Rabaul, an unforgettable experience

Rabaul, an unforgettable experience

(Post Courier, Friday June 28, 2002 )

The Miniguli tied up at the main Rabaul wharf at just after 6:00 pm on Saturday evening. There was a fine drizzle of rain falling and through the floodlights on the wharf the whole scene looked most uninviting.

The other passengers had already disembarked and the crew were helping us unload Mr Beem and Mark Tickell's motorbike that shall remain nameless. We got the bikes onto the wharf and started loading them up with all our gear, cameras, computers, tents, cloths and sleeping roles. One of the PMV drivers had gone off to the Shell Service Station to buy us some petrol, we had to empty out the fuel tanks on the bikes in order to transport them on the ship safely. By the time we had all of that sorted out it was already past seven o'clock and we were soaking wet.

We set off through the light rain on our way to the Kaivuna Hotel. It must have been raining for some time as the road were partially flooded, as Mark went through the first big puddle his little bike spluttered, coughed, cut out and came to a complete stop. We dried it, started it, and off down Rabauls unlit and bumpy streets we weaved and splashed our way towards the hotel. The Kaivuna is at the far end of Mango Avenue, a five-minute ride from the wharf.

Mango Avenue used to be Rabauls Main Street; it was lined on both sides with shops. All the old PNG names were there; Brian Bell, Bali Stores, Burns Philip. C.H. Min, Bishop Brothers. Not to mention all the smaller local shops, Rabaul Bakery, the Kai bars, the T-shirt shop and on and on it goes. All the Banks were there also, West Pac, PNGBC, ANZ, BSP, they all had a branch on Mango Avenue. Ela Motors, Boroko Motors, PNG Motors, Toba Motors, all had their showrooms on the main street. Then of course there was the Post Office, the Police Station and the Fire Station they were all dotted at intervals down the avenue as well.

On this wet Saturday night as we rode down that street, with the rain streaming through the beams of the headlights, dodging puddles and riding over metre high speed dumps. You could not help but feel a great sadness. We were surrounded by eerie skeletons of dead buildings, a wall standing on its own, a twisted girder propped up beside a set of stairs leading to nowhere. This really was a barren wasteland. As we looked down avenue the only sign of human habitation were the far off lights of the Kaivuna standing alone at the end of town. A small out post of civilisation in a gloomy dark wilderness.

When we did arrive at the hotel the heavy mood lifted. The place was bright and cheerful people were busy doing normal things, they seemed oblivious to the environment outside. I asked Ronda at reception if Brian and Bev were in. She pointed to the stairs and said "Top Bar". Brian and Bev Martin have run the Kaivuna for the last twelve years, through the good times and the bad. They are famous for their warmth and hospitality and the work that they have put in to keep the Hotel alive would make a heart surgeon proud, but you can't help wondering why. Would it not have been easier, just to walk away? The short answer for them and for all those that have stayed is that they love Rabaul. Rabaul has always been a town that inspires great affection.

The 'Top Bar' is the local watering hole for many of the great characters that have stayed and stuck by Rabaul. And on that Saturday night we got to meet quite a few of them, the most notable among many notables being Mr Mat Foley. Mat was a coast watcher in New Britain during the Second World War and his stories about the War times and the things that have happened to him since are both riveting and highly entertaining, as a spritely eighty-one he still loves a beer and a yarn, and as anyone will tell you, he is still as sharp as a tack. Its no wonder that, we won the War. One day someone will write a book about Mat Foley and a great story it will be.

Many of the conversation in the Top Bar begin with "Before the Eruption" or "after the Eruption". Reminders of the 16th September 1994 are all around you, even as a visitor. Photos on the wall show you Vulcan and Tavuvu throwing up great clouds of ash and pumice, dust on the floor reminds you that the Tuvuvu volcano is still belching even today.

There are very few places in the world where you can experience the sorts of emotion that Rabaul brings forth. It is a place where Ying and Yang seem to be in constant conflict. It is both stunningly beautiful and in the same breath totally depressing. It is truly loved, yet totally and utterly neglected. You feel that it may claw its way out of the ashes, but that maybe it has had its time and would rather be left to die. Rabaul is an unforgettable experience both for the eyes and for the heart. If you have never been, go. If you saw it before the eruption, well it's a different town now, so go again.