Return to New Zealand

I arrived back in NZ at Christchurch airport to be greeted with the news that a freak storm had ripped through the area and that there was widespread major disruption. As if the poor people of Christchurch had not had enough to contend with in recent times, the area where I was due to stay the night, had thousands of trees down and no electricity, but they counted themselves lucky - they had no significant structural damage. Fortunately my hosts owned a small generator and that kept the fridges going, and the beers cold, which we drank by candlelight.

The next morning it was off to the bus, for the 5 ½ hour bus ride down to Dunedin where I was met by my hosts and good friends Claudie and Benoit. It was really good to be back, even though the contrast between the warm, sunny, vibrant Sydney and the rather dour and considerably cooler Dunedin could not have been greater.

As well as getting back together with a few great mates, I had come back to New Zealand for a number of other reasons. Firstly, as my visa had expired, I had to leave Australia. Secondly I could continue my recovery/recuperation, which was progressing well, but was ongoing, and, as this was the closest place, if I had needed further contact with the medical guys in Oz, I could easily fly back, and, thirdly, I had failed to get to see the fjords last time I was here, due to poor weather and I really needed to try and correct this.

Fjordland, is regarded by some, as the scenic highlight of the whole country, so after a week in Dunedin I set off to see if it was worthy of the hype.

There are two principle destinations, Milford Sound and Doubtful Sound, located in the remote south western corner of the country and I decided that I would try and get to both.  I managed to do a great deal with a leading tour company for a day tour to Milford and, the next day, an overnight cruise in Doubtful but this meant that I had to first get up to Queeenstown where the tours start from, so it was back on the bus for 4 hours to one of the most popular and vibrant centres of the country.

Queenstown is a very pretty place, set on the shore of the picturesque, z shaped, glacial Lake Wakatipu, with spectacular mountain views all around. It was established in the late 19^th century as a camp town on the back of gold having been discovered in the nearby Arrow river and is now a resort for summer tourists and winter sports enthusiasts alike, and has many restaurants, bars, clubs and a busy shopping mall.

In the South Island that there are actually not that many roads, so there is usually no choice of how you get to places. What appears to be a relatively short distance between destinations on a map, can take an age as there are mountain ranges that need to be circumnavigated. There are no motorways in the south west and landslides and bad weather can prevent access to, or from, a whole area, at any time of the year, often without warning. The majority of the estimated ¾ million tourists a year that make the 6 hour round trip from Queenstown, travel by coach in the company of informative and helpful drivers, but it is what is outside that is the attraction and some of the scenery is breathtaking especially on a picture perfect, sunny day that I was lucky enough to get, it was amazing.

The incredible effects of glacial erosion are laid out in front of you like a huge 3D textbook. U shaped valleys, hanging valleys, moraine fields, drumlins  and countless other features that made me wish I had either paid a bit more attention to physical geography, or at least had better recall of what I used to know. We also stopped at the photogenic  ‘mirror lakes’ where the world appears upside down as the mountains are reflected in the surface of the perfectly calm, clear water.

 

 

From an engineering perspective, shortly before arriving in Milford, you pass through the impressive Homer Tunnel, which runs ¾ mile through a mountain of solid granite and was an incredible achievement for its day. It was started in 1935 by men using picks and wheelbarrows and took nearly 20 years to complete, although this was interrupted by World War 2, and is notable as it has to contend with the combination of massive extremes of weather and, at certain times of the year, up to 40,000 litres of melt water an hour percolating through it.

Milford itself is tiny, home to only about 100+ people who are all employed in the tourist or conservation industries, but the harbour was busy with tour boats, whilst overhead, planes and helicopters buzzed around with their high paying clients. The Sound was discovered in 1812 by a Welshman, John Grono. The entrance is not visible from the sea and James Cook had previously mapped the coastline as just a shallow cove as he sailed past. Grono sought shelter in this’ cove’ from a fierce storm, but noticed that it opened up into a fjord and named it after his home town, Milford Haven, it was later renamed Milford Sound, actually incorrectly, as a sound, technically, is a drowned river valley rather than a glacial valley.

It stretches inland approximately 15 kilometres and its sheer walls, waterfalls, lush, dense vegetation and tranquillity led Rudyard Kipling to describe it as, ’the eighth natural wonder of the world’. As always there are upsides and downsides of weather. The beautiful day made it perfect to take the slow cruise out as far as The Tasman Sea, but the fact that it had not rained, meant that the waterfalls were relatively quiet.

