May 2016: After spending a week journeying to visit the Korowai tribe in Papua, on the Indonesian side of the island of New Guinea, I crossed the land border from Jayapura into Papua New Guinea (PNG), arriving in the remote jungle outpost of Vanimo. I ended up spending four days in Vanimo and another day in PNG’s capital, Port Moresby.
Having spent nearly a month exploring the tribal regions of Papua’s rugged interior, my goal in Papua New Guinea was to experience some of the serene coastal villages and take the opportunity to relax after the arduous trek to the Korowai.
Vanimo
Papua New Guinea (PNG) is an independent country that occupies the eastern half of the island of New Guinea, while the western half, although home to similar tribal cultures, is part of Indonesia and called Papua. Cannibalism and headhunting were practices that persisted in the region until the late 20th century, when the arrival of Christianity led to their decline. However, tribal warfare remains a reality in some parts of the country, particularly when hiking guides inadvertently lead tourists into territories not belonging to their affiliated tribe.
Historically, PNG was first a British and later an Australian colony, playing a key role during World War II as the site of fierce battles between Japanese forces and Australian and American troops. Even today, relics of the war, from rusting planes to bunkers, are scattered across the island. PNG gained independence in 1975 but continues to rely heavily on Australia for economic support.
Despite its immense mineral wealth, PNG remains one of the poorest countries in the world. It is also home to one of the planet’s last great rainforests, a vast and largely untouched expanse in the island’s interior. Many parts of this rainforest remain virtually unexplored, holding a mystique that draws adventurers and scientists alike.
Crossing the Border
Before the trip, I spent time studying Google Earth and noticed that the entire northern coast of Papua New Guinea (PNG) is covered in dense rainforest. A single road runs along the coast to Vanimo, where it disappears into a rugged patchwork of logging roads leading to the Sepik River. Initially, I had planned to travel to the Sepik River, hire a small motorboat, and journey upriver to visit remote villages. However, I had to cancel this plan due to recurring mysterious headaches, possibly a lingering effect from my earlier winter expedition to the freezing Siberian Arctic.
When I returned to the Papua region, I chose to visit the Korowai tribe instead of the Sepik area. Still, I wanted to experience at least a part of PNG, so I decided to explore the Vanimo region, accessible by crossing the border from Jayapura.
To reach the border, I hired a taxi in Jayapura and made my way with my PNG visa already stamped in my passport. The border’s opening hours were unpredictable, so I ended up waiting for several hours at a post with a group of Indonesian soldiers who kept a pet parrot. During that time, I befriended the soldiers, one of whom I still keep in touch with years later on Facebook. Together, we passed the time by heading to a nearby market to buy a watermelon, which I sliced up with my knife to share.
When the border finally opened, I bid the soldiers farewell, received my exit stamp, and crossed through a no-man’s-land under a giant arch flanked by walls. The arch bore the words, “Jesus is Lord Over this Land.” On the PNG side, the border consisted of a modest hut staffed by men chewing betel nut. They were friendly and curious about my visit, warmly welcoming me to PNG.
From the border post, I waited for a shared van to fill up with enough passengers for the ride to Vanimo, a journey of several hours. My plan was to stay in a local hotel and begin exploring the region from there.
Border crossing into PNG
Eating watermelon with borderguards in Indonesia side of the border of PNG
Vanimo
From Vanimo, I organized a few trips along the coast to explore the area’s rich natural and cultural offerings. I visited remote villages, explored waterfalls and caves containing skulls, and snorkeled around an uninhabited island with crystal-clear waters teeming with marine life. When not adventuring, I spent my time relaxing in Vanimo itself, a sleepy, tranquil tropical village set on an idyllic beach. The town had clusters of thatched-roof houses, a few government buildings, and an open market where villagers from the surrounding areas gathered to trade and purchase goods.
Vanimo had a handful of hotels, many run by Australians, with attached bar/restaurants frequented by both foreign expats and locals. My hotel also hosted the pilots for my flight, which only departed every few days. This gave the pilots a mini vacation in Vanimo, and one evening, I joined them on the beach. We sat watching the sunset, sipping cold beers as the sky turned brilliant shades of orange and pink.
Life in Vanimo felt easygoing and laid-back. The locals were incredibly friendly, often stopping to shake my hand or inviting me to join their table when I dined out. They would insist on buying me dinner, a level of hospitality that left a lasting impression. I enjoyed wandering through the town, going for casual swims in the warm ocean, and indulging in canned rum and Coke drinks imported from Australia.
However, Vanimo wasn’t without its challenges. A noticeable issue was the prevalence of mean drunks, a problem I hadn’t encountered in neighboring Papua. About every few hours, I would encounter an aggressive drunk on the street. They would shout threats in pidgin English or follow me, making hostile remarks. I always avoided eye contact and walked in the opposite direction to de-escalate the situation.
