Week 25
Week 25: Travel in the face of COVID-19
and our desperate attempt to get home.
When
21.03.2020 - 28.03.2020
What
Almost 6 months into our 12 month sabbatical and we find ourselves back in Wollongong and in quarantine for 14 days. We are obviously devastated that the trip we had planned for so many years and that we had worked so hard to save for is now over. There will be no travel for anyone now, not for a long while. Strangely though, something that we have both learnt living and travelling in a van for 6 months is we are in control of very little except of how we choose to react to the world around us. So although we are sad, we are also incredibly thankful and grateful. Grateful that we got to enjoy 6 months living in our van and travelling Europe. Grateful that we left nothing on the table at every turn of our trip. And incredibly grateful to have loving and supporting families, a roof over our head, food in our fridge and toilet paper in our bathroom. With that in mind, here is recount of what it is like to travel during a pandemic.
Saying goodbye to Ziggy the Van
This past week has been difficult, anxiety provoking, unbelievably costly and exhausting. On Monday we arose at 4am to drive our van for the last time. 430 km from Kent to Leeds to arrive at 11am to meet the broker. This is not how we envisioned selling the van. We wanted to do it ourselves, but we were lucky to get a broker who was willing to store it and sell it on our behalf, so this was the best outcome in a bad situation. We picked up a hire car on our way through Leeds and Pat followed me to the handover point. Paperwork sorted and waves instead of handshakes, we turned on our heel and headed straight back south towards Heathrow. We drove almost 850 km in a day.
arriving at heathrow
Approaching the airport was eerie. No one on the roads and little movement on the tarmac. We returned the hire car and caught an empty shuttle to the hotel. There was more a sense of sadness, than panic. Every person we encountered was facing redundancy in the coming days and tried their best to put on a smile. The hotel lobby was empty aside from a single masked woman stood 4 m back from the service counter awaiting something or someone. She twitched as we entered and started to anxiously shuffle her weight from one foot to the other. All the service desks had a barrier in front to prevent guests from getting closer than 1.5m. Ever wall had correct hand-washing technique posters. The contactless machine was sat as a lonely island, far in-front of the hostess, she motioned for me to tap my card before passing the keycards over with a gloved hand. I used disinfectant wipes to sanitise all the surfaces in the hotel room. We had come this far and not gotten sick and the next 48 hours were crucial.
Since booking our flights, I had been obsessively checking their status in fear of a cancellation, there had already been 3 changes to the flights before Emirates abruptly announced that it was grounding their entire fleet. We were on the last scheduled flight out before that came into effect. A restless night of anxious thoughts for both of us, we were relieved to wake to our 5.30 am alarm and see our flights were still scheduled and had been allocated a gate. Fewf. We checked out, and dropped our room keys into a repurposed cardboard box. The staff waved and off to the terminals we went.
Not ideal
“I’m sorry ma’am, neither of you appear to be in the system”
I frantically show her our booking confirmation, passports, receipt anything I could think of to prove we had booked our flight. None of it would help. Downtrodden we were directed to the ‘customer service’ desk for Emirates. It was before 6 am, we were the only ones at the Emirates check-in, there were 15 staff and 2 of us. The entire exchange went like this.
“Your flight has been cancelled, we are grounding our fleet.”
“That’s not in place until midnight tomorrow!”
“I’m sorry”
“So what do we do, do we get a refund, can we rebook?”
“I can’t help you”
She then walked away.
We both now felt overwhelmed with the consequences of this cancellation and jump into action. I call insurance and Pat frantically starts searching for another flight, ANY other flight that will get us home. Insurance is as helpful as the Emirates ground staff. There aren’t any available flights for days and they are insanely expensive. We both call home to alert our parents who are making arrangements for our pick up and isolation. Unsure of our next move, we walk to British Airways who are situated next to Emirates, hoping they may still be flying. We explained our situation but no luck here. The petit woman called out as we were walking away ‘I think qantas is still flying citizens home even though Singapore airport is now shut, they are all the way down the end’.
Compassion in a crisis
It was now 6.30 am and we are at the Qantas check-in, there are half a dozen people around our age standing around in a social distancing version of a que. Before we even approach a customer service manager appears.
"Good morning, have you booked a ticket with us?” We explain our situation.
“Alright, don’t worry, it’s going to be OK, we will get you home. Ticketing doesn’t open until 9 but if you jump online and book a London to Sydney flight on the earliest date possible, we will change it here for you now and put you on the flight tonight and get you home.’ At this point I cried.
We step to the side to allow another passenger from our cancelled flight get told the same thing. We all stand around, eye’s fixated on our phones, attempting to book heart wrenchingly expensive flights. I enter my card details and watch the loading circle spin. TRANSACTION DECLINED: AUTHORISATION NEEDED. The bank blocked our cards. Too big a transaction and no Australian number to receive the security code. Fudge. Thank god for parents. I call my Dad, he books them from home and somehow they are half the price we were seeing and we thank our lucky stars our bank cards declined.
