I’ve been trying to get to Australia for years, but for one reason or another I’ve never actually managed to find my way to the land of down under. Now though, at long last, I was finally in the country that many have told me I would fall in love with, I was at last in Australia.

My time in Australia was to be a lot shorter than I would have liked. A country that most travelers spend months in, I was visiting for just one week. With such limited time the choice of where to spend my time was an obvious one. It had to be Sydney.

As one of the most illustrious cities in the world Sydney has to be on your list of places you simply must see. It seems to lie back and bask in the sun in a way that only an Australian city could. Unruffled by the throng of the business that is done within it’s towering office blocks, Sydney stands among its peers with it’s top button undone and hair stylishly messy.

COUCH SURFING

I was ‘couch surfing’ while in Australia, that’s to say I didn’t stay in some forgettable budget hotel or hostel, but instead I was a guest in the homes of people who were kind enough to lend a traveller their couch and maybe a little of their time too.

It was the first time I’d ever ‘couch surfed’ anywhere after I joined the couch surfing website back in November. After making a few requests to stay on various couches (or spare rooms) just a few days before, three people offered to open their homes to me. I accepted two of these invitations.

I arrived at my first host’s apartment around 6pm. She welcomed me by saying she already had the kettle on for a cup of tea. “You’re an Englishman after all.” She told me, and a nice cup of tea is indeed a warm welcome for an Englishman on his travels. It didn’t take long before Kate’s welcome made me feel right at home in her apartment in Sydney, and “Wow!” I thought to myself, “I’m in Sydney!”

The couch surfing community in Sydney is quite extensive, so I was very quickly introduced to other hosts and surfers, an instant social group where travel is our commonality. Before long friendships were forming and plans to do stuff together were being hatched. Despite traveling alone, it soon became clear that there was no way I would be lonely.

MY TRUE ARRIVAL

Heading into the city for the first time I made my way to Circular Quay and Sydney’s iconic Opera House, one of the worlds most recognizable buildings. The place was thick with tourists slowly wandering around, posing for happy vacation pictures, looking at maps, and watching street performers. The sound of techno-enhanced didgeridoo music filled the air along with the constant drone of voices and footsteps.

I wandered slowly toward the Opera House, there was no hurry and I wanted to enjoy this introduction to such an unmistakable landmark. It was stunning, even more impressive up close than it was from afar. Covered in gleaming white and beige tiles I had to reach out and touch it, to claim the moment, like setting a flag in the ground after a voyage to an uncharted place. Millions of others have been here of course, but this was my first moment to stand beside this great building, this was my true arrival in Australia.

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER

The next day I made my way back into the city. Without a map or an agenda I meandered along enjoying the warmth of the sun on my face and the carefree pace of my stroll. I took a bus across the Harbour Bridge then made my way back across it on foot, stopping at the Pylon to take in the view across the harbour on this beautiful day.

I jumped a water taxi just for the ride, then wandered over to the Royal Botanical Gardens where I sat on the grass and watched a small plane write the words “Call Mum” in smoke against a clear blue sky. Had it not been the middle of the night back in the UK I would have done just that.

As I sat there a man wandered past who looked very familiar to me. It looked like Fabian the Spaniard whom I had met back in Aitutaki. Surely this couldn’t be, I thought to myself, after all what would be the chances of such a meeting in a city of four and a half million people, not to mention the fact that we had previously met one another on a South Pacific lagoon island more than 3000 miles away! Sure enough though, it was indeed Fabian. We laughed about the coincidence then met up with my new couch surfing host, Lisa, for some dinner and a couple of beers.

CHOPPER SQUAD

After taking a helicopter flight over Wellington in New Zealand, I’d developed a taste for the rush of helicopter flying, so I couldn’t resist the chance to take to the skies over Sydney Harbour in another helicopter.

My 9:30am tour flight took place in near perfect conditions. The sky was clear and the air was still, even the pilot himself said that we had chanced upon the best moment to take such a flight.

Sitting up front next to pilot as the noise of the rotor blades increased made me feel once more like I was the host of some TV travel show. These tours aren’t cheap but they’re worth every penny. Seeing the harbour, the Opera House, and the beaches from this unique perspective is priceless and the sheer thrill of the experience once again left me grinning from ear to ear.

