Welcome to “Air Adrenaline.”

You know that feeling you get when you think things are just about as good as they can get, and then it gets even better? Yes, well that would begin to describe the rest of the trip home from Dusin. The villages here in Papua New Guinea are built throughout these mountains and valleys, and as previously mentioned people will walk for days and cover vast distances in very difficult and intense jungle terrain. Other than walking, flying is the only practical means of transportation in the interior areas, and for our trip back to Hagen we are treated to a twin engine Otter that seats 15 depending on how much cargo is loaded. At this point I would like to take just a moment to say that really, this is not meant to be an aviators blog but it's just that some of these landing strips are what a person might call interesting. After taking off from the Nazarene mission airstrip at Dusin we followed a valley in an easterly direction with mountain ridges on either side. This was a short and pleasant trip to a spot called Simbai, a low flight that allowed us the opportunity to see more garden plots and huts built of local materials. As we neared the end of this valley route we banked hard left and made an easy landing on the very nice and level grass strip. It's very interesting that with each takeoff or landing we have seen, a very large number of people show up mostly just to see it happen. After a short stop and an exchange of some passengers, the pilots began to perform their preflight checks. I think this would be a good time to mention that the co-pilot was on his checkout flight on this plane and for these strips. As we sit waiting and listening to the pilots going through their preflight, we hear the senior pilot say "so now let's look at the book of horrors." Wow, that sounds like fun! This was a book of potential hazards for each runway that they used. Little hazards like mud, grass slippery when wet, gusty side winds and so on. All happy thoughts indeed, and to think that at least the senior pilot had seen this recently reopened airstrip that we are headed for. Off we go and the adventure begins again with the grass strip sliding by below us. We are airborne mid field and as we pass the end of the runway we climb rapidly and bank hard to the right. This time we do not go back the way we came, but the planes does a very nice 360 to gain altitude and then hooks a left off south down another valley. Five or six minutes later, we see a strip of reddish yellow earth on a ridge jutting out from a mountain face. This is an airstrip that has just recently reopened. Bank is the name of this thin little strip of earth, where we will soon attempt a landing. We once again bank left to set up for the approach, it seems we are a little high as we are coming in but I guess that just means we will need to dive a little steeper. We do a little side to side thing ( a gust of wind hit us) and I can see the runway, but wow it looks small! Just about this time both pilots reach up and swiftly apply full throttle and off to the left we go, pretty impressive I'm thinking. Around we go again for another try. In the end a very nice landing is achieved. It really was quite narrow, so hat's off to those awesome pilots that do this each and every day. It seems as though all of these strips are one way since many stick out from the face of a mountain. After landing, we taxi to the bitter end of the runway and the wing tip brushes the bamboo as we spin in place to head back up the runway. After once again exchanging passengers we take off without any events.

The flight back to Hagen was easy and allowed us to once again marvel at the beauty below. In my last post, I mentioned Pastor Dixon was going to walk out across three ridge tops to reach a church there, and as we continued on the last leg of our flight I could see his destination below. It really is difficult to paint an adequate picture of what these pastors do to share what they believe. I reflect on these things for the remainder of the flight. As we near Hagen, these thoughts are interrupted as I realize that Karla is a new shade of pale green, and I really thought she had been healed of that whole motion sickness thing. I think about directing her to please turn her head to the aisle, then think better of that and instead take the kind and considerate path "Karla let's take deep breaths" "that's it, focus up ahead" and every few seconds in between "Look Karla we are only two minutes from the Mt Hagen Airport, Now one and a half minutes", etc. She came through it like a trooper. Oh Karla how I love thee, let me count the ways. Number one: Not Vomiting! She said the adrenaline had hit the wall as far as her body was concerned, but evidently she could be talked out of it. Really though, without Karla to hold my hand when I am sick, life would be rough. Here we are in Mt. Hagen again, and life is good.

