I started the day with the idea I could take one of the
banana boats to one of the islands, and bum around there for a few hours. The
lady at the front desk thought it was not such a good idea, because the banana
boats are like the PMVs, which only run if they have enough customers. Normally
they have a morning ride from the islands because folks there want to come
shopping to Kokopó. Those same people go back to the islands in the afternoon,
so there is another rush hour. I wanted to go against traffic, however, so I
might get stuck there until 4 or 5 in the afternoon, and that seemed like a
long time to wait.
Instead I took the PMV to Rabaul, because I wanted to look
at the parts of town that were destroyed by the 1994 eruption. It was a
pleasant ride because I took the front seat (being old and a foreigner I can
claim the seat of honor) and because the day was overcast and not very hot
(alas, that was going to change half-way through my walk). On the way there I
saw a sign for the Japanese tunnels, and another for the Japanese subterranean
hospital. I have no interest on visiting those tunnels, particularly since they
were excavated by prisoners of war.
Rabaul is now dominated by the port, which is not
attractive, but they have a brand new colorful market place, and in the past
must have been a very pretty city. I have been told it was originally designed
by German immigrants, and you can see it had a strict, right-angle trace
(Stella would be glad to see alles ist in Ordnung) and wide boulevards.
Evidence for the boulevards is still there, but the jungle has reconquered the
spaces in between. Now and then you see the skeleton of what might have been a
church or a warehouse.
The city was holding elections for city council, so there
were small flags and notices reminding people to vote. Some volunteers were
there to talk to the passersby, and there were a few enterprising folks selling
cold water and sodas at the polling places. By now the day was starting to heat
up, so a cold bottle of water was very welcome. One of the folks there asked me
what I was doing, and upon learning that I am a geologist suggested I might go
to the volcano observatory, pointing to a few small buildings way up on a ridge
that extends to the west of yet another volcano (Tovanumbatir, which I think is
a pre-caldera volcano that seems to have been nicked by the caldera rim). It
seemed like a good idea at the time, so I went to the end of town, and took a
PMV up the ridge, which dropped me off at the foot of an incredibly steep
street.
I was just getting my bearings, and had confirmed with a
couple of ladies who were chatting there that the volcano observatory was up
the street, when out of nowhere this fury of a dog attacks me and takes a
couple of nips at my calf. I was so startled. Of course, I immediately shouted
at the barking mongrel, as did both of the ladies, and after I looked for a
stick or rock to throw at him he finally retreated, proud that he had performed
his duty. Really? Here I am, proving to the universe that PNG is a place
friendly to visitors, and this stupid little dog comes in to disrupt my inner
peace. You miserable cur, you would look just right in the display window of a
Vietnamese restaurant!
It was a long, long way in the very steep street, with the
hot equatorial sun directly overhead, so whenever possible I stopped to take a
breather and look around. I ultimately concluded that the ridge I was climbing
is formed by the Rabaul Tuff, the unit that formed as a result of the immense
eruption that caused the collapse of the roof of the magma chamber to form the
Rabaul caldera. The outcrops were provided by partial clearing of the
vegetation around the entrance of three tunnels (bright light thought: the numerous
Japanese tunnels were made possible by the fact that they were being excavated
in the unwelded and barely indurated Rabaul Tuff). As far as I can tell there
is a basal layer of airfall tuff, from which I managed to pry off a white
fragment of rhyodacitic pumice with only a tiny flake of biotite. On top of the
basal layer there are numerous flow units of ignimbrites. The fist-size pumice
fragments are surrounded by a matrix of what now looks like a clayey sand, but
which was originally a matrix of glass shards. The weathering of the matrix has
given considerable cohesion to the unwelded ignimbrite, so the walls and roofs
of the tunnels look as pristine as they must have looked when first excavated
during WWII.
I finally made it up to the volcano observatory, but being
Saturday the place was closed. The view of the caldera was open, however, and
it was absolutely stunning. I must have been about 500 m above the level of the
bay, and from this lofty elevation I could see, clear as day, the original trace
and extent of the original city of Rabaul, which extended from the beach all
the way to the base of the surrounding volcanoes. The big container and fishing
boats looked like Ronnie’s bathtub toys, floating on the crystal-clear waters
of the bay. Finally, the mighty trio of volcanoes—Kombiu, Takumau, and
Tavurvur—look like little models made for display in the classroom. It must be
pretty nice to work here.
The heat and the effort of the climb took their toll, and by
the time I got back to my hotel my legs were cramping and hurting. I have been
drinking water all along, but I think I need to drink a lot more if I decide on
more hikes.
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