This area of New Zealand is one of the wettest parts of the world, annually receiving up to 7 metres of rain and when the high ground has been soaked there are literally hundreds of waterfalls that pour down the sheer valley walls, however there are still several lake fed falls that are permanently flowing and against the blue sky and bright sunshine they were sensational.

The 2 hour cruise starts and ends in front of Mitre Peak,

probably the most famous view of Fjordland and the half way point is turning at the fjord end in the Tasman Sea.

 It is amazing to think that the mountains either side are only (roughly) half as high as the fjord is deep as this has been recorded as more than 400m in places.

The dense beech forest carpets the slopes giving way to vast scars in places, evidence of tree avalanches and rockfalls, some of which are earthquake related.

 

It was over all too soon but well worth the hype!

As I was going to visit Doubtful the next day, I stayed the night in Te Anau, a small town approximately half way back to Queenstown, again set on the side of a beautiful lake with a backdrop of snow capped mountains. This is a staging point for both of the destinations and I could therefore pick up the coach from Queenstown here, the following morning, for the totally different journey to this fjord.

Unlike Milford there is no road access to Doubtful, rather you need to cross, by high speed hydrofoil, the extremely deep, Lake Manapouri - which is reputedly the largest accumulation of non frozen, fresh water in the southern hemisphere - and then proceed through the Wilmot Pass -a steep narrow road constructed using the spoil from excavations - from the lake to the fjord.

A colossal underground hydro electric power station was constructed at the end of the lake and the pass was built so that all of the machinery could be shipped in by sea, docked at the end of the fjord and transported to site for its installation. Again this was an immense feat of engineering, and, was it not for the fact that nearly of all of the electricity produced here is sent to an enormous aluminium smelting plant in Invercargill, the energy produced would be sufficient to satisfy all of the needs of the entire South Island.

This fjord was explored by Cook, but as he ventured into it, he worried that he may be becalmed and  was doubtful  of his ability to get out again, hence the name. It is much bigger than Milford and comprises three distinct arms.

It is not as immediately picturesque but its raw, natural beauty makes it every bit as engaging and although the weather was overcast, the clouds added to the atmosphere of this majestic location.

 The waters here have an unusual characteristic. The heavier salt water sits underneath the ‘run off’ fresh water, which is itself stained, by tannins picked up by its course through the surrounding soil producing an almost ’tea stained’ upper layer. This upper layer limits light penetration of the water, resulting in a unique marine ecosystem, normally associated with far deeper water,  to exist in the fjord.

The cruise itself was aboard a replica ‘scow’, a flat bottomed sailing barge very popular with immigrant sailors in the late 1800’s.

The sails are now for show but pretty impressive when unfurled and very fitting for the location. There are cabins and small shared dormitory’s, but as the boat was not full, I had the four berth accommodation to myself. The crew included a naturalist who advised of all of the points of interest as well as describing the flora and fauna which included a small pod of bottle nosed dolphins, basking fur seals and we even caught sight of a pair of extremely rare Fjordland Crested penguins.

The moody skies and changing light,

whilst a contrast to the previous day, really played its part in adding to the experience and again we were lucky that the weather and sea were calm and this allowed us to get out into the open sea, affording a look back into the fjord, which the captain explained would only be possible maybe a dozen times a year.

This is truly an unpredictable and wild part of the world. The latitude of this area is what is known as the Roaring 40’s. Forty degrees south of the equator the winds whip around the planet and, as this is below South Africa and Australia, the south west of New Zealand and the tip of South America get battered by the full forces of nature.

 Note :- If you want to see some great aerial and scenic shots have a look at the tour operators web page at    

https://www.realjourneys.co.nz/en/experiences/cruises/doubtful-sound-overnight-cruises/

We moored for a while and a couple of people went out on kayaks, I chose the more sedate trip out with the naturalist on a small tender and, yes there is always one, Mr Bonkers from Sweden went swimming – he got cramp and then shivered for three hours!!

The food was good, the bar was late, the beverages were very reasonably priced and I met a young German couple who taught me a card game called Ruf 66, which was so complicated that it made sub atomic particle physics look about as daunting as a Burger King menu.

The next morning we sailed into another arm of the fjord and were all invited up on deck. The engines were cut and we were asked to observe 5 minutes silence

..... the only sounds were the occasional bird call and the distant noise of a waterfall. In such a beautiful location you tend to forget about listening and it was a great idea.

However the experience is in stark contrast to what is recorded by the first sailors to explore this area. When I was doing some research before the trip I had read that the early visitors were staggered by the noise the birds made, it was necessary to put your hands over your ears, it was so loud.

