They always say they that the flight from Dublin to Australia is rough. I tend not to put much weight into those claims but when I arrive on Christmas Day having left the 23rd and would be flying directly North to Cairns without my precious rucksack I handed to British Airways 24 hours previously, it’s safe to say I was pissed off. I am now a backpacker, without a backpack. I also have no GoPro so pictures will be light.

Anyway, fuck it, Christmas and all. In an unusual twist for this trip you will actually be there Ma. Congrats, can’t say I predicted that either. We all met as one happy family, you, me, Dad and Fionn. We even managed to lose the middle two children. Unreal Christmas present. 

We all got the flight to Cairns and an hour shuttle later we arrive in the Veranda’s apartment. I can claim no effort there. Good work Ma.

We grabbed Christmas dinner in Rattle’n’Hum on the main street (Macrossam Street), quick fight with a snide bar woman and then hit hay.

And yes Ma', as you know I’m fine.

Day 1, Port Douglas, 26th of December 2017

Crack of dawn I’m up. The heat and jet lag have me flying it. You’re up too Ma, so we head for a walk. Port Douglas is basically one street, a marina, a hill and a beach. It’s pretty beautiful too. Very lush. We wandered down this little church. Behind alter is a clear glass window with a clear view of the ocean, mountains and rainforest. Pretty cool. 

We hike up to peak of the hill overlooking the beach. It’s not that hard but the sweat is rolling off me with the heat and, oh yeh, I’ve no fucking clothes. My slip-on shoes keep sliding off with the sweat. Barefoot it is. The view is class though. 

 The rest of the day spent lounging at the 4-mile beach. If you visit Queensland in their summer, you have to swim inside a confined protected area, because everything is trying to kill you, of course. The water was like swimming in a jacuzzi. I have hot showers at home colder than this. Tragically, I got sub burnt. Despite the fact, I was rubbing myself with factor 50 like two amorous teenagers would rub each other.

We ate in a dodgy Indian that night as everywhere was booked out.

And yes Ma', as you know I’m fine.

Day 2, Port Douglas, 27th of December 2017

Scuba time! Oh yeh! To preface the Great Barrier Reef, I was warned it wasn’t watch you see on every David Attenborough documentary. The heating of the oceans, climate change and pollution has really taken its toll. 

We booked with Poseidon. It was reasonably priced for 3 dives for me and three snorkelers. My three dives came to about 240 A$. First thing I noticed was the scale. My dive in the Philippines were on tiny boats and crew. This was like a military operation. Divers downstairs with the snorkelers upstairs. There were several run throughs of what would happen next, lots of shouting, splitting into groups, then boom, "GO, GO, GO!" over the side we went. 

In the initial briefing that morning I sat next to a small round Asian lady who nervously peppered me with questions about the diving I couldn’t answer. Selfishly I thought, please please do not have me in the same group as this lady. No sooner had we stepped off the side of the boat, with all the snorkelers on the top deck looking at us, she steps off and it’s a shit show. Her mask comes off, then wiping her eyes knocks it off her head and it sinks to the bottom. “I think I lost my mask” she exclaims. That momentarily made me laugh, as I was thinking about the time we were wasting as our instructor had to dive to the bottom for the mask. She didn’t do the 2nd and 3rd dive. If I’m honest, I was reasonably happy about that. 

The reef itself I have mixed feeling about. It is beautiful, amazingly beautiful but it is dying and the damage pollution, global warming, burning of fossil fuels etc. are doing to the reef is blatantly obvious. Coral graveyards were common and the lush, vibrant and fluorescent colours you see on David Attenborough documentaries aren’t as widespread as it would appear. We all know someone who was a fantastic athlete but suffered a few bad injuries, found the pints and now plays Junior A. Every now and again you see flashes of sheer brilliance but not the potential it could be.

On the plus side though you can see every sort of fish. Since I started diving I had always wanted to dive with sharks. I managed to see a Grey Reef and White Tip shark. Wow. These creatures are amazing, sleek, smooth species. As I watched them pass through the water effortlessly, I reflected on the juxtaposition of the fat American family who basically came for a buffet with a view. After hammering the buffet, put a good dent in the beer fridge and then collapsed into a snoring mess in the middle of the cabin. Anyway, there were loads of other cool fish, a painted crayfish and a cuttlefish. They are very cool, like an alien ship and they change colour and behaviour to camouflage themselves

Lastly, the difference between the snorkelling and diving the reef is not too much. The Reef is almost on the surface and the water is really clear so you can see nearly all of it from there. Diving you can go down and maybe see a few eels, crayfish and cuttlefish etc. Definitely visit the Reef though, whether you are a diver or not.

Once back on shore we ate in On the Inlet Fish restaurant and if I am honest, if I was not with you and Dad, I probably wouldn’t be eating here. Very nice though. 

We also sampled a few cocktails in the swanky Jimmy Rum's. Very cool lil spot with smoking bell jars and flaming orange peels

And yes Ma', as you know I’m fine.

Day 3, Port Douglas, 28th of December 2017

I managed to book the four of us in with Foaming Fury for a half day of white water rafting. Tully, the big river everyone does is actually a few hours south of Cairns, so thank God we didn’t do that one. Would have had to be up for 5am.

So, the way it works is there is 7 in a boat plus an instructor. Stupidly, they didn’t organise it in advance so it turned into a Mexican stand-off with the organisers trying to split people up. We got lucky. An American couple and a guy from Cork, Shane, joined us. Pretty quickly the messing started with me and Fionn throwing each other out of the boat. This giddiness would quickly escalate into splashing where we mercilessly bullied the other groups and Shaybop himself was chief ring leader. There was one group with an American girl who was the guide. She was zero craic and most of her boat were too. There was a young enough girl with her boyfriend and he seemed to joining in in the craic where as she had a face on her like a slapped arse. We gave that boat as much of our attention as possible, he probably slept on the sofa that night as a result.

The rapids themselves weren’t overly challenging but it was fun as most of the time you just want to mess and have the craic. We did get caught for a half hour while they had to winch one boat from under the waves, which was annoying. Our dreadlock wearing guide Frawn kept us amazed though. Don’t think I will ever meet a man more laid back. Lives in his van and just travels around rafting. Part time masseuse too, get on it ladies.  

We got home that evening and had dinner in On the Inlet again. Fionn ordering a tuna steak was like a man who had suddenly found religion.

And yes Ma’, as you know I’m fine.

Day 4, Port Douglas, 29th of December 2017

Still hiding from the sun burn I’d already getting and the top up the rafting had given me it was a time to just chill for the day. I grabbed a few small bits in the shop that night as British Airways still hadn’t gotten my bag, gobshites. You can see that the bag had arrived into Sydney early on the 29th but not a peep out of them since then. Anyway, on a more positive note we headed out to dinner to 2 Fish Restaurant. 

Decided to meet Shane and Jason from rafting for a few pints. Started out drinking in the Irish bar, I know, cliché. That closed early, much like everywhere in Port Douglas, and all the couples decided to head home. We trooped on to Iron Bar. Wow, bizarre spot. Supposedly, they do toad racing everyday at 8pm. I spent most of the time just watching people. Not sure how to articulate it correctly but there was wildness in their eyes. I had enough pretty quick and had no interest in the in-house casino, no surprise Australia has the biggest gambling problem in 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

To my absolute amazement considering the state of the lads the previous night they were outside the door at 7:45am as promised. I had to get a bit of water into Jason he was definitely a bit worse for wear. 11am we rocked into Mission Beach as planned only to be told we wouldn’t get out until 1pm. Head wrecking but we eventually got out jet skiing. I had jet skied before but it never really floated my boat, but to be fair it was pretty good. We whipped round the islands and got a bit of a history, few pirate stories, few aborigine stories.

Next stop Magnetic Island. The drive took another few hours and it became a sprint to get to the last ferry at 6pm. We took the wrong motorway exit, because it has shite sign posts, then we went to the wrong ferry port. As I passed through Townsville one thing glaringly stood out, there was nobody around. It was bizarre, just endless car lots, I genuinely have never seen so many cars in one spot. 

