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.......

The Red Centre

(Apologies for the change of appearance of this blog  half way through but I have tried everything and cannot correct it  !)

Five hours, two stops, one at a camel farm, where a very photogenic emu

 
tried to eat my camera,

                                                        and one at a cattle station, which was the size of Belgium (!!), honestly, and we were in sight of The Rock...............or so we thought! Actually we were all busy photographing Mt. Connor

 

 

and it was another 100kms before the ‘biggest rock on the planet’ came into view..........or is it the 2^nd biggest?? (Look up the Uluru/Mt Augustus : monolith/monocline debate if you’re interested).

Uluru/Ayers Rock,

                   

uniquely, officially has two names, the first is the ancient aboriginal name, the second, and more widely used, is the name given to it by the surveyor William Gosse, who discovered it in 1873, honouring the Chief Secretary of South Australia, Sir Henry Ayers.

 It is regarded, by aborigines as a most sacred place, in particular to the local Anagu tribe, who own it and the surrounding lands. The aborigines were incredible story tellers and there are tales, known as dreamtime, relating to nearly every hole, scar, cave and gash in the rock, all of which remain visible due to the lack of vegetation growing on its flanks.
It’s stats are ….

·         348 metres (1141 feet) high

·         3.6 km long (2.2 miles)

·         1.9 km wide (1.2 miles)

·         9.4 km or 5.8 miles around the base

·         area 3.33 km² (1.29 miles²)

·         and, it is estimated, it extends several km/miles into the ground (no-one knows exactly how far!)

 

It’s a big old boy, incredibly impressive and, as I walked around it, I thought, it had a strange, almost calming aura about it, which sounds a bit strange for something that, after all is just a rock. This might be something to do with the quiet – you really are hundreds of miles from civilization, apart from the occasional buzz of the sightseeing helicopters overhead, perhaps coupled with the fact that there appeared to be a complete lack of wildlife in the area.

We were told that the water in the area is amongst the most contaminated in Australia!! The explanation opens a contentious issue.

Whilst in the ownership of the local tribe, it is leased back to the Australian government on a long term lease. The government allows anyone to climb the rock and there is even a chain handrail leading to the top. The aborigines ask people to respect the site and not climb, as the site is of great significance to them.
 

 

They liken it to allowing the public to clamber over our important religious and historical monuments.

Despite this, when the weather permits, hundreds still climb it daily. It is a steep climb that usually takes a few hours and, especially in the heat of summer, some people get sick, additionally there are no toilet facilities – can you see where I am going with this? ….. when it rains, all of this human waste is washed off the rock, into the water system surrounding it, it has nowhere else to go … hey presto … chronic pollution = no wildlife.

The rock itself is intriguing and there are pools, overhanging areas which, evidence reveals, were used as shelters, kitchens and meeting places, sheer cliffs that turn into magnificent waterfalls when it rains and rock paintings

                                           

                                           

The rock has one thing that it is most famous for and that is its apparent ability to change colour, notably at sunset and sunrise. Of course it is actually the way that we see the light reflected off the rocks surface that changes, but still it is an impressive display, BUT it depends on the sun/clouds playing their part and we were out of luck but for about 30 seconds when the top of the rock seemed to glow
 

                           
 

 as if it contained an electric bar fire element (ask your mum if you don’t understand this).

Obviously, having just seen the sunset, it was getting dark as we headed off to camp but the fun was just starting. On our way to the rock we had stopped and collected a roof rack full of fallen timber from the side of the road and the first job was to unload this and build a huge campfire.

The camp facilities were very basic, we occupied one of several purpose built areas that consisted of a covered eating area with 10 trestle tables, a truck battery, to which we hooked up 3 pretty dull lamps, a sink with cold water and 8 small tents. There were toilet/shower facilities 400 yards away which were very good, but no lighting anywhere, and in such a remote place it was very dark.

In the near darkness 3 volunteers, and Kate and Mick the tour organizers, mucked in and chopped, sliced, stirred, boiled on the open fire, a pile of food from the cool box in the trailer to present us all with quite a passable pasta and camel Bolognese with garlic bread supper and then it was swag time.

A swag is a rolled, thick canvas sleeping bag which incorporates a thin spongy base into which you put your own sleeping bag. The choice was to put this in a tent or around the camp fire and, as it looked like a reasonable, but a little cloudy night, most of us agreed that the tents were for wimps and we would sleep under the stars (even if we couldn’t see them).

At the cattle station we had had the chance to get some supplies and I had been given a steer (no pun intended!) that the home grown  port was the drop to go for. The very modestly named number (!!)
 

