Our campaigners and activists on board our flagship, the Rainbow Warrior, also sent through blogs, as they sailed around the region on 'Forest Crime Patrol'.

PNG landowner Brian Barring contributed blogs as he travelled through Europe and the UK, spreading the word about the situation in his homeland. The UK and EU countries are also big consumers of illegally logged timber products.

The weblog brings the fight to save the Paradise Forests to life. It draws us in to the Lake Murray community. We share the commitment of the volunteers and the joy of the landowners as their shared dream – to establish sustainable, small-scale, eco-forestry projects – became a reality.

Lukautim Bus
‘Lukautim Bus’ was the Pidgin slogan for our campaign. It means ‘Protect Our Forest’ or, using a more literal translation, ‘Look After Our Bush’. The slogan was unveiled on the Rainbow Warrior, as it arrived in Port Moresby to a traditional welcome. The campaign had officially kicked off!

At the GFRS, our first lucky volunteers were trying to get the hang of their new way of life. Europeans Flo and Klaas were determined to mast the art of canoeing, hunting and fishing, so they could become part of the group - "boy bilong grup" in Pidgin.

Flo and Klaas became so adept at their new hunter-gatherer lifestyle, they even took on the task of providing food for the camp themselves – or so they say!

Setting sail
After holding open day for the public, the Warrior farewells their new Port Moresby friends and sets off. The next stop is Jayupura, in Papua, where the ship receives another colourful welcome. The local campaigners hold an eco-forestry forum and many influential people attend, including the Governor of Jayapura, the Provincial Forest Minister, spokespeople from NGOs and leaders of more than 15 Papuan tribes.

In Manokwari, the campaigners and crew held a similar forum at the local university, which actually had it’s own forest out the back! After so long at sea, it was a welcome sight.

Stop trashing my forest!
Meanwhile, Brian saw snow for the first time in his life. Battling the cold weather – and adjusting to a European diet of bread, bread and more bread – Brian took his message to the media, civil servants and politicians as he made his way around Europe. In the UK he delivered an impassioned plea to Alchemy Partners, whose company, Montague L Meyer, sells plywood made from Bintangor and other tropical species. Brian’s message was simple and direct: “Stop trashing my forest!”

A taste of Paradise
Like Brian, the volunteers at the GFRS were coming to terms with being far, far from home. Life at ‘Camp Kewe’ gave them a new appreciation of just how much the forest means to the people of Lake Murray. It really is their ‘supermarket’. They go there to find everything they need – not just food, but all the materials they need for shelter and transport (dug-out canoes) too.

The new lifestyle bought with it certain dilemmas. Flo and Klaas encountered a dangerous snake (a death adder) which they implored the local boys not to kill. Their regret is relayed through the blog; while writing it, they reached a new understanding of the realities of forest life. They, after all, had never lost a friend or relative to a snake bite.

In a similar vein, Merel’s conscious effort to avoid any offensive that turning down a local delicacy (turtle soup) would cause, led her to a chance meeting with some local women – one of whom needed a lift to the local hospital with her newborn baby. Of course, the GFRS team were happy to oblige.

Speaking of soup, the Warrior, en route to Jakarta, came across shark fisherman whose plight reminded Hapsoro that poor communities aren’t just ripped off for their forest products. These fishermen worked hard to catch sharks in open water. Their spoils are sold at well below the market rate, because the demand for cheap marine products drives prices down.

Getting down to business
The volunteers at the GFRS were there to work, and work they did. Together with the landowners and foresters from the Foundation for People and Community Development (FPCD), they set about marking the boundaries of the land owned by the various clans at Lake Murray.

While small teams of volunteers were off boundary marking, others joined landowners for training days in eco-forestry. The training includes field trips, allowing the landowners and volunteers to put their new skills into action.

As word spread around the lake, more and more clans wanted to join the eco-forestry project. In order for the clans to set up their eco-forestry business, they had to map out their land, and designate a use (hunting, sago plantations, eco-forestry, etc) for different areas. A local NGO (non-government organisation) called Barefoot held workshops to help with the mapping out process, using sticks, string and different types of leaves to represent the various areas.

