Papua New Guinea: land of Wigmen, giant butterflies and torrid wartime tales Equally remarkable is the fact that Leahy's expedition took along a 16mm camera to record an adventure (now available on DVD) in which the white men were seen as returning spirits who never defecated (as their bottoms were covered) and who presumably kept their wives in their rucksacks. The most hostile reception came around Tari, and this region still has a lawless mood. Alcohol is banned, many men carry a machete, and most vehicles have wire grilles over their windows. Armed hold-ups, inter-clan feuds and roadside flare-ups are a fact of life. Fortunately, there are seasoned ground handlers to whisk the wide-eyed visitor off to a hillside sanctuary like Ambua Lodge, part of a well-established collection of adventurously placed hotels run by Trans Niugini Tours, which also operates charter aircraft so guests can avoid the delays and cancellations that are a common hazard of using local airlines. All this can make a holiday to PNG expensive, and accommodation described as "luxury" is probably better read as "best available." In return, visitors get to plunge into an extraordinary country where exuberant natural wonders, including the world's largest butterfly and 38 species of birds of paradise, come paired with a society that boasts more than 800 languages and which is now fast-forwarding from Stone Age to Digital in the space of a generation. In Tari around half the people still live in traditional village style with separate huts for men and women, the latter sporting bare breasts and grass skirts that get swapped for second-hand Western clothes when it's time to go into town. New roads, and the construction of a colossal liquefied natural gas pipeline are the latest catalysts in the steady erosion of an age-old, self-sufficient culture. "The most important things for the Highlander," my guide explains, "are land, pigs and women," in that order. And, for some men, hairdos. A visit to the Huli Wigmen, who spend 18 months growing their hair to make bushy wigs to sell, provides an entertaining introduction to a local talent for self-decoration that reaches its apogee in the "sing-sings" (festivals) in which clans gather for sell-out shows in towns such as Goroka and Mt Hagen. At other times, smaller presentations are staged for visitors that have an engaging authenticity reflected in the sweet reek of marijuana and innocent questions such as "Does England have the sea?" Seventy per cent of PNG is covered with tropical forest, and while flying over its broccoli-like mountains and sinuous, caramel-hued rivers makes a thrilling sight, it is even better to get deep inside it. I do this the hard way by hiking a section of the Kokoda Track, a famous 60-mile trek that yomps over the Owen Stanley mountain range. In 1942 Japanese forces tried to capture Port Moresby, the final obstacle to invading Australia, by taking this audacious route. Twenty thousand troops were sent into the hills, only to be defeated by a combination of Aussie guts, overstretched supply lines and an unforgiving terrain. The story of this horrific "kill or be killed" micro-war is well told in numerous books, and 70 years on many Australians walk the Kokoda as an act of remembrance. The full one-way trip, backed up with guides and porters, takes around eight days, climbing as high as 7,185ft, with swamps and torrential rain guaranteed. I opt for a two-night Kokoda Track "taster" walking from Owers" Corner to a valley beyond Imita Ridge, where the Australians made their last stand. One soldier described the track as "a slimy ooze of stinking death," and it remains an ordeal of squelching mud, slippery tree roots and arduous climbs in baking heat. For me the low point is not its endless, sweaty slog, but the misery of eating freeze-dried rations, washed down with river water flavoured with chorine-laced purification tablets. But who dares grumble, when you read of struggles like that of Corporal John Metson, who was shot in both ankles and spent three weeks crawling towards safety, only to be bayoneted by a Japanese patrol? And it's not all toil. At key points, gorgeous butterflies flutter by offering silent encouragement, while at night the forest is lit with fireflies. Then the Papuan porters, descendants of the "Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels" who supported the troops, gather around the camp fire with ukuleles to form a pocket-sized choir singing songs in pidgin to a backing track of frogs and crickets. After all that, one has every right to seek out the more classic joys of a South Pacific holiday. A 100-minute flight north across the Solomon Sea lies New Britain, one in a gaggle of tropical islands curling around the north-east coast of New Guinea that offer quiet beaches, sensational diving and lazy days in unassuming hotels serving freshly caught snapper under the stars. After the tension of Port Moresby, with its razor-wire fences and polluted rivers, the mood is wondrously clean and calm, with a coastline of bright blue waters and huge plantations of coconuts and cocoa. My goal is Rabaul, which sits on the edge of a massive caldera pimpled with six younger volcanoes, three of which are active. The most recent eruption was in 1994 when Mt Tavurvur wiped out the town, save for one lone hotel. Just like the frangipani trees that came bursting through the ash, so life sprang up again farther east at Kokopo, an easy-going seaside town where the Kokopo Beach Bungalow Resort makes a charming stop, with restful wooden rooms and coloured lights in the trees. The war left its mark here too, and you can visit grim underground tunnels built by the Japanese with Indian slave labour to hide their barges from Allied raids. There are more than 60 wrecked warships for divers to explore, while at Tavui Point the edge of the reef is so close to the shore it was used a quayside for submarines. As you snorkel here in clear, bath-warm water, the coral looks as cheery and colourful as a children's nursery, then everything suddenly drops away in a 250ft underwater cliff pulsating with fish. A similar thrill comes when I encounter the hot, bubbling waters of the desolate volcanic landscape that surrounds Mt Tavurvur. "I'll guide you to the crater edge for 50 kina [£15]," says Julius, who emerges from the wasteland like a messiah in flip-flops, his lips bright red from chewing betel nut. In his hand is a bag of megapode eggs, harvested from the nests these birds bury six feet under the ash. It's a long, hot, 45-minute climb to the edge of the abyss, like a step-aerobics class devised by the devil. "We won't stay long," Julius cautions, "as there's a danger of landslides and quicksand." Judging from the plumes of smoke rising from the crater, there is also the possibility that it could blow up at any moment. But that's how it goes in Papua New Guinea, where the world still feels raw and untamed, and an adventure is guaranteed. Getting there British Airways (0844 493 0787; ba.com) flies direct from Heathrow to Singapore, from £556 return, including taxes. Onward flights to Port Moresby cost from £750 return with Air Niugini (0871 744 7470; airniugini.co.uk). Visas are required, see pnghighcomm. org.uk. Packages Original Travel (020 7978 7333; originaltravel.co.uk) offers a seven-night tour visiting Tari, Mount Hagen and Kokopo from £2,850 per person, including domestic flights, transfers, meals and daily activities. An optional two-night Kokoda Track Taster trek costs from £340 per person (on a shared basis), including porter, equipment, guiding and meals. Information Papua New Guinea Tourism Promotion Authority (020 7260 2993; papuanewguinea.travel). A new edition of Papua New Guinea & Solomon Islands (Lonely Planet, £16.99) was published in September. Malaria precautions are required. For the latest Foreign Office travel advice visit fco.gov.uk.