Perhaps the bird population has decreased, or possibly it was the fact, that 150 years ago, birds had never seen anything like it, as it has to be remembered that, until man arrived, the only mammal to have ever existed on the whole of New Zealand had been a very small bat!!  

The impact of the Maori had been pretty low key. Blokes in boats would certainly have been something to squawk about but they had no idea of the carnage that was to come as the whalers and seal hunters moved in.

Within an hour it was back to the dock and time to retrace the journey back to Dunedin. Fortunately Claudie, who had been on business near by, picked me up in Queenstown and we returned to Dunedin via Arrowtown and a couple of smaller towns but all I could think of was the fjords!

The whole adventure had been fabulous, it was worth the wait and I would have been so disappointed not to have seen it. Whether i would go as far as Kipling......hmm, I am not too sure, but just these 2 days had been enough to warrant my return to this stunning country.

 

Back on track

Hello there!

After a little break I am resuming service and am pleased to advise that as things stand at the moment I am ok

Thanks to everyone that contacted me with enquiries and good wishes and in particular the kind things that you have said about the blogs, I am delighted that you have enjoyed hearing about my journey.

There appears to have been some exaggeration of the problems i have had and therefore will now provide the official version.

 My last blog ended with my discharge from Sydney minus little toe, right foot. This is still the extent of my body part donation to Australian medicine. I have however been back into hospital on two further occasions both times at the Flinders Medical Centre, Adelaide.

On advice I decided not to fly back to Adelaide, favouring instead the train on the ‘sister’ service to the Ghan, the Indian Pacific,

 

 

which covered the approximately 750 miles in 23 hours. The scenery was different from the Darwin/Adelaide journey only in that the predominant soil colour was not as red but most of it was scrubland BUT I did see kangaroos ... loads of them...at last.

 My brief on leaving Sydney was to take it easy, rest with an elevated leg and keep a close eye out for any changes in condition of the wound/foot, which, despite a bout of acute ‘cabin fever’, I managed to do.

I attended hospital 10 days after getting to Adelaide to have the stitches removed and everything was good. I still took it easy, used the special footwear but became aware of some swelling of my foot over the next week or so.As a precaution I reported to the casualty unit and was immediately admitted for tests and observation and consequently put back on intravenous antibiotics. Over the next 5 days my leg and foot were tested for ‘everything’ by ultrasound scan, x rays and another mri scan, both with and without a disclosing dye. All of the tests were negative, there was no explanation as to why it had flared up, but when the swelling had reduced, I was discharged.

I made a point of asking the vascular team about the ongoing care, as by now the wound site in particular was surprisingly stable, and I was so disappointed, and a little worried, that there were still problems. They couldn’t provide an explanation for the flare up but the advice was, as before, keep the pressure off the foot with the wearing of a different orthotic shoe and watch out for any changes in the condition

I did so, and again, all looked good, the tests had given me a clean sheet but I paid heed to the advice and spent more days doing very little... but again there was a further bout of swelling that took me straight back to the hospital, back onto the ward and a further intravenous antibiotic course. There was a suspicion that there may have been a problem with two very small bones behind the big toe, but this again proved to be clear on investigation. It was finally considered a hangover from the original infection.

 

After 4 days, the senior vascular surgeon suggested that there was an operation that might address future problems. The biomechanics of the foot can be altered surgically by cutting one of the tendons that connect to the outside of the foot. I was assured that this was a simple procedure and there were studies from the USA suggesting that this could bring great benefit and with little, if any noticeable changes and so I agreed to have this done.

The operation was carried out successfully, two days later I was discharged and since then all has been good .... touch wood

 

I thought may be the antibiotic course had been finished too soon, or what I had been given was not strong enough, so I asked these questions. It was explained that from the beginning I had been given intravenously, Piperacillin/Tazobactum  a very strong drug that can only be prescribed in hospital, and even then, only in accordance with strict guidelines.  I had been on the maximum dose for a total of 27 days. It should have been enough to cure Kenya of all its ills!, I can only hope it has finally cured mine.

I have got to record the huge support I received from, and express my eternal gratitude, to Mary. Mark, Sue, John and Glynne (Snr) in Adelaide, without their help and understanding I would have probably have had to return home. Having them there was fantastic and as the health care was, I believe, better than I could have received at home, I was quite comfortable staying here during this difficult time. Also I want to thank the medical and support staff at Flinders who were brilliant and a couple of fellow inmates, Phil, Trevor, John and Denise who made the time pass far more easily.

