Bringing Him Home: Ashes to Bulolo
A journey of love, memory, and final return — told by the daughter of a man who devoted his life to Papua New Guinea’s forests.
By REBECCA HOWCROFT, daughter of the late Neville Howcroft.
 |
| UNRE rep Sylvester Kulang (second right), with Rebbeca Howcroft and her brother Mike at the burial site in Bulolo. |
Inside my suitcase, nestled in heavy silence, were his ashes—the final, physical remnants of a man whose heart never truly left the humid valleys of Papua New Guinea.
He passed away in a Brisbane hospital on November 2, 2024, but in the final months of his life, his wish was clear: he belonged back in Bulolo.
Dad’s story was inextricably linked to Bulolo. It wasn't just a town of gold dust and timber; it was where his purpose began. He started his work here with tree planting and the National Seed Centre, driven by his passion for orchids and pine. He then moved on to the Forest Research Institute in Lae, and later spent his final years in PNG in Rabaul, running the impactful Balsa Project and lecturing at Vudal University (now PNG UNRE).
Throughout his long career, his deep love and respect for the country and her people were evident, not only in his professional dedication but in his personal discoveries—including a number of New Guinea orchids and several insects now recognized by science.
After he passed away, thousands of miles away, the decision was immediate and absolute: he had to go back. His passing felt like an exile; Bulolo was his true center, the home he had chosen.
The journey itself became a slow, ritualistic closure, a way for Mike and me to fulfill his last clear wish. Crossing continents with his weightless form, I felt the physical miles diminish, but the emotional weight only grew. Every stop brought the final reunion closer.
We flew from Port Moresby directly into Bulolo on Monday, November 17, 2025. Landing on the small airstrip, the heat hit like a physical embrace—a familiar, moist pressure that seemed to strip away the veneer of the outside world.
We were instantly back in the environment he loved. The air, cool and carrying the scent of damp earth and pine, surrounded us. As the plane came to a stop, and Bulolo spread out below, it felt less like an arrival and more like a necessary completion of a life’s journey.
The ceremony was held on Thursday, November 20, 2025, and was small, quiet, and deeply respectful. The chosen resting place was the Bulolo Golf Club course, specifically near a memorial plinth, a location heavy with personal significance, as Dad and his team were responsible for planting every tree that now defines its fairways and greens.
As the sun dipped low, painting the razor-backed ridges in oranges and pinks, we laid him to rest there, among the towering legacy he helped create. Mike and I also planted a Klinkii pine each near the National Seed Centre in Bulolo, ensuring a living, growing tribute to his passion for the forest.
It was a profound moment of connection. His ashes became one with the earth, the history he cherished, and the trees he loved. He was no longer contained in a quiet, foreign room, but woven into the landscape—part of the forest's canopy, the scent of the timber he helped cultivate, and the enduring echo of the valley he served.
Bringing Dad home to Bulolo wasn't just about fulfilling a last wish; it was acknowledging that a life devoted to discovery and deep love for a place has a true geographic soul.
Mike and I are incredibly grateful to have been able to lay him to rest here, and we appreciate the distance, time, love, and assistance everyone provided in attending his memorial and meeting with us during this difficult time.
We also appreciate the time everyone took out of their days to take us around Bulolo to the various areas where a lot of the trees he and his team planted are still there. His story, written across the continents, had found its final, perfect chapter, eternally bound to the high-country landscape of Papua New Guinea.
