Pakenham

Most days have only 24 hours. However some days are different. When you are making the long journey half way round the world, from Europe back to Australia, time takes on a different dimension. Clocks and watches behave differently, requiring them to be set and reset multiple times. I am not sure how many hours the past day had in it, but I know it was a lot more than 24.

It all began at 5 am in our apartment in Paris. That is when the alarm went off, to begin the long series of events that would culminate in the final end to our 2023 Europe Cycling Adventure.

The next hour was spent having breakfast and tidying up the place. Then it was time to try to find the best way of packing all our possessions into the available luggage space. The final step was to take a few pictures of the place, to prove we hadn't left it trashed.

Although our plane was not scheduled to depart until a little after noon, we could see no point in sitting in the apartment, just watching the clock go around. It would be far more interesting at the airport.

The first challenge was to get our mountain of luggage down the narrow, winding staircase, and then into the tiny elevator for the other five stories down to the ground floor. It wasn't easy, especially since I had to do most of the lifting by myself.

Some considerable time later, we were standing on the footpath on the Boulevard de Sebastapol. It was still pitch dark at 7.30 am, and we felt somewhat vulnerable as we stared into the darkness.

Our plan was to walk about 800 meters to the nearest taxi stand to catch a taxi to the airport, however our transport arrived much earlier than that. Vacant taxis are recognised by the green light on their roof, and we had only walked a short distance when I noticed a familar green light coming down the street toward us.

"Quick, go and hail it", I told Maggie. So that is what she did. It was almost too easy to be true. We quickly agreed on a price to get us to the airport, and were soon comfortably gliding through the pre dawn streets of Paris.

The trip to the airport took less than 30 minutes, aided by the fact that the driver did not seem to feel any compulsion to observe the posted speed limits along the way. Paris is a bit like that.

By the time we were deposited safely at Terminal One, the sky was just beginning to lighten. We found our way to the Cathay Pacific check in desk and were soon watching our luggage disappear onto the conveyor belt. It was only then that the check in lady realised that she had not put the full complement of luggage labels on Maggie's suitcase. She lunged after it, but it was already too late. It had already been swallowed up by the machinery. She shrugged and tried to assure us that it would "probably be OK anyway".

We wandered off further into the terminal, wandering if the luggage would make the same journey we were about to begin, or whether it would head off on its own adventure to somewhere else entirely different.

The next step was to pass through Immigration and security. The first step was easy, but the second was a little more stressful. After passing through the XRAY scanner, my carry one bag was shunted off out of the regular queue for special attention. The staff said they wanted to search it for suspicious items. In a quavering voice, I told them that it was OK, but I think my blood pressure and pulse rate immediately stepped up by several levels.

After fossicking through my possessions and scanning for drugs, they decided that I was not an elderly terrorist drug dealer after all, and I was finally reunited with my case and allowed to leave. We then had a couple of hours to wait until our flight was ready to leave for Hong Kong. I needed that time to buy a coffee and regain my composure.

Fortunately the flight departed on time. We did not have to take an alternative route through India (like Gordon and Sue had to a few day's earlier). What followed next was twelve and a half hours of meandering flight paths (trying to skirt around the growing number of conflict zones in this part of the world), until we finally landed in Hong Kong just as dawn was breaking.

We then had another 4 hours transit time in Hong Kong, before our flight to Melbourne was due to take off. We did not mind at all. On the outward flight we almost had no time between flights, and had to literally run from plane to plane to make the connection.

At the airport in Paris we had been joined by Greg and Andrea, who were the only other remaining members of our group. At least we had some familiar faces to share the long journey with.

The final leg of the journey was the nine hour flight from Hong Kong to Melbourne. Although we still had a long way to travel, we actually felt that we were almost in our own neighborhood at this time.

The flight touched down in Melbourne just before midnight on Friday night, but we were still not quite home yet. We still had to get from Tullamarine to our homes. Before leaving Australia we had prebooked a shuttle car to drive the four of us to our homes. We were relieved that the driver was waiting for us when we arrived. We were even more relieved when we saw our familiar luggage finally appear on the luggage carousel. We were on the home straight.

At this hour of the night, the freeways were almost empty, and the drive home was trouble free. At about 2 am, we were standing outside our own home. Our journey was finally complete. It had been one of the most most complex trips I had ever put together, but now I could rest easy that every detail had gone exactly according to plan. Now I could finally relax, secure in the knowledge that "all the chickens were now safely back in the hen house".

Ahead lies a few quiet days of rest and recovery. We have earned them.Read more