My heart rate was easing as Magnetic Island came into view and it looks beautiful. There is a bus that runs on a loop around the island so I grabbed that to Horseshoe Bay. It’s $7 for a daily pass so if you are getting 3 or 4 trips grab that and save a few dollas. We were staying in the Koala Sanctuary in Bungalow Bay. In a way it was really cool, loads of birds and wallabies running around, integrated into the forest but the cabin was tiny. Two single beds beside each other with another over them sideways. Honestly, I didn’t mind it but Minton and Éanna were not impressed. 

So, before I progress I have to explain the concept of a “dry hostel”. It means you can buy drink in the hostel but you can’t bring you own in with you. Supposedly, the hostel gets a massive fine and you receive a fairly hefty one too. Safe to say, this would be flaunted fairly significantly. 

A drip dry, fuck you British Airways, and a few cheeky drinks later we headed to Base hostel the far side of the island. If I were to recommend somewhere to stay, stay here. The bingo looked like right craic, we joined in but were a bit clueless and everyone seemed to have been mates already so we didn’t really gel. No loss, as we had to catch the last bus home anyway. Back to the sweaty shack.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 6, Magnetic Island, 31st of December 2017

The stand-off continues between “Steve”, the bird that lives on the hostel grounds and hisses at me anytime I walk past. Can’t leave the hut without him kicking up a fuss. We eventually got past Steve and headed down the road to the Early Bird for a lovely breakfast. We had the day free to chill out so we headed to Arcadia Beach to chill out. Clear warm water and nice rounded rocks. I was mad to do the Fort Walk at the highest point of the island but the lads had to meet two of the other boys at the ferry so I headed off alone. 

The Fort Walk is a grand short walk. Magnetic Island has a fort at the highest point of that was built to ward off the Japanese during WWII. The walk is also famous for Koala bears. As I walked I spotted a group of people gathering around a tree. There was an adult passed out in a tree and a baby hiding behind a tree. I probably shouldn’t have but I petted the baby on the head. Fluffy lil dude. The rest of the walk had some lovely views and the forts were pretty cool. You could see miles up the coast, hence why they built it there. Generally, if I get chatting to someone walking I’ll stay with them. I got chatting to two Germans dude initially but bizarrely one just kept posing in photos and the other was salivating behind the lens. I decided it was best to leave them at it. 

Having met the lads, got ready, eaten in Noodies on the Beach because the lads wanted to get a sombrero. It was time for the main event. We went back to Base and met Shane and Jason when we got in. The night itself was good craic. We were told there would be several thousand there but it was a good bit short of that. That said, New Years is generally a flop but being with the lads travelling was great craic.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Oh, sweet Jesus. With no sleep, I wandered back to the ferry port to try find the bus. Having gone to a house party with the people who worked in the hostel I was not feeling fresh. Can only imagine the state I looked to the fresh tourists getting off the ferry. As I got off the bus at the hostel, the driver asked did I work in the hostel and handed me a key. It was my key. The lads had left it on the bus on the way to get the ferry. Ideal, because I didn’t have one. 

You ended up ringing me Ma’ to inform me that, you, not British Airways or Qantas, had found my bag in Sydney. It had been flown to Townsville and I had to get to the airport to collect. No contact from the airline. Once again, fuck you British Airways. With no sleep, I had to get my shit together quick. The cabin was a bit of a mess from whatever party had happened the night before and when I was checking out I got an earful from the receptionist. “Anymore drinking and you’re all out!”. “Fear not, we’re gone anyway” I reassured her. 

Another sound Dutch girl working in the hostel then started chatting to me. She booked a bus to the airport for me for a 10er. Long story short, I got to the airport, got the bag, back to the ferry port and grabbed the greyhound bus from the ferry port to Airlie beach. I can see why people said don’t drive it East coast. You’d be at it for ages and there was nothing to see really. Eventually, I got into Airlie Beach, walked to the far end of town and got to Base. I immediately went to bed as I still hadn’t slept. The bunch bed was the squeakiest thing I had ever slept in. With the slightest movement I feared waking the whole room. Feck it, at this point I'm so exhausted I am beyond caring.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 8, Airlie Beach, 2nd of January 2018

7am, I’m straight on the phone. I had sent several emails to tour groups for the Whitsundays Islands. Everyone was full. The one crowd I wanted to get out with was Ocean Rafting. Last ditch, I called again. Boom, last spot. Before I know it, I’m on the boat to the Whitsundays. We were warned that the waves were massive and the wind would be blowing heavy. The boats, we were informed, were used by drug dealers so it is safe as houses. No sooner has we left the harbour, the waves started washing over the boat. I was soaked immediately. 

The tour was pretty cool, they brought it around the island and we stopped to snorkel. I hadn’t seen turtles in Port Douglas so I was pumped to see them. The rest of the snorkelling was ok, again a lot of coral graveyards. 

Straight after we rock into Whitehaven beach. The tide was in and still it was pretty spectacular. There was a small nursery of fish in the shallows and there were baby lemon sharks swimming around us trying to catch the fish. You can also see these dark black spots in the water, sting rays. We ate lunch, which was grand, then walked up to the look out. The sand is 97% silica and is so white that the sun doesn’t heat it. You would walk on it barefoot and it was still cool. The walk to the lookout was different though it was sweltering. 

We couldn’t have planned it better. The tide was turning. When it turns water rushes out of the inlet and suddenly you get a mix of ever changing blues, whites and turquoise colours. It was amazing. Even better, this tour was the only one able to land on the lookout side of the inlet. Generally, other tour groups land on Whitehaven beach but due to the wind and waves none of those tours could land there. I was blessed the others were full. 

That night, I was sitting in the bar at Base. Don’t drink there, overpriced pints. I spotted a large lightning storm in the distance and started chatting to a fella beside me. He transpired to be from Wicklow and was here with a massive group of Kerry people. Typical Ireland, I’d worked with one of their friends. We went down to Beaches Bar for a few more. Drink was half the price and was hopping, definitely drink there instead. Post the discovery of our mutual friend and about the Whitsundays, our chat evaporated quickly. I was out of topics to spark their interest and there was a massive group of them, all chatting about “Johnny is still in the factory, Mary and Paddy are engaged” etc. etc. I could have been sitting in a village pub in Kenmare. I don’t blame them, to be fair. I wasn’t an interesting traveller to them as they were only on holidays from Sydney. Frustrated by the consequential exclusion, I did my best Irish goodbye and left mid-pint. When travelling solo these things happen.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Time to go to New Zealand. I booked the Kiwi Experience the previous day. NOTE: when booking there are always half price deals. Always book one of them. The routes are nearly all the same, you can take as long as you like and the ticket is valid for a year. It’s then up to you have slow or fast you want to get around. I managed to get the Tiki Tour which included Milford Sound. Shrewd mofo. Anyway, as I boarded the boat to Hamilton Island to get my flight to Auckland, I still had no booking confirmation. This sparked a series of panicked phone called between Kiwi and the hostel. Hours later, I got the email.

Also, when flying into New Zealand on a holiday you must have your outbound flight booked. Another thing I had neglected to do and was forced to do it in the airport. Hamilton airport is very cool. The runway was sitting about two feet off the water. 

Having done my research my plan for Auckland was simple. I would arrive at 2am, the Skybus into town would be another 55 mins, so it would be awkward getting a hostel and sure I’d only be there and have to leave. Only one solution, stay in the airport and save a few pound. Genius.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

I am a fucking moron. This was my worst decision ever. I found a handy website sleepinginairports.net, describing exactly where to sleep in the airport and its facilities. All the available benches were full with other homeless travellers. I pulled up at a carpeted area and tried to sleep. There was an old dude hovering around me, blue bottles were flying around landing on me driving me nuts and it was brighter than midday. Ugh. Fuck this. Within two pathetic hours of failed sleep the airport was buzzing people were literally walking on me. In my exhausted and irrational state, I just thought, "Christ, would they ever piss off". It was time to this sorry experiment. The free showers were lovely though. 

