Tell people you’re going to Papua New Guinea, and you’re likely to hear expressions of concern. It may come from folks who know about the cannibalism and headhunting practiced here well into the 20th Century. Or the violence in the western provinces resulting from abuses by the mining companies. Maybe that region is something to avoid, but cannibalism is now a thing of the past. What should send chills down the spine of any aspiring visitor is the prospect of flying around this country. 

I don’t think Air Niugini planes are particularly unsafe or its pilots incompetent. We’ve flown them now three times, and all the aircraft looked well-maintained.  Because of the daunting geography and weather patterns, pilots must be able to land without relying on instruments; they have a reputation for being highly skilled. PNG’s air infrastructure, however, has provided Steve and me with one of the worst flying days of our lives.

For our flight from Goroka back to Pt. Moresby Tuesday morning, the 20 people in our group piled into the bus shortly after 7. We arrived at Goroka’s pleasant, new airport about 7:45 to find a line of people out the terminal doors and wrapping around the building.

We joined the queue and reached the front door a little before 8:30. But more than two hours later, we still had not arrived at the check-in desk, where two harried workers faced something approaching a mob. As the wait stretched out, bits of explanation dribbled out.  

The computer system had gone down, we heard, so the check-in guys were having to hand-write every boarding pass. Moreover thunderstorms had forced the cancellation of the previous day’s afternoon flight to the capital. Those passengers were supposed to be able to fly out this morning on a Fokker 100. But it had broken. The airline had replaced it with a Fokker 70, but it accommodated only 70 people instead of 100.

Steve and I got to within just a few steps of the check-in desk. It was then that one of the two check-in guys called for everyone from the previous day’s cancelled flight — a couple dozen people, as it turned out —to move in front of us.

Finally, shortly before 11, one of the two check-in agents announced that the morning flight — on which our group had been scheduled to travel — was full. We should be able to get out on another flight leaving at 4 pm, he indicated.

More hours passed. Christopher’s assistant, Caroline, collected all our passports and check-in baggage and waited to check in all of us and our bags at 1 pm. Steve chatted with Christopher, who said Air Niugini is owned and operated by the Papua New Guinean government, which chronically underfunds the airline and the country’s aviation system. The airline routinely fails to pay its fuel suppliers. The suppliers then stop providing fuel. Christopher said it was common for the airline to kick passengers off flights in order to take on more freight, which is more profitable, and thus generate income to get the cash flowing again.

I may have gotten some of these details wrong. I was tired and growing more so by the minute. I tried not to think about when or whether our plane would arrive. Happily, the airport has a pleasant coffee shop opening onto a terrace. Steve and I distracted ourselves there drinking cappuccinos and eating decent pizza and writing.

Everyone perked up with the news that around 2 pm, Caroline had managed to secure our boarding passes.

Getting through security was a snap. Signs posted last April announced that because the x-ray machine was “faulty,” our carry-on bags would be searched by hand. But the the “search” was cursory, and we quickly settled into a lovely waiting area.

Four p.m. came and went with no sign of any plane, nor any officials who could provide any info on its whereabouts. But an hour later, the plane, a Bombardier turbojet with a female Papua New Guinean pilot, finally arrived. We hit a few turbulent patches, then 75 minutes after takeoff, our wheels touched the tarmac in Pt. Moresby.

At this point, you might be thinking: Why would anyone fly instead of driving? The other day we did drive the relatively short distance from Mt. Hagen to Goroka, But it took about 5 hours and patches of that road were dreadful. At first I assumed a drive from Goroka to Ft. Moresby, would be more grueling than flying. But then Christopher disabused me. There IS no road connecting Goroka with the capital. A mining company built the other road out of Mt. Hagen. “No mine, no road,” Christopher pointed out.

We have two more flights on Air Niugini, and I’m a bit nervous about both. The first, from Pt. Moresby to Wewak, was supposed to leave this morning (Wednesday, 9/24) at 9:30. We were up at 5:45 am to return to the airport in order to catch it. But then Christopher messaged that it was delayed until 12:30 pm. The good news is that this delay enabled me to finish and publish this post. We’ll see how the rest of the day works out.