedged into his van seat in the back near the mountain of luggage and unable to get up. So he turns to me and says, “get out and change the tire on this thing!” I wouldn’t want anyone to time me, but I am capable of changing a flat. I get out to help speed the driver along only to discover that the mechanic has already gotten out with his tool box. By now, daylight is breaking and we are attracting quite a crowd from the village with our luggage unloading and tire changing. I grab my camera to take a few photos of the village kids laughing at us and look back expecting to see the driver and the mechanic working vigoursly to change the tire. Well, the driver was hard at work with the jack, but apparently the mechanic had gotten out his toolbox so that he wouldn’t have to sit on the ground to smoke his joint. Seeing our chances of making the flight dwindling, I did the only thing I could think of to help and started throwing bags into the front of the van. The driver finishes the tire, the mechanic finishes his joint, and off we go still hoping that the plane will wait for us.

Changing a flat in the pre dawn hours

One of the bridges put in by the Australians

I asked the driver what happens when he has another flat and has already used his spare? “Oh not to worry” he says, "Then I just drive a bit and get out and hand pump the tire and then drive a bit and get out and pump the tire". This story gathers a collective groan as we all picture what could happen between our pig trail and the airport. Luckily we arrive without further disaster, excited to see that our plane has waited for us. Looking at our plane on the tarmac I see the pilot get out and start taking pictures of the airport. Ok, I’m worried about flying in the infamous PNG mountains with a pilot that has clearly never been here before and is taking pictures of the airport like he’s never seen one before, but he made it here so maybe we will make it back. Then he turns and starts taking photos of the plane like it was new to him too!!! I was about to give up on my ride home and revisit the idea of an Alatou motel when a group of five nuns came in to board the flight. I took that as a sign from heaven that we would make it back to Port Morseby and we all boarded the flight. I only apologize to whoever had to sit in my seat on the next flight on that plane because even with the time for the flat tire, the joint, and the pig trail, I was still soaked in saltwater and left my seat on the plane very wet.