A sty began to form in my eye as a waiting on the street in Auckland for the bus. A feeble attempt was made to find food but everywhere was closed. Two hours sitting at the bus stop other travellers started to arrive. Meeting strangers is easy to me but with no sleep or food, I was in over my head. 

I boarded the bus and the driver Martin, or Chief, was a grumpy bollox. I would later get along with Martin like a house on fire but initially I was not a fan, nor were the others. The Kiwis have a weird sense of humour. The Irish will lie to you, and continually lie to you, until the lie is so outrageous you start to second guess them and everyone has a good laugh. The Kiwis just lie and keep it very straight. You have no idea if they are lying or not until you tune into them. 

Our destination today was Hot Water Beach. We were hit with a barrage of instruction, all of which was very confusing and I wasn’t able to ask the girl beside me as she spoke sweet FA English. Martin warned us there was a storm swirling round the North Island so the weather for the next few days would be shit. 

The way the Kiwi bus works is you will stop for breaks, sometimes walk, sometimes food breaks. When we stopped first, I met another Irish guy, Niall, and he filled me in what little he understood. People were buying food to cook but I was so exhausted I couldn’t have been arsed. 

We arrived at Hot Water Beach and it was bucketing down. There was an option for a walk to Cathedral Cove. A pretty spectacular beach with sea arches and sea stacks. Today, mini waterfalls had started coming over the side of the cliff. It is also the location, Macklemore recorded his music video for ‘Can’t Hold Us’. Most didn’t bother with the weather but I was only here once so a few of us braved it. I was beautiful to be fair. However, the rain was driving so hard it stung our faces. I also discovered my rain jacket was not water proof. Sopping wet we went back to try dry out.

Given the name, Hot Water Beach has springs that come up through the sand containing hot water. The way you do it is you dig a pool, it fills with hot water and you lie in it. Simple. We were so cold we were like soldiers in WWI digging trenches out of fear. After several failed pools, we just bummed into hot pool people had left. Supposedly, there is a flow and you need the water to flow into your pit. Still, to this day, I have no idea but I didn’t get it either way. When we did get into a hot pool, we lay there for ages. It was just above lukewarm but the wind and rain had us so cold that I was afraid to leave. 

The fish and chips in the hostel was lovely and that night we played cards and Mafia and Cops to get to know everyone’s name. Great game to play with a crowd you don’t know. You all are basically lying to each other and you have to get who’s lying. One final tip, some people queued for the whole evening waiting to dry clothes. It turns out there was one right beside the bedrooms away from the main area. Suckers. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

As we head for Waitomo, we are warned that there is a chance that the caving there may be cancelled. Fionn had done it a few weeks previous and swore by it so I went for the big package. We stopped off at an old mine for a walk which was grand, I think they just do it to break up the day. Martin was still being a bollox and when I asked a question he gave me a really smart answer in front of the whole bus. I was getting thick at this point. He also told a story that an Irish guy had gotten sick all over the hostel and it had cost him $300 a few weeks previous. Fionn had told me this story as it was his mates so I couldn’t stop laughing. 

When we got back on the bus, we were informed that the normal caving was off but the big package was on was still going ahead. Gift. We arrived at Waitomo Caves and no sooner had I paid we were told it was cancelled, for fucksake. I was given a refund and rescheduled on a walking tour for that evening.

There was a rugby pitch across the road so I got a run in there and got back for the tour. Supposedly, there is a walk there where you can see loads of glow worms without having to pay for the tour.

Martin was still being a moany bollox. I met him in the corridor and told him Fionn had been asking for him. When he asked what he said about him I told him “he said you’re a moany bollox”. In truth, I was projected but Fionn did say they just didn’t take him too seriously. It worked though. He laughed and walked off. In hindsight, he was under a fair bit of stress. Everything was being cancelled and he was the face of everyone’s disappointment and annoyance. After that point we had great craic together.

The tour itself was pretty cool. I was very impressed at the history of the cave system and the level of care they had for it. If they decided to close in the morning they could remove everything and the cave would effectively be untouched. The glow worms were cool too. They are actually maggots and pretty gruesomely trick the insects and eat them. They also turn into flies, live for two days, are 45% genitals and just go at it for those two days. 

That evening I cooked, I think it was one of the only times I did on the trip and then hit the pub. We had right craic playing drinking games and then suddenly this Maori guy and his uncles and father wanted to join. Sounds good. Before we know it, they are buying pitcher of beer, rounds of shots etc. I couldn’t believe it but I wasn’t complaining. One big dude who was hammering down the drink and I complimented him on his stamina. Half an hour later, I’m standing at the urinal and barges in and chucks his load into another one. I pissed myself laughing. Know the one that’s one too many, pal. We stayed until about 2am then hit the hay. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Breakfast of champions, a dioralyte and a pain killer. Right as rain. We are dropped off at Hobbiton mid-morning. As Lord of the Rings and Hobbit fan this was something I was pumped about. The guide was gas too. He’d worked in a pub in Cork for a year so he knew the craic. Was interesting to hear how it was filmed using distances and perspective to make the hobbits appear smaller. At the end you get to drink in the local hobbit pub. Surprisingly, the stout was pretty good and it very much reminded me of a tidy pub at home. We just sat there and chilled out and had a pint. Ideal, it was only 12 and I was already thinking about getting on it.

The previous day we had signed up to do an overnight in the Tamaki Maori Village. One of the prerequisites was that you must nominate a chief. Someone to lead the tribe (bus) through the village. I’m not sure whether it was a prize or punishment but I was elected. My first duty had been to pick a song we would sing to the Maori. A few failed suggestions later, it would be Robbie Williams – Angels. I repeatedly sang the song from the top of the bus and even shook my booted to try get the crowd going. As you know Ma’ I can’t sing for nuts so this would be pretty bad.

We arrived at the village and I led the bus into the village. We were greeted by two Maori and they addressed us. I did the Hongi, the Maori greeting and then had to give a speech on behalf of ‘my tribe’. I was told after it was a pretty good one. Lots of ‘honour and a privilege’ etc. Genuinely meant, but crowd pleasers none the less. They sang for us and then we rocked out Angels. The girls were at the back, the killed it to be fair. Very nice, the lads…. needs work but the volume was good.

We were fed and then shown our accommodation. They were big dorms with nice single beds. We peppered the guide with Maori related question. Some, I genuinely think he was spoofing. Next, we learnt a Maori song and played a Maori stick throwing game. If we beat the other team we were getting free shots. With a few attempts to go I was called in to rally the troops. I gave a speech like you’d give a team at half time in the All-Ireland, only we were throwing stick for the hope of winning shots. Equivalent prizes, I would think. Again, more chief duties for the song having to stand separate and roar the opening call. 

We were fully prepped then to enter the village. On entering the village, the Maori Warriors come out on a boat, do some very elaborate dancing and then offer you a fern as a sign of peace. Honestly, I was a bit nervous. You were standing out there with 3 other chiefs who were just day trippers. You had to maintain eye contact, sweet Jesus do not turn your back, and do not laugh. This was made exceedingly hard by their flamboyant dancing. I got through it though and led everyone through the workshops. Each one, I greeted them with the Hongi, “Cheers for the head butt” one remarked. They showed us their cooking, performed for us with songs and dances and then gave us a big buffet of food. 

Again, all the chiefs had to lead their tribe in, sit last, were called up for certain duty. Then are dinner we performed our song, then all the men in the room performed the Haka. After dinner, I was officially off duty. Time for the bar and the hot tubs. In hindsight, it was actually quite an honour. I’m sure it was quite lame but I genuinely embraced it. All about how you frame things. The hot tubs where cool though. We were there until 2am even though the bar closed at 12, so stock up. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

In smelly Rotorua, the previous days storm had taken its toll. A tree had fallen into a library and killed a woman giving us a sobering sense of perspective. We were offered to go to a geyser on the outskirts of town. I couldn’t have been arsed so the rest of us were brought for a walk in a nearby forest. Myself and Cameron, one of the English guys on the bus spent most of it wandering through and chatting. The bus turned towards Taupo and we stopped in Huka falls en route. The water raged through the canyon with its deep blue colour. Cool enough spot with a dark story of a cricket umpire being found dumped, which would uncover an Auckland bondage scene. 