We have some time at the airport as we wait for our ride back to Kudjip Hospital and home. As I write this we have been here for two months, but on that day in the airport we had only completed just two weeks in Papua New Guinea, so we were looking forward to a nice shower and a good night's sleep. Those luxuries came soon enough that afternoon along with the beginning of our new life. That may sound a little strange, but that more or less sums it up. Here we are in a new place Karla and I call home, a new language to learn, new faces and names, so in many ways a new way of life. Karla and I have a great house which we are proud to call home. It's not like we have Home Depot to purchase home repair or remodel items, so I do go into convulsions from time to time on that account, but we are learning how and where to get a few hardware items, and food, which seems important. This probably falls into the new way of life category since driving into town very often isn't a great option, but instead needs to be planned once or twice a month. What is so wonderful is the vast amounts of beautiful fruits and vegetables that are available. Just outside of the mission station is a small vendors market that has changing fare daily. This is a little different from farmers markets in Seattle or Puyallup, but if you added mud and most vendors sitting on the ground with umbrellas for shade to those markets, you might sort of get the picture. Local folks selling their home grown produce with a smile and a sing song "morning", or "appy noon" on their lips, or a high pitched "EEEE" from the older ladies, with many men wanting to shake or touch hands. Even though Karla and I are diligently learning to speak this language, PNG people will often linger for extended periods in an effort to either share a thought or attempt to help us learn something. So here we are buying beautiful produce on the street, meeting beautiful new people, and seeing beautiful new vistas at every point of the compass.

After our trip to the market, we carry our goods home and begin to put the pieces of this vast new life puzzle together. One item that Karla wisely requested we bring was our Blendtec Blender. As we packed to come to PNG, weight was the all important factor. I was ready to leave the 5.5lb Blendtech but Karla held strong, and jettisoned the-wouldn't necessarily need items, to make sure we had the room for this necessary kitchen gadget. Just imagine the beautiful brown-gold of a perfect pineapple, or a huge Papaya with its green and yellow-gold skin, or the many types of bananas. These items are all very affordable and oh so good in smoothies. Frozen fruit is so nice in a glass after being blasted by the Blendtech. I am truly spoiled when we are downing a smoothie made with fresh and chilly fruit. We are eating more fruits and vegetables, partly because it is local and we both enjoy things fresh whenever possible, as a side note employees and students have access to land and grow their own food here, also some of the missionaries. We have even gotten familiar with cabbage, and are enjoying the different varieties of sweet potato that to us are red, purple, white or brown. There are as many as 12 different kinds here in PNG. Here sweet potato is called Kaukau (cowcow), so when you eat them you will kaikai(kiekie) kaukau, or simply--eat kaukau. "Yumi kukim kaukau na kaikai" means You and I will cook the sweet potato and eat.

Yes it's true if you are going to learn a new language, you might as well learn to talk about food. There are times when I go to the produce market in Mt. Hagen that I think the food guy Andrew Zimmern should do an episode right here, it is a wonder. The hustle bustle of it all with produce piled on all the tables, it always makes me say wow!

I have a language class with a man named Peter most every day. Peter is a resident of the hospital here in Kudjip, and has lived in the hospital for nearly twenty years, mostly confined to his bed. He is patiently helping me to learn his language. He told me yesterday that if I don't learn to speak Tok Pigeon properly, people will ask who his teacher is and then say he, Peter, is a poor teacher. I suggested that when they find out who the teacher is, they would say I was a poor student. We both laughed. It is through this sort of loving acceptance and grace that Karla and I continue to learn about this new people, place and life.

"First Things First"                               

Here we are in Kudjip, Papua New Guinea, at the last of the early style Nazarene Mission Stations in the world. As with all things in life, change is inevitable. This particular station is unique in that it has a beautiful hospital that serves over 50,000 people per year. We also have Chapels, Schools and housing for both Missionaries and local support Staff. This is a very light overview of the station, but I am sure we will discuss more detailed aspects of this station from time to time.

    I use the title "First Things First", because there is so much to tell that we need to start at the beginning. As many of you know, Karla and I have stepped into the opportunity to become full time Missionaries. We are just beginning to grasp what that really means. For now, it means settling into our new home, learning new names and faces, getting local drivers licenses, understanding our responsibilities and most of all learning this new language.

    We have been in PNG just about one month now. Karla and I arrived on the 24^th of February, after a stopover in Tokyo, Japan, to visit with Nicole and Andrew. Upon our arrival in PNG, we spent the next few days unpacking our suitcases and finding a proper place for each item. Our house is really great, and from the beginning it felt like home. Our many new friends at the station had stocked our kitchen with food, and had a "Welcome Deuels" sign posted so we saw it as we first walked in. All these small touches were huge for us and helped us to feel welcome. As I say these things, it is most likely apparent to you-the reader that we are presently missing. So to you we want to say "We love each of you, and thank you for what you are to us".

