The 2000 South Pacific Air Safari
(with apologies to The Man from Snowy River)

The South Pacific Safari’s on – "This time we’ve got to go,
Let’s join the mob we read about – that lot we’d like to know."
Bill Finlen, he’s the bos pella, we’d have to get that straight,
Bob Bates they said was Mother Goose – they made it sound so great.
Departure day, twenty nine May, and everything was fine,
But all that changed just like the wind when Bob got on the line.
"The weather’s bad" he said, with pain, "won’t make Lord Howe today,
But we’ll head for Port, just for a look, at least that’s on the way."

While early starters on Lord Howe were already having fun,
We were haunting the airport waiting for the sun.
So straight to Norfolk we would go, at last to meet our peers,
For we’d waited far too long to join them for those beers.
A happy crew they were, we thought, although we wondered why
Sam put his golf clubs atop his raft when he was in the sky! 

Norfolk was the paradise, we all knew it would be,
Norfolk smiles were everywhere and the shops were duty free.
An Island tour, the convict ruins, history at its best,
From the local lass "No questions please till I tell you all the rest."
At night we had a fish fry on a cliff above the sea,
And a progressive dinner in private homes so the locals we could meet. 

Up bright and early, it’s Noumea today, we’re heading towards the heat.
Oh no! the forecast’s bad and we’ve got those headwinds to beat.
Briefing’s done – we may delay ’til later in the day,
Then up gets John "What a thing to say I’m going anyway!"
David did a sterling job in keeping tabs on us,
We all began to wonder why all the earlier fuss. 

Well, we landed at Magenta, what a welcome sight to see,
And we taxied to the Customs – after that we’d all be free.
But when we parked our aircraft that was plainly not to be –
The newspaper photographer, the local TV news,
Old pilots and young trainees, they all came out to view.
And the members of the Aero Club, it seemed they all turned out,
To meet those Ausssie flyers in their lighties from the south. 

With fond farewells we left Noumea, Vila bound and the sun to catch,
Instead we blasted in through clouds and pouring rain to match.
The Aero Club was very nice and the members were just great,
A barbie lunch, a special tea, but the rain would not abate.
"Coongoola Cruise", that’s the go they said, "the sun is always there",
And sure enough when we crossed the isle – beauty beyond compare!
THE SUN – we snorkelled, swam and collected shells on a beach with water so clear,
Soon the esky was clean empty of the local Tusker beer,
So a happy team all headed back to the other side
With spirits high, they’d caught the sun, but their bodies were so tired. 

The airport at Port Vila was a tad disorganised,
If we ever got to Honiara we’d all be surprised.
Half-way there we had a call- "a coup had caused some trouble",
At least they said we could refuel "but do it on the double."
The airport was flush with army guards holding up their guns,
We couldn’t get out quick enough to fly right on to Munda. 

One hour later we reported at Munda, "watch the pedestrians" they said,
It was only when on short final that we saw what was ahead,
Mothers, fathers, boys and girls all over the strip to wave us in,
And soon we had our aircraft parked in rows neat as a pin.
Then in closed the weather, clouds and rain,
It was enough drive a pilot insane!
Too late for Tango Yankee Echo and the Whisky Kilo boys,
They landed at nearby Kiri Kiri to sample its forbidden joys.
Munda was a lovely place, a tropical village on the shore,
But the sun was never completely out and when it rained it poured.
For hours and hours we waited for the rain to cease,
We hoped our Kiri Kiri mates would soon arrive in peace. 

So off we flew to PNG and headed for Rabaul,
Bob was grinning from ear to ear, "I’m home at last," he called,
Then we circled the old volcano just in time to see
It spitting smoke and ash and heat to a height 3000 feet.
And we wandered round the old town flattened in ’94,
The airstrip was no longer used and the land was bare and poor.
Covered in ash to our hotel we went when we heard a sonic boom,
We rushed outside amazed to find a bomb right near our room.
"A legacy from the war," they said "some were never found,"
The local kids had fired one up ’til it exploded from the ground! 

O’er the Bismark sea we soared above islands, craters, lagoons and gorges,
In two convoys to Madang the flight was smooth and the scenery gorgeous.
Through coconut and cocoa trees we drove to Malolo Plantation,
A peaceful place right on the sea, we relaxed and dined like those of station.

Then off to Karawari, "it is the best" we’re told,
They’ve even mown the airstrip to cater for our fold.
We flew along the Sepik as low as we could go,
And dipped our wings to people in their canoes below.
The strip at Karawari was rather hard to sight,
But Mother Goose hovered above to make sure the flock was right.
Then we saw the villagers walking along the river bank
The school was closed, and children - there must have been a thousand,
And as we felt the welcome of the Karawari tribes,
We asked them to show us how they lived their lives. 

At the school the teachers thanked us for the pens and books
And the children, who’d never even seen a desk, all gathered round to look.
Soon we had their plaited wreaths placed upon us one and all
While they sang a song of welcome, all standing proud and tall.
Then they sang their National Anthem with a pride that’s little known
In many other countries, plus the one that we call home.
Before we left they asked us if we could stand and sing,
So we sang Waltzing Matilda and the children all joined in. 

That night the village band came to the Lodge, to play some of their songs,
You could have knocked us with a feather
when they hit their bamboo pipes with rubber thongs.
And the kids all got us up to dance – jungle music isn’t slow,
But soon they had taught us that we still had our get-up-and-go.
We soaked up the local culture, we couldn’t get enough,
We saw the way the people live, and we thought we were tough! 

Over valleys and rugged mountains – we had never seen the like,
We travelled on to Tari, the home of the Huli tribe.
The Huli are still warriors who fight as they always have done
They paint their faces red and gold and dance to the beat of their drum.
We saw the boys who grow their hair for ceremonial wigs,
And learned that Huli men still buy their brides with pigs.
Ambua Lodge at 7000 had views magnificent,
It was the nicest place on earth and we gave it one hundred per cent.
So to the rainforest above we trekked – we had to pay the price,
To wait and watch and feast our eyes upon birds of paradise. 

Now as our Safari is sadly due to end,
It’s also time to bid farewell to Bob, our treasured friend.
And yes we felt the magic Bill promised at the start,
With adventure, challenging flying and good company – all part.
Soon we’ll be home in our cities and towns, all dressed in clothes to suit,
But our hearts will still be in PNG where the weather is always fine and beaut. 

by Anne Goulding