The rest of the day we had off so I found a rugby pitch and went running then went drinking on the waterfront. The lake itself is beautiful. Loads of activity on it and great buzz around the place. The sun set over the lake with snow-capped mountains in the distance. We headed to Element bar then and it was hopping. There were two Kiwi busloads there so it was no surprise. I was sharing a room with four Swedish guys and another Irish guy. The follow day were meant to be up at 5am or something silly to do the Tongariro crossing, so by right we should have all headed home early. Feck that though. I ended up in the pub ‘til 2:30am and the Swedish lads came back about an hour later roaring and singing. They were gas so I didn’t mind being kept awake. Something told me, they wouldn’t be joining us hiking in the morning

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 14, Taupo, 8th of January 2018

Ugh, fuck this. Still pitch black and we loaded onto a convict’s bus. No headrest but feck this and feck the scenery I’m going to sleep. About 7:30am we arrived for the start of the trek. There are toilets right at the start. Don’t use them, use ones about 30mins further in. One of the Swedish guys, Gustav managed to get up, two of six in our room. We queued for the toilet and everyone else took off so we ended up way behind. The competitive instinct in me wanted to catch up of course. 

So, the Tongariro Crossing is the one thing that was a must for me. I’d seen picture before and it was also Mount Doom in Lord of the Rings so I was definitely doing it. The sign at the start said 19.4km, plenty of time to catch up. I knew I would catch everyone but poor ould Gustav wasn’t expecting the pace I was about to set. The scenery was beautiful. It slowly changed from green boggy fields with dry streams, to black rough volcanic overflow. As the path started to get steep you could see way off into the distance. Pretty incredible. The trek flattens off and you cross what looks like a dry lake bed between two peaks. 

Nota Bene here. We were told not to climb Mt Ngauruhoe (Mount Doom) as it is sacred to the Maori and to please respect it. Bullshit, they just don’t want you to take the extra hour to climb it. One of the German lads knew and they climbed it, I only found out that night. It was being advertised in his guidebook. Fecksake.

The far side of the lake bed you get a panoramic view of the mountains. We had to climb again and it was quite steep. The views just got progressively better but at the peak the wind started blowing pretty heavy. When you hit the peak, you look down on the emerald lakes below. Yeh, this is what I came for. However, no one told me about the pong of sulphur wafting out of the ground. Sheer class though. Wow,

The path home took fecking ages. Wandering off the peak you wander back down the mountain side through a plain and finally into a forest. Not what I was expecting. Near the end you pass a stream, my legs and feet were burning so I was glad to walk into it. 

Post sleep, I went for a few. Another late night but a much smaller crowd. We were playing drinking games and I repeatedly had to remind Harry, our young free-spirited mascot, how to play. He would then bemoan he always had to drink, despite the fact we continually prevented him drinking by reminding him of the rules. Ha, some people.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Quick stop at a look out over Lake Taupo and then onto Tongariro National park for a walk. We ended up at a Taranaki Waterfall and got in for a swim. Holy shit, it was freezing. So much so I sprung a nose bleed but it cured the hangover quick enough. After the walk, I was in dire need of a toilet and that held up the bus. Martin was not impressed. I was told I would have to sing a song. Hmm, we’ll see about that.

River Valley is a lodge deep in a river valley, very descriptive, which is renowned for its white-water rafting. I stayed in the dorm. It was one small room with about 30 in it. One massive long bunk bed with loads of mattresses thrown on it, like two long sardine tins. I went swimming in the river straight away. There was a trolley to cross the river you could pull yourself over on. The far side you can jump off the rocks. I was too much of a lil bitch to chance a flip. 

The lodge served up dinner and it was pretty nice. Most cooked but I reckon it wasn’t economical. Top Tip: if travelling solo it is too expensive to be buying and cooking but if you go in a group, it works out way cheaper. Anyway, post dinner I went drinking with the Dutch girls and a few of the lads in the bedroom. You aren’t allowed bring your own drink so we had to drink in the rooms. Another Top Tip: buy can, buy a pitcher of beer in happy hour and then continually fill it up. Shrewd mofo!!

River Valley is renowned for its drinking games. There is one where you start on top of the table and then without touching the ground, you have to go under the table and get back on top. The key is your foot position but my span was just too small. We played another game or two.

So, before I go any further, I met this English couple in Taupo. Was chatting to the girl for a while and realised she was with fella so I left her off but she was giving me very strong vibes and was saying things that were blatantly obvious despite the fact her boyfriend was there. As I walked into the Lodge, who’s there on the couple.

There was one game where you have to jump on a partner’s front, then crawl over their shoulder, through their legs, without touching the ground. I describe this to the group and next min your one is eagerly volunteering to do it with me. I was like ‘Fuck this’ but as a token of inclusion I did it with her boyfriend and we ended up doing it first time. One of the lads Cameron asked me the following day “what the fuck was that about?”. I was glad I wasn’t the only one to notice. Eventually, we ended up playing card. Her sitting across from me. Continually stroking my hand, asking me flirty questions and the boyfriend sitting beside her. I scarpered as soon as I was dry, weird shit.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

I woke the following morning to a commotion outside. Someone had vomited on the balcony and someone else, they thought pissed in a glass but it transpired to be beer. I was particularly nervous as I may have been taking cheating ones in the drain outside, as the toilet was a trek away and figured, hear no evil, see no evil. I got away with anyway. 

We arrived at the start of the river and as we practiced in the shallows “back paddle” was called and I ended up flipping out of the boat. Our guide was very cool and you could see the high-water line from the storm that had just passed. The rafting was a lot more intense than the Barron river and were several rapids where we had to walk a bit as they feared if we got the line-up wrong we would go off a rapid onto a rock. One group were constantly falling out and half drowning each other. As we chatted, the guide asked what we all worked as. Out of boredom, I decided to tell everyone I was a Guinness Taster. Despite the fact I had been hanging around we everyone for days, the instructor and everyone else completely bought it. I forced back the smile and wowed them with bullshit. Cameron was particularly raging a few days later when I came clean. 

A long sleep to Wellington and our first motorway, how these guys got the Rugby World Cup and our infrastructure was too shit, I will never know. To check in to any Base Hostel you need to download the Tipi app, which caused a massive queue making it slower than a normal one and leaving us in the pissing rain. 

That night we played dirty bingo which is good craic. Went for a wander in Wellington to get food and it looks like a serious spot for a night out. There is a bit of a buzz in the city so it was a shame we weren’t staying longer. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

We boarded the ferry for the South the following day. The view into the Picton up the fjord is meant to be beautiful but I just stayed inside due to the rain. We gave one of the English lads a rundown of Irish history. Hilarious how history one side of the Irish sea is very different from the other. 

Kaiteriteri is a small beach village on the edge of the national park Abel Tasman. Abel Tasman is meant to be beautiful and if I were there for longer would probably have spent a few more days here and gone in a hiked around it. Instead we went swimming and jumping off the bridge on the way into the village. Did a quick walk to the top of the cliff overlooking the beach and down to another beach on the far side. At this point I’d earned my pints so it was straight to the hostel for food and drink for the evening.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Fucking hell. Why did I sign up for this poxy kayaking? Ugh, sweet Jesus. This was way too early. The weather wasn’t great and it was essentially the only activity available so I went for it. It was harmless. I momentarily perked up when it looked like three Good looking Swedish girls looked like they would be joining us but they went on a different tour so I lost interest again instantly. It was pretty overcast and I was wrecked tired. We saw Split Apple Rock, the photographed rock in… blah blah blah, I honestly couldn’t care less at this point. I felt bad for the instructor who I was paired with. I was far too tired to be good company and she kept asking me to slow down to wait for the rest. Perhaps, subconsciously, I was trying to end the ordeal as soon as possible. 