 

Despite the above I was able to enjoy Adelaide and the city certainly grew on me the longer i stayed there. I managed to get out and about quite a bit and did the usual museum, art gallery and civic building stuff but also had the opportunity to get to a wildlife park – which more than satisfied the kangaroo lust – and got me up close and personal with a huge pelican

 

                                                      

                                                          

 

visited many of the miles of beaches which flank the city,

                                                 

 

including a lovely day watching some tall ships leave port;

 

 

 

 spend an afternoon fishing in near freezing conditions that resulted in just the one highly poisonous puffer fish being hooked; going to an Aussie rules footy game;

earning my keep by hosting a couple of dinner parties and having a few good meals out including a curry for my birthday.

The countryside also came to us when a koala arrived in the tree adjacent to the elevated deck at Sue and Johns' house and spent a few days just chilling out and sleeping precariously balanced in the branches.

 

                                           

                                                                           ~~~~~~

I had planned to return to New Zealand before moving north and had to do one more thing before leaving Oz. Seventeen incredibly frustrating and quite lonely days in hospital looking at the Sydney back street skyline had left a void that needed to be filled and so I booked my flight to Christchurch from Sydney and spent a couple of days there to finish off the trip.

It would have been great to have walked the Sydney Harbour Bridge, visited the world famous zoo and trekked the beach walk to Bondi, but obviously this was not on but I still managed to get around the principal sights on the hop on hop off, open top bus and then a  trip on the ferry out of Circular Quay to Manley, I think, I finally realised what Sydney is all about, it is a beautiful, massive natural harbour.

 The whole of this immense body of water, some 15 miles in length, is actually a drowned river valley called Port Jackson and this contains Sydney harbour. As the ferry approached Manley, escorted by a small pod of dolphins, a large gap appeared in the coast line leading out into the South Pacific. Putting the whole thing into an historical context, you can only imagine what an incredible discovery it must have been for Captain, ( or rather Lieutenant as he was then) Cook, whilst passing the Australian coast, ventured into this area to discover  what he described in 1770 as primarily a ‘safe anchorage’.

It was nearly 20 years later that Governor Arthur Phillip, keen to investigate Cook’s discovery, landed in Botany Bay and established the first European settlement in Australia, which later became Sydney.

 Of course the area is dominated nowadays by the Sydney Harbour Bridge (the coat hanger) and the spectacular Opera House and also fronts the main CBD (Central Business District) of the city between Circular Quay and Darling Harbour, but this is only a stones throw from the original settlement area, which is the popular tourist venue known as The Rocks.

But the harbour is so much more as it provides a spectacular backdrop to innumerable bars and cafes, is the highway for a thousand ferry crossings to the various limbs of the greater Sydney area, is a huge working port and base for the worlds cruise ships, is an immense leisure resource for sailing, fishing and a focal point for the whole of the city 24 hours a day.

The world renowned Bondi beach is only about 20 minutes out of the city and this is one of the features that makes it so popular. A surprisingly small semi circular cove of beautiful sand, leading into turquoise water, with strong waves, ticks all the boxes for many, and it is a fact that the summer popularity of the venue makes it almost impossible to get  on the beach, let alone spread your towel out. As a pretty deserted, early spring attraction I thought it was fine. Mid summer it would have no appeal for me and the chip shops, kebab houses, discount bars and generally tacky retail stock of the area made it even less interesting and quite disappointing considering its reputation.

Fortunately I met up with a new friend, Ann, the daughter of one of my fellow inmates at hospital, who met me at Bondi,  her home. We found a great bar and a wonderful backstreet Italian bistro, where we had a super evening, and she was also kind enough to give me a bit of a whistle stop tour of the, some of the 'off the beaten track', sites the following day which was really interesting.

Generally, and in particular after my previous experiences of Sydney, both as a red light area and as a care centre, I discovered it was a great place. There are heaps of things to do and see, as in all cities, but somehow it is the waterfront areas that dominate, and what a waterfront they have! The inner city buildings are an incredible mix of glass and steel towers and lavish Victorian buildings, beautifully restored in many European styles and, in my experience, the people were friendly and helpful.  This time I stayed in a good hotel, a little out of the CBD, backing onto a delightful bay (Rushcutters) well serviced by public transport, the sun shone and I eventually got to have a couple of days to appreciate the place...and I am so glad I did.

 Obviously I have mixed emotions about Oz because of what had happened. For the most part I think there are places that I would sooner go to before coming back, but having said that there are people here, in particular in Adelaide, that I will miss and would love to see again.