Barefoot also encouraged debate about sustainable community development, and initiated discussions on how each clan could use the proceeds from eco-forestry to benefit their village.

Cause for celebration
People from all over the lake came to see the arrival of the sawmill. This portable piece of equipment, used to mill trees into timber on-the-spot, thus causing minimal damage to the forest, was welcomed to the region with a traditional ‘sing sing’. FPCD will lease sawmills to landowners on a buy-back scheme as their eco-forestry business takes shape.

Meanwhile, Lake Murray received its first order – a handwritten note requesting 43 pieces of eco-timber (around 2 metre cubed). Sep, the leader of the Kuni tribe, which invited Greenpeace and our partners to Lake Murray, arranged for a sunken barge to be refloated, to transport the eco-timber out. Everything was falling into place …

Bearing witness to forest crime
Out at sea, the crew of the Warrior were confronted with the realities of illegal logging, when it encountered the MV Ardhianto, a huge cargo ship loaded with a slice of the Paradise Forests. It was being loaded up with timber from the Kayu Lapis Indonesia mill – known to trade in destructively and illegally logged timber.

Our activists, including Hapsoro, a campaigner from Indonesia, hung two big “Stop Ancient Forest Destruction” banners, as they watched from inflatables, bearing witness to the forest crime.

Hapsoro was present again a month later, when the Ardhianto arrived in Yokohama, Japan, to unload its devastating cargo. This time, activists unfurled banners that asked, “Is this timber legal?”

Technology and tradition meet
Out in the forest, the boundary marking was coming along in leaps and bounds, thanks to the foresters and their GPS. FPCD had only recently started using the Global Positioning Systems. In the past, they used a long tape measure!

At Campe Kewe, 18-year-old Susan, of the Yongom tribe, sat down with Merel, one of the GFRS volunteers, and wrote a weblog.  It was the first time Susan had ever used a computer.

Amele, a forester from FPCD, also contributed a blog, about gender equality on the lake.

Behold, eco-forestry!
The felling of the first tree  was a “sombre and dramatic” landmark in the project. A few days later, when the first shipment  of eco-timber was loaded onto the barge, Lake Murray was buzzing.

Years of planning went into the eco-forestry project. In 2006, after three months of lessons, practice sessions and planning meetings, the people of Lake Murray – and their posse of international friends – could finally say, “Em Nao: Eco-Timber!” (“Behold: Eco-Timber!”).

Posted by Klaas, GFRS volunteer

I was in-between jobs when I went to the GFRS. It was the perfect time for me to opt in to another Greenpeace project. Papua New Guinea doesn't only sound like Paradise – it is! If any place on Earth can show you the meaning of life, it is Lake Murray.

Vast forests, meandering rivers, birds flocking over the swamps, the sounds of frogs and cricket ... the whole picture. If you try to imagine a perfect place, this is what you would visualise. Beautiful. Mesmerising.

Now, sitting at the computer in my new job, I’m going to take a few minutes to write an epilogue to my weblog, a goodbye to my friends in the Paradise Forests and a thank you to Greenpeace and the other NGOs at the GFRS.

I often think of our warm welcome to the Paradise Forests. Sep was obviously proud to receive us, as we were the first volunteers, building up the GFRS and starting the work.

The camp was fantastic, even though it was empty when we arrived. At the edge of Lake Murray, between huge; the nearest signs of modern life were hundreds of kilometres away. Here, people live with nature, in nature, by nature. Being one with nature. It seems so far away now, but the memory still feels so comfortable. Like this is how it was meant to be.

So often I would want to ask Saraga and Kendell to take me with them into the forest, to look for Crowned Pigeons, to eat nagam from the trees, to find unexpected natural treasures, to hear the Birds of Paradise, to hear Cassowaries kicking trees, to feel the soaking rain and drink the water from my face. So many times I want to sit with Sep, Murray and Ivara at the campfire and listen to their stories about their lives, their pasts, their hunting victories, their cultures and their customs. Sometimes I would almost give a limb to be able to take the canoe out with Flo, the ‘white papua’, and go spearfishing, although I know all too well I would need all my limbs intact.

