Somewhat disappointed with St Kilda's, I fly back to Sydney where I have a few days to kill before the long flight home for Christmas.
I have arranged to meet a few of the girls from the bus who have rented a flat with the intention of earning  some cash to continue their travels.
It's only been a week, but I've missed them! Their little flat is delightful and within walking distance of the city centre, so, we wander down towards Hyde Park & Domain where there is a televised free carol concert with famous stars (none of whom I recognise!). It's warm and balmy and everyone has picnics and red candle lanterns. The atmosphere is amazing and I almost get the Christmas feeling, except it's 10pm and we're wearing shorts and t-shirts!
For the next couple of days I have arranged to stay in Manly with an old friend who emigrated to Australia many years ago, and with whom I had lost touch.
The ferry to Manly from Sydney Harbour is  a tourist 'must' according to all the guidebooks and as I heave my rucksack on my back and jostle with all the tourists at the ferry exit I am worried I will not recognise her. After all, I've definitely put on a few pounds (well more than a few!) and we're not any younger. But she hasn't changed a bit, and I spot her straight away.
Back at her apartment in the town centre, her Mum has arrived to stay for a few weeks. All the way from..... Esfahan in Iran. How I wish I'd known she lived there before I went! For the next few days, I am spoilt like a princess. It's lovely to catch up on the family news and hear a little about real life in Iran but I also get plenty of time to walk the fantastic beaches around Manly and do some real tourism in Sydney. I try to do some Christmas shopping but my heart's not really in it. Back home they have -19C and 60cm of snow and here it's 26C!
I love Sydney. It's compact and interesting and there's something for everyone, whether you want culture, architecture, history, activity or beaches. I do the free walking tour round the city centre and spend an afternoon in the Botanic Gardens, then there's the buzz of Darling Harbour, not to mention the Opera House. I even make a trip to the famous Bondi beach. Well, it would be churlish not to.
But I'm ready to go home and see my own family now.
It comes as shock to find that my flight's been cancelled and the earliest connecting flight home is New Year's Eve. After hours on the phone I manage to get a split flight arriving Christmas Day. It's the best they can do. Devastated, I accept, but still worry that I might end up stranded in Hong Kong for Christmas on my own.
Saying goodbye to my friends on Christmas Eve, I check in. Any chance of a connecting flight tonight? No, it's fully booked in Economy. But one look at my dejected face and the young man in customer service is on the case. Half an hour later, I am not only on the connecting flight but have a seat in Upper Class all the way. There's just time to text home and tell them I'm on my way and I'll be home for Christmas.
There is a Santa and he works for Virgin Atlantic!

I had anticipated a few days R&R on the beach of St Kilda's just outside Melbourne, but the weather is not supportive of my expectations. Constantly changing from hot & sunny to cool and windy, with even the occasional blast of rain I am forced to seek shelter in the cafes an bars of this seaside resort.
St Kilda's is reputedly famus for its cafe culture and cakes and I am determined to carry out an in depth survey.
After 2 full days of strenuous testing I can confirm that St Kilda's bars and cafes do have lots of delicious cakes and the portions are extremely generous. However, they have yet to meet the high standards set in Europe, and in particular Paris and Vienna.

The drive up the coast from Oamaru to Christchurch is not too long and Gollum is returned to base without prejudice or incident. I'm going to miss him. It's only a one night stop but there's time enough to wander round Christchurch.
A pretty city with a river running through, you could be in Oxford or Stratford. The cathedral square is bustling with activity and the bars and restaurants are full of office workers and Christmas parties.
The sun is shining and it won't be dark until 10pm. Christmas parties? It doesn't compute. I cannot believe it will be Christmas in two weeks!

