Adelaide, Australia

You may be itching to correct the title, so allow me to clarify that this was the longest day for me. A haha. The early flights are the cheapest, so I was flying from Brisbane to Adelaide at 6.15. 6.15! No public transport at that time, but I’d found an airport transfer service which meant I needed to walk to a nearby hotel for 4am. Heck of an early start; and not the ideal welcome for my new roommate, who had come from Bangalore by way of Sydney for his next new job here. At least he could roll over and go back to sleep, though.

I stood outside in the dark, waiting for my minibus and plotting alternatives in case it didn’t show up. It was there bang on time, driven by a German and carrying a young Yorkshireman for company. We were at the airport before 5, very early, and through security within 10 minutes. I was then back out of security and into the terminal, because I’d forgotten to get a refund for my Go card. I had to hang around to wait for the station to open, but had plenty of time and then off we went.

Adelaide is about a three hour flight away, with a half hour time difference. I hopped on the bus to town and changed to the bus to Paradise. That sounded promising, but I got off before Paradise; it just wasn’t time for that. My Airbnb accommodation is out in the suburbs, owned by a Malaysian student and starting off with a UK/Aus – a total dude, but I missed his name and it was something complicated like Radavan, so I didn’t dare ask again – and a US flatmate, Dan. It was still only 11am and I had travelled by minibus, plane and two buses. Adelaide is going through changeable weather, but it had settled on warm for today. I explored a little, finding my local area fully suburban, with parched lawns and low houses. Not every house is single storey, but the vast majority are – whenever I got out, it feels as though I could get a great view over everything if only I could jump a couple of metres.

I dozed in the afternoon and finally got up for a run around 5. Rad and our host, Yvonne, were just coming back from a visit to the German village, Hahndorf, and he decided to join me which was great – it saved me from having to find a route. It was a suburban journey of exploration, a few miles down the main road, round a large area of scrub and parkland and then back. Rad had had (ha) enough 6 miles in and ran the last 2 home, but I made it a 12 miler, not bad in the sun.

Back at the house, dinner was provided, which was a huge bonus, and then, after Yvonne had avidly watched a Narnia film while we boys had given it cursory attention, we played best of 40 on the PS2. Games with 4 – a great way to end a long day, but the marathon version that we were playing took hours. It was only halfway through that Yvonne confessed she’d not played the long one before but never mind, my reward for staying awake was victory, and immediate bedtime. After 3am to post midnight, that’s as long as I can go.

Macleay Island, Australia

If you’re going to Brisbane, pick up a Go card. $10 deposit; refundable if you can find the times to sort that out, but if not it is still likely to be worth it. It lets you travel on the buses, trains and ferries, for a 30% discount. Or more – get this, if you make 9 different journeys in a week (more than an hour in between), any others are free. That’s good if you’re a 5 day commuter – pay for 9, the last is free as is the whole weekend. If you’re travelling, it’s superb; I could have travelled all the way out to Cleveland on the train, bus to Redland bay, then ferry out and back to the islands, all for free.

I say “could have” because I didn’t realise the ferry was part of the deal and bought a ticket for the outgoing trip. Never mind, consider it an investment, and it was still a bargain. As I arrived at Cleveland, I realised I didn’t know where to go, though there was a sign to a free ferry shuttle. I wandered round and decided that Redland Bay sounded familiar and I might as well get on that bus. I was reassured by the girl ahead getting advice and being shown onto the same bus with her backpack – well, she must be headed to the islands, then.

I was right! A longish bus ride and we were at the ferry port. Not the one I’d researched, a private company that runs the car ferry; instead the council runs a passenger ferry, essentially a bus service.

It was a hot day, and though there were signs to the ‘heritage route’, running clockwise round the edge of the island, I wasn’t inspired. I stopped for provisions and figured I could find a beach, but the route took me inland first. I found a bay to eat at eventually, and by then had seen the houses, wetlands and quieter pace of island life and was sated. It is thriving – 2000 inhabitants, and growing, though there were some less-loved houses for sale, with roadworks and construction in places. If I’d taken a bike I could have explored more, but those at the house were locked up and I’d missed Ricky so hadn’t asked him for the code.

I’d walked a fair way, at least, so headed back to the city, just using the bus this time. Nearer the centre I suddenly realised we were in a tunnel just for buses, and then onto a road that was the same. Several miles of busway, in fact, with a couple of tunnels – very cool. It’s quite new, but must make a real difference to transport, as otherwise the serpentine river makes getting from one spot to another more than a bit fiddly. Brisbane has grown so much in the last 30 or so years that traffic has become a problem in the centre, though the motorway comes right up close so I suspect it’s a case of temporary queues rather than total gridlock.

Brian, from the cricket, had recommended the Breakfast Creek hotel as the oldest pub in the city. It’s a way out of the centre (just in front of Allan Border field. Or behind it if you’re looking from the other side. There was a cricketer of that name, but I reckon the field marks the edge of Allan’s territory from days of yore), but I decided to walk from the wrong side of the river, thereby seeing more of the city, including Chinatown. Strangely, I was more motivated by this walk than I had been on the island.

I put it down to the sense of purpose rather than the promise of beer. Check out the bars on their website. It is a sprawl of bars that I found bewildering. The public bar is harshly lit and felt a bit like a bookmakers, with TV coverage all round, betting odds on screens and betting slips on the tables. That was where I was most at home, though, as outside was a confusing morass of people, some in private functions and the others in groups that I didn’t feel a solo traveller could wander up to. The private bar is the most ‘English’, being wooden and more clubbable, but there was more space in the public bar. The XXXX bitter was okay, but nothing special.