Back on solid ground I met up with fellow couch surfer, Dirk, and a local whom we had met a couple of days before called Lisa. She was friends with my host, also called Lisa, and had kindly agreed to play tour guide for the day.

We jumped a ferry over to the Aquarium where we saw everything from crocodiles to dugongs, and anemones to sharks. Then we took another ferry over to Manly Beach where we felt decidedly over dressed as we watched surfers inexhaustibly ride the waves.

Rushing back into the city for sunset we made our way to the observation deck of the Sydney Tower just in time to see the sky turn red as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Then as darkness fell over the city it changed again like a chameleon adapting to its new surroundings.

THE SUNSHINE COAST

Away from Sydney I took off to the Sunshine Coast and a small beach town called Coolum, where I stayed with some friends of friends. Phil, Cathy, their kids and their friends were typically Australians, laid back and friendly, making me feel like one of the family within no time.

I spent much of my time there just relaxing and taking a few deep breathes after what had been a surprisingly tiring travel schedule. I did, however, visit the colorful Eumundi Market at Noosa which reminded me of London’s Camden Market, or Portland’s Saturday Market. I also trekked up Mount Coolum with Cathy and the gang of kids, walked along the beaches avoiding the long stinger threads of bluebottle jellyfish that had become stranded by the tide, and of course joined the family on a surfing trip.

But no trip to Australia would be complete without seeing it’s world famous wildlife, and I was lucky enough to see just that starting with a fair few encounters of wild kangaroos, then a rare sighting of a koala in the trees.

From Coolum I was scheduled to fly back to Sydney to catch a connection onto my next and final stop in Hong Kong. But Lisa, my second couch surfing host in Sydney, had suggested that I should join her for those last few hours in Australia rather than spend them in the airport terminal.

BONDI BONUS

It turned out to be an inspired idea that gave me the opportunity to see the bright colors of Bondi Beach. Here the day was getting off to a slow beginning after what I’m quite sure had been a long night for all those who were now looking at the day through dark glasses and the haze of a late morning start.

Knowing that time would be limited Lisa had prepared a picnic and even made me a cake ahead of my birthday the following day. It was without a doubt a great way to spend my last few hours in Australia.

NOT SO FAR

Australia had been calling my name for years. People told me that I would fall in love with this country and that if I came here I would never leave. In another life that might well have been true, but as I sat there in the airport with my onward plane ticket in my hand, I was indeed leaving Australia.

It was a brief encounter, arresting like the striking smile of a passing stranger. Each of those moments felt like déjà vu, as if Australia and I had history we weren’t aware of, or maybe a history that’s yet to come.

So while this was the end of my time in Australia I couldn’t help but feel that maybe this was really just the beginning, and that while it is indeed on the other side of the world, Australia is not as far as it once was.

—

[Video] Sydney Skies- Circular Quay
Couchsurfing.com
Long Way Home : New Zealand
Long Way Home : The Cook Islands
Long Way Home : California USA
Long Way Home : The route

After the tropical paradise of Aitutaki the ‘Long Way Home’ was set for a total change of pace. Greeted at the airport by the smiling faces of my great friends Phil and Kerry-anne, the feel of the trip changed in an instant. The Cook Islands quickly felt like ‘back then’ and America felt like a distant memory, now I was on the other side of the world and in New Zealand.

Phil and Kerry-anne moved from the UK to New Zealand in May, a bold life-changing decision less than a year after they were married. Phil was born in New Zealand but hadn’t returned to his mother country since he was a young child, and Kerry-anne had never even seen this side of the world until the day they arrived in Wellington on the North Island to begin their new life here! However, they quickly settled here and it didn’t take long to see why the pair of them spoke so highly of their new home.

WELLINGTON

I spent the first couple of days hanging out with Phil and visiting various sites around Wellington. Dressed for the summer weather and drinking a fruit smoothie I kept forgetting that it was Christmas as we wandered into the city past sun-bathers on the sandy beaches that reach out into the crystal clear harbour. It felt bizarre to me to see carol singers in shorts and t-shirts, shops with Christmas themed windows, and decorated Christmas trees baking under the summer blue sky.

Expensive looking homes seemed to sit precariously close to one another on the impossibly steep hills that overlook the city, looking dangerously like they would all fall into the harbor if their was even the slightest earth tremor. However, New Zealand is no stranger to earthquakes and tremors here aren’t at all uncommon.