The road to Oamaru is long and remote. Wild, rolling hills with wild lupins in the river valleys.
Oamaru itself is another quaint seaside town famous for the impressive limestone buildings and penguins.
Heading for the cliff top at dusk where we hope to see the yellow-eyed penguins returning to their cliff top burrows after a days fishing, the wind is blowing a freezing gale and the rain starts to add to our misery. Its hard to see anything as the wind and rain lashes us in the unprotected viewing hut up high but eventually we spot a lone penguin landing and gradually waddling his way across the beach.
Concentrating hard and trying to focus through the shivering, we eventually spot another six landing and making their way home. We can't dawdle any longer for fear of hypothermia and we also have a nightfall appointment to see the tiny Blue Penguins coming home around the headland.
As we make our way back along the cliff top path, there is a small group of people standing by the fence staring into the bushes.
As I peer in, I can see a yellow-eyed penguin peering back. He is almost within touching distance and somehow he has climbed his way all the way up the cliff back to his burrow at the top. He is not too impressed with his audience and gives the evil eye, albeit yellow.
Round the corner, penguin viewing is much more organised and commercial. A small wooden viewing stadium has been constructed alongside the landing ramp and the penguins have only a short hop from the ramp, across the road to their purpose built sea view apartments nestling in the hillside, and kindly provided free of charge by their hosts.
Just as we arrive the first raft of penguins comes into land. Unlike the yellow-eyed lot, these tiny Blue penguins gather in groups offshore before heading together for the shore. They surf in on the crest of a wave in groups of 20 or more. It is captivating to watch and we find ourselves scanning the ocean to catch more rafts forming and coming in to land, until it gets so dark we can see no more.

Today's destination is Arrowtown, back to Queenstown and beyond. An old mining village, which originally had a substantial Chinese population, it bears no resemblance to the dark slate mining villages of my home country of Wales.
This quaint, picturesque village is more reminiscent of New England and is chocolate box picture perfect. They have even reconstructed some of the old huts inhabited by the Chinese alongside the clapboard houses, which are now exclusive gift shops, tea rooms and cafes. We travel on to Lake Wanaka.

Today, Gollum has to get us to Milford Sound and back. Fuel stations are few and far between and I am more than a bit nervous as I overfill the tank in Te Anau.
But, once again, my thoughts are overwhelmed by the beauty of the countryside as we approach the granite precipices of the mountains around Milford Sound. Wide valleys with babbling brooks and sheep become stark canyons with white water rivers fed by an endless stream(!) of waterfalls.There are still snow and ice covering the peaks and crevices almost down to the roadside. At the entrance to the tunnel which takes you through to Milford Sound itself there is still snow actually at the roadside, in the middle of summer! On the other side of the tunnel the road twists and turns through countless fairy grottos until you get to the end of the road. The very end of the road!
At the very end of the road is the terminal for all the companies offering short cruises around the Sound. I am tempted by the small boat option which gets right under the waterfalls and close to the vertical sides of the fjord. The company I finally choose also claims to go further out than any other. 
This place is so remote, untouched and inaccessible yet thousands come to view it every day.
It is cloudy, windy and wet as we set off, essential weather for good waterfall viewing. Trees and tree ferns cling to each other and the rock surface without the benefit of soil to provide security and nutrition. Its a testament to hydroponics. Groups of fur seals gather on rocks at headlands as we follow the curves of the rocks gouged out by glaciers millions of years ago. 
The water gets a bit more choppy as we reach the Tasman Sea and we are almost at our turning point when we spot something in the waves in the distance. A pod of dusky dolphins is heading towards us. We go to meet them as they fly under and over the water in twos, threes and fours, like synchronised swimmers. They are dainty dolphins. Much smaller than the bottlenoses we are used to seeing on tv or in displays. They dance and play around us, chasing a school of fish across the Sound, eventually disappearing into the distance a full 15 minutes later.
We make our way back along the fjord, stopping only to put the bow of the boat under Stirling Falls, until we are all fully drenched. As we do so, the sun comes out, the clouds disappear and the Falls make full rainbows across the water. Good thing I'd bought a waterproof camera.

I have also foregone the luxury of hire cars and motels for a campervan as my mode of transport. In this way I hope to save a few NZ$ by using the free (almost) Dept of Conservation sites dotted a round the country or cheap commercial sites with facilities for showering and cooking.
In the interest of further cost saving I have elected to hire a 'Wicked' campervan rathe than the more traditional model with built in fridge, cooker, storage, bedding, seats, etc.
