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National Geographic : 1969 Apr
Contents
carriers. On one part of our trek we got by with only two; on others the column swelled to 25. Usually we had more than we needed. We started north again toward Olsobip, 70 miles away on the lower slopes of the moun tains, padding along old footpaths that curled and dipped through thatch-roofed hamlets. Their names slid by in syllables that delighted our ears and tripped our tongues: Saisukurime ... Somaebinkia ... Horihori. At times the difficult country captivated us. When we came to the Feneng, a tributary of the Fly, the spectacle was magnificent: The river flowed around a sweeping curve and dis appeared with a roar into a limestone chasm. Bathed in spray, the rock was slippery as ice. Our route to Olsobip Patrol Post lay along the spectacular sheer-sided Gum Gorge (pages 582-3). At the top of the gorge, curtains of moss festooned the trees and creepers. The air was a gray film of cloud which condensed on the leaves and dripped continuously to the ground. The rock itself was shattered, like some gigantic icefall, into pinnacles, jagged blocks, and deep fissures. The very ground underfoot was hollow, carpeted with a fabric of tree roots and sod den moss. Occasionally we broke through up to our thighs. The air grew quiet and dank. The only sound was the panting of the bearers. Twice, through the trees, we had glimpses of Gum Gorge. It was at least 1,500 feet deep. At last the carriers pointed through another clearing and shouted, "Olsobip! Olsobip!" And there, snuggled in the valley far below, we saw the faint scar of the airstrip. Bearers Brave a Treacherous Current To reach the post, we had to cross the Feneng on a suspension bridge woven from cane and vines. It hung 30 to 40 feet above the river. The vine cables looked dangerously frayed, but I was impatient to get across. The bridge swayed under me like a sag ging tightrope. My eyes focused alternately on my feet, then on the dizzily swirling waters below. Finally I reached the other side, and two of the carriers began to follow. As they started across, a cable parted with a crack. They shouted with fear as the bridge tilted wildly. Slowly, inch by inch, they managed to work their way back to the bank. A young carrier named Kawadi waded into the rapids under the bridge and fought his way across the current toward me. He disap peared several times in the white water that foamed over his head, then emerged shaking 589
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