Helping the Kuskus clan is one of my sweetest memories. The guys were at first barely interested, ran ahead of us through the forest, even lost track of us and we almost had to sleep in the forest. Next day we heard a radio broadcast featuring Sep explaining the whole project in simple words. It felt like then the clan members started to understand why we were there and we were treated like heroes ever since. The handmade arrows that they gave us as a farewell gift were the first thing to decorate my new home here on Texel. They represent my everlasting friendschap with Garex, Steven and the other Kuskus clan members.

Saying goodbye was hard. The guys, my friends, asked me when I would come back. I realised that this would not be easy. Without the facilities Greenpeace offered, things would be even tougher out in the jungle. Even more basic. The gear, the boat, the whole lot, it would take huge preparation (and budget!) to try and do this again by myself. On the other hand, in these few weeks I felt I really made some friends and I would really like to come back and have another brilliant encounter with nature at its best.

Reading other people’s weblogs and looking at my pictures brings back my memories and at the same time makes me feel good about the solutions work that Greenpeace is doing in PNG. I am proud to have contributed to it and hope it will really make a difference in this world.

Reading Sep’s goodbye message makes me sad too and makes me cry with him. It was good, it was interesting, it was hard work and it was fun. It was a very special time in my life and I owe a big thank you to all the clan members we worked with and also to all the people in Greenpeace who made this possible, for me and for PNG.

-- Klaas

I also felt the loneliness that you speak of Sep, because my heart is still there with you. It was an honour and privilege to be there in the Lake. I never told you that.

I truly feel this experience has been life changing for me and I hope it is for the Lake Murray people as well - a change for the better.

I would sit and observe the clans in their daily life; no shoes, ripped clothes yet so rich inside and out. There was me with my flashy cameras, clothes and laptops and yet I have nothing in comparison.

I am determined to never loose touch with you and my friends of the Catfish clan. Driving through my country, looking at the snow-peaked mountains and the beauty of it all was a reminder of how my country needs me here and how much I love my country, but still my heart aches for PNG.

Maybe over time this feeling will ease but please know this ... the volunteers from the Global Forest Rescue Station are committed to staying by your side and supporting you and your people, if not physically, in mind, in spirit and with our influential networks abroad.

Kia Kaha, be strong, and I'm looking forward to our Camp Kewe reunion in the future. This was only the beginning of a wonderful journey towards empowering the people of the Kuni Tribe. I am so grateful to be a part of it. Thankyou, Sep.

And thankyou to the foresters for your patience with us city folk, who felt totally useless in your environment. I think of your big smiles often, all the laughs we had and I will see you in your homelands one day too.

Peace, love and laughter,

-- Tia Tia Tia Tia

To all my friends at Lake Murray,

Last december I got an email, asking if anyone wanted to go to Papua New Guinea to help with fight against illegal logging. I didn't even need to think... it was exactly my 'cup of tea' so I replied immediately. It took some time before I knew I could go to the GFRS, because I wasn't the only volunteer to put their hand up.

After a while I got a call from Theo, who asked me some questions, like: "Are you a vegetarian?" and "Will you cope in basic circumstances?" I answered "no", and "Oh, yes; no problem at all!" This type of contact continued for a while and in the end I was chosen as one of the four Dutch activists to go. It made me very happy - what an exceptional opportunity.

The landowners didn't hesitate to explain us everything about their lives, even though they already told the same stories again and again, to each new group of arrivals.

The foresters from FPCD were great. Without Bonte, Kafuri, Peter, Linzon, Brian, Samuel, Amele and Bazaki the project wouldn't have been the succesful it was. They made a big sacrifice, leaving their families and friends behind for three months.

The whole project was a great collaboration between many very different people. We all had the same goal: save the Paradise Forests! This common goal bonded an interesting group from all over the world. It was a great experience - working together.

