Having an ‘early twenties’ daughter on a working visa in Australia is an excellent excuse for pulling forward a bucket list trip under the mask of parental devotion. She landed in an unsuspecting Northern Territory 6 months previous, in search of excitement, alternatives and koalas. Francesca rides unicorns.
So this site is, ostensibly, to allow family and friends to share a brief reunion and track the travels, close encounters and epic fails of our tour of five of the six states which make the mainland of this massive country. However for those anywhere who may be planning a similar trip, contemplating the prospect, or perhaps beat us to it long ago, you are welcome to follow my irregular musings along our way.
In terms of what should be in store, should the grand plan pan out and fate not intervene, accompanied by my wife (and personal organiser) Jacky, we fly into Darwin in a few hours time and exit Oz via Brisbane in a tad over three weeks on. Time enough only to scratch the surface, be it red desert, tropical forest or sun-blessed vineyard. Along the way we plan to glamp in the Kakadu Park wilderness, ride the Ghan through the centre to Adelaide, camper van along the Great Ocean Road, lose ourselves in Sydney and snorkel in the Whitsundays. That’s the first draft of the script – but as my alter ego Uhtred of Bebbanburg would offer – ‘fate is inexorable’*. No doubt his words will echo as I enter the cage of death tomorrow to meet my appointment with 18 foot ‘salties’ – an introductory treat from a daughter to her dad. Must take some ‘snaps’. But, Ken is a croc whisperer.
For Jacky, my wife of 35 years, the itinerary suggests Oztentatious but predicts Ozteopath. Comfort zones will need to be protected. But after years of motherhood executed with military precision, Jacky can chill. For the next few weeks Jacky is to be Jacs. Jacs is a free spirit.
So we skip off down our Ozzy yellow brick road. The unicorn jockey, the croc whisperer and the free spirit. What could go wrong? Fate is inexorable —Wyrd bid ful araed.
So far the omens are good. Despite the ignominy of NOT being asked to produce my senior railcard on the journey to London, the flight is currently on course to meet our Singapore connection, and I’ve just been served a cracking red wine by my attentive air stewardess named Tiffany Tan. That’s for real. Could life get any better? Don’t say it Uhtred!
Let’s see what tomorrow brings.
* Bernard Cornwell – Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg – The Saxon Stories.
Ken's Eye 
After an extensive period of research, I am annointing you with your Australian adopted name of: Jabiru
Jabiru is the terms used for the ‘black-necked stork’ by the Aboriginals of the Northern Territory. The fact that it’s the only stork species native to Australia makes this name even more appealing.
Furthermore, the Aussie’s will get to know (where ever you go for your adventures), that there’s only ONE Ken to go with the only stork species native to Australia.
Happy travelling Jabiru!!
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Have I just been storked?
After just one post!
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Wow Bill Bryson eat your heart out. Travel blogging with style substance and erudition mixed with down to earth Yorkshire humour. I’m strapped in for the ride – just hope the crocs don’t end it prematurely.
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