And so begins the end. My journey home, concluding my odyssey which has seen me visit or pass through 14 countries, 13 capital cities and 12 time zones. Covering nearly 45000 miles in 183 days, averaging 250 miles each day using boats, planes, cars, trains, buses and motorbikes, and seeing all four seasons in the space of six months.
My return trip began in Auckland, New Zealand. Not much of my itinerary had been pre-booked before I left England on the 19th December last year. However, I had arranged my home-bound flights. My plan was to leave New Zealand on the 13th June and fly to Muscat, Oman, via Abu Dhabi. Originally, I was to meet my brother-in-law and his partner in Muscat where he is due to begin a new job. Unfortunately, after booking the flights, Matt's plans changed slightly, meaning they wouldn't now be there at the same time as me.
My itinerary set, I decided to stick with the basic travel plan and maybe get some diving in instead. A few days before I was due to leave, I booked the diving and some accommodation, so had somewhere to stay and something to do. However, life never quite goes to plan, as I should well know. Having been travelling for just short of six months, I've been quite fortunate in that, although often random and impulsive, my many transfers had gone as expected and I, along with my dunnage, had usually arrived together and intact at our expected destination. This was now to change.
Arriving at Auckland airport on Thursday 13th, I presented myself at the Air New Zealand check-in desk in preparation of my flight. Having divested myself of much of my belongings on my trip, either by sending home in advance or giving to a worthy cause, I only had two items of luggage. My rucksack, containing clothes and the usual travel paraphernalia one acquires, and a didgeridoo that I picked up in Cairns. As Air New Zealand's baggage allowance will only allow for one piece of checked in luggage, I had used my packaging skills from my previous life in freight forwarding, to combine the two items. This culminated in one piece of baggage within the weight and dimensions restrictions, albeit a rather odd shape. Consequently, it was classed as 'outsized' and 'fragile' so received special handling, but avoided the criminally large excess baggage fee that the airline had been intending to charge me.
Having made my way to the departure lounge and settled down with a drink and my book, I awaited the anticipated boarding time of 17:30. As the time approached, I noticed that the flight schedule board was showing a delay of one hour for my flight. This was a concern as the transfers in both Sydney and Abu Dhabi were quite tight and this would make it more so. As the time passed, the delay advice increased and, eventually, an announcement told us that, due to a technical problem, we were being switched to a different aircraft. Boarding the new plane, we eventually departed Auckland at 20:30 - some three hours later than expected. There was no way that the connections would now be met and the airline offered to accommodate me overnight and then put me on a flight the following afternoon.
Arriving in Sydney at about 23:00, I went to collect my bag! However, it didn't appear and, following enquiries, it turned out that it had not been transferred when the aircraft was substituted. So, it was still in Auckland and was now playing catch up. I had some hand luggage, but this consisted largely of my camera, things I might want whilst travelling and some items too valuable or fragile to entrust to checked in luggage. Other than what I was wearing, I had no clothes.
Air New Zealand had booked me into the Ridges hotel outside the terminal. So I checked in and got my head down in the sure knowledge that tomorrow would be a long day.
The onward flight was on Etihad and, boarding on time, I found myself in another delay. As the minutes ticked by, there was no sign that our aircraft was going anywhere. I had been allocated a seat by an emergency exit, which was great as it offered a little extra leg room. When the steward came to explain our additional responsibilities (ie opening the door if we crash) she was closely followed by a technical engineer who, on examining the door, tutted and sucked his teeth. Whatever was causing the delay, we were sat next to it!
We continued to wait, amid the occasional apology from the captain. After about 15 minutes, another technician arrived. He proceeded to open the emergency exit and look at the hinges and latches. Again, there was much head shaking and sharp intakes of breath. He was closely followed by a senior technician and the captain. They looked at the door and spoke to each other in hushed tones before heading back down the aisle. I and my fellow passengers were, by now, giggling hysterically. Our mirth compounded when, a few minutes later, the original technician reappeared with...a roll of duct tape! He proceeded to tear off a few strips of tape and, with great care, cover the illuminated sign that declared 'emergency exit'. When he had finished this task, he stood back to admire his handiwork and, just before leavening, turned to me and my travelling companion and, with the straightest of straight faces said 'don't use that door'!
With the source of consternation disguised, as effectively as uneaten school dinner under a crossed knife and fork, our flight was soon airborne. We settled back into our seats in the sure knowledge that all must be ok. I always fly with the, maybe naive, certainty that the pilot doesn't want to die either!
The rest of the flight was uneventful and, with a brief stop in Abu Dhabi, I arrived in the searing heat of the Omani capital, Muscat, a few hours later.
