It’s humbling that, 70 years on, I am able to share their story.

I embarked on a nine-day pilgrimage across the Owen Stanley Ranges at the beginning of this month to mark the 70th anniversary of Australia’s victory at Kokoda. 

It was unequivocally special that, on this trek, we witnessed a homecoming of sorts as 12 Diggers returned to the Kokoda plateau for a special commemorative service – to this day, I cannot fathom how they did what they did on that “grim Kokoda track”.

To walk in the footsteps of our Diggers and to pay homage to those brave young men who gave the ultimate sacrifice to keep our country free was the most difficult, proud, exhausting and exhilarating experience of my life so far.

I quickly learned that the qualities etched in granite at a memorial near the village of Isurava – courage, endurance, mateship and sacrifice – are as true now as they were back in 1942. 

I discovered a hell of a lot about the power of mateship and the strength of the human spirit.

Thirty-seven strangers began the arduous climb across the Bloody Track on November 1; by the time we flew home on Remembrance Day, we were family.

Take Malla, for example. Not only did this dreadlocked traveller from Melbourne tend to my shrivelled blistered feet (poor guy!), but he offered a few choice words about setting small goals to achieve big things – or as he put it, “you can’t eat an apple in one bite”.

Andrew, a primary school teacher from Bendigo, was an inspiring storyteller with a burning passion for Australian war history. My breathlessness often rendered me speechless, so he kept me entertained with stories about his life as a father of six.

And then there was Lisa, who shed an impressive 42 kilograms to prepare for this “ultimate challenge”. 

She loathed going downhill while I despised going up hill, so we egged each other on and, through the laughter and the tears, formed a life-long friendship.

I’m not ashamed to say Kokoda was the most God-almighty struggle I’ve ever had. 

It exhausted me  physically, mentally and emotionally.

At times, we scaled the mountains, we would wedge our feet into the stirrup-like pores in the clay walls before us and pull ourselves up whatever way we could. 

We navigated tree roots, fallen logs, sheer cliff faces and dense jungle. We learned about every type of mud imaginable – sludgy mud, slippery mud, sinking mud, sucking mud.

Early in the piece, my spirit was crushed by a series of false peaks. Up and up and up we climbed, before reaching the top of a steep incline – only to realise it wasn’t the top. When this exhausting pattern continued for more than two hours, my throat started to tighten and I felt tears prickle in my eyes. I sat down on a moss-covered log and cried.

“I’m OK,” I said, blowing my nose. “I just need to cry.”

With the encouraging words of my comrades, we soon continued onwards and upwards.

And that’s how it was with our crew of campers – when the track knocked us down, we got up, wiped away the mud, sweat and tears and carried on together, every single time.

No matter the aching knees, battered from heavy landings; no matter the blisters, raw from constant rubbing; no matter the Kokoda Kraps, the blistering sunburn or the torrents of sweat, we continued on.

On day three, we trekked from Isurava to Templeton’s Crossing. It was a challenging day, but then, so was every day.

We spent close to two hours trekking in the dark to make it home to camp that night.

By the light of our head torches, we fought through the pouring rain. At one point, I remember looking up to see four of our Papua New Guinean carriers ready to catch me if I slipped – and that did happen on more than one occasion!

It was a strange experience. While utterly exhausting, it gave a sliver of insight into the critical role of the legendary Fuzzy Wuzzy Angels in guiding our Diggers to safety in 1942.

Many of our carriers – including my personal porter Nathan, who was the reason I finished the trek in one piece – were the sons and grandsons of Fuzzy Wuzzys.

But, as Adventure Kokoda founder and our trek leader Charlie Lynn said, it is to our great national shame that these men – who put their lives at risk to protect our Diggers – have not been recognised with a medal of service from the Australian Government.

A former army major, Charlie has dedicated the past two decades to raising the profile of one of Australia’s most important military battles. It was an honour to listen to his captivating speeches about the campaign and its heroes, such as Private Bruce Kingsbury.

I won’t ever forget finishing the trek. Having spent most of the journey at the back of the pack, a small group of us were brought forward to lead our contingent through the arches at Owers Corner.

“Lead ‘em home,” our co-leader Pete said.

Our group of 37 are now custodians of the Kokoda spirit and each of us has already begun sharing the story of those brave souls who gave their tomorrow for our today.