Not far from Phil and Kerry-anne’s apartment there are the beaches of Lyall Bay where we went looking for colorful Paua shells and where surfers were riding the waves. Just walking here made me realise that Phil and Kerry-anne were never likely to return to the UK for more than a visit, after all, why would they?

Day two of the New Zealand trip featured a definite highlight in the form of a helicopter tour over Wellington. Neither Phil or I had been in a helicopter before and as the weather was clear we decided it was the ideal opportunity to give it a go.

It was a perfect ‘boys toys’ moment for the pair of us! I got such a rush of excitement as we left the ground and took to the skies over the city. The sound of the Robinson R44’s engine was wonderfully loud and as we swept over the hills surrounding Wellington with the pilot pointing out the various sites, I felt like I was the host on one of those TV travel shows you watch with envious eyes. Long after we had landed I was still buzzing from the thrill of the ride.

On Christmas day, after unwrapping gifts at the apartment and making various phone calls to family back in the UK, we headed off to friends of Phil and Kerry-anne’s for a beautiful Christmas brunch complete with Christmas crackers and paper crowns! I could have stayed there all day but Phil had meticulously planned an incredible whirlwind tour of the North Island which we needed to get underway.

On open roads we made our way through the beautiful rolling countryside to Lake Taupo, the largest fresh water lake in Australasia. Our accommodation for most of the trip was going to be Phil’s new tent, but for this night he had booked a suite at a hotel next to the lake.

COMPLIMENTARY BAD WINE

Kerry-anne, being a true Merseyside girl, was elated to find a complimentary bottle of local wine in the room. Unfortunately I will remember that wine as being without a doubt the foulest tasting nastiness that ever bore the name wine, but as we said at the time, it was a nice gesture on the part of the hotel.

On the evening of Christmas day the three of us went for a walk along the lakeside. The lady who ran the hotel had told us to wade a little way into the water on the shore of the lake then dig our feet down a little to feel warmth of underwater hydrothermal activity. The water was ice cold, but sure enough, as we dug our feet a little way into the pebbles we found hot water.

We stood there for ages, yelping like small children as we felt the hot water hit the soles of our feet. Then as the sun began to set and the three of us sat on the banks of the lake and watched as the sky as it turned the most amazing shades or red and orange.

The next day we jumped back into the car and began another long day of driving, heading to Waitomo and so see the glowworm caves and our first night in the tent.

THE PASSENGER AIR BAG

As a passenger in the car I was privy to witness how Kerry-anne assists Phil with his driving. She helps Phil find the optimum driving method by repeadetdly advising him to “slow down, slow down, slow down, slow down!!” She also dutifully assists Phil by pointing out each and every single speed limit sign and saying that limit out loud in a clear manner so as there can be no misunderstanding. This is then often followed quickly with another helpful “slow down, slow down” instruction. Sadly Kerry-anne’s assistance doesn’t include map reading or any useful navigational aid, but without her loving assistance Phil would surely be nothing short of a menace on the roads of New Zealand.

However, on this road-trip Kerry-anne was unable to fully assist Phil due to the fact that she was in the back seat of the vehicle. Because of this Phil was completely unable to read any and all road signs and therefore unfortunately drove a little to fast at one point which caught the attention of a nearby police officer who then pulled us over and issued Phil with his first New Zealand speeding ticket. Needless to say Kerry-anne was extremely sorry that she failed to prevent this from happening, but from that moment on she increased her helpful driving assistance from the back seat which I could tell Phil really appreciated.

CAMPING

Upon arriving in Waitomo I’d like to say that I helped Phil put the tent up. However, that simply wouldn’t be true. I did offer to help, but as I stood there holding tent poles and pegs I felt a little bit like I do whenever I watch someone work on my car which works entirely by magic as far as I’m concerned.

It’s fair to say that I am not really a camping kind of guy, but that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the experience. I’m just waiting for the invention of the self erecting tent that comes complete with heating, a hot tub, wifi internet, maid service, a restaurant and a comfortable bed. But until that time the tent we had was great.

The glowworm caves were amazing, but there was no photography allowed and no point even trying as there was insufficient light. In near total darkness we we’re taken through the caves on a small boat. Looking up at the hundreds of thousands of glowworms was amazing because they looked exactly like a starry night sky.

