Our 2024 adventure kicked off with a 32 hour journey from Canberra to Montréal. In between was Sydney, Auckland and New York.
The ever reliable Moses who has been driving me for 18 years arrived at 4.50am. He’s in high spirits as are Mardi and I, despite the early hour and despite it being a Saturday.
20 minutes later we arrive at Canberra airport and check in. Two minutes in the lounge and our flight is called. All very smooth. And then.
We sit on the tarmac for 25 minutes. A flight to Melbourne has been cancelled and passengers are being transferred onto our flight. They’ll now be going. Canberra. Sydney. Melbourne. More and more board the flight. A couple in front of us are chatting excitedly. It seems like their first ever plane ride. They struggle with their luggage, their seatbelts and ask the cabin crew a series of questions.
Then the captain appears. Why isn’t he in the cockpit I wonder.
He apologises for the delay. And then informs us that this flight is the final flight of the Boeing 717 era. He and the crew were the inaugural crew on this plane many years earlier and today they all rejoin for its last flight. Passengers offer a round of applause.
A few minutes later we depart Canberra. The sun is shining as we soar northward. A brisk southerly tailwind helps us get back on time and we land in Sydney at 7.00am. Leg one done.
We transfer to the international terminal using the bus. The driver stops abruptly in the tarmac as a 737 is pushed back and we sit for a few minutes. We then wrap around the end of the runway and head over to the international terminal. He swerves and slams his breaks on again behind a refueling truck. Passengers spill out as he arrives at the drop off point and we quickly pass immigration and head up to the qantas first lounge for breakfast. After breakfast we sit and enjoy the beautiful sunny morning before boarding for the next leg. Auckland.
The 787 roars away on time at 10.10am as we fly out of Sydney for the two and a half hour trip across the Tasman.
Auckland’s weather couldn’t be more different to the glorious spring day we left behind. Wet. Cold and windy. We bump our way onto the tarmac for the 90 minute stopover.
The stopover is a bit painful. Taking everything off the plane and going through security. Most passengers are transiting to New York so the one security point is quickly over run with people waiting. You get off the plane get screened again. And get back on. Qantas refuel, clean and re-cater the plan.
We have ten minutes in the lounge for a quick comfort stop and a drink. Then head back for boarding.
We then do it all over again. The 787 cuts through a swathe of mist as it launches itself through the rain and wind. A minute later we are enveloped in cloud as we start the 16 hour flight to New York. We peek out of the cloud to brilliant sunshine a few minutes later as we cruise to 37,000 feet and the captain inputs in our flight path. We cut a straight line to Los Angeles, passing over Honolulu on the way. A slight right turn at LA as we track across the Rockies, badlands and Great Lakes and eventually into New York. Aided by a tailwind we arrive an hour early to a gorgeous afternoon. We’ve arranged a meet and assist to help us get through to our next flight and our attendant sorts us all the way to the air train where we transfer from terminal eight to terminal four. JFK is a massive airport and the infrastructure here is astonishing.
We arrive at terminal four and bounce around a bit before finally finding our Delta Airlines queue. 25 hours of travel down and one leg to go. Due to our early arrival we have a four hour stop over. So enjoy some time in the Centurion Lounge. A lounge set up for American Express card holders. We enjoy some dinner and rehydrating spring water before embarking on our last leg to Montreal.
Our plane is on time and we board effortlessly. We are on a Bombardier CRJ900. It’s about 80% full with two cabin crew. They keep yelling at passengers to put bags away in overhead lockers. People are stashing them on vacant seats.
We start to taxi and the pilot informs us there are 25 planes in the queue for take off. It’ll be awhile. 45 minutes later we are off, but not before a pesky passenger gets up and wanders around, only to be yelled out to sit down.
Despite the long taxi, we arrive only 4 minutes later.
At that time we’ve been on the go for 32 hours.
It’s cold when we land: four degrees, feels like minus two. Our meet and assist greets us and whisks us off through immigration and customs and out to an Uber. Frustratingly meet and assist on Delta also means a wheel chair even after both Mardi and I explain it’s the eyes that don’t work, not the legs.
Twenty minutes later we check into our hotel. It’s midnight.
Now the real adventure begins.
