The morning was bright and I was filled with enthusiasm to leave Mt. Hagen.  After a large breakfast I headed north out of town to the new road.  Like many 'dirt' roads around the world, especially those in heavy rainfall areas, they aren't dirt at all, but a wide track of large stones covering the dirt so it doesn't wash away with the heavy rain.

In a motorized vehicle, these roads are still a horrible way to get around, meaning slow, bumpy, dusty travel.  On a bicycle no words can describe the anguish from constantly bouncing off jagged, baseball sized rocks, jostling a heavily laden bicycle through an endless minefield of body rattling agony.

As 'dirt' roads age, narrow tracks of lesser evil are eventually worn into the surface by scattering the rocks, offering some relief from miles and miles of pounding.  But this road was new and rocks covered the entire surface with no relief within sight.  After just the first hour or so, I was seriously considering returning to Mt. Hagen, but kept going in spite of dwindling enthusiasm.