The next stop was Rotarua, famous for it’s geothermal activity, erupting geysers, bubbling hot mud pools and thermal springs. The place is something of a tourist hotspot and has earned the rather cynical nickname of ‘RotaVegas’ as a result. Here the air is thick with the pungent smell of sulphur due to vast amount of thermal activity in the area.

The Whakarewarewa Geothermal Valley is the thinnest point of the earths crust, and there we visited Te Puia, The New Zealand Maori Arts and Crafts Institute. A guide told us about Maori history and culture as we walked through the cultural centre where people were weaving and carving traditional Maori art. We also saw bubbling mud pools and watched Pohutu, their most famous geyser, spectacularly erupt sending steaming hot water high into the air.

CHIEF SIMON

That evening we went to the Mitai Maori Village where we ate a great feast and enjoyed a display of Maori culture. While there I was made a Chief of the ‘visiting tribe’ of tourists. I didn’t think this would involve anything much until our guide informed me that I must take this seriously because I was going to have to meet their tribal Chief and make a speech in front of everyone! Phil said that at this point I looked more nervous then than I did when I had to give my best man speech as his wedding!

In the end it was a fun experience and I thoroughly enjoyed being a visiting Chief. Once again I felt like the host on some TV travel show as I had to take part in the Powhiri (Maori welcome) ceremony. A Maori warrior did a Haka intimidation dance in front of me whereupon I had to accept a peace offering before meeting the Chief, giving my speech and doing the Hongi, a traditional greeting where you touch noses.

After that I just enjoyed the rest of the evenings events and lapped up all the attention of being ‘Chief Simon,’ a title which I think I shall keep, though I won’t require any further Hongi greetings!

Phil’s meticulously planned non-stop whirlwind tour allowed us the luxury of a hotel in Rotorua and after breakfast the next morning all three of us were booked in at the famous Polynesian Spa where we chilled out in their hot mineral spas and had treatments. I had a Rotorua Mud Detoxifying Body Wrap which involved being wrapped up like a Fajita in warm mud for a while – a pretty weird experience, but you know how it is… “When in Rome…”

The rain, which Kerry-anne doesn’t want to believe falls in New Zealand, caught up with us at Mt Maunganui in the Bay of Plenty. From there our next stop was a town called Whakatane which is rather comically pronounced “fuk-a-taane.’ Being a comical kind of fellow I made a few wise cracks about it sounding like a fun place, that was until I found out that Tanne is the Maori word for men! After that I made a few jokes about needing to find a place called Whakawahine, Wahini being the Maori word for women. However I’ve since discovered that whakawahine is a Maori male to female transgender, so I am no longer going to even try and make any Maori language jokes.

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

At Ohope Bay I cast a message in a bottle into the Bay of Plenty with the romantic notion that it might make a fantastic journey to somewhere exotic. However, against the rain and incoming tide the bottle had little chance of going anywhere, and sure enough 2 days later, almost exactly where I threw it into the bay, Andrea Deane found the bottle and reported its rather pitiful journey to me via email.

Leaving the rain behind us we took to the notoriously winding roads once more and threaded our way through misty forest roads and on to Napier, New Zealand’s wine country.

We spent New Years Eve in Napier and even visited the beach for the last evening of the year, a novel experience given that back in the UK this would almost certainly be a biting cold day.

After a particularly late night I wasn’t overly excited to hear the alarm go off at the crack of dawn, but Phil and I had agreed to get up at that time to watch the worlds first sunrise of 2009. It was worth it though, and something of a buzz to know we were greeting the first dawn of 2009 before anyone else in the world.

Later that day, as we drove back to Wellington I have to admit I felt a little blue. My time in New Zealand was drawing to a close as was my time with my friends whom I probably won’t see again for quite some time.

AN AMAZING TIME

Our road-trip was amazing. Phil had single handedly organized the packed itinerary with his only demand on me being nothing more than my presence. He drove every mile of the journey and made sure that we were happy and entertained the entire time. Every day was exhaustively packed with things to do and places to see, much of which I haven’t touched on here.

The next day at the airport I was sad to be leaving. But as one chapter of the Long Way Home was ending so another was about to begin. Having travelled to the other side of the globe my next location on the trip would be a country I have dreamed of visiting for many many years. The next stop would be Australia.

