The Bolumnski Highway is the crowning glory of New Ireland infrastructure. Back when PNG was a german colony, a determined german man named Bolumnski decided a road the length of the (very long and thin) island was very desireable. He assigned each village a section of road to build and maintain and kept a close eye on progress. It is said that he made villages push and haul his carriage over their section of the road if it was not fit to pass itself.

Since then the first 270km from Kavieng has been tar-sealed and it really is a good little road, flat and smooth, at least for the first part. We know this because we have just returned from a day trip cycling down the famous highway. Our folding bike (long neglected under our bed) proved to be easily up to the challenge and we rode happily along, one pedaling, one standing on the back, in turns. For us, Kavieng has a quite bearable temperature this time of year - the rainy season - as we have long since acclimatized to the humidity. The hardest thing about cycling here is that every person you pass (and there are plenty of them) shouts a friendly 'morning' or 'afternoon' and waves. When riding as a passenger it's a pleasant and simple thing to call out a cheery response, but when pedaling up a rise the 7th person in a minute can be a struggle to greet.

We got the distinct impression we presented quite an odd sight for the locals, they laughed and chattered about us as we passed. One young woman even snapped a quite photo of us on her cellphone. We didn't think too much of it, we encountered a similar response back in Tauranga - what's so strange about two people riding a bicycle anyhow?

Scattered along the route were tiny roadside shops selling all the things needed to ease a road trip in PNG - betelnut mostly. We did run across one with a fridge though and were happy to have the chance to buy a cold drink. We came across a sign advertising a 'Baibel Buk Stoa' (bible bookstore), a large cocoa plantation, the PNG National Fisheries College, several primary schools and a high school. However, the highlight of our little trip had to be the Treehouse Village Resort. It's hard to miss a four story tree house in a giant tree on the beachfront. We had to stop for lunch. It turns out the resort was built by a Kiwi man who had done lots of sailing until he settled down, built a crazy tourist treehouse, and got made into a local chief. Unfortunately he wasn't there when we were so we were unable to ask him quite how one becomes a chief in these parts.

The resort really was something out of the Swiss Family Robinson. Large branches entered through the floor and exited through the wall in the second story dining room and a bright red parrot joined us, hopping curiously along, as we checked out the third floor. Balconies on the second and third floors provide amazing views of the sea and the line of small bungalows along the beach. We had a big feed of chicken and chips and played some cards while we waited out a ferocious downpour - wet enough to fill our glasses just by holding them outside. It was sorely tempting to stay for their seafood dinner buffet and spend a night in the treetops, but we took the opportunity provided by a break in the rain to head back.

On the return journey we stumbled upon something we'd missed on the way south, a large cave half-filled with crystal clear fresh water. Locals told us it was used by the Japanese during WWII as a hiding place as well as for drinking water, and the village nearby drinks from it to this day. They also told us that more recently some Japanese tourists had been back and had been Scuba diving in the cave - an indication of how big it is. Stalactites descend from the ceiling and stalagmites rise up from the deep clear water. It looks like it would be a wonderfully refreshing swim - especially after our ride - but we couldn't stay long, time was pressing for us to get back to the boat before dark. Large Bats glided overhead as the darkness drew closer and the gaited communities, with not barb wire but razor wire fences began to fulfill their purpose of keeping outsiders out.