A few weeks ago when I left Camp Kewe, I had a hard time keeping my tears down, just like all the other volunteers. Being back in Port Moresby was interesting. On my last day in Papua New Guinea, three hours before my flight, my backpack was stolen from our car. In it was the diary where I'd written about all my wonderful experiences in Lake Murray. Fortunately, these experiences are much more than words. I still relive my experiences every day, especially when I show my pictures to family and friends.

I keep on dreaming about life in the Lake. I miss the outdoor life at Camp Kewe, the forest and the natural environment, the silence. There is no traffic noise or other western sounds, only the calls of birds and animal, the sound made by paddling a canoe.

I definitely miss enjoying a good piece of meat with Sep and joking around with him.

Last week I had an interview about my adventures in Lake Murray for a magazine and the journalist asked me what was the most difficult thing about living a very basic life in the forest. I replied: "Well, I don't think anything was hard except leaving all the friends I made behind. I don't know if I'll ever see them again."

It is hard being back home, suffering from culture shock. I went to the supermarket - what a horror. It amazes me, just how much rubbish is sold there. You don't need about 75% of all the items in there, maybe even more. I could barely find anything useful in there.

We in the Western world are so far removed from nature. Meat is not coming from a cow, pig or chicken. It's coming from the supermarket in a plastic box and it doesn't look very natural at all. How can I ever get used to that again?

In my appartment on the third floor of an Amsterdam building, I have a model canoe, made for me out of rosewood by Daya. I also have a mat made out of Pandanus leaves, made by his wife. I look at them every day and it makes me think about my friends at Lake Murray.

I don't know when I will be able to come back but the people of Lake Murray have touched my heart big time with their hospitality and enthusiasm. I want to thank them all. Sep said all the volunteers are part of the Kuni clan and I certainly feel like it's true.

Keep up the good work and Lukautim Bus! I'll try to come back!

Love you with all my heart,
-- Anne

I am back by the coast in a place called Woolgoolga, Northern NSW. The sun rises over the ocean, so blue and full of fizzy, dancing sparkles, and sets over the little lake, called Sunset Lake, scorching it red and gold. There are flashes of rainbow colours as a symphony of parrots and lorikeets and rosellas celebrate the beginning of twilight.

I have lived this picture so many times, in this same spot. But right now it hurts to look at anything remotely beautiful, as if the warmth of the sun threatens to melt my heavy sadness and I will have to face the stinging reality that I am no longer in Lake Murray.

Strange, for the first couple of days in the Paradise Forests, all sounds I heard and sights I saw, I unconsciously tried to liken to home. And now, in my Sunset Lakes home, every sound I hear I find myself likening them to ...home. My home in PNG.

When someone here turns the radio (or, gulp, the television) on, I wonder who's playing the guitar - the one with a tuning peg missing, which still sounded so good. When the ocean waves crash, I imagine the beautiful picanninis are jumping out of their canoes into the river.

When I look at the Southern Cross in the sky, I can almost fool myself for a millisecond...

But there are sounds and images I'm longing for, and know I won't hear or see them, until I return.

Here are some of them...

The freedom and tenderness expressed when the locals and forestors sang their hearts out under the stars. The thrilled, perplexed giggles and shakings of the head from the locals when Luke-shining-star and I would swing dance over dinner. (Literally) Or any one of Luke's theatrics, really.

The passion and intricate knowledge everyone had for their forest ... They could spot frogs, fowl, insects - I would have probably stepped on or stumbled over them - and tracks I couldn't distinguish from untouched, wild jungle.

The cheeky fireflys/fairies dancing around my head after sneaking into my mozzy net. The absolute, unbreakable, faithful love and trust in everyone's eyes, when I met them, when I got to know them, and when they said goodbye.

The vibrance and spirit of the forestors and the way they brought us all together with such patience and passion. Brian, (leader of the forestors), you are a true leader. And Sep, you are irrepressible!