—

[Video] The message in a bottle
[Video] Putting up the tent
Long Way Home : The Cook Islands
Long Way Home : California USA
Long Way Home : The route

I’ve often looked at pictures in magazines of people strolling along white beaches beside impossibly turquoise water under a perfect blue sky and wondered, with somewhat envious eyes, if I might ever get to see a place like that. I suspected that such places only existed in the enhanced world or travel brochures and torturous office calenders. I now know that not to be the case, because I have been to one such place. I’ve been to paradise, and it was just somewhere along the path I’m taking on my long way home.

After a night flight from Los Angeles it’s still dark when my plane lands at Rarotonga airport in the Cook Islands. Any sleep I might have gotten was insignificant in terms of rest, but as I peer out of the small airplane window I can make out the silhouettes of palm trees on the backdrop of a Polynesian dawn and my excitement extinguishes any tiredness I might have had.

As we walk down the steps of the plane, like touring rock stars from the 1970’s, a singing man greets us. It’s not screaming fans or even ladies with those flowers to put around your neck, but nonetheless when compared to the usual snarling immigration officer, this is easily the warmest welcome to a country I’ve ever had.

With my onward flight to Aitutaki was not leaving until later that afternoon I decided to leave the tiny airport and take the short walk to the Aquarius hotel for breakfast. Once there I discover that the owner, Cameron, comes from the same place in the UK where I live. He’s a friendly guy, chatting and offering me cups of tea. Our geographic familiarity might have contributed to Cameron’s friendly and generous nature as he allowed me to use the hotels facilities to freshen up, though something tells me that such generosity isn’t all that uncommon in these parts anyway.

Oddly enough my first task after breakfast was to walk to the local police station to take my driving test and obtain a license that would enable me to rent a scooter while I was in the Cook Islands. The test consisted of riding a scooter around the block with a policeman following close behind on a motorcycle. “I’m pleased to tell you that you passed.” He tells me as we circle back to the police station, and as I pay my $25 (NZD) for the plastic license I wonder if anyone has ever failed.

I spent the rest of my time in “Raro” riding the scooter through the rain that had unexpectedly descended on the island like bank robbers in a morning heist. I didn’t see much of anything really, a few beaches here and there, but mainly the shelter of a bus stop that protected me from the rain.

A fellow traveler had referred to Rarotonga as “Rainytonga” and it was living up to that name. “Aitutaki is different. I promise it won’t disappoint you.” He said, and as I sat in that little bus shelter soaked to the skin I hoped he would be right in that regard too.

PARADISE FOUND

On my arrival in Aitutaki I had to hitch a ride on the back of a pickup truck. I was supposed to have been collected but there was some kind of mixup with the arrival time, but this was no big deal and in fact only seemed to add to the relaxed pace that was already clearly a way of life here. I held the packages and the pickup driver took me to right to the door of where I was supposed to be, and even helped me with my luggage!

I set my bags down, then looked around. “Slow down sweet freind” read a nearby pained road sign. The misspelling obviously hadn’t worried anyone but either way I was happy to take the advice. Slow down indeed, I thought to myself. That’s exactly what I planned to do.

Aitutaki sits on a breathtaking turquoise coral reef lagoon made up of 14 mostly uninhabited islets that are surrounded by beautiful palm-fringed white beaches. It is no exaggeration to describe the place as a paradise that is largely unspoiled and as yet undiscovered by the sun seeking masses. It’s a quiet and unpretentious place where the locals smile and wave at you as they pass on the street.

I spent my first night in the Amuri Guest House run by a friendly local couple and popular with backpackers. Following that I stayed in a treehouse on Matriki Beach. To wake up to the sound of waves and be able to just walk right out onto the beach from my treehouse was just pure bliss.

While I suspect some visitors to Aitutaki probably don’t stray far from the beach, I just had to explore. I trekked across the main island on my rented moped which I nearly crashed horribly while foolishly trying to climb to the highest point on the island on a track of lose coral rock and sand. Not wishing to meet my death in paradise I decided to park the bike and walk to the peak where I sat and watched the sun set.

On another day I ventured into the jungle like forest. Locals had assured me that there are no creatures in Aitutaki that can harm a human more than the occasional mosquito bite.

Snorkeling in the lagoon is a must. I took a lagoon cruise on “the yellow boat” which stops to allow guests to snorkel and explore the reef. It was just awesome swimming around with fish that I’ve only ever seen in tropical marine tanks. I even found myself face to face with a scary looking Moray Eel!