A few minutes pass which feel like an eternity while we wait for the confirmation code to come through. The same Qantas attendant comes to check on us for the third time. ‘We’ve got it!’ we exclaim. Smiling, as if genuinely relieved for us, she ushers us over to a check-in counter and within a couple of minutes we have been put on the next flight, departing at 11pm. The first ever direct London to Darwin flight due to the Singapore restrictions. Great, but it was now almost 7am. The amazing qantas staff then warned us that nothing was open through to the gates and as we had 14 or so hours to kill, that we were best to go for a walk to another terminal where a small supermarket was still open.
14 hours stuck in Heathrow airport during a pandemic
As it sounds, we spent the daylight hours outside as much as possible near the queen’s terminal. It was so devoid of staff, we noticed a number of homeless people taking the opportunity to sleep inside and use the toilets and showers. I couldn’t help but think what these next months will hold for a group so vulnerable. We stayed clear of anyone or anything. Throughout the day we used 3 bottles of hand sanitiser and a packet of wipes while incessantly nagging each other about face touching. It’s so damn hard not to do it! The airport terminals and gate lounges showed little signs of life. Other dazed and weary travellers like us, waiting to go home, the uncertainty etched onto everyones brow. Tired and emotionally drained, we felt a weight lift off us as we finally stepped on board to the smiling flight attendants.
16.5 hours to darwin and an uncomfortable delay
In a time of immense stress and exhaustion we were thrilled to hear the cabin doors close in preparation for take off. Mainly because we knew our next stop was Australia and we couldn’t get stranded but also because somehow, on what was otherwise a full flight, we got a row to ourselves. This flight was the same duration and only around 1500 km less than the record for the worlds longest passenger flight which also occurred this week due to travel CORONA travel restrictions. Point is, it was a long flight for passengers and crew.
When we finally touched down in Darwin applause broke out on the plane; something I’ve only ever experienced in the United States. It was here we found out that the London crew had volunteered to do this flight and in a few days would all be taking forced leave for the foreseeable future. Unlike a normal layover, we were only stopping to refuel and change cabin crew so were asked to remain on board and buckled in. This wouldn’t have been an issue except, this was the first passenger plane of this size to land in Darwin. All cabin power turned off leaving us sitting in a sealed, dark and airless metal case. We were informed that there wasn’t the normal power hook up available and they were trying a work around. So we sat, crew and passengers, for over 2 hours in a plane with no power, no air conditioning or air filtration sweating in our seats. The incredible staff patiently kept us informed until finally the call was made that we were going to disembark. At this point the lights were back on but no air. So the entire flight was instructed to gather our things and as people lined the isles waiting to get into the fresh air, the power kicked back on with air con in full swing. The announcement quickly came over that we could sit back down and the crowd gave a collective chuckle and shrug. Pat and I hadn’t even gotten up in the first place.
Terrifyingly easy
Our final flight to Sydney was uneventful and we were relieved to touch down, preparing ourselves for intense health screening we had read so much about. During our delay in Darwin passengers traded personal plights, like ours, of being stranded and trying to negotiate multiple cancellations with other airlines before finally securing safe passage home. On arrival, staff clad head to toe in personal protective equipment handed us the self isolation card that our Prime Minister Scott Morrison held so confidently at his press conference a few days earlier. Ours was the only arrival at this time so the airport was very quiet.
Terrifyingly, aside from a paper declaration that we pinky promise we won’t leave our quarantine, there were no measures in place to ensure we were not carrying or been exposed to COVID-19. Social distancing at immigration was not adhered to with passengers cuing as normal. No one checked our temperature or asked us our travel history and under half an hour from disembarking, we were through, bags collected and out. People on our flight were sick, and we have since found out there were COVID cases confirmed on our flight. Some people seemed not to care that their persistent coughing over the almost 24 hours confined to the same seats, was making everyone else twitch in discomfort with each uncovered splutter. What was worse however, is that the procedures on arrival seemed even more indifferent than the passengers onboard. We had arranged for a car to be dropped off for us to drive ourselves home as to not be a risk to those we love most but witnessed many people from our flight hugging and kissing family at the arrival gate. A day later the announcement was made that incoming travellers were to go into forced hotel confinement, but I find myself thinking that it’s too little too late. We are taking this isolation extremely seriously but after our experience, have little faith in the public or government protocols. 7000 passengers came in the same day we did and I doubt that they will adhere to the restrictions or be caught if they don’t.
Although our year long adventure has abruptly ended, we will be journalling next week after we enter isolation, fingers crossed we have made the final hurdle without exposure to COVID-19.