                         
 

proved as good as its word as the embers glowed, the temperature dropped and the dingos began to howl in the distance (which sent two young girls from the Black Forest to seek refuge under canvas      ……..wimps).

T shirt, shirt, fleece and sleeping bag wrapped around a 56 inch chest meant that my swag was snug! No problem for keeping warm but, when I woke at 4.30am and tried to turn skywards, it was as if I had been buried horizontally in concrete. It took about 5 minutes to wriggle enough to employ my ‘Houdini out of the straight jacket’ technique and get the zip down enough to start the rotation procedure. When eventually I did get to turn 45 degrees the rewards were totally disproportionate to my frustrations, as the clouds had disappeared and the view was incredible.

I had seen the stars from the desert in Dubai, from a safari park in Sri Lanka, from the banks of the Meekong in Laos, from a beach in the Catlans National Park in the far south of New Zealand, all pretty remote places, but here WOW!!! There seemed to be twice as many stars packed into the darkness than I had ever seen and the Milky Way looked as if someone had skidded across the heavens on a silver tyre. It was magical but it was all short lived.

In order to catch sunrise over the Olgas, another rocky outcrop not too far from Ayers Rock, we had to leave camp before 6am, so, before 5am it was time to start the pre departure activities of ablutions, breakfast, clean everything, pack everything and with 22 sleepy heads to organize, in total darkness, without waking the rest of the camp site it was challenging …. but successfully achieved.

Nature just wasn’t playing ball again, and sunrise was a non event as the clouds refused to break,
 

so, a little disappointed and bleary eyed we all set off to walk the Olgas or Kata Tjuta as it is properly named. It is part of the same National Park as Uluru but differs from it as here there are some 36 domed ‘heads’ of rock formed by  erosion over millions of years. The 6 mile walk was too much for my poor foot and so I did the first mile and went back to the bus, very slowly, to wait for my mates, but the scenery was terrific, in fact as opposed to the yomping I had plenty of time to look about and really soak in the beauty of this extraordinary landscape.

A DIY sandwich lunch and then it was off again for another 3 ½ hours, including stopping for firewood collection, to our next camp site  which we reached in daylight, which made the whole thing so much easier.

Three things to mention here.

First, in all the places that I have been to so far, in fact I would say in my life, I have never seen so many flies as there were in this area. They were everywhere and had no reservation about trying to get into your mouth when you talked and even seemed to want to get in your eyes!! How do the locals deal with it? Well this is the whole thing about corks on the hat.

Secondly my overriding memory of the countryside is the amount of tree ‘litter’ there is. Tens of thousands, probably hundreds of thousands of trees stand with anything from small branches to huge limbs strewn around their bases. It seems to be irrespective of the type, size even age of tree but it is staggering how often you see this.

Thirdly still no sign of a bloody kangaroo!!

Another triumph in the art of one pot camp fire tucker, as a chickeny, sweet and soury. stewy thing was served up followed by a good old Australian outback favourite, a damper (look it up) and then it was a chance to polish off the port around a roaring fire until the rain got too heavy and we wimped into our tents to our swags.

 

                      

There was a definite theme on this tour which was, make sure everyone has to get up before the sun and the last day was no exception. The maths were easy 1 ½ hour drive, 3 ½ hour walk, 5 hour drive home plus bbq lunch and wc/petrol stop = 12 hours. Leave site at 5am = get home before dark, and that was how it worked.

We were bound for Kings Canyon, another Red Centre attraction. Again my hoof dictated me taking the easy option and I took the canyon floor walk whilst the others climbed up to do the rim walk.
 

 

                                                   

Their views were fab, especially of the sheer canyon walls, but quite honestly I didn’t feel too deprived as the canyon walk was really impressive and I was getting to the stage where I actually wanted to be resting not tackling hundreds of steps.

The rest of the day went well and I made up for not seeing a pesky kangaroo by having a couple of extra kangaroo sausages at the lunchtime bbq, that’ll teach ‘em.

Overall the tour had been great, the well informed and good humoured guides had worked very hard –  all that driving, cooking, organizing of 22 people, most of them German and Swiss and supervision of a trainee tour guide, by Kate (24 years old). I wish I could done a little bit more but I was trying to protect myself from further damage whilst not missing out completely.

Tired,



 

some more than others, we got back to Alice, went out for a couple of pints with a few others that were staying overnight and then headed back to the digs for a good nights sleep before the next phase …… rejoin the Ghan and head south.