Overall, quite an experience and some terrific memories, but it was time to return back across the Tasman for my final spell in the southern hemisphere, and the fjords were calling!

 

 

 

 

OUCH !

You have probably realised that over the couple of days before the Sydney test match my foot had been deteriorating at quite a rate. I had not changed my care routine and had not done any really excessive walking, but for some reason it had gone crazy and my whole foot and lower leg had swollen significantly. I needed to take advice and today was the day.

I had been given the name of a 24 hour medical centre where, for $100, I could have a consultation with a doctor.  I thought that a GP would likely want to refer me to a specialist podiatrist or wound expert and therefore decided to try and cut out the middle man and try and find a hospital. As luck would have it there was one about 15 minutes away and the web site suggested that it specialised in the required treatments and was a pretty new facility

I fortunately have had little experience with A&E departments, but have heard all sorts of horror stories. The day after a rugby international, close to an area where there was clearly a drug problem, I feared the worse, but, within 2 minutes of walking in I thought I must have taken a wrong turn. It was more like a top end hotel spa than an inner city hospital.

After a quick interview and an examination by two nurses and the duty doctor I was told that I would need to see a wound specialist. Within 10 minutes I was taken to the Emergency Medical Unit, a squeaky clean, airy, well equipped ward that actually looked like a film set for mission control in a Bond film.

As I waited, I envisaged that I would be back on the streets, start to finish, within an hour and was busy looking at hotel rooms on my iphone and contemplating a Lions celebration steak lunch down at the harbour. A sharp intake of breath and a ‘wow’ from the pretty young East European wound expert snapped me back to reality.

That was approximately 1pm on Sunday 7^th ..........

-         Hundreds of tablets

-         Dozens of injections

-         Litres of intravenous antibiotic

-         1 mri scan

-         2 operations under general anaesthetic

-         and the surgical removal of one toe ............ later, it is now Sunday 21^st I am still in hospital and to date I have no release date.

Bugger!!!

So what happened?

Briefly, on inspection the wound looked bad and the first view was that I would lose at least my big toe, but I needed an exploratory investigation to assess the extent of the infection. The big fear was infection in the bone so the situation was to be re-assessed  after the operation.

The next meeting brought good news. The wound had been debrided and the infected tissue had been removed successfully. Infection had not extended to the bone and, although it looked dodgy and was going to take a lot of healing, the prognosis was good, but I needed an mri scan to confirm things.

I had to wait 12 hours for an mri (last time it was 18 months!!!) and this time it was good and bad news. The wound was clear, as was the underlying bone, however, the bad news, was that the little toe ‘Lit up like a Xmas tree’. Somehow, there was clear evidence of osteomyelitis in my pinkie!!!

A major meeting with the senior vascular surgeons left me with a decision to make.

Option 1

Remove the top two joints and part of the next bone to completely remove the infection. Expect the wound to heal in about 6 weeks. Live with a slightly strange looking foot, but with very little, if any, adverse effects.

Option 2

Treat the infection for 5-6 weeks intravenously, move to strong oral antibiotics, without a particularly good prognosis, due to the notorious difficulties in treating body extremities.

Expect the infection to return and anticipate it spreading, which in due course will almost certainly require surgical intervention and at that time, surgical requirements may well be more extensive.

My decision was based on the above, a discussion with my uk podiatrist mate (cheers Scotty) and the fact that when I asked the junior surgeon what he would advise his dad if faced with the same dilemma. His answer was instant and unequivocal.... Option 1.

So that is what I decided.

I cannot talk highly enough of the care, facilities and hygiene here. The staff are enthusiastic and attentive and even the food is pretty good. The building is new and very well presented and although I am on the public rather private wards, there is no difference between what I have here and any private hospital I have visited in the UK.

Since the operation the team is delighted with the results but as yet I have not got a release date. I can walk on a special shoe that keeps the weight on my heel, but they really want me in bed with my leg raised, so that is what happens 23+ hours a day.

I feel incredibly frustrated that the whole of Sydney is outside my window, the weather is record breakingly good and I am stuck here not able to experience it, but recovery is paramount.

How this leaves continued progress I do not know yet. I will do everything to ensure that I continue with the trip, but it may have to be replanned/rescheduled. Whatever happens I will return to the UK from the west and tick the circumnavigation box.

As you are no doubt aware the time here has enabled me to get bang up to date with my blogs and I hope they have been of interest. Spread the word if you have enjoyed them.

