PNGAA Library

Volcano: Rod Noble

The Mt Pinatubo eruption caused Barbara and myself some concern, as we were living in the Philippines at the time.

However I have had an earlier association with the “Circle of Fire”. Not everyone has had the opportunity to look into the business end of an active volcano. I did.

It was 1954, and I had been accepted into the ranks of the brave “Sanders of the River” types, known as Kiaps, who were going to bring the locals of Papua and New Guinea from the Stone Age into the twentieth century.

I had been posted to Wewak, the HQ of the Sepik District. After I had been there a few months, the District Commissioner, Mr Sid Elliot-Smith, summoned me to his office. “Noble”, he said, “You will accompany the Rabaul-based vulcanologist to Blup Blup Island and evacuate the inhabitants if he recommends it.”  ”Yes sir” I answered.  I found out later that a Qantas pilot, heading to Hollandia in Dutch New Guinea, now Jayapura, had reported recent volcanic activity from one of the six tiny islands* a few miles off the delta of the mighty Sepik River.

I had been posted to Wewak to be OIC Police due to the temporary absence of Inspector John Grainger investigating the murders of two Patrol Officers at Telefomin.

The necessary arrangements for the trip were made by Sgt Bandi, a member of “my” 16-strong contingent, whom I now trusted absolutely. He was the only policeman who spoke a little English. I was beginning to get the hang of the lingua franca, Pidgin English. My homework after office hours and before joining the rest of the expats at the club was studying Capt Murphy’s text book on this wonderfully expressive language.

I took on board my German-trained haus boi, Mani. Not a youngster of course: all German residents were expatriated in 1918. But as you can imagine a wonderful help to me, a very young adult pitchforked into this wonderful, colourful country.

After some hours cruising on the Administration vessel, the MV Thetis, the island appeared, Mt Fuji shaped, with a white sand collar rising from the brilliant azure waters of the Bismarck Sea. Above the black sand beach was dense green tropical vegetation pierced by the ever present coconut palms. They were in turn topped by 100 m of grey dust, then a slim column of smoke last of all.

I asked the vulcanologist when we had anchored what was to be the plan of action. He said he would spend the night ashore and climb up to inspect the caldera next morning.

After he had landed and I had told the villagers what was going on then, in the interests of protecting government property, I asked the skipper to take us to shelter for the night in the lee of one of the nearby islands.

After anchoring behind Bam Island, when the motor was turned off all was quiet and I was entranced by the warm light of the evening sun over a calm sea. Suddenly from the huge spreading trees on the shore came the screeching and squawking of a large flock of pigeons settling down for the night. I called Mani over and handed him two 12 g duck shot cartridges and my double barrelled shot gun and asked him to bring back some birds for my supper.

I had tested his skill with a shotgun when previously I had given him a couple of cartridges and he had returned with seven ducks. This had been in the Kambaramba Lakes area a long way up stream on the Sepik River. His method was to stalk a quietly feeding flock, fire one cartridge, then when the survivors took flight, fire the other shot at them. He then went round in a canoe and gathered up the dead and wounded.

This night, after a short while he returned to the boat, but I had not heard any shots. When I asked why, he told me that the village headman had requested that he not kill any of the birds. As the locals were not renowned for kindness to wildlife, especially if it was edible, I was intrigued to find out the reason for the request.

Mani explained that the trees were galip* trees, the fruit of which was a valuable cash income for his clan. Apparently the birds ate the nut. After digesting the husk, the kernel was passed and fell to the ground, making harvesting much easier than climbing the trees.

So I had a usual supper of bully beef and kaukau (sweet potato). I retired to the cabin and, in spite of being so very excited with the whole venture, slept soundly to the soporific sound of gently tapping waves on the hull.

Next morning the vulcanologist and I, accompanied by Sgt Bandi and Mani, set off to see what was happening at the top. As far as I can remember, we were being followed by all the children and most of the adults of the village. The native pad up to some vegetable gardens and through jungle was easy going. After some time we reached the end of any vegetation and came out onto the grey collar I had seen the previous day.

We paused and gratefully accepted a sweet, cooling drink of kulau (green coconut milk). When we set off for the final 100 m to the top I noticed that our party was suddenly reduced to only four. When I asked why the locals had stopped I was told that the area we were traversing was inhabited by dewels (spirits).

In this area, past the tree line, I had asked the vulcanologist about a small rock the size of a cherry.  Around this rock was a circle of dirt 60 cm across. He said that the little stone was so hot that it had vaporised the surround of straggly grass.

It was with some trepidation that I continued to the summit if that was the sort of heat I might have to dodge when we got there. Although more than half a century ago, I can still see and smell that active volcanic scene: it makes one resolve to keep all Ten Commandments. Fire and brimstone were issuing from several fumaroles and the sulphurous smell was horrific.

All was quiet when we looked in. I was shown where earlier eruptions had enlarged the crater. Many photos were taken and we retired from the noisome sulphurous smelling top to the quiet sweet smelling beach (by comparison).

We returned aboard and our skipper navigated us safely back to base.

While we were comfortably seated in the saloon I enquired whether our trip to the summit was without danger. The expert said it was, but if there had been the slightest guria (quake) a most rapid evacuation would have been called for.

I thanked the skipper and that ended one of several memorable trips on river and sea that I had in those two years in Australia’s Mandated Territories.

Notes: *Blup Blup and Bam are two of six tiny islets called the Schouten Islands which were named by a Spanish navigator in 1545. Ed: This Schouten Island group has no connection to the Indonesian Schouten Islands.

*galip (Canarium indicum): 20-20 m tall with canopy 15-20 m: lowland tropical tree widely planted around villages in Indonesia, Solomon Islands, Vanuatu and PNG. This proteinaceous product from tropical rain forests has a delicious kernel.

The EU is funding support for a new cash crop industry for the Canarium nut having an estimated value of US$300 million. Maybe it will appear in our new Super IGA one day soon?