I was still without my bags and a conversation with the local baggage handling agent confirmed that they were still in Auckland...or perhaps in Sydney...or they might be on a flight the Abu Dhabi or Muscat as we spoke! In any even, my transfer was waiting to take me to my lodgings, south of the airport.
It transpired that I was billeted in the house of Rob, the guy with whom I had arranged accommodation and diving. He is an British ex-pat who had given up sensible work to set up a business organising and running adventure holidays in Oman. On discovering my lack of clothing, he kindly lent me a couple of t-shirts and took me to a local shopping area to get some underwear. I suspect that the previous 12 hours of travelling was beginning to make its mark!
Rob was a great host and, as I was the only guest, it felt like I was staying in a mate's house rather than being a guest. On the following morning, with Rob's help, I rented a car and driver and took a tour of old Muscat. I have rarely been so thankful for air conditioning. With temperatures in the 40's (new money), within minutes of getting out of the car to have a walk around the old port, I was dripping wet with perspiration.
On my second day, I went on the dive trip that Rob had arranged for me. As many people will know of me, I love scuba diving and, as a rule, no dive is a bad dive. We had an hours speedboat ride in the general direction of Iraq to get to the first dive site. I have to admit, the dive itself was quite average. Lovely warm and clear water and a fair bit of 'life' to see, but nothing much more than I had already seen in Thailand and on the Great Barrier Reef. The second dive started no better, but, as I said, I always take a dive as an experience.
Now, for those non-divers reading, the next bit might get a bit technical, but I will try to elucidate. Don't worry too much about what the numbers mean, but, generally speaking one dives with a tank containing 200bar of air (or there abouts). Regulation stipulates that one should surface, at the end of the dive, with no less than 50bar. Towards the end of the dive, in order to avoid decompression sickness (the bends), one should spend the last three minutes of the dive at a depth of five metres. Therefore, it is important to time your dive so that, after your decompression (deco) stop, you hit the surface on 50bar of air, or greater.
On this occasion, as we reached five meters to start our deco stop, into sight came 4.5 metres of juvenile whale shark! These are magnificent creatures and, being plankton eaters, are harmless to humans. Usually, I am told, they are shy and keep clear of divers. But this one was curious and swam, with amazing grace, between us. It was as if it had chosen to join our deco stop and it kept at five metres, allowing us to remain in its company without compromising our safety (too much).
Just to clarify, at five metres, once one has completed the three minute deco stop, one can hit the surface in a matter of seconds. Looking at my companions and the dive masters, it was clear, not one of us was going to surface while the whale shark was with us and we had air to breath! It was as if our visitor knew the game. He/she/it swam between us for over 15 minutes until, probably bored by our lack of ability to provide food, it disappeared into the deep blue.
We ascended and regained our boat. Not one of us had more than 10bar in our tank. Did we care? Not in the slightest. This was one of the best dive experiences I had ever had and my only regret was that my shiny new dive camera was in my rucksack somewhere between Oman and Auckland!
The final stage of my journey home was without incident. Although, it was somewhat more luxurious than any other part of my journey. Due to a freak of opportunity created by Airmiles, my last leg, from Muscat to Heathrow, was first class on British Airways. The flight departed at midnight and, due to the time difference, arrived in London nine and a half hours later - at 06:30! The sensible thing to do, as did all of the other first class passengers, was to put the seat into its full bed position and sleep for the entire journey. Thus avoiding jet lag.
Following a brief 'snooze' after take off, I found myself wide awake. So, finding a film to watch I settled back in my, very comfortable, couchette. As the rest of the cabin slipped into silent slumber and sailed on a silvery mist, the cabin attendant asked if he could get me a drink.
'Hum' I considered 'do you have any champagne?'
'Of course Mr Mooney, I'll bring a glass straight out. '
This set the scene for the rest of the journey and some films and several champagnes later I was decanted from the aircraft in London.
I hadn't quite done 'Full Circle', but, to quote Bilbo Baggins, I had done 'There and Back Again.' With my feet well and truly back in Albion, I have had six months of adventure, new friends, new experiences, new fears and new joys. I have had time for reflection, time for contemplation and time for consideration. I still don't know what the future holds or where it will take me. But then, who does!
What I do know is that, for all of the miles I have travelled and all of the fascinating people I have met (many of whom I hope to keep in touch with) and all of the sights I have seen and all of the experiences that have shaped my magnificent journey, there really is No Place Like Home and, though I know there is still a great big chunk of this rock to see, and I intend to see it, I know I have the fortune that is my family and friends drawing me back...oh! And English beer.
Thank you for following my blog. I hope to go traveling again and, when I do, will pick up the threads of this missive.