My energy came back a bit when I copped there were two new Irish girls on the bus, Fiona and Elizabeth. They seemed like good craic and would end up spending pretty much the rest of the holiday with them. Our final destination today would be Westport, a small village full of two kinds of people, drug addicts and surfers. First, however, we stopped in Lake Rotoiti. Wow, this place is idyllic. A lake, a pier and mountains, Instagram central. Despite the rain and it being cold, we dived in. The water was ok once you got used to it. We floated back leisurely towards shore. I felt a light rub on my heel and joked with the other it was an eel biting. Then I felt a second, much stronger rub, the eels were sussing me out, the fuckers. I turned and swam to shore like a manic. A Swiss girl hadn’t witnessed this episode and went in after us only to be bitten.

This is the first hostel we could drink in and despite the rain bucketing down we made damn sure that’s exactly what we did. I made use of the good gym literally next door to the hostel and then cans for the evening. We were eventually kicked out around 10:30 and we headed to the pub. Martin wasn’t lying, this village was ROUGH! An episode of Shameless was the comparison I’d give. Dudes with gang tattoos on their face. Supposedly, the guards raided the place before I arrived. A few games of pool, where I got my ass handed to me by one of the girls, before I eventually decided to bounce.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Why do I do this to myself. Another very early rise to go surfing but my God was it unreal. Abandoned beach, big waves, bliss. Even had a hot Dutch instructor and the sun came out at the end too. Only thing that wasn’t good was my surfing ability. Swam beyond the break, tried to catch a wave, got kicked out, repeatedly and then just hung back by the shore and caught the smaller waves. So good and refreshing though. 

The day would only get better. The west coast has amazing scenery and we stopped at the Pancake Rocks, where we spotted dolphins and did the Truman track, a short walk off the road to a secluded beach with seals and a waterfall. Really cool and beautiful.

We stopped in Greymouth and were informed that tonight would be fancy dress and to sort it. For anyone going on the Kiwi Bus, there is a store on Tainui street that has stuff. Bought a few cheeky cans too. 

Lake Mahinapua is a class hostel, basically on the side of the road. Cushioned between the lake and the endless beach it has a class setup. We all went swimming in the lake and chilled out in the sun. While others chilled out in the Jacuzzis I played a game of 2v2 basketball. Activity done for the day it was beering/costume time. Everyone committed so the costumes were savage. We watched sunset on the beach but honestly, we didn’t see a thing. It was just a good excuse to have a few cans before we went into the party. 

What a night! The craic was savage. Costumes had to match the first letter of your name. I was an erection. Genius. Although, I just looked like a turkey. The best winner costume was a tree. The staff knew how to throw a party, this wasn’t their first rodeo. We were there giving it welly, dancing on the bar, barefoot and sweating profusely until about 2am. The staff and all join in. Savage night. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Breakfast was epic. Lil lie in followed by a full buffet before a short trip to Franz Josef glacier. At check-in the owners offered someone a pint to down. It was probably 11:30am but my eyes were lighting up. Was this to be an all-day session? Transpired the bar was closed and I’d a moments contemplation where I pondered was this excitement and desire to go drinking healthy. It was go on a walk or start drinking alone. I figured the former was a wiser option. 

Franz Josef offer heli trips up to the glacier. They are pretty dear but I figured they would more than likely be called off so I didn’t bother. Gladly, my instinct was proved right. I joined Elizabeth and her mates from a different bus, soon to be mine, on a few hours walk. We got a bus up to a car park at the start of the trails. Think it was about $10 return, go not too bad. Up to the glacier, down to a swing bridge, across to the tiny tranquil Lake Wombat. The lake was beautiful. Glassy still, steam slowly rising off it, the sun dancing through the trees bouncing off the water like a disco ball. The Glacier has been reducing rapidly over the last few years, which is another tragic reminder of the effects of global warming. When you see something as cool as that and knowing the damage we are doing you can’t help but feel a little sad. 

Back at the Rainforest hostel the pints were starting to flow. We drank outside until sunset and then moved into their massive smoking area. They ran a treasure hunt style competition, Kiwi Experience versus their rivals Stray. If they played a certain song you had to get your ass to the bar. I would have liked to take part but the effort of climbing over everyone to rush to the bar just for a few shots didn’t appeal to me. One of the lads on our bus won it though and got a free canyon swing. The last task was to kiss a certain bar tender. His rival found him but neglected to kiss him so our lad just gob smacked him, job done, winner all right. After that it was just another night of drinking jugs and chatting shite to everyone. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

It was time to leave Martin and the rest of the bus. Generally, you do two days in Franz Josef but my rush to get down to see Mikey in Queenstown and the fact my own bus would be full, meant I’d just do one. Anyway, this would be a long ass day to Wanaka. 

First stop was Lake Matheson. I was hating life at this point so I dragged Elizabeth and one of the lads the opposite way around the loop track. The lake is renowned for being glassy still and is nicknamed the Mirror Lakes due to it reflecting the mountains and Fox Glacier. I’m not going to lie, even in my hungover stay I could enjoy and appreciate this. 

We briefly stopped at Ship Creek, where there is a lookout tower, for food. I’d none so I just went for a walk. I did eat though at the next stop, Curly Tree Whitebait. So, Whitebait is a delicacy in New Zealand. It’s baby fish they catch going from sea to river. A lot of the bus had moral issues eating it, as due to overfishing and habitat destruction one of fish’s numbers is rapidly declining and is on the verge of extinction. I did feel bad eating it as me trying it once relative to commercial fishing and selling it for $70-$130 a kilo won’t make a difference. Also, it was $10 for a fritter, basically a baby fish omelette, compared to $30-$45 for the same thing in Auckland. Honestly, as conflicted as I was I’d have no issue recommending trying it here to anyone. 

We went up the Haast Pass. A massive river bed surrounded by mountains with no one about. We stopped at one stage to walk up the river and it was insanely beautiful. Next stop was Thunder Creek falls, a dead straight water fall. Embarrassingly, its famous for people pretending to drink it and post it on social media, I'll refrain from saying more. This ultimately lead to a bizarre sight of hordes of tourists all staring at the sky with their mouths open. The Blue Pools I loved though. These pristine deep blue pools with two swing bridges over them. As I changed, I heard a massive splash. Ben, the bus driver had jumped off the bridge, the mad cunt. Fuck it, I want in. I leapt off twice. The drop was big and the water was freezing, serious rush though. We would go on to stop at a few more look out but my energy was leaving me fast and I was beginning to simply not care. The sights were amazing but fuck me, get me off the bus.

I did get off the bus and the girl fed me and I was back in full flow. Elizabeth sold me the dream of this “Water Tree” in Lake Wanaka. It was pretty harmless, if I’m honest. Would make for a nice Instagram picture, don’t get me wrong it was nice but perhaps not the hype it deserved. It wasn’t like it was this miracle tree growing miles into the lake. It was on the shagging shoreline. I did google it since and it appears the water level was low and it’s generally a good bit in.

Murdering Robbie Williams “Angels” in karaoke was easy, making sure I was entertaining everyone was a bit harder but I’m pretty sure I nailed it. We headed up to an Irish bar where the Guinness was surprisingly good and then some small bar but the craic was dying then. For some reason, I was still full of beans and decided to go on a 3am 3km run. I still don’t know why but I arrived home wrecked and slipped into bed unnoticed.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

“Please leave sir, you can’t sleep in here” uttered the Puzzling World staff member. Shaken I walked outside and fell asleep under a tree near the bus. I have no idea whether it was any good or not and was too hungover to care. 

Thankfully, I had perked up by the time we hit Queenstown. First stop was the AJ Hackett Bungee Centre. A few of us did bungees but I’d planned to do the big one called the Nevis so I just watched. If you do it here, remember to tie your shoes as loads of people lose them. 

Mikey didn’t get off work for a few hours so we decided to go Luging. The luge is up Queenstown hill and with the Kiwi Experience you get a discount, a gondola up and 3 rides and it’s well worth doing. My road rage got the better of me however, and I may have used some expletives when some Asians crashed and held me up. Think I need to become more placid. 