I rented a kayak and ventured out onto the lagoon to explore some of the uninhabited little islets. This was just magical, if a little hard work. I made my way from island to island and didn’t see another soul for the entire time. Each islet I went to was beautiful but completely deserted. I suspect this is why they were chosen as locations for the TV shows Shipwrecked and Survivor.

A few times I felt like pinching myself because I could hardly believe that places like this were real. The colors were so rich and vibrant and the beaches so perfect and unspoiled that everywhere looked like the picture of paradise.

I met a whole host of travelers on the island ranging from backpackers to honeymooners, marine photographers to a family who had left their jobs and lives behind them to travel the world! Every moment and every turning was a picture postcard. I took a staggering amount of photographs, but often would simply just stand still and soak in the beauty.

I could have happily stayed in the beach treehouse and enjoyed the serene pace of Aitutaki for much longer. What little rain there was would simply glide over the island in minutes, it was perfect from start to finish, and while I might have only spent just four days there, those four days were simply unforgettable.

—

Aitutki (Wiki)

It’s a warm and sunny afternoon when I emerge from the terminal at San Francisco airport on the first stop on my ‘Long Way Home’ trip that will take me around the world. Feeling like a true traveller I jumped on a bus to take me just north of San Francisco to the home my friends Erin and Jon. It had been a long day already, but I had that spring in my step that you get when your excited about the road ahead.

The lady next to me on the bus seems as excited as me when I told her this is my first stop on my trip around the world. Saying that seems to really engage people, there’s something about the idea of going around the world that seems to draw people in. “It sounds wonderful.” She tells me, and as I say the words I’ll admit it felt kind of fun being someone who was embarking on the kind of adventure that others get excited about.

When I met up with Erin and Jon it wasn’t long until we’re sitting in a brew pub called the Third Street Aleworks ordering food and winter ales with the curious name of ‘Bad Santa.’ They tasted real good, so good in fact that I was drinking them like a Welsh Rugby player despite the fact that I rarely drink.

Pretty soon we were joined by other friends, Matt, Panda, and Heady Nuggs, with others on the way. We were getting noisier as the ‘Bad Santa’s’ continue to flow like waves to the shore, and it quickly became clear to me that this was likely be a long night, and as it turned out, that was to be the last moment of clarity I had that day.

Two pubs, several ‘Bad Santa’s,’ and a game of Shuffleboard later we were standing outside in the crisp Californian air talking about going home. The beer had warmed my blood and relaxed my muscles, and as I watched my breath like smoke in the air, I thought to myself that the ‘Long Way Home’ had gotten off to a great start.

We had planned to spend the next day in San Francisco, the weather was perfect for a trip to the bay. However, I was laying on the floor of Erin and Jon’s little house now understanding why the ales I had drank were called ‘Bad Santa’s.’ I could move, but only very slowly, and only as long as it didn’t involve getting off of the floor. Our plans to go into the city were postponed until the next day.

I always seem to be time poor when I’m in San Francisco. I’m left feeling like this is a city I would really enjoy if only I could spend enough time there. Nonetheless we did take the time to walk most of the way across the Golden Gate Bridge, make a visit to the de Young Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco in Golden Gate Park, and watch night fall over the city from the famous Alamo Square.

Back in ‘Wine Country’ where Erin and Jon live, we did a little wine tasting and spent time just hanging out with their friends at the local brew pubs where I enjoyed the fine beer at a far more pedestrian pace than that of my first night.

My last evening in Northern California was spent at a nearby beach watching the sun disappear behind the crashing waves of the vast Pacific Ocean. It’s funny how the wonder of a sunset never seems to grow old, every one is unique and beautiful and seemingly able to hold your gaze for the longest time.

I stood and watched, listening to the waves, mesmerized by the amazing show that while ending for us was just starting somewhere else in the world.

The next day I left Erin and Jon and made my way to Los Angeles. My original plan was to spend time there, but in the end it was just a brief stop before I took to the skies again.

I’ve never been particularly nervous about flying, but this time there was a hint of nervousness in my excitement, like how I would imagine a diver might feel ahead of a particularly high dive. Maybe it was just the thought of flying through the night over the ocean, or maybe it was the sense of leaving the comfort of somewhere so familiar. Whatever it was, as I flew into the darkness over the sprawling city of angels I looked out of the window and hoped that some of those angels might find a little time to fly with me.

