Day 216 | Bindoola Creek waterhole: I'm on the Gibb River Road finally

34 km | Heading west total: 9,661 km

It’s 8 years since I set off for my father Douglas’s birthday family reunion in Nelson, NZ which also happened to coincide with September 11th, (in the USA).

Out at Tullamarine for the early morning flight to Christchurch all the airport monitors were showing repeated replays of the planes surreally crashing into the World Trade Centre which had just happened overnight.

After about 50 replays someone must have noticed this wasn’t a good look for an airport and the monitors were all mysteriously switched to static instead. There was not much discussion amongst the nervous passengers waiting to board and everyone was eying each other very suspiciously. It was quite unclear at that stage whether there were other suicide attacks planned elsewhere around the world.

One young guy with a beard, a backpack and a swarthy appearance sat cross legged on the airport lounge. He seemed quite serene and relaxed. I could sense the nervousness about this potential terrorist.

There was great relief when he spoke to someone in a thuck New Zuld accent: he was going home after climbing mountains in the Himalayas.