Lost in Port Moresby

Surviving Port Moresby: Fort Knox Living with a Side of Adventure

I was thrilled to get back on board, and by now, the boat had made its way to Papua New Guinea. Mark had joined Strannik earlier to help with the crossing from the Solomon Islands to Papua New Guinea. My knowledge of Papua New Guinea was, let’s say, limited at best. I knew about the famous Kokoda Trail (which, ironically, was being blocked by locals at the time) and, thanks to my stack of diving magazines, that it’s a world-class diving spot. However, a quick Google search on “things to do in Port Moresby” unveiled a very unflattering answer: the best thing to do in Port Moresby was to stay away from it.

Turns out, Port Moresby is consistently ranked among the most dangerous cities in the world. It’s got all the classics—corruption, crime, and something called a Raskol gang problem. The online warnings were terrifying enough to make us wonder if we’d accidentally signed up for a survival show. Naturally, we raised our concerns with the skipper, but he brushed them off, assuring us that the boat would be docked in a “secured harbour facility” for three weeks while he popped off to New Zealand for business. So, we decided to roll with it. After all, life’s an adventure, right?

Fun fact: Did you know Port Moresby was named after Captain John Moresby, a British naval officer who explored the area in 1873? If only he’d known his namesake city would become a top contender for “world’s most dangerous destinations.” Oh well, cheers, Captain!

I flew into Port Moresby a week later, and even something as basic as transport had to be carefully choreographed. We organised a ride through the Yacht Club, as hopping into a random taxi was far too dangerous. Mark kindly came to pick me up, as navigating the city solo as a woman would’ve been asking for trouble. The taxi driver was a gem and even took us the scenic route, which was a surprising treat given the circumstances.

The Royal Papua Yacht Club was, frankly, swankier than I expected. We were greeted by serious-looking security guards, large barriers, and an entrance that screamed “Fort Knox, but with boats.” Swipe cards were mandatory to access the docks, and once inside, it was like entering a mini resort. There was a café, bar, restaurant, gym, and even a spa. Since I was still recovering from a back injury, a weekly massage became my new best friend—just as good as physio, but far more indulgent. Mark hit the gym daily, and we made good use of the restaurant and café.

Venturing beyond the Yacht Club’s secure bubble required leaving all valuables and belongings on the boat. The local supermarket was surprisingly well-stocked—think Woolworths with a touch of chaos. The goods were inconsistent, though, so shopping felt like a lucky dip. Need anything beyond groceries? The Yacht Club provided a courtesy van, and the van doors and windows were topped with security mesh. The van drivers didn’t just drop us off—they’d walk us into the shops to ensure we didn’t accidentally find ourselves in a dodgy screwdriver attack (yes, that’s apparently a thing here).

One highlight of our stay was meeting a friendly Australian called Pat, who’d been living on his boat at the Yacht Club for over 30 years. He took us for a ride in the back of his pickup truck, which turned out to be quite the social experience. But, as always, when leaving our secured facilities, all valuables and belongings had to stay behind. Locals were delighted to see us perched in the back and would enthusiastically offer us goods at traffic lights. One stop was the fish market, which was far less smelly and fly-infested than expected—a pleasant surprise, really. We skipped the main market, as the queue to get in was endless, and instead drove to a hillside for scenic views. Later, we visited the lovely Port Moresby Nature Park, where we spotted the Bird of Paradise, the national bird of Papua New Guinea, which looks like a bird that woke up and said, “Time to wow the world.”

The three weeks flew by as we tackled a long list of boat maintenance. We survived Port Moresby without incident, thanks to our little fortress of security at the Yacht Club. While I’ve heard the Highlands are stunning and the diving here is second to none, Port Moresby itself? Let’s just say it’s not making my “must-return” list.