Mikey lives in a paradise. The views of the setting sun, the clouds, the lake and mountains form a whole spectrum of ever changing and vivid colours. I could get used to this. We hit town for a famous Fergburger but the line was massive so went to Devil Burger and ate it on Perkys Floating bar on the pier. The food was class, as were the views of the lake. The was the start of what would lead to a pub crawl around Queenstown taking in, World Bar, Cowboys, for a few Steins, a rodeo bull and the best urinal in the world, and few other spots whose names I didn’t get. Embarrassingly Mikey was rejected from Cowboys for having his girlfriend’s ID so we had to spin home and back to get it. 

It’s worth noting, Queenstown’s nightlife never stops. It’s the first place in New Zealand that was open beyond 12 and that there were loads of bars to choose from. Also, as it’s the “Adventure Capital of the World” and there are a constant flow of tourists going through it, there is an eternal energy. Anyway, a taxi ride beckoned and I learnt to ask for “Locals rates” and give a spiel about how long you’ve lived here. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 23, Queenstown, 17th of January 2018

Canyoning is basically walking, swimming and jumping down a steep river bed. It’s about $220 to do it outside Queenstown, in 12 Mile Delta and it is class. It is even better when you only pay $18 to rent a wetsuit and Mikey is your guide. Side note, 12 Mile Delta is also Ithilen camp in Lord of the Rings. The tour group abseil down into the canyon but we just went another 50 metres upstream and walked into the river. Mikey, to be fair, was a pretty good guide and showed us where to jump and where there were hidden rocks. I would 100% seek this out if you are in Queenstown Ma’.

On the way home, we stopped at the cliff diving spot “Little Thailand”. You crouch through the bush until you arrive at the cliff over the lake. It’s class and real hidden gem in Queenstown. The highest jump is supposedly 15 metres and is as scary as fuck. Mikey did it, of course, and not to be outdone I eventually took the plunge after some smaller ones. 

134 meters. That’s the length of the Nevis Bungee. Suspended high over a rocky valley, my ankles straps soon to be my only thing preventing me smashing into said rocks. It’s a serious operation and runs like clockwork which is brilliant. As I stood there peering over the edge it was go time. It was awesome. Instant adrenalin. I’d have done it again in a heartbeat. 

Next up the Nevis Swing, the largest in the world. If I’m honest, it was a lot of waiting around and. Myself and an American dude Matt did it together as supposedly you swing faster with two. We flicked ourselves upside down, then there is a sudden release of speed. That rush wears off pretty quick so I wasn’t overly impressed. 

I met my original bus in Red Rock Café and had a pint waiting for Mikey. Quick turn around and then back out to World Bar for the night. I’d lost my voice so bad from the concurrent nights out that I stood in the smoking area for a bit in the hope someone would come out and talk to me where I could be heard. Send over the pineapple Ma’. Feck this, Fergburger and a taxi ride convincing the driver I was a local for a cheaper rate. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 24, Queenstown, 18th of January 2018

Milford Sound is supposedly the 8th wonder of the natural world. Personally, I only thought there were seven and so everyone else must be just claiming 8th. Either way, it’s amazing. As per usual, I was negative craic until I ate the first stop. We stopped at this plain on the way and it was class. I got a sudden urge to get on horseback and ride off into the distance. Strange. As bad as my hangover initially felt, as we stood there and soaked in the views one of the lads was the other side of the bus vomiting. 

Milford is a bizarre spot in the sense that it, if it rains the place comes alive. Thousands of temporary waterfalls spring up out of nowhere. We were blessed it was raining, it was amazing. I was trying to look out every window and absorb as much as physically possible. All the while I was in visual ecstasy, the girl behind myself and Elizabeth was watching Netflix. What the actual fuck?! Are you serious Love? Why did you bother your hole coming? You are missing this, it’s fucking beautiful. Breaking Bad can wait ‘til you get home, you won’t be back here again. Christ!!

We stopped at the Chasm Viewing Bridge, which is a class waterfall, through the Homer Tunnel, a man-made tunnel made with picks and axes back in the day. The indigenous Kea parrot hang around there. Cheeky feckers and extremely clever.

We boarded the boat out around out into the Fjord. It was pissing rain so I stayed in for a good bit of it. They showed us a few waterfalls, a few of which we drove into. Was good craic getting soaked. The scenery is stunning.

Eventually got home late that night but was so tired I couldn’t go out. First night off since I got to New Zealand. Probably not a bad idea considering my voice and throat were fucked. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 25, Queenstown, 19th of January 2018

Ben Lomond is the peak overlooking Queenstown. For the last full day here, I said feck it we’ll go up it. Elizabeth, two of the English lads and I set off up through the forest instead of taking the gondola. Fiona just got the gondola up. We stopped for water and breakfast in the gondola station and discussed how we’d probably be up and back in no time we were so efficient. What a moronic and naïve thought that was, we’d barely started. The trial continues on through a bit of forest and then a gradual incline for ages. We reached a Saddle where it goes from the gradual incline to a steep mountain. Fiona was about to back out but I told a few lies about eating lunch a bit higher up and she kept going. 

Every step revealed more and more scenery and my God it was so worth it. You have a 360 view of everything for miles. Mountains, glaciers, lakes, rivers, valleys. What a view. You can see the helicopter trips flying below you, giving a real sense of how high we’d climbed. I would 100% recommend this for anyone who is in Queenstown.

Conor, Mikey’s house mate brought me down to Little Thailand for a swim after. First time ever doing a back flip. Scary shit. We all headed for dinner in Yonder then after. It serves loads of small dishes and everyone was picking from each. Pretty nice. We bounced around the place then from Cowboys for a bit of rodeo and concluded in Surreal. Mikey was a biteen well on so he tipped off home. I hung on a bit longer and went back to Cowboys and then gave up and went for my last Fergburger.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

So that’s the end of New Zealand. Jenny’s parents made breakfast and we sat round, it was almost a glimpse of home. Bizarre, I’m only gone a shagging month. Being dropped off at the airport by Mikey was even wrapped with a tinge of sadness. As I sat in Melbourne airport and contemplated it, my mood was noticeably lower. The realisation that the rush of the whole Kiwi Experience, the nights out, the activities and mostly the rapid nature of meeting new people, each with a unique story and something to learn from. The stark realisation that instant openness and friendliness wouldn’t be recreated unless I am travelling again so I called you for a chat.

If you were give a bomb, just one, and you could bomb a place you passionately disliked I would bomb Launceston. 

My car was booked to go meet Fionn and his mates that night. My organisation quickly turned to horror when they wouldn’t accept my card. Revolut is pre-paid and therefore not accepted. In fairness Ma’, you and Dad tried everything from home to sort it and no joy. I would be stuck in Launceston. The Indian taxi man offered to use his card but she was gone from the desk. I was low at this point but it was due to get a lot worse. It was now 10pm and every single hostel I tried was full. I was now wandering round what seemed like it could be a rough city for an hour and half. I finally met a nice lady who basically went through and rang every hostel and hotel in the town. Eventually, two places remained, the cheapest being a Mantra Hotel. $100 deposit, $200 room and $50 for a fucking taxi. Fuck me, one fucking night in this poxy kip and its cost me nearly $350 and to make matters worse you’d to pay for the wifi in the room. 200 fucking dollars and they want you to pay for wifi, get fucked. I only had about $400 to start with. Looks like I’ll not be eating tonight. Fucking Launceston shithole. Please God tomorrow will be better.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 27, Tasmania, 21st of January 2018

Finally, I’m on the road. Destination Cradle Mountain. Fionn and the lads would meet me there. This day was starting to look good. I pulled up at the barrier did a lil short walk while I waited for the lads. Three hours! Three fucking hours later I eventually meet them. I had been waiting between the visitor centre and car park whereas they had gone right up to the lake. I was trying to be positive when I met them but I was seeding. 

So, Cradle Mountain you are meant to pay park pass and parking. I paid it but the lads didn’t bother. Turns out you probably don’t need to as the barrier open automatically. Cradle Mountain is a sharp jagged peak surrounding a lake right in the heart of Tasmania. I’m not sure Fionn and the lads were expecting a hike but that is exactly what I got. The lake is beautiful and we hiked up to Marians Lookout, overlooking the lake. The peak doesn’t look too hard to get to but with the light that was left we couldn’t risk it. Still the view was class.