Everything west of here is virgin territory for me. In a sense this is where the adventure would really begin. My next stop on this journey home will be the tropical Polynesian Cook Islands in the South Pacific.

—

The music I listened to on my iPod as I left Los Angeles

I’ve often been known to drive the long way home just for the pleasure of the journey, but when my friends Phil and Kerry-anne invited me to spend Christmas with them in New Zealand I didn’t realise it would lead to the the longest long way home of my life.

On Wednesday I set off on the longest trip home I’ve ever embarked on. A journey of some 26,246 miles around the world that I’m calling the ‘Long Way Home.’ I’ve given the trip this name because I’ll be heading west the entire time and I won’t be back home until I’ve gone right the way around the world!
(more…)

Early last year I wrote a post called ‘In Flight (Part 1).’ Part two has been a long time coming, but this seems like a good time to share with you some of the sights I’ve seen from the window seat of my travels in aeroplanes.

I love to travel by any means, but there is just something special about heading into the skies and looking at the world from a different angle.

I can still remember how excited I was at the prospect of my first ever flight. I was just a young boy and the flight was from London Gatwick to Naples International Airport in Italy.

In preparation my parents took my brother, sister and I to the airport so as to familiarize themselves with the procedures and complications that might arise from having three excited kids in tow.

Both my brother and sister inherited that kind of forward planning and preparation. I, on the other hand, adopted a more relaxed ‘let’s see where the road takes us’ approach to travel.

I’m a window seat kind of guy, and while that might mean that I have an impossibly cramped situation, it’s somehow offset by the pleasure of being able to watch the world go by beneath me while trying to pick out familiar landmarks.

[Above] Way back in 2003 the sun actually shone on Manchester. It might very well have been a clerical error some kind, but nonetheless I was above the city to capture this rare and momentous event which local teenagers are now telling their children about.

[Below] It always seems that you fly impossibly low over London as your plane circles waiting to land at Heathrow. It almost seems as though the skies above London are as busy as the streets below. In this picture you can see Tower Bridge and to the right of it the Tower of London, home to the Royal families Crown Jewels.

[Above] The unmistakable sight of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. A stunning landmark, but also a morbid mecca for those who wish to end their lives.

[Below] Downtown Portland, Oregon.

[Above] Last year after flying over the Rocky Mountains I was curious to identify a dam in the picture above so I emailed the Water Survey of Canada to see if maybe they knew where it was.

Joe McElhinney was good enough to forward my email to the Pacific & Yukon Regional office of the WSC in Vancouver whereupon Lynne Campo and her colleagues at the WSC kindly identified the location as the area of the Rocky Reach Dam on the Columbia River about 7 miles upstream from Wenatchee Washington, U.S.A.

“It is about 20-30 minutes out of Seattle heading east. There is a website of the Rocky Reach Project giving the project background, construction, construction costs, development history etc.” She told me.

[Above and below] Somewhere in southern Utah. As I looked down upon mile after mile of the spectacular and arid landscapes of Nevada, Arizona, and Utah, I noticed the apparent roads or tracks and wondered who might live in such a place and why. When one thinks of the USA, I doubt this amazing landscape is what comes to mind.

[Below] Taken earlier this year on my way back from my trip to India, this picture is looking out accros the dunes of Turkmenistan to Iran.

[Above and below] The Caspian sea and the shoreline of Kazakhstan. I’ve seen that strange cloud formation before of the Dutch coastline. I think it might be known as a roll cloud, though I can’t be sure.

[Above] These clouds could of course be anywhere, in this instance they’re hanging over the Ukraine.

[Below] This was a quite incredible sight. The sun was setting and the plane I was on was between two sheets of clouds in a space that felt completely disconnected from the world to me.

So tomorrow I’ll be taking to the skies once more. This time flying to California, the first stop on an adventure in which I will circumnavigate the globe, albeit from a window seat.

The romance of flying might have somewhat diminished, but for me the marvel of it all still remains. The opportunity to look at the world differently for a while is never wasted time as far as I’m concerned.

I know I could watch a movie, do a little reading, or use my laptop to catch up on work, but I never want to get to the point where I’m too busy or wrapped up in life to take a few moments to just sit back and observe it for the wonder that it is.

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In Flight (Part 1)
Waving at planes
One Such Moment
It’s Seven Thirty