Change text size
-A
A
A+

Warwick Duncan's Kokoda Journey

IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF HEROS

A LIVER RECIPIENT'S TREK ACROSS THE KOKODA TRACK

 

On the 25th October 2008, I celebrated the 19th anniversary of my liver transplant. Devastated by a mysterious hepatic virus, I went from a perfectly healthy 30 year old father of 3 young children, to my death-bed in just 4 months.

Saved by the skill of medical professionals, the support of my wife and family and extreme generosity of complete strangers in a time of their own grief, I realised immediately that they didn’t give me this second chance for nothing. My mission of thanks since has been to repay them in the best way possible – live my life to the fullest, but never ever forgetting why or how.

Over the ensuing years this mission has taken various forms, but the intent has been the same. Along the way, I’ve have proven to the world what transplant recipients can achieve, and hopefully through my actions, others have been stimulated too. Whether it motivates someone to discuss the issue of organ donation or inspires another recipient to better themselves, I hope I’ve played my part.

After I had to cancel my attempt to swim the English Channel due to lack of sponsors, I vowed that every year I would do at least one thing I had never done before. Not from me will you hear “I’ll get around to doing that one day”. I realised that ‘one day’ may never come. You need to set your goal and go for it, no matter how long it will take you to get there.

My latest adventure was to trek the Kokoda Track. Long on my ‘List of Things to Do’, Kokoda held a special meaning to me. An admirer of the exploits of our Diggers, to walk in the footsteps of these heroes was something of a pilgrimage for me. To be one of the 1st, if not the only, transplant recipient to do it was a special ambition.

Two of my sons agreed to join me. James (26 years) and Marc (20) were my insurance policy – both boys are big and strong and I was sure they would carry their old man over the track if need be. Our other son, Scott, was in the middle of a 3 month trip around Europe, and unfortunately our daughter Caitlin (born 2 years after my transplant) suffers badly from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

 After a full year of planning, preparation and training, 3 of us set out on a journey of a life-time. Due to a mishap with my passport, the boys left a day earlier than me and were able to visit my uncle’s grave in the War Grave cemetery in Rabaul. I caught up with them in Port Moresby.

Our Kokoda party consisted of 15 trekkers, a trek leader, and 29 porters. The porters are local New Guinea highlanders who for the next 9 days would carry our backpacks, set up our camp, cook for us, and generally ensure we got across the Owen Stanley Range safe and sound. As unemployment is over 90% in PNG, porter jobs are like gold and they take them very seriously. Employing them, and in fact the whole Kokoda trekking industry, is a massive boost to the local economy.

Like their ‘fuzzy-wuzzy angel’ forefathers, the highlanders are caring, strong and eager to please. They were so safe and sure on the slippery and dangerous track, that you thought they could be mountain goats. They are wonderful people.

Warwick after a climb

There is little sign of modern civilisation in the Owen Stanleys - no roads, power or communication. Just soaring mountains, dense jungle, villages of grass huts, tropical heat and rain, insects and untamed rivers. The track itself is much like it was during the war, in fact the conditions wouldn’t have changed much in centuries. It is muddy, covered in tree-roots and rocks, and never flat. You go either up or down, most of the time steeply. It is 96 kms long, but distance is almost irrelevant as it is measured in how many hours it takes to complete. You climb a total of 5500 metres, and descend 5000 metres. The highest point through the Kokoda Gap is 2190 metres.

Kokoda is strenuous, but with proper training and well-paced momentum, I believe most people could do it. It takes you way out of your comfort zone, as you are exposed to the elements, and without the modern conveniences of life. Once begun however, there is no going back except by helicopter in an emergency. But that makes the sense of achievement that much greater.

The total experience was much, much broader than I imagined. The challenge was more encompassing, and so much more rewarding. I am so grateful and proud to have done it with my sons. They were 7 years and 20 months old respectively when I had my transplant, so being able to assist them, as with my other 2 children, grow up into fine adults they are today, is surely one of the major benefits of transplantation.

My mission of thanks continues.