Enga Province

Mountain ranges bordering Min and Awin territories

At the ungodly hour of 4:30 am, my phone alarm rudely interrupted my peaceful slumber, signalling the beginning of an epic adventure – a journey to the fabled Hindenburg walls. The previous night's tempestuous welcome from Mother Nature, with her dazzling lightning bolts and thunderous roars, had failed to dampen my spirits in Ningerum. Armed with resilience and a hint of excitement, I prepared myself for a day of exploration in the remote corners of our nation that demanded more than just physical prowess.

Our chosen band of intrepid explorers, a handpicked cadre seasoned in the art of long-distance hikes, set out before the sun graced the northeastern horizon. Along the Tabubil – Kiunga highway, we embraced the luxury of empty roads, courtesy of the pre-dawn tranquillity. The journey unfolded seamlessly until we exited the Ok Menga tunnel, greeted by the first rays of the rising sun illuminating the west wall of the Hindenburg range.

The gravel road, resembling a white serpent, led us upward through the awakening forest, a mesmerizing canvas of golden sunlight colliding with mist and nature's lush greenery. The Hindenburg walls, a geological marvel dividing the Min territory into the Telefomin district and the North Fly district, unfolded before us. Nestled between the rugged Emmanuel ranges, these walls have long posed a challenge to development in Papua New Guinea, remaining untouched for nearly four decades.

Despite the road's impending commissioning, its promised accessibility was a ray of hope for the Min people, who had endured geographical isolation for five decades. As we zigzagged up the treacherous path, our minds momentarily set aside the dangers, captivated by the breathtaking scenery. A road that was once deemed impossible became our gateway to progress.

Descending from our vehicle, a few kilometres from the Hindenburg wall, we embarked on the Dimtakin towards the Immingabip Valley. The muddy, stumpy road, a reminder of the struggles faced by the Min people, echoed tales of carrying iron sheets, aid, and even the deceased through these challenging terrains.

As we continued, my anticipation grew, realizing that this road would soon transform the arduous 2-3 day circumnavigation into a mere day's journey. The standing divide enforced by Hindenburg would soon be a relic of the past, replaced by the ease of commuting from Telefomin to Tabubil.

Our trek led us to a remote village, where the warm reception from villagers reflected their eagerness for support in education and healthcare. Amidst this isolated haven, I indulged in freshly baked taros, a gesture of gratitude from a villager. Though seemingly deserted, the valley echoed the challenges schools faced in such regions – inadequate resources, multigrade teaching, and the absence of teachers.

As we assessed the students, the realization of the vast wealth in natural resources contrasted sharply with the unequal distribution of benefits. Our return journey, though not a steep climb, proved challenging for me, serving as a stark reminder of the difficulties faced by those carrying goods on foot along these muddy paths.

Finally reaching the pickup point, we boarded the waiting vehicle, exhaustion washing over us. The descent from Olsobip to Tabubil unfolded smoothly, with the driver navigating the dangerous turns expertly. We made it just in time for a well-deserved treat in Tabubil – pizzas and hamburgers.

Despite the fatigue, the trek to the least-travelled corners was a memorable endeavour for a noble cause. The hope of returning when the road reaches Olsobip and beyond, envisioning a haven for tourists amidst unexplored forests teeming with undiscovered flora and fauna, lingered in our hearts.

Hindenburg, the dividing wall between Western and West Sepik Provinces

Bush road down the Ilom-takin

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