We headed back down and soaked in the remaining heat of the sun on the far side of the lake before considering probably two of the most pressing questions. One, where are we staying and two, what will we do about food.

Strahan looked like the biggest place on the map. In fact, it is tiny a village. We had stopped briefly en route at Black Bluff Range Lookout Track, which is a class view but no food so it was about 9pm when we got to Strahan. Never arrive this late here. There is fucking nothing. Fionn and I went in search of a shop that thankfully reopened just for us and the lads managed to find a pub called Hamer's Hotel. Of course, the fecking kitchen was closed. 

We sat there like bums, eating cold pasta tubs and dry sandwiches from our loaf. We were still homeless though but fortune favours the brave and we were invited to a house party of some hotel staff up the road. The tactic was simple, have a session and find a bed. It was the strangest session I was ever at. A drinking game that involved essentially just slapping people on the arse, a girl from TIIIEEE WAAAAANN (Taiwan) with the weirdest voice imaginable and someone playing Wonderwall on a guitar using a dildo. What a time to be alive. Most importantly, we managed to scare of most of the occupants leaving us with beds for the night.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 28, Tasmania, 22nd of January 2018

Bang! Bang! Bang! “WHO THE FUCK OWNS THAT JEEP MARTHA?!”. Holy shit, the manager of the hotel was going rasher and it was time to bounce. Let’s get out of Strahan asap. Ah feck it, let’s go for a swim and wash off the pier first. 

We ate in the Track's Café in the Queenstown railway station, nice enough. Stopped at horse tail waterfall, shit, and Iron Blow Lookout. The lads had stolen a golf matt, a wedge and a few balls on their travels and there was no better spot for a bit of practice. The hole is a massive red quarry filled with turquoise water at the top of a valley so the view is deadly.

The drive back to Hobart was so diverse, particularly the first half of it. We went from slightly rugged mountains, to lush forest surrounding lake, to kilometres of graveyard forest that looks like it had been heavily burnt and the sudden emergence of a parched plain that would fool you into thinking you were in Africa, to a tall smothering rainforest until we reached the farmlands in the East leading to Hobart. We also stopped in Nelson Falls. It was grand and handy to break up the journey. Some Indian kid slipped in the river too, which was pretty funny

We managed to book the YHA in Hobart and the lads thought better of spending another night in the back of the camper. We headed for a burrito and a few pints and wish the lads the best of luck as they would be gone in the morning. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 29, Tasmania, 23rd of January 2018

Dragging Fionn and Neil out of bed in the morning early the next morning wasn’t easy but eventually got on the road to Bruny Island. Famous for the Neck, a sand bar connecting two minor islands and thus creating Bruny Island. The Neck is a small set of steps up atop a sand dune where everyone takes photos. It’s probably one of the most famous and picturesque spot in Tasmania. Honestly, the pictures are cooler than it itself. I can’t really work out why, it was just a little underwhelming. 

Unlucky for the lads, I was going on a hike. Adventure Bay is just south of the Neck and there is a good walk there called Fluted Cape. The first hour was tougher than expected as we hiked up through the forest, Fionn in flip flops. Worst part was we kept thinking we were nearly there. When we arrived at the top we had a savage view over the cliffs, the Neck and Port Arthur in the distance. The cliff themselves, from the water, look exactly like the Giants Causeway. You can’t fully get that sense from where we were standing but it was still a class view. We hung around there for ages so Fionn could get a bare arse photo. Eventually, we had to risk it slightly further down where the view wasn’t as good. 

The walk led downhill and eventually back to the car, much longer than I had anticipated. We tried to squeeze in one more site before the ferry stopped so we booted down to Cloudy Bay. One thing they don’t tell you about Bruny Island is that half the roads are literally dirt roads for kilometres. The beach was cool. So isolated, just a lone surfer and a camp site only accessible at low tide. Would a pretty cool place to stay. Quick joy ride on the beach and then booted it back to the boat. 

We were fairly low on cash at this point but we found The Standard, up the road from the hostel that serve good burgers for cheap. We went for a few pints in Irish Murphy's as Fionn had played music at an open mic the previous week and was hoping for another craic at the whip. Sadly, he wasn’t allowed but we met a Dutch girl we’d met at the cliffs earlier and we’d a few pints with her and her Dad before heading home to bed. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 30, Tasmania, 24th of January 2018

Pair of sleeping bags. Like waking the dead. Last bloody day and I still can’t get them up. Freycinet, which contains the famous Wineglass Bay, would be our last day trip. The drive up is long enough but when you get there it is pretty nice even from Freycinet village. 

We pulled up at the national park, skipped the parking fee of course and took off hiking. We reached the look out pretty quick. The view was pretty stunning so we raced down to get into the water. The beach and water are lovely and the waves were big enough to be fun and small enough not to be intimidating. We noticed a large number of small, intense blue jellyfish. Later, I found out they are blue bottle jellyfish and are known to sting pretty bad.

Splitting the peninsula is a big dried up lake. Along the walk we spotted a few wallabies and a snake which was cool enough. The beach on the other side was amazing. There was barely a sinner on it, a topless woman or two was about it. In my opinion, so much nicer than Wineglass Bay. The beach must be several miles long covered in the unique shells. I couldn’t get over how still and relaxing it was. Serene would be the apt word. Didn’t really want to leave to be honest. The remainder of the walk went through a wood and then out through bush. This bit took way longer than we had thought. 

One thing I should mention before concluding Tazzie. It is said the locals are bogans, and I would have to agree. Everyone was either under 18, hadn’t left for college, or mid 30’s and were settled down. Personally, I didn’t find them friendly at all. Kind of cunty to be honest. I asked two girls on the street where is busy and one told me to shut up. Fionn and Neil were sitting in a pub while I parked and were told they would get their heads cut off if they looked at some horrible junkie ould one again, despite the fact she was dancing in front of them. Sad to say but yeh, cunts. Anyway, we didn’t stay out long after that. I was also broke, so yeh.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

A plane, a bus and a train and I was in St. Kilda, Melbourne being collected by Cian and Conor Walsh. We went to a local park for a puck about. It’s funny, you travel to the other side of the world but some of the greatest thrills you get is doing the same thing you did as kids back home. It’s not what you are doing it’s the people you are doing it with. Very philosophical.

I took that tram down to beach. One thing I would recommend if you are in Melbourne is to get the travel card. Like a leap card and combined with the Transport Victoria app it’s very handy. I met Elisabeth and Fiona in Republica on the beachfront in St. Kilda. It’s pricey enough but the view is class and the people watching is pretty good too. As night descended a larger thunder and lightning storm could be seen out at sea. Cian and Conor and a few more joined us and before we knew it a bit of a session was starting.

We headed into St. Kilda after and bar hopped Acland Street for the night, concluding in Big Mouth. I was still in flip flops, a wife beater and short but there was no issue. If only you could do the same in Ireland during the summer.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 32, Melbourne, 26th of January 2018

“You’re famous”. Good fuck. Never the words you want to hear with a hangover. Everyone I was introduced to at this Australia Day party knew who I was. Social media is the Devils work.

We had a cool set up for the day. Friends of Cian and Conor’s have a rooftop terrace and cooked a class BBQ. Sadly, I wasn’t feeling fresh enough so I wouldn’t be eating. The rain came and we were all force downstairs to their apartment. I couldn’t get over it was all Irish people there. I could have been in the Navan Road.

MK was playing for Australia Day. Personally, I don’t give a shit about house music but I was hardly going to sit in alone. As we entered the gig I was shocked to see no other nationality. This is basically a gig in Wrights. Hunger got the better of me so I went to a pizza restaurant down the road. As I sat there, two girls from college who live in Sydney passed by. I chatted to them for a while but what the hell is going on. 

