With still a couple of carrots left, I had a good feeling coasting down from a high mountain pass that had taken half the morning to climb.  As the road was flattening out, a group of a dozen men or so sat by the side, watching me approach.  Just like all the stops before, we stared at each other, I smiled and basically we all said nothing.  Leaning the bike against a tree, I stepped back a few paces with the camera ready for action.  They didn't seem that interested in the bike as much as they were in me.  Didn't really think too much of it, maybe it was the way I was dressed.  Not breaking from my smile, zoomed in on this man, who was holding a wooden smoking pipe in his hand. 

For a change, all eyes were on me.  Just after the shutter snapped, he leaped up swinging his pipe in full attack mood, trying to club me. Not used to smacking people, I didn't know how to react, so I hit him with my best Mike Tyson punch and dropped him in his tracks.  No broken bones, but my hand was kind of hurting while standing there admiring the KO.   Papua New Guineans are not known much for eye contact, and his stunned buddies were all staring directly at me.  Letting out a low-pitched growl from a puffed up chest, hopped back onto the bike, camera still strapped around my neck, and peddled away much faster than I had arrived, never looking back.