I couldn't imagine my life without you all now. How on earth can I express my gratitude to a group of people who gave and taught me more than all the possessions and schooling in the world could hope to? And you guys are the ones under threat of losing your life blood. Your forest; your home. There is no way on earth I could sit back and let that happen now, after witnessing how tirelessly and humbly you all work to support your community.

And thankyou for so unquestioningly opening your home, thankyou for hunting so we could eat, thankyou for helping me to laugh when I wanted to grunt, thankyou for showing me to sing when I used to sigh, thankyou for showing me how to be creative and generous when I used to wish for more, thankyou for inspiring me beyond my imagined limitaitons. And thankyou for inviting us back. I took it seriously and I will be back.

If your belief that a sneeze means someone is thinking about you is true, then you must all be sneezing non-stop, because I have not stopped thinking about you.

I love you all, may your path be enriching, successful and effortless, oh and of course unexpected!

-- Cally

Dear Sep,

Thank you very much for welcoming us in Lake Murray. It was indeed a priceless oppurtunity of a lifetime. The struggle of your people inspires me immensely, so much so that any attempt to retell your story would result in tears creeping out the corners of my eyes.

I was indeed sad to leave your community. I lament the fact that we had to leave Lake Murray... I'd do anything to stay, I'd even buy your joke that I've been extradited from my country and that I am welcomed to live in exile in Lake Murray. If only.

The latter seems difficult to do but was unfortunately necessary... life must go on.

Goodbye Sep, I must go now... I can't promise you I'll return, but I can promise you that I'll try my level best to work
towards returning to Lake Murray. Thanks for being a wonderful host, friend, provider, and most importantly of all... for being an inspiration.

There you have it, I usually don't write sappy letters, but fortunately (or unfortunately, I'm confused between the two) the beautiful people of your community deserves one from me. May our paths cross again. In the mean time, may the good Lord provide you and your community the strength and wisdom to further your cause to greater
heights.

With much love and solidarity,
Chi Too

Everything will soon be over - the GFRS (Camp Kewe) will close down today. Things at the camp have been packed away, and other things have been dropped off at Kubut village. The camp is almost empty and I also feel empty and lonely.

All the happiness is over and I could not hold back any more of the loneliness. I thought that it would not have much effect on my feelings but I was wrong. I can feel the pain of emptiness and loneliness now.

For those who have visited Camp Kewe, you will be remembered by me and my community. For the last five days we have been suffering from the pain of emptiness and loneliness of you all.

Today I could not hold back my tears any more. Anyway that is the feeling at Camp Kewe now. It is just emptiness and loneliness for me and my community.

-- Sep Galeva

So the GFRS is closing up tomorrow, and we have the great privilege of being the last foreign volunteers to spend time here. Yesterday we skipped across the lake, from one community to the next, starting what is known as a ‘tok-save’, a message that gets passed by word of mouth between villages.

(The noticeable absence of both letterboxes and telegraph poles in this neck of the woods renders any of Sydney's standard modes of community communication pretty ineffective. PLUS it saves paper. How wonderful!).

We want the communities to know that just because there won’t be any (or many, anyway) weird white-folk dropping by anymore, that doesn’t mean that the project is over. Far from it. This is actually the stage that will determine the spread, the sustainability, and the success of the eco-forestry project.

We looked on as, with the care and precision that one might not ordinarily attribute to the business of logging, they extracted planks of timber from the giant rosewood log resting on the forest floor.

Arrows show where the tree will fall
© Greenpeace/ Morris

Usually hearing the sound of a chainsaw is not something that I would enjoy, nor seeing the mounds of orange sawdust churned from the bowels of a beautiful ancient tree. But here, in contrast with the sassy blue of a Ulysses butterfly and the luminous green sprigs of the forest floor, and encircled by the community upon whose sustained livelihood they depend, they are welcome sights and sounds. This is sustainable community development at work, and as soon as Ogia has cut enough eco-timber to pay for the price of a second mill, the next village can begin. And so on.

So with this message, we zoom around the lake. The foresters have all been away from their own families and villages for three months now, and it is time for them to have a rest. But in a month or so they will be back, and before that time, the landowners have a job to do.

