June 10: Abandon Hope

Up moderately early, with enough time to shave and finish packing before handing back the key at Hope Inn. With its wheels now shot, I had to carry my large case manually by the handles; doable but frustrating.

At the visitors’ centre, I waited inside a while since the sky was spitty. On sale at the centre are tiny glass jars, each containing a chip of wood the size of a fingernail taken from the old Rambo bridge, for $10 each. (I didn’t.) As bus time approached, I waited outside on the corner with three other people wishing it would hurry up in the cool weather.

The bus arrived twenty minutes late and we set off. For the first 45 minutes, our highway ran sandwiched between forest-covered hills, with occasional river glimpses.

As we reached Chilliwack, the scene widened out into valley and farmland, with mountains peeking behind now-more distant hills. Our driver stopped at the wrong pick-up point there, until one of the passengers corrected him because she was a regular traveller on this route.

We drove further, stopping next at Abbotsford.

After more long driving, we reached the eastern environs of Vancouver.

A stop-off in the suburb of Guildford, then onward to our final stop, Pacific Central Station, Van City’s main railway station.

Lug

At the station, I finished off my last provisions and contacted Richard and Tina to let them know I’d arrived back. They offered to take me out for a meal this evening. This left me with a few hours to kill. Unsure what to do, I carried my case and backpack over to the nearest metro station and took the Skytrain into the city centre.

I sat in Canada Place for a while, looking back on the scene I’d left five weeks earlier. While I was interested in another look around, having my 16kg case to lug around would restrict my movements. Eventually, I took another met train back a few stations, then walked to the city library and waited there for a couple of hours, reading half the latest graphic novel by Alison Bechdel.

Last Supper

As the meeting time drew near, I got everything back to the metro station and got a Skytrain to New Westminster. There I met Richard and Tina at The Old Spaghetti Place, a pasta restaurant. Over various noodle dishes, they caught up with my adventures and I with theirs. I handed them both a dryer sheet of theirs that had been caught up in my laundry earlier, and my roll of duct tape, so that I wouldn’t get onto someone’s watchlist.

After we paid for our meals, I loaded my luggage into the boot of their car and they drove me to Vancouver International.

June 10 & 12: Heading Back

At the airport were those most useful items: trolleys, so that I no longer had to lug the case so much. Wheeling one around like a dodgem car between people, I got my case and myself checked in. The usual long wait at the gate followed, allowing me a bit of blog catch-up.

Finally, boarding was announced and we flowed onto another double-aisle 787, taking off at 10:20pm. This time, I had an aisle seat, so getting to toilet was easier. I think we had a greater range of movies and shows available on this flight than on the flight in, but my entertainment was the book on numeracy I’d picked up in Kamloops. After a few chapters and the complementary dinner, I spent the next few hours trying to catch up on sleep.

I woke back into the usual timeless space that is a night-time trans-Pacific flight. Continued reading the book, with a nap or two occasionally. By the time I’d finished it, we were approaching the east coast of New South Wales.

Waiting in Sydney

At Sydney International, I waited at the baggage carousel for several minutes with a little anxiety, but thankfully there was no repeat of Calgary. The only change from the usual exit routine was that I declared that I’d walked through wilderness areas in Canada, but Customs waved me on when I said I’d brushed the dirt off my shoes.

So I was out in International Arrivals at Terminal 1. I changed my remain banknotes, put my local SIM back in my phone and had a coffee. In the early morning light, I took a transfer bus to T2 Domestic.

My flight wasn’t until the afternoon and check-in wouldn’t begin for another three hours, so I took the transfer bus back to T1 because there was nothing in T2’s check-in section worth hanging around for. (Part of its interior is being rebuilt.)

Checked out daily news and websites in T1 and caught up with email. Had another coffee, then headed back to T2. Still had to wait for another half-hour because JetStar won’t open check-in until three hours before take-off on the dot. Eventually, I checked-in my case, got my boarding pass, then waited in a long, snaking queue to go through security.

On the other side of security, T2 livened up a bit more, with cafés, duty-free and so forth, but not much else to do there except eat and wait.

We boarded the plane to Avalon 30 minutes late (hello, Jetstar) and flew south on the mostly clear day. Having a window seat, I could watch the brown land below, although the lower lake levels were a bit concerning.

Around 5:00pm, my place touched down at Avalon Airport six weeks after I’d taken off from it.

On the SkyBus back into Melbourne, the bus driver and I helped a woman who’d gone to the wrong airport while trying to get to Cragieburn. At Southern Cross, I got the train back to Mount Waverley, lugged the cases up the last inclines and arrived home after a strangely long day.

And what thought I of it all? That shall wait until the next entry…