Despite these occasional encounters, my time in Vanimo was memorable for its natural beauty, relaxed atmosphere, and the warm hospitality of its people.
Vanimo Beach
Vanimo Market
Exploring the Vanimo Coast
I hired a 4WD jeep and a driver to venture up the coast, exploring villages and hiking to a picturesque waterfall where I took a refreshing swim. Along the way, I learned about a nearby sea cave said to contain human skulls. Intrigued, I made my way to the cave to see it for myself.
The skulls were remnants of a time when some villagers practiced cannibalism, believing that consuming parts of the deceased would allow them to inherit their powers or strengths. Afterward, what remained of the skeletons and skulls was typically stored in sacred places, such as caves, to honor the dead and preserve their spiritual essence. The cave held an eerie yet fascinating glimpse into the region’s cultural past, a stark contrast to the tranquil beauty of the surrounding coastline.
Typical village house
Children swimming at low tide
Village graveyard
Village beach
The cave was located on the outskirts of a village, perched along rugged sea cliffs. It wasn’t a tourist attraction but rather a sacred site deeply tied to the community’s cultural and spiritual traditions. This made it somewhat awkward to inquire about its location. Respecting local customs, we followed protocol and sought the chief’s permission to visit. However, the chief was away, and only his wife was present.
To our surprise, the chief’s wife graciously offered to guide us to the cave herself. We hiked down a steep, rocky limestone cliff, carefully navigating the uneven terrain until we reached the cave’s entrance. The opening revealed a haunting scene: a dozen or so skulls and hundreds of fragmented bones scattered about. Time and the elements had reduced many of the bones to dust, leaving only a faint trace of the rituals and traditions that had once taken place here.
The chief’s wife, however, refused to enter the cave with us. She explained that the spirits dwelling within made it a place she would not dare to step into. Her words added a palpable sense of reverence and mystery to the experience, underscoring the profound connection between the village and this sacred site.
Canibal cave
Canibal cave
The next stop on my journey was a waterfall hidden deep within the jungle. To reach it, I enlisted the help of a group of village kids who eagerly volunteered to guide me. They led the way, expertly navigating narrow trails and dense undergrowth as we made our way through the lush, humid jungle.
When we finally arrived, the waterfall was breathtaking—a cascade of cool, clear water tumbling over dark rocks into a natural pool below. The sound of the rushing water filled the air, blending with the calls of birds and the rustling of leaves. The kids, full of energy and excitement, immediately began showing off their jumping skills, fearlessly leaping from the rocks into the pool below with perfect ease and confidence.
Their laughter and playful dives added a lively, joyful atmosphere to the serene beauty of the spot. It was impossible not to smile watching them, their enthusiasm contagious as they encouraged me to join in. The hike, the company, and the refreshing swim in the cool waters made this stop an unforgettable highlight of my trip.
Village kid eating beetlenut at the waterfall
Having fun at the waterfall
One of my favorite moments was taking a small dugout canoe out to a deserted island, a pristine slice of paradise surrounded by turquoise waters. The trip felt like an adventure in itself, paddling over calm waves with the sun warming my back.
Once there, I spent the day swimming on the beach, joined by a group of village kids who had paddled over in their own dugout canoes. While I had initially planned to snorkel, I quickly abandoned the idea in favor of playing with the kids. They were full of energy and excitement, and soon I found myself picking them up and tossing them into the shallow waves, their laughter echoing across the beach.
Their joy was infectious, turning a simple day at the beach into something far more memorable. We spent hours splashing in the water, building an unspoken camaraderie through shared laughter and playful antics. It was a reminder of how simple moments, shared with others, can often leave the most lasting impressions.
Deserted island
Village kids in their canoe
Me playing with the kids
Village kids
Village kids
Village kids
Village kids
Village kids
From Vanimo, I flew in a small twin-prop plane, soaring over the lush, sprawling rainforests of Papua New Guinea. The aerial view was spectacular, with dense green canopies stretching endlessly below, broken only by the occasional river winding its way through the jungle.
Arriving in Port Moresby, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me after the adventures in Vanimo and the surrounding areas. Port Moresby is known for its high crime rate, so I took it easy during my stay, staying within the relative safety of my hotel. However, I did venture out one night to experience the local nightlife and ended up at a hip-hop nightclub near my hotel. It was a bizarre experience—a stark contrast to the tranquil, remote places I had visited. The atmosphere was lively, but I couldn’t help but feel out of place in such a modern setting after spending so much time in the quieter, more rural parts of the country.
After a few days of rest and reflection in Port Moresby, I boarded a flight back home via Philippine Airlines, marking the end of a remarkable journey through Papua New Guinea and Indonesia.