For now it’s fight the boredom, especially difficult when others on my ward have loads of visitors, and because Oz tv is complete crap. I have introduced the nurses to ‘Guess the blood pressure’, (the most fun you can have on a night shift ward without waking your neighbour} and, if we get the right mix on my 4 berth ward, ‘Mystery fart tennis’ is a game possible when the drapes are pulled.

Enjoy the heatwave guys and more news will follow in due course

I’ve got a phone: +61 4987 22201

I’ve got e mail : bigmikeontour@gmail.com

Sydney is GMT + 9 hours

Take care all

Mike x

The Big One

I now had two days to sort out my trip to Sydney and I spent hours on the net looking for reasonable accommodation and tickets, without much success. My mate Adam was already in Sydney and also another mate Haydn had arrived there, and they were both working on the case from the inside, but it was proving quite difficult.

When I had got back to Adelaide my foot was causing me a bit of grief, but a couple of days of care and rest seemed to improve the position and I set off feeling not too bad, with enormous excitement about both the game and also the chance to visit one of the  great cities of the southern hemisphere.

I got to Sydney and my first priority was somewhere to stay. I met Haydn and his wife Sally and started hunting. The odd places that were available were going fast and the prices were crazy, asking hundreds of dollars a night, until I found The Astoria. It looked a bit seedy in the daylight, but they were happy to do a deal for $50 a night. As I didn’t intend to spend much time there, and a quick check of the room revealed clean linen, I agreed to take it.

My plan was to let the match come and go, then move to a better hotel, which would hopefully be significantly cheaper after the weekend, where I could stay for a few more days and enable me to have a good look around the city.

You know that old saying, ‘If something seems too good to be true.....’ well It only took a few minutes of the first night to reveal why the hotel room rates were so good. By night, most of the other ‘guests’ seemed to be drug addicts or working girls and rooms were available by the hour!! My room faced onto a busy street and on inspection I realised that the bathroom window had a big hole in the glass into which the shower curtain had been stuffed, therefore it was loud and cold. I thought of the trauma of trying to find another room, dragging my stuff about with an increasingly troublesome foot and decided to use ear plugs, put a chair against the door and tough it out for two nights.

The hotel manager was sympathetic, but unapologetic, the next morning. He agreed to a move to the only other room he had, on the top floor at the rear, which was smaller but quieter, without even looking at it I agreed. My foot was worsening and a walk to the top floor did not appeal, instead I met with Haydn for breakfast and a little boat trip out of Darling Harbour into Circular Quay.

If you ask yourself to think of images conjured up by the name Australia, after kangaroos, beaches and sharks, Sydney harbour bridge and the opera house are probably going to come quickly to mind, so taking a water taxi that went under one and passed the other was a special experience.

                                                          

Sometimes when you get to see buildings or structures that you have only seen in books and on tv, they can be a little disappointing, not so here. The bridge is a mighty feat of engineering and bigger than I imagined and the opera house is exquisite, I so looked forward to getting up close and personal with them both in the next week.

And you've got to see it and the surrounding quay at night

 

 

 

                                                            

It was good to have a drinking buddy and me and Haydn had a great afternoon soaking up the pre-match build up

 

                                   

     

 

                                                                    

and apparently we also managed to get our mugs onto Welsh tv,  courtesy of a roving camera crew from Reuters.

My night in the new room was quieter, but probably ranked on a par with the Laos home stay in terms of how pleasant an experience it was.......but the linen was good.

Match day started brilliantly. Adam called to tell me that his uncle had a spare ticket if I was interested and 3 nano seconds later I arranged to meet him. My ticket at Melbourne had taught me that you don’t necessarily get what you pay for and, with the demand for this game so high, I would have taken anything, this ticket was Bronze and cost $95.

An article on the BBC website that morning really annoyed me. It was a story about the cost for a group of students attending the tour and made a point about ticket prices, in particular that Australians had had the chance to buy tickets from £60. Why were these not available to all? I hope the WRU read this and will introduce a tiered pricing structure for future Australian visitors.

My luck continued when Haydn and his lovely family invited me to join them for a pre match drink,

 

 and told me I was booked on a bus from a local pub to get to the ground. Relaxed, because I had my ticket in my pocket, we met, had a couple of liveners and then it was all on the bus, which was loaded with beer, and we sang our way out to the stadium, which seemed to be miles away.

The ground is part of the Olympic park built for the 2000  games and the whole facility is enormous and, still very impressive, but the walk to the stadium from the bus park, and then into the stadium and up to the 6^th tier

 and then up 84 steps to my seat was not at all comfortable.