    Four weeks in PNG and what about adventures? After getting settled enough to call this spot in Kudjip, PNG home (5 days), we packed up and headed for the airport! We met our Missions Aviation Fellowship (MAF) pilot Brad, and loaded into the Cessna 206 (5 seats total) for our flight to a spot in the mountains named Dusin. These guys that fly for MAF are the best! I flew quite a bit growing up with my Dad, but there were only a couple of times we experienced anything this exciting. Then there were the bush flights in Alaska out of Kotzebue, and perhaps that was a bit of preparation for this sort of thing, but to my pilot friends I've just got to say, "I am not making this stuff up".

    If in the future I use that line again, just accept it as truth. After loading and belting in, Brad covered safety in the event of a crash landing. Brad's commentary ended "…and if I am unconscious, just crawl over the top of my body since you don't have an exit door". After all of the customary preflight checks, we taxied to the end of the runway and did more preflight checks, then full power, full brakes. When he was satisfied, Brad released the brakes and away we went. We were off the strip in about 800-900 feet. The weather was cloudy with spotty openings. We climbed rapidly and banked sharply to the right as we cleared the end of the runway. You always wonder about life when you are inside a fully loaded single engine plane, 6,000 miles from home banking hard to the right with the very loud sound of the stall indicator in your ear. We later learned that this was just to get us ready for what it would sound like when we landed! We were soon through the clouds, so we could see the ridge we needed to climb above, to see yet the next vista. We flew across the Jimi Valley and that was truly beautiful. The beauty was not only the rugged topography, but the depth of color in every shade of green. The valley spread out below us and allowed a few minutes to absorb how different these mountains are from what we normally see in Washington State, namely, jutting razor backed ridges of jungle for as far as we could see. It dawned on me that the handheld global positioning satellite system I had brought, would be of little value in the event of a crash. I am learning about that 5-letter word-faith. Faith that the engine will continue to purr, and faith that the pilot can find and land on a strip of earth called Dusin.

    Beyond the Jimi Valley is the Bismarck Range. This marks the completion of our northward progress as we bank right again and east around this rising bit of the Bismark called Mt. Blum. Our pilot pointed at a bit of smoke rising in the middle of the mountain ahead and stated that "the runway is there". Point #1, I could not see a runway. Point #2, since I saw no runway I figured the smoke was there to guide us in. (The smoke really only marked where a man was clearing for a garden, but it did help me finally spot the airstrip carved onto a tiny mountain ridge.) Brad flew the plane along the hillside and across the runway to check for children, mud, fallen trees, pigs, that sort of thing. Beyond the runway we circled out into the valley to begin our final approach. The word "final" came to have a new meaning as we took what was about to happen into perspective. Imagine with me if you will, a dirt/grass/mud runway, gloriously one thousand, four hundred feet long. This all starting on a cliff face, then angled uphill at an eleven percent grade, then think about all this wonder terminated by a mountain. Once again I say "final" approach. We are not gliding into some 5,000 foot concrete runway at sea level, but instead, we are with a purpose accelerating toward a mountain with a sort of flat spot that is really, really short. So again, for my pilot friends; full flaps, throttle on, nose down. Earlier I mentioned that stall indicator noise, well, this is where it comes into play, just about the time it seemed like it was going to be a really bad day. Brad pulls the nose up sharply, cuts power, and stalls the Cessna as soft as can be into, or on to the dirt and grass. I told Brad he was my new Hero! All of this activity has gotten Karla and I all the way to the morning of day six in Papua New Guinea. I must interject here that though I resolved not to mention names in this blog, for the sake of accuracy I will recount a comment I made to Karla about my adventure prone friend Chris Rodes, "Chris's got nothing on me now". So Chris please take that as a personal challenge.

    Dusin, what a place. If there is a place that mostly time forgot, Dusin is pretty close to it. There is a rustic mission home here that the true pioneers of missions built. The home still stands, with it's quirky hand pump water system, kerosene refrigerator, and the old wood stove that must have cooked thousands of meals in those early days. Candles and kerosene lamps are the path Karla and I chose in spite of the fact that there are now battery operated lights if we chose. I think we wanted to live in that moment of time gone by (and to conserve energy for the radio that the nationals used everyday).