Walking to the riverboat was a pleasure. With the day hot, the evening was beautiful, mid 20s, stats twinkling in the sky. They don’t seem to overdo the street lights, so some streets are quite dark, but that means less light pollution. As I got to the terminal, a boat came past with Last Christmas clearly audible for kilometres around. The first of many culture shock-  it’s Christmas, and it’s warm? – moments.

The day before had been my day off travel, so I’d seen the early showing of About Time at cheapy cinema. Another weepy statement of the bleedin obvious by Richard Curtis (“maybe try to enjoy every day, eh?”), though that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it. There was too much London porn (ooh, that’s such and such street! As if seeing it on screen validates the location), which normally irritates but was pleasantly nostalgic. I felt homesick for the whole period from the film ending to getting out into the sun. I took the boat into town, had a smoothie in the sun and ran a 3x3k session with Intraining in the evening. Pretty good.

Surfers Paradise, Australia

As I walk through the esplanade of the shadow of hotels
I take a look at my life and realise there’s four month left
Cause I’ve been blastin and laughin so long that
Even my mama wonders where on earth I’ve gone this time

Apparently the place wasn’t named from a mishearing of Coolio’s hit, but because it is a place of much surfing. It is prosaic in its accuracy, but probably all to the good. I hopped on a train down to the Gold Coast so that I could have a day on the beach and, in honesty, so that I could at least say I’d been there. I wasn’t expecting to be overly impressed by a resort, and it lived up to expectations. Nothing bad, but I was again amongst youth, wandering around listlessly in the morning and early afternoon as if those times of day fail to register with party minds. Many of them were wearing their schoolies photo ids which marks them out as year 12 (whatever that is) pupils (they’re not studying, after all) here for a week’s party. I’m surprised – I’d have been looking to cast off such uniformity and bathe in the holiday of anonymity. You tell me I have to wear this round my neck, I’m immediately going to stick it in a pocket and see if I can gain entry by showing it at the door.

Though in fairness, any that were doing that would by definition be impossible to identify.

Travel was easy, if long. Train to Nerang, just under an hour, then a bus to the beach, taking about half an hour. The bus passed the Metricon stadium, which is very colourful and seemed odd, in the middle of nowhere. I don’t think it really is, it just appeared that way, though at the moment it is a 25 minute walk from Nerang station, with a ferry planned. England have played cricket there – it’s where Gower and Morris went for their ride in Tiger Moth biplanes – and it’ll be used for the 2018 Commonwealth games opening and closing ceremonies. Using a go card, the bus trip counts as a ‘continuation’ of your trip, and cost an extra 34 cents. Finally, a bargain in Australia! Total cost, $8.77 off peak, $10.96 peak. The train passes through Runcorn and Kingston, just for the wry British smiles. I’d had a lovely chat at the bus stop; I’m pretty sure the bloke was driving the limo towards which he’d waved, offering a lift to the beach for $20, but he was happy to admit the bus was cheaper, go card cheaper still, and move on to sport. And he wasn’t even a cricket fan, he only wanted to talk F1.

On the way back I spotted my first baby relay. A young lady got on with baby in buggy and rode the train, occasionally rocking the cute baby and generally playing with him for the hour’s ride. At Cooper’s Plains she got off with the buggy. Next thing I knew, she was back on, alone, hopping through the door at the last minute. I did a double take, then looked through the window, to see another woman pushing the baby away down the platform. I guess she has to take it to the riverbus for her handover.

This week has been one day on visiting, one day off. Monday I took the train out to Cleveland. I think it enjoyed it. There’s a little beach there, if you follow your nose out into Raby bay. I passed the time reading some Sherlock Holmes, regretted not bringing a towel to sit on, particularly when ants gave me a sharp bite, but realised that the abandoned camping chair off to one side worked perfectly.

Tuesday was my non travel day; I saw Hunger Games in the local cinema in the morning, rode the CityCat to town in the afternoon and joined the Intraining gang for a speed session in the evening. The end was a bit messy, as we all walked past a possum that had been hit by a bike, until the last group realised it was still alive and put operation rescue into effect. I had little to add to the six people involved, and left them to it.

Brisbane, Australia

Sunday. Long run day. With the ‘funny’ weather in Brisbane, I could leave it till later than other hot countries, so didn’t get going till midday. It really was cloudy and cool, but I struggled. House captain Ricky had suggested a route alongside the river, finding the ‘track’ by the river if I could. It was bitty; I don’t think I missed much, it’s just that the riverside areas that have been kept public are relatively few. Still, I was passing riverboat stops regularly and had my card, so could keep going. Eventually, after a long and boring section round an army base and industrial area near the port, I found my way to Colmslie beach reserve. That felt like an achievement, and I explored a little, past some large Australians using the facilities to have barbecues (perfect!) and turned back, catching the riverboat back from Apollo Road. That redeemed a tough run-12 miles and then a boat cruise? Nice. It also seemed a gratifyingly long trip to get back, which reminded me I’d run a fair way.

In the evening I went to the local cinema I’d spotted on a run to nowhere earlier in the week. Watched Captain Phillips, which seemed a bit overlong but builds its suspense brilliantly, almost unwatchably tense by the end. It was raining by now, none too heavily but still perfect cinema weather. Just opposite was a Thai restaurant, which sorted out some of my lethargy, but I slept badly and it turned out I wasn’t quite right. Bit of a sore throat, and I could have stayed in bed the next morning.

But I had a friend! Ware Jogger Jon was due to arrive in Brisbane in the morning, en route to Cairns and some surfing and diving. His jet lag and my grogginess merged pretty well. We had a slow wander round the centre of town, which showed how small and compact it was, had lunch and dinner by the river and beer near the station, watching some heavy showers pass by. Both of us slept like champions, emerging like proper human beings into Tuesday’s 30 degrees and sunshine.