The gig was grand but Cian and I headed home at about 2:30am. I had to pack and get my ass to the airport. I lay down for about an hour and hit the train station. What they don’t explain is that the bus goes from Southern Cross Station. At 4am the train only goes as far as Flinders street. Totally lost, I managed to convince to girls who seemed to be airport bound too to give me a lift in their Uber. Sorted, I’m Sydney bound.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

I arrived in Coogee Beach exhausted. At this point, I was starting to feel spoilt. I was staying with Paul and Rory so the challenge of meeting people and finding my way in a new city wasn’t there. It’d been the same in Melbourne and Queenstown and in Tazzie I was with Fionn and his mates. I was so fucked from the lack of sleep though a bed and someone organising my day was a dream

I woke to find the keys of the apartment by the bed, the fan pointed at me and my phone on charge. Some hospitality. When I eventually rose, it was a quick pit stop to their friend’s apartment then we heading to the Electric Gardens Festival in Centennial Park, the Sydney equivalent of the Phoenix Park. Again, I couldn’t give a fiddler’s fuck about house music but now I was seeing MK, among others, two days straight. 

Surrounded. That’s the best word I can use to describe the amount of Irish there. It must have been about 70% Irish, 20% English and then the rest. Half of the crowd I wouldn’t interact with at home so it was a bit bizarre going to a festival here.

To be fair, the festival was pretty cool. It concluded with Fatboy Slim, who I’d never seen before but was class. I was shocked at how good he was, he nailed it. Serious gig. Getting a taxi was a nightmare but we somehow convinced this middle-aged guy to give us a lift. 

Just above Coogee Beach is a small park known as the Cliffs. I think its official name is the Grant Reserve, either way it is an ideal place for some late-night drinking. It reminded me of long summer nights as a kid, everyone lying out on the grass chatting. It was about 4am though I decided to pack it in.  

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 34, Sydney, 28th of January 2018

The apartment was like a funeral today. Won’t be much action or craic here today. I wandered around by myself and went to Moodi’s Café for food. The food was grand, nothing major and then stopped for coffee in the Coogee Pavilion. It seemed quite fancy and considering I was walking around barefoot it probably wouldn’t have been my scene.

Coogee to Bondi walk is beautiful. I decided the best way to see it would be to go for a run. It is pretty nice. Real chilled out vibes as people swam and wandered between the little beach, alcove and cliffs. I, however, drastically underestimated how hilly it was and was shattered pretty quick. I got as far as Bronte Beach which was about 3.5km from Coogee. I had no idea how far Bondi was so I tried desperately to wipe off the sweat and head back. My aim was to keep the pace high, which I did, but I was now starting to have heart pain. This got progressively worse and spread to a sharp pain in my right elbow. Hmm, this isn’t good. I eventually laid off the pace for a small bit and downloaded a heart monitor on the phone. I managed to make it back to Coogee, regularly checking my heart rate in the process, and embraced the cool relief of the fresh water.

I met one of the girls, Mary, in the Coogee Bay Hotel. The hotel has a big outdoor area and the Australian open was up on a massive screen with Federer in full flow. If there was a match on I’d say it would be a class spot to watch a big match. The pizza is pretty good too. Unfortunately, it shut down around 10, strangely earlier, and I went back to the lads half cut. I was mad for road but sadly they couldn’t be paid to out so I had to resign to the fact I’d be staying in. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 35, Sydney, 29th of January 2018

The way car insurance works in Australia is the car is insured, not the driver. This means anyone can drive it. Happy days, I got the lads car and headed to the Blue mountains. Driving through Sydney was a bitch and I nearly crashed the car switching lanes. Somehow, I ended up crossing the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Oh well, at least I got to see that. 

You drive out of Sydney and the road eventually starts to rise and get bendy. From the road you would never notice you anywhere near the Blue Mountains, once you turn off though you are only about a kilometer from the massive valley.

The first stop was Wentworth Falls. I parked up and took off walking down the Shortcut Track to the Conservation Hut. I was nervous I didn’t have any water and had no idea how long I’d be out there. I read the Overcliff Walk was good and seen as the National Pass was closed I took that. The scenery is stunning as I walked along the top of the cliffs over a vast and dense forest canopy. Through an overhanging cliff and out the other side I came to Wentworth falls. The falls dropped deep into the valley below. I had no idea what to expect so I hadn’t brought swimming gear. There were a few people swimming and posing for photos in the pools so I joined in. Well worth doing. People were also jumping the barrier and walking to the edge of the falls. Fuck that, I’ll take a pass on this one.

Next stop was Katoomba. Home of the Three Sisters, one of the Blue Mountains most famous attractions. This is where the majority of tourists go. It’s a big lookout at the three rock columns. Cool enough I suppose.

It took me a while to decide on a route. I headed down the Giant Stairway, aptly named to be fair, then took the Dardanelles until I got on the Federal pass. The Federal pass finished up in Fern Bower and would take that trail up and out of the valley, then the Prince Henry cliff walk back to the car. 

The walk was pretty nice. The high trees, the deep over growth. I came across a few lyrebirds. They are grey birds and look like bush turkeys. I didn’t know until after but the lyrebirds copy the noises they hear around them. Check them out on YouTube it’s amazing what they can copy. On that, the thing that struck me most was the noise in the forest. The bird noises ding donged overhead like nothing I’d experienced before. At the end of the trail, at Fern Bower there is another cool waterfall. After that though the walk up is tough, well I tried to run it. It just goes on and on. A couple I passed looked at me like I was insane. By the time I got to the cliff walk home I had seen enough canopy so I barely stopped. 

Fionn lives in the Western edge of Sydney beside St. Aloysius school where he works. I picked him up and headed over to meet Neil so we could go for a puck about in Riverview school. The schools playing fields overlook the harbor and you could see the CBD skyscrapers lighting up as the sunset. 

Driving back to Coogee that night I could see the skyscrapers up close. I was delighted I made the drive as it was pretty cool. I grabbed a Chat Thai in Randwick on the way home as it was about the only place open. Sadly, the lads were already in bed with work in the morning so there was no chance of going for a pint. 

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 36, Sydney, 30th of January 2018

I am so not built for this heat. With no fan and air con I sweat throughout the night barely sleeping. I was up early to get a lift with the lads on their way to work. I wandered down to the Opera House for a customary a picture and then got the boat to Manly Beach. 

Last day in Australia, time to surf some waves and get a tan. The boat through the harbour was pretty cool. When you get to Manly you walk straight through the pedestrian street to the beach on the other side. I was feeling brave so I rented a board for 2 hours. What a massive over estimation of my own ability. Totally brash and cocky. I went out caught one wave and got battered. I surfaced got battered again and then wisely went back to the baby waves. After 50 mins of paddling my stomach was grated down. Every time I move it stung mercilessly. I spent the rest of the day lying on the beach ready and book and spraying sun cream on my like someone with OCD. Never, ever, use spray on cream. Total bullshit. I used half a can was lit. I could barely move. Fucksake. I am destroyed. 

Managed to feed myself in Manly Fish Café which was nice and then bolted for home before the pain kicked in. The lads had left for home already so I checked out the Royal Botanic Gardens before I got the bus. It’s really nice but there is a very strong colonial feel to it. I was also dying for a piss so I got out of there before things to worse. 

I met Rory on the way out for a run so I joined him. The burn hadn’t kicked in fully so we headed south towards Maroubra. The run was nice and we got lost for a bit and explored some of the cliffs and rocks. Well worth a look. We also tried the famous among locals, Coogee steps, on the way back. Over 150 steps from the shore up to the road above and you must hit every one. By the end my quads were humming. Most people do a good few, one was enough for me. It’s some life though. At the end of the run we went swimming in the baths beside the beach and wandered home bare foot. I could get used to this. 

Minton had cooked dinner for me upon our return. Always nice to get a send-off. I laid wet cloths on my burns and tried to sleep. Tonight, would be tough.

And yes Ma’, I’m fine.

Day 37, Sydney, 31st of January 2018

Oh fuck me. This is cruel. I grabbed a quick bit of grub in Yeeros Café, it was fine, and got to the chemist for some pain killers, aloe vera and sleeping tablets for the flight. It was sad enough saying goodbye to the lads but luckily, I’d a row of seats to myself for the first leg of the journey. 

I touched down in Dublin over 28 hours later, numb on pain killers and...

...as you know Ma’, until next time, I’m fine.