    The real asset of Dusin is the people, friendly, and almost shy at times. Our boss and friend Harmon Schmelzenbach has flown in with us. We receive introductions, and make assessments of the property. We are then handed into the care of Pastor Dickson. This is a man with a smile that is bigger than his face, and over the next two weeks, seldom did I see Pastor Dickson without that smile. He helped me pump water for hours, and he helped Karla and I for endless more hours as we struggled to get a grasp on this language called Melanesian Pidgin. This isn't the pidgin that some of you may be familiar with from Hawaii, but a language developed long ago during the early days of trade with other countries. PNG is very interesting in that it contains perhaps 25% of the worlds present languages. So Dickson and others speak Tok Ples as his first language, Tok Pisin as a second language and English as a third language. It is very interesting to me that from the porch of the mission house I can look across the valley that we just flew in over, and see another village that speaks another and completely different Tok Ples language. For you readers from Washington State-that would be like looking across the Orting Valley from Puyallup toward Bonney Lake and knowing that they speak a completely different language. So it is in PNG, thus the 847 completely distinct languages.

    This leaves Karla and I with the task of learning Tok Pisin. There is hope for us! We are learning PNG Pidgin, bit by bit, and here is Pastor Dickson patiently teaching us, word by word. No, maybe just a word, and then that same word over and over again. The grammatical patterns are also different, so the words I have learned are still often placed in the improper order. Our confidence is high and we are studying diligently, so in time we will be able to communicate well with these highlands people.

    While at Dusin we also rested. We have been going hard for some time now, actually for months prior to leaving the states. We have been out of any routine, and adjusting to the idea of what was coming-like no car or cell phones, and intermittent power and internet. Here now in Dusin, my mind still goes off on tangents from time to time, but I am learning that it is ok to rest and be still, and in turn listen to the birds, the people, and to God. The word faith often comes to my mind. To rest is linked to faith. God is in control, my hard work must be for other people and possibly me. As we rest and study, read about some of those that haves gone before us in this place. I am thinking about Romans 8:19 "the creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed". I have time to think about this place called Dusin, where only four years before I was born, those first missionaries came. Really that was just a heartbeat away in time. Even now, as Karla sits and sings with the ladies and girls, they want to touch her hair, and later her feet and ankles, a rare thing in this part of PNG.

Our feet are soft and white, while most of these people have never worn shoes and their feet are wide and strong. Dickson and I hiked down the mountain to a river some 2.5 miles below, and those strong feet of his were far superior to my top of the line ASOLO hiking boots from REI. Those mud covered roots were nothing to him, while from time to time I would slip on them, then hear a gentle and concerned "mi prêt". Dickson's words for –I'm worried about you. During the five plus mile excursion we descended down to the River Kaironk and visited the school and the training center. We also visited the new building that had just been put up for a clinic. These folks know what they need and want, but often it is difficult to find the resources to make it happen.

Crops are cultivated for resale but nearly every garden is on a steep hillside that is worked only by hand. After the crops are harvested, they are carried by hand uphill, more then 2.5 miles to be flown out. This whole process leaves very little room for profit. After many conversations with various people, Dickson and I hike on. It is at the river crossings that his strong bare feet show their benefit over and over again. My feet are soaked with only 2 miles of uphill grind left. It's pretty warm on the way up and the altitude is taking its toll on me. Dickson is kind and does not laugh as his seemingly very old Auntie has caught up with us as she carries a load on her back. I stepped to the side of the trail a few times so she could pass, but she wouldn't. I think she enjoyed watching as I strained and panted to keep ahead of her. After a mile and a half or so, the trail split and we said good-by. Interestingly this is the same trail that children from far away travel each day to get to school. This path really brings home the point that life is different here. I tell Dickson how I get to church in Puyallup, and he explains to me how he will walk down this trail and across the next two ridges and valley's to preach on the coming Sunday. I really cannot explain what this did to me as I grasped to understand what that meant, remembering also the missionaries in the past days that had hiked these same trails. Before the old lady parted she said I should walk all of these trails and visit each church with Dickson, that left a mark. We did make it back before dinner time and I walked tall as we neared the house so Karla might think it was nothing, but she knows me to well. We finished with coffee and tin fish soup.

Our days in Dusin concluded with a broken down plane that delayed our departure by a few hours, this is how it is, and I don't think Karla and I could walk out, so we wait.

This seems like a good spot to break, I'm thinking the next installment will be titled-

"Welcome to Air Adrenaline."

We are on our way!

I say we are on our way but what does that really mean? No, we are not boarding the aircraft but instead we are deeply in the troughs of preparation for our relocation to Papua New Guinea. A hospital in the mountains, where for over fifty years the Church of the Nazarene has been providing care and hope through medical attention, education, and the Good News through the gospel of Christ. Here Karla and I are preparing to join this team of doctors, nurses, educators and administrators in a region of the South Pacific referred to as Oceania. So as our actual adventure begins and we learn more about what we are up to, we will attempt to post a new bit of information and a photo from time to time.