I joined Mike, my ticket benefactor, several rows from the back of the stadium, (again), but this time just off the half way line.

It was a far superior seat to that which I had had at Melbourne. The atmosphere was electric, the tension and anticipation unbearable but the optimism was high. They were beatable.....

Thirty seconds after the kick off, they were very beatable. A knock on from the first attempted take seemed to deflate the whole team for a moment and at the same time fire the Lions with confidence.

Especially as it is now historical, I will not attempt to summarise the game, but it was as enjoyable a rugby performance as I can remember, and the second half was epic. The Lions roared ... and I was there !!

And this was the final whistle

 

 On the very happy bus back, we had a huge problem when we ran out of beer!!! The driver just stopped, blocking the inside lane on the main road back to the city, and two of the guys dashed into a liquor store and picked up 3 cases. The driver’s tip increased dramatically.

As the game had not kicked off until 8pm we didn’t get back to the pub until nearly 11.30 and therefore it was only a couple of hours before we decided to call it a night and I returned to bedlam.

The crazys had obviously saved themselves for Saturday and at 4am there were still junkies getting wasted in the fire escape stairwell outside my room. I pushed the plugs in deeper and slept, with a big smile on my face.

It was definitely time to move on, whatever the cost or inconvenience, but I had no idea at that moment about what was to come and how it would change my life!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ghan 2 & Melbourne

The Ghan 2

We had been told to be back at the station for a 12 o’clock boarding, but when I arrived the train was not there. A quick enquiry and I learnt that it had been delayed ‘by an hour’.

 

 

If you ever go to Venice, and ask directions, the answer is always ‘Just go straight down there...’

 When in Australia or New Zealand the answer is always a ridiculous understatement. ‘A couple of blocks....’ or  ‘Just up the road.....’ normally means that there is at least a half day hike involved. If the answer starts with ‘Strewth mate.... ‘   you had better have your overnight bag.

So, unsurprisingly, the ‘hour’ grew like topsy and eventually we left Alice 4  hours late. The only silver lining, for some, was that the delay occasioned the northbound and southbound trains to be in the yard  at the same time,  which even the stewards were amazed at, and a few lucky ‘anoraks’ had their Xmas and birthday come together, because both Ghans are never seen together.

Dusk, night and dawn passed without incident, and unfortunately, still nothing in the kangaroo department I was beginning to wonder, having traversed half the country, if there were any ...... anywhere!

I learnt the reason for the delay when I overheard a little, chubby steward tell the same ‘joke’ to 8 different people, as I sat in the cafe car. ‘We gotta flat tyre mate’ he parroted and each time followed it with a stupid forced laugh.

The reality, as was explained to me by a supervisor who later sat with me, was that one of the bogeys on a car carrier had flattened off, with a result that every time the wheel turned it ‘slapped’ the track and this impact was capable of breaking the sleepers unless the speed was restricted. Consequently we were getting progressively later and actually ended up arriving in Adelaide 6 ½ hours behind schedule.

There were two memorable highlights of this journey, firstly when a full rainbow arched over the scrubland to the side of the train,

 

 

 and secondly when we passed a very picturesque lake that only appears after it has rained significantly. Sometimes it is not seen for years, but when it is, it is beautiful.

 

Overall the Ghan had been different from what I had expected. Looking at a map and realising how far I had travelled was quite amazing and I suppose the landscapes had been similar to watching the sea, or a fire, nothing much changed, but it held your gaze, for hours. It had been a terrific and memorable experience and I was so glad I had done it.

The next phase was gearing up for the British Lions matches in Melbourne and Sydney, but first I had someone very special to see.

My best mate, Mark, lives in Germany. His sister, Sue, and mum, Mary, live in Adelaide. Mary had kindly offered me to stay with her whilst I was in Adelaide, so that was my next stop.

 A hot shower with clean fluffy towels, a huge chicken dinner with a bottle of red wine, and a big comfy bed with an electric blanket ....... oh boy, it was fantastic to be looked after, and even being told off, when it looked like I wasn’t going to eat all of the meal for three that had been put in front of me, was brilliant!!

Mary’s energy and enthusiasm belies the fact that she is in her mid 80’s and the next morning, armed only with a wheeled shopping trolley and a handbag that weighed as much as a VW Beetle, we set  for my introductory tour.

