The Arches

After ten months of preparing for my trip to Kokoda and three solid months of training with Horace and hiking around Toronto (completely flat and not recommended for tackling the likes of the Kokoda Track) here I was on the last day of the expedition.  These past eight days had been hard – no question, but also in many ways the essential ones that I needed to put my dad’s loss into some sort of perspective.   This trip gave me the chance to disconnect from my normal, hectic life and take a “time-out”, allowing me time to think and reflect on my life with him.   It was strange; it felt cleansing and pure allowing me to clear my head and to breathe for the first time since he had been diagnosed in August 2010.

I wasn’t alone in my thinking on this as my best mate Craig and I both felt that in many ways that this was an opportunity to put the loss of dads in some sort of perspective, I think Craig said it best when he said he “wanted to see if the same blood flowed through his veins” as his dad’s.   Did we have what it took to conquer the Kokoda Track, although I’m not sure anyone who takes this almighty challenge ever “conquers the Track” per see, it’s more like you assimilate into the track and over the eight days you become part of the track……you feel it, you live it, you breath it in all its intoxicating forms.

Perhaps it was partly the solitude of the jungle, possibly being with Craig and perhaps even partly being with a group of unknown guys (at the start of the trip anyway) each one changing the dynamic just enough to get you outside the norm.  

Salvation Army plaque at the Goldie River camp

I think it was put into perspective at our last break before the arches at Owers Corner and the end of the expedition.  Here we were at around noon, after hiking since 6:00 am and finally at the Goldie River.  This was the location on the track and where during 1942 the Salvation Army under the direction of Major Albert Moore set up his hut to give comfort to the troops headed out on the track, and to help and provide support for those wounded being carried back out by the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels.

The Goldie River campsite is surrounded by steep valley walls on three of the four sides, with a single narrow track leading out each way.  It was here that we had our final break and got ourselves ready for the climb that would mark the end of our journey.  

Prior to our trip Craig had shown me his father’s medals from the war, there were quite a number of stunning medals on a long row.  There was also a very special one that designated his father as a “Rat of Tobruk”.   This medal was set inside its own special box and I could tell that it was a particularly important medal.  I remember looking at in awe, as Craig carefully lifted the lid and showed it to me the night before we left on our adventure.   He told me he planned to carry them on the trek and to wear them on the last climb up to the arches to pay tribute to and in remembrance of his dad who had fought so bravely before being captured and held captive as a Prisoner Of War (POW) for more than three and half years.  

Surrounded by jungle and steep cliffs - day eight

As we were about to leave we were checking our packs for the last time, taking a final sip of water and slathering on plenty of sunscreen as this final hike was in full sun up the side of a very steep ridge to the arches.  I was just packing up my stuff, when I noticed Craig coming toward me, he had just placed his dad’s medals on his shirt – they looked magnificent as he strode toward me.    As I took a closer look at him he was holding out his hand and there in his palm was his dads Tobruk medal in its box, he said “mate, this is for you to wear.   I want us to finish this together for our dads”.   I could feel the tears welling in my eyes – what a wonderful and unexpected gift, in fact I would have to say it was the best gift anyone has ever given to me and what an honor it was for him to pin it to my shirt. 

Recovering slightly as he pinned to my shirt, Mick asked us all to gather around him in a circle, shoulder to shoulder.   As we assembled we naturally placed our arms over the shoulders of the guy on either side of us.  He then asked us to share with the group the reason why we had come on the trip.  My mind began to race as I tried to put some semblance of rational thought together for my turn.  I had shared my story for the most part with a few of the guys on the trip, but not with everyone.  Now after Craig had pinned his dad’s medal on me I was completely awash with my emotions and now all the thoughts and reflections that I’d had about my dad were now surfacing and flying about inside my head…… my turn was coming fast but with so many feelings literally bouncing around in my head I felt ill prepared to talk, well at least not rationally.  

It was the most emotional experience of my life, cos it wasn’t only me who was now struggling to keep their emotions in check, as I looked furtively around the circle there were many with tears unashamedly streaming down their cheeks as they listened and then in turn shared their stories quietly with the group.   Thank goodness I thought – at least I wasn’t the only one who was an emotional basket case, as tears welled in my eyes and making it almost impossible to focus.  

Before I knew it everyone’s eyes slowly turned to me.

TW & Craig at the Arches - Owers Corner
we'd made it!

I tried to speak, but nothing came out – I was completely choked up and it took a few long seconds and some incredibly deep breaths to squeak out the reason for me joining the expedition.   I explained that my dad had been diagnosed with brain cancer just over a year before.  I went on to tell them that he died in February after a very brave and courageous fight, and that I wanted to turn a negative into a more positive experience and so had raised money ($15,350) for Cancer Research in his memory.  This expedition was allowing me to remember him and celebrate his life.  I could sense the encouragement of the group as I spoke, and felt Craig squeeze my shoulder as I spoke about dad.  There I’d done it.            

It was Craig’s turn now and he spoke eloquently about his dad, sighting that he wasn’t a hero, or a sportsman of note, but just a guy trying to do what he thought was the right thing to do in the circumstances.   He captured the moment beautifully and along with two or three others who had a personal connection to WWII gave a wonderful tribute to his dad and to why he was there.

As we trekked out on that final climb to Owers I could sense dad walking with me, hear his familiar gait close by and his presence all around me.   We were at the end of a long and poignant journey - thanks for everything dad.