They need to mark out their forest boundary, discussing with their neighbours to make sure there are no disputes over its placement. They need to make sure they have a camp set up from which the foresters can work. And when they are ready, they need to let Sep, the remarkable Kuni community leader, who has initiated the entire eco-forestry project, know. Then the foresters will return, the official demarcation process can begin, and the community can get started in the business of sustainable eco-forestry.

Leeches and BOPS – or Birds of Paradise as most people call them – go together like strawberries and cream. The leeches are there to test your commitment to see one of nature's great treats – Birds of Paradise dancing and calling early in the morning from their courtship trees where the males prove to the females how irrestible they are.

The previous day we had the leeches without the Birds of Paradise but early this morning we had developed a cunning plan. We were going to surprise the leeches and get into the forest so early that they would not be expecting us. Anyhow, that was the theory.

We set off down the lake with the boat full of hunting dogs as a small party was going out to try and catch dinner – their target was deer, pigs and cassowary. We were dropped of – the trio of BOP watchers – and set off along the forest track to the tree where we were told they would perform at 8 o clock precisely. If you think that insecticide sprayed on your boots and sock persuades the leeches to leave you alone then think again. In fact they seem to positively like it.

The first 10 minutes down the track was leech free then .... Long ones, thin ones, fat squelchy ones, green ones (there are the most tenacious), brown ones and black ones. Imagine looking down at your shoes and seeing a writhing, wriggling, squirming mass of leeches advancing to the top of your boots – that what happened to us this morning. But we had no time to try and unglue all of them – we had to make the dancing tree by 8 am and had a 50 minute walk to make our appointment. When you are focussed on watching Birds of Paradise it is amazing how you can block out of your mind your travelling companions on your boots and legs.

At 7.55 am we were nearing the dancing tree but had only heard one male BOP calling from deep in the jungle. Hmmm, I thought ... this was their plan to simply feed us to the leeches. The BOPS were somewhere else this morning! But at 7.59, whaddya know, the tree we were looking at exploded into a cacophony of noise and frenzied activity as the BOPS arrived – females and the absurdly stunning males with their fabulous plumage. Flashes of green, yellow, maroon brown and orange danced through the upper canopy. Fluttering wings and long tail feathers disappeared and then emerged only to disappear again from high in the tree. How many were there? It was hard to tell - maybe 10 or 12 in all.

Glancing down at my boots I noticed that the leeches were dancing as well – bending and waving themselves backwards and forwards as they contemplated their next move. I think even they were joining in the moment.

Tim

The wind shifted to a South Easterly today, signalling the start of the dry season in Lake Murray. Yesterday the water level dropped one meter in front of the Global Forest Rescue Station (GFRS). This means we are going to have to carry the Banana boat over logs and drag it through the shallows on our way to the airstrip this weekend.

We’re packing down the GFRS. The change in the wind and the twinge of sadness in everyone seem to fit.

The people of Lake Murray have said goodbye to most of the international guests. Everyone went out to visit the Kuni people, who fought off industrial logging. Together, we saw the first load of eco-timber milled and shipped out from Lake Murray.

It is hard to communicate what that means here. It is hard to communicate how remote Lake Murray is. One of the most isolated places on the planet. There are no roads here, no cars, no Internet, no television, no telephones, nothing.

Travel is via light aircraft, and supplies are dropped off after a 200km boat trip through crocodile infested waters.

So for these people to come to the Lake and share experiences with the locals – knowing they will most likely not return – is hard to deal with. It was heart-wrenching to see the men of the Catfish, Dog and Turtle clans hide their faces and cry as their friends returned to the other side of the planet. These are men who get up in the morning, kill a deer in the forest and carry it 10km on their shoulders, back to feed their families.

Each village along the way to the airstrip was out waving goodbye.

The foresters will return to the Lake to continue training and working after a holiday at home, in their highland provinces. They have been camping in the bush for three months. Away from their wives and children and away from their staple foods which are very different to Sago (the staple at the lake). Not to mention travelling by dugout canoe, which is as foreign to them as it is to someone from New York. A few of the foresters have learnt to swim during their three months at the lake.