 

 

Adelaide, the state capital of South Australia, differs from the other state capitals in that it was not convict based in origin, ie it was settled by free men as a British province. It is nowadays regarded as a real ‘des res’ having been voted Australia’s most liveable city for the last three years.

My first impressions were good, a super tram system took us to the lovely, palindromic beach resort of Glenelg, with its elegant walkways, marina, restaurants and a fascinating local museum.

 

The next few days I continued to explore the city and nothing I saw caused me to change my views about it. The buses and trains compliment the tram system to make getting around easy and, with the correct travel pass, quite economical. There are plenty of parks and many quality attractions including museums, botanical gardens, shopping malls, art galleries, a zoo and a very famous central market.

I was going to be in Adelaide for a few weeks when Mark joined me in August and therefore I didn’t rush about too much, preferring to try and give my foot a break. Mary and I did have another day out in Port Adelaide, where there are many very well preserved customs buildings one of which is now the excellent maritime museum, with a realistic exhibit highlighting the hardships of early emigration from the UK.

 

Of increasing importance was the rugby, but, it appeared, only to me. I had watched the first test from Brisbane in the company of just a bar man and a visiting Kiwi, in a huge cavern of a pub, South Australia has no interest in union. Things would be different in Melbourne and I was so looking forward to it.

Melbourne is a 12 hour train journey from Adelaide and again my train pass meant that I was able to travel on The Overlander for $28 return!! I will not try and build any false anticipation ........ there and back, not one sodding kangaroo, this was now becoming a bit of a bore.

The trip was pretty much the same as the Ghan had been south from Alice, wheat and sheep all the way. The carriage and facilities were blue rather than red but otherwise identical. The one stark contrast, and this was much vaunted by the train supervisor over the tannoy, was that we were half an hour early getting into Melbourne!

I had been offered an apartment to use in Melbourne by Mark’s brother, (Thanks Glynn), and as luck would have it a mate of mine, Adam, was also staying in the same area, so getting to St Kilda was my first objective. Melbourne has a transport system that does not accept cash! You need to buy a card, for which they charge you $6, and top it up every few trips, once I worked this out I was off.

It is a far bigger and busier city than Adelaide, over 4 times the population, and the transport rolling stock was much older and noisier, but to me the most noticeable first impression of Melbourne was nothing to do with architecture, culture or infrastructure, it was the incredible number of British Lions supporters. The streets, the pubs, the restaurants, the shops .... everywhere was red, it was staggering.

The search was on for a ticket and they were few and far between, as ever there were stories of ridiculous sums being paid but I was determined to keep to my long time rule of not paying over face value, but by lunchtime it wasn’t looking good.

From the main station to the Ethiad stadium is a breeze, as there is a walkway that links the two and the first thing I saw as I got to the stadium plaza was a ticket booth with a small queue, which I optimistically joined. An hour later me and the 200 plus people that were now queing were told that there were to be no sales......the clock was ticking.

DHL had a few stands offering large placards to kids saying either ‘Go Lions’ or ‘Go Wallabies’ I managed to get one before it was sign written and made my own appeal for a ticket, ending it ‘Diolch’. Twenty minutes later I was going, to what could be a series winning Lions test match, and I still had time for a few beers.

The ticket was a Gold ticket, but was $240, face value, and I got it from a bloke from Barry!! I was staggered by how much it cost but took a view that Gold should be a great seat and this could be an historical game. Unfortunately I was wrong on both counts.

The seat was beyond the try line, in the corner, 6 rows from the back of the huge stand, and the game  .....  well we all remember the heartbreak of that last kick.

The next day I spent a few hours, on an overcast, drizzly day, doing the bus tour of Melbourne, before visiting an exhibition of the works of Monet, - which incidentally was not a patch on what we’ve got in Cardiff - and shopping for provisions for my journey back to Adelaide, and falling for the old ‘ It’s just a couple of blocks mate .....’ gag, after asking for directions to Woolworths (which here is predominantly a food outlet).

Then I was on the return leg to Adelaide but I don’t think I really gave Melbourne a fair chance. The combination of inclement weather, a loss in the rugby, which always makes me a bit negative, and a worsening foot, overshadowed things a bit.

It has a very interesting and multicultural history, a plethora of sporting facilities and events, notably the Ethiad, a Grand Prix circuit and the ever impressive MCG, a huge and prestigious university and all the  architectural trappings of what once was amongst the most wealthy cities in the world, on the back of the Australian gold rush.

On my return journey to Adelaide I thought about maybe having another crack at Melbourne if I had the time, but I thought far more about the Lions in Sydney the following Saturday.......