I grew up in the small rural township of Euroa in the 1950’s, the son of one of two local doctors. As a child I only heard vague muttering of The War, a subject never spoken of in front of women or children.

My journey into hospitality commenced on leaving school, leading me to open a small but traditional Bed and Breakfast in 2000. All good? In 2008, my world tumbled into depression.

During therapy I was asked a question about what two things I want to achieve for myself - excluding work - within the next 5 years. The first answer came in a flash – I wanted to visit a dear friend in the UK. The second took much longer and from somewhere out of the depths came my answer - Kokoda. “Why Kokoda?” I was asked.  I had no reply other than “I will know the answer when I complete the trek”. UK was ticked off in a flash. Upon touchdown at Melbourne Airport “KOKODA” stared me in the face. Two weeks later I saw an advertisement for the Kokoda Trail.

My course was set. The challenges set for me in the following months were both physical and mental.

My research uncovered my father’s battalion – the 2nd 14th. I discovered that there were a significant number of Euroa men in this battalion, and they had fought both on the Kokoda Trail and at Gona. My father was in the 2nd 13th Field Ambulance. As a part of the 2nd 14th, he had been to the Middle East, but did not arrive with the earlier soldiers who walked and fought on the trail. Following my father’s arrival in late September/October 1942, he was based at the Australian Military Hospital in Port Moresby.

In early November he received orders to fly to Popondetta and from there to a medical aid post at Jumbora known as Mutton’s Post. From there he travelled to Gona to establish the medical post – his diary of the time records that he was at Gona from mid November 1942 to 19th of December 1942.  Imagine my emotion when I discovered the post at Gona had been named after my father – Dunn’s Post.

From this point, I then had two clear objectives. The first was to walk the trail in memory of those soldiers from Euroa. The second would take me to Gona, looking for Dunn’s Post, and the Old Anglican Mission. Although this was important in itself, what I really wanted to do was to lay his ashes to rest at this most special of places.

After months of research, questions and training, our group finally came together in Port Moresby on 2nd August 2008. I was confident with my physical training. But I wondered how would I manage the emotion of carrying the ashes of my father, his diary of those he treated at Gona, (including the Japanese) and the memory and spirit of all past soldiers from Euroa who fought in this campaign.

The following morning we met our porters, whom I cannot praise highly enough. With not a little trepidation, we loaded up the buses, drove first to Bomana Cemetery and then onto Ower’s Corner. It is not until you actually see for yourself the topography of the land that the truth of the written word on the page finally comes to life. The discussions you have had with previous Kokoda Trekkers have their true meaning – one fellow said to me: “You will learn to love going up!” And it was so. On one particular wet evening a fellow trekker, said that “The Kokoda Trail can be best summed up by the 4R’s, Rivers, Roots, Rocks and Rain!” How fondly I remember these words, coming as I do from a hot, dry, flat parched part of Australia.

In carrying the memory of those fallen, the Trail is both a physical and mental roller coaster. It drives you forward whilst searching the depths of your being. It gives you euphoric highs and in an instant crushes you upon the realisation of man’s inhumanity to man. It takes you out of all your comfort zones and teaches you to “Suck it up and deal with it”. Its teachings are best summed up by the four pillars at Isurava, Courage, Endurance, Mateship and Sacrifice.

If a person has an attachment to the Trail it is important that their story be told at the correct time and place. For me it was important and appropriate that my attention stay on the trail until I reached Kokoda. Only then could I allow my focus to move to my father. Unfortunately I was not able to find Dunn’s Post, however I was still able to complete my objective - the last of my father’s ashes lie at the Old Anglican Mission to the left of and in front of the cross.

I would like to thank PNG for allowing me to walk over their land. I thank our porters, without whom our task would have been extremely difficult, especially Chester, my porter from Buna. He was not only my porter, he was my confidante.

Lastly, I thank Getaway Trekking, without whom none of this would have happened. Thank you one and all.  In conclusion, yes, there is another trek or two for me to do!