Around 25, 000 hectares have been demarcated and15 clans have mapped out their land for the first time. Ancestral stories have been transformed into GPS points on maps.

Logging and mining companies have created a culture of ‘cargo’ in PNG. Local landowners are dazzled by displays of wealth then tricked into poverty.

It is difficult for tribal leaders to match this culture of cargo but eco-forestry is challenging it. Slowly but surely communities are taking their land, their lives and their future back into their own hands.

I think everyone who has come to Lake Murray during the GFRS has been empowered. Words cannot describe how effective eco-forestry is for community development, and for protecting the planet’s last forests. Words cannot describe the beauty of Lake Murray, of the people, of the forest.

We got up early this morning, to try and sneak a look at a Bird of Paradise. Interesting facts about the BOPs (as they have come to be known by our resident 'twitcher', Tim):

• They feature on the PNG flag


• They are endangered, but can be hunted as long as you use traditional weapons (bow and arrows and such)


• They are yet another in the long list of bird species where the male prances around, showing off its long, extravagant (and in this case flame-inspired) tail feathers; while the female trundles along, looking dowdy in brown

Greatly anticipating an adventure worthy of a GFRS weblog, we started off down the track.

Not surprisingly, the BOPs were hard to find. Leeches, on the other hand, were hideously abundant.

There's water lapping at my toes. Here on the end of our bamboo jetty trying desperatlely to take in my last full day in Paradise from sunrise to sunset. The vibe here at Campe Kewe is extremely chill after the excitement of the past few days.

Just a quick rundown: Leave at dawn two days ago to head to the walkabout sawmill with filmcrew in tow to document and assist in the first shipment of ecotimber in Lake Muray. In the proccess I find myself visiting a village in the dark and getting swarmed by hundreds of little hands all pressing gifts of sugarcane and occari nuts into my overwhelmed palms.

I got soaked under a sky filled with every star in the heavens while on an overloaded canoe. I made a banner (how Greenpeace, right) and tapped the resin of a rosewood tree to paint it with. I later carved a necklace for my boyfriend from a branch off the first tree felled for export. It was an emotional sight, to watch this giant tower of the forest come crashing down. Sad, but beautiful, because it's the start of great things for this community ...

It's good to be back and just sitting over the water. I think the serenity has just ended however, if the whooping and screaming coming floating across the lake from the hunting camp is any clue. I'm sure they have caught something quite large, to generate this much sudden excitement.

Oh well, I'm gonna sit here, sip my bitter, black coffee and continue to simply be. There is even more to fit in to our last day before Kewe winds down for good tomorrow. Things like a women's resource meeting ( super important for this place I believe ) that Cally has thrown together and the launch of Sep's thirty foot canoe. It's been four weeks but it feels like four lifetimes.

After a total of 10 weeks spent in Port Moresby (meeting and greeting all the volunteers and arranging their transport and accommodation to and from the GFRS) it’s my turn to join the team at Lake Murray.

Since I’ve been in PNG, I’ve been keen to learn how to make a billum – a wool or string bag. These are a “must have” item for practically everyone in PNG, and the souvenir of choice for visitors. There are many different styles and sizes to choose from: from the massive ones you can chuck the whole family’s beach gear in, to the little ones you put the bare necessities in when you go out. There are everyday billums, a billum to lug the shopping home in, and of course the billum to carry your baby with. Almost all billums come in loud, garish colours and patterns.

I asked Susan and she agreed to show Laura and myself how it’s done. The lack of available wool meant we had to start from scratch, making a natural string billum. That is okay with me. In fact, it is what I want – all natural and authentic-like.

Into the bush we go, Susan with her bush knife in hand, passing through one of the first eco-forestry set up areas. We see the trees marked for felling; they display arrows showing which direction they must fall. Upon finding a tulip tree the right size and diameter, Susan begins hacking into the bark and peels off (or more correctly yanks off) a chunk. It seems like hard work; she says “Come on” a lot whilst yanking.

A big chunk of bark comes off and I think, “Oh wow … that’s great … there’s heaps there. Once we make that into bits of string, I'll have a billum.”

I am momentarily carried away with thoughts of making them as Christmas presents for my family and friends. It’s back to reality as Susan explains it is only the fine white lining of the bark that is used.

More padding and chatting through the bush, Susan hacking off bits of bark as we go. She assures us the trees will recover. After hacking of the bark there is a separation process. I ask Susan if I can do it. “Sure,” she says, preparing a section for separation with her bush knife and teeth.

It seems easy enough, to just pull the section with the white stuff back, but my goodness it was hard!

Next there is the smashing process. Again Susan wields the bush knife and fashions two smashing sticks for Laura and me. We fold and beat all the juicy goodness out of those hunks of bark against a log with our smashing sticks.

Then we must juice those hunks of bark. Holding a strip of bark between ankle and bush knife we pull the bark up. The big bush knife is very close to my ankles. Now I am glad the knife is kind of blunt. (The juicing is done to remove irritants that might affect our skin when twisting the fibres on our legs).

Juicing completed with no cuts to my feet, we wash the strips of bark in lake water and hang them on the clothesline to dry in the sun.

Not sure what is next. Some kind of fibre separation, yarn making and twisting process before any of that knot tying I am so good at is started.

It’s quite a process and my new little, “I made it myself” summer fashion accessory is still a long way off. I’m still keen though, and no more will I try to haggle down the billum price at the markets. What ever they want for all that work is fine with me!

A bearded man sits in the grass on the bank, filling out forms. It’s the check-in at Lake Murray Airport - Boboa terminal. Not many formalities indeed, and everyone is ready for boarding.

The last goodbye is the hardest one. I look onto those dark eyes, those bearded faces, marked by the sun, by the water, and I wonder if we will ever meet again. It seems impossible to leave after sharing everything (meals, sweat, mosquitos). Now us volunteers are going back to our ‘normal’ lives – comfortable, wealthy, reassuring, empty. I know that each promise to come back may turn out to be broken.

But my words are far too poor. A handshake, a hug, and then only the silence can express what I feel.

The aircraft arrives, lurching on the grass landing strip, heaving big splashes of iridescent mud. A crowd has assembled at the side, mostly women and children. They look at us silently, while we step on board, and keep looking at us through the windows, until the propellers drag us away. It is a silent greeting, difficult to forget. The deepness of that silence covers the engine’s noise. Something of me is still there, under the infinite sky of Lake Murray.

"Forest is my life ... my blood! Land without forest is like human beings without blood. Lukautim Bus." That's the message Bonti, one of the foresters, wrote on the banner we all decorated for the timber barge in preparation for the first landmark shipment of eco-timber.

Everyone’s excited about the shipment. As the timber is carried from the sawmill site to the water by the men, women, and children of the village, there’s a buzz in the air.

Today we’ll all bear witness to the realisation of years of hard work by Sep and other community leaders, and of months of learning, planning, practice, and commitment on behalf of all the clan members. We’ll mark the beginning of a new life for the people of Lake Murray, one that’s full of independence and hope.

One, painted with the bright red sap of a rosewood tree, reads: “Em Nao: Eco-Timber!” (roughly, “Behold: Eco-Timber!” in Pidgin). The other, a large white banner with a rainbow across it, says “Save the Paradise Forests” in English and Chinese. That’s the one all the locals, foresters, and volunteers contributed to.

We drew catfish, butterflies, canoes, paddles, wallabies, crocodiles, snakes and even mungi (the spider mites that are driving us all crazy with itchiness). All the creatures and plants and things that are part of this forest, all the wonders of Paradise that will live on under the stewardship of the people.

The barge sets off with the first shipment
© Greenpeace

I feel lucky to be here, and lucky to have been even a small part of the effort that led from destructive large-scale industrial logging, to the selectively harvested, community controlled eco-timber we’re sending off today.