It’s pretty difficult to run for a bus when you’re lame…..
When I planned this trip I did spare a thought for the challenges I might encounter travelling on my own with a knee that was due for surgery. When I had my first knee replacement done in February 2009 my surgeon had intended to hoover out the debris in knee #2 at the same time, but instead had given me an injection so that on returning home, I wouldn’t be doubly demobilised. A further injection a year later, plus the joy of retirement and being able to rest up when I needed to, meant that I could keep going – and could even delay surgery – and travel all I wanted.
However, even I could see that I needed to do something about this knee which sometimes worked perfectly and sometimes buckled under me, caused me horrendous pain, kept me awake some nights and, in short, was no longer reliable. So I finally agreed on elective surgery and was told it would be scheduled for autumn (2013). My original plan was to fly over to Canada for my brother’s wedding on September 7th, then fly home again. But then I thought…. if you’re halfway across the world, why not keep going? To reach Australia and see my son meant flying via New Zealand – oh wait, don’t I have family there? Must stop off and see them…. never been there before….
And so a one-week trip grew to 6 weeks and my ticket was booked:
- 10 airport visits, involving trundling baggage (not easy as this twists the knee) and mile-long marathons to the farthest gate on outward journeys. It’s always the farthest gate. And on arrival, racing to get near the front at Immigration so I don’t have to stand for half an hour (worst thing for the knee) – and then the battle, including knocks, at the baggage carousel.
- 7 flights: jostling for seats (I always book an aisle seat but didn’t always get one) stowing bags in overhead lockers while standing on the one good leg. And of course, trying to walk around the cabin and keep the legs exercised when duty-free trolleys conspired to block the way.
- 5 airport buses or shuttles – and of course the train and coach journeys to and from home/Heathrow airport.
I should add that disabled transport was arranged at Vancouver; when I checked in, I was told to take a lift upstairs where they were located. I saw the buggies, sure enough, but couldn’t locate any people to drive them… so ended up walking the miles.
I guess there’s a little part of me that thinks if I keep travelling, then I’m still fit… How’s that for denial!
So – the running for a bus. You can’t really call it running… more like lurching. I had booked on the shuttle from Tullamarine Airport (north-west Melbourne) to Frankston on the Mornington Peninsula (south of Melbourne). I booked the last bus as it gave me a couple of hours at the airport – time to walk the many miles, queue through Immigration, collect baggage from the carousel, pat the sniffer dogs in Customs and get outside the building. And maybe get a coffee. However, before I left the UK I got an email from the Peninsula bus people to say they’d cancelled the last shuttle but would keep me a place on the shuttle before that – which left the airport just half-an-hour after my plane landed. So as I got off the plane I was resigned to getting some sort of transport to the Southern Cross rail station in Melbourne, then getting a train to Frankston from there – a journey of hours compared to the comfort of one shuttlebus (1.5 hours) which would take me to a drop-off point at Dan Murphy’s liquor store in Frankston where I’d be collected by Ben and India.
Imagine my surprise when I got through in about 25 minutes…. hence my lurching for the shuttle – and reaching it! Then we waited and waited for another 40 minutes as the email I’d received had quoted the wrong time. Just as we were about to leave, a crackling message came through for the driver – a woman, just off a plane and with no baggage to collect, was racing through the airport – just five minutes away – could we wait for her? The lovely Aussie driver turned to us and said: ‘Dja hear that, people? We can’t leave her stranded now, can we?’ and switched off the engine.
So how have I survived all this travelling? As I said before, a little bit of denial goes a long way, and that, together with lots of exercise to strengthen the muscles around the knee and judicious use of my prescribed codeine tablets, is enough to make this trip a great one – full of family reunions, new places and fabulous people .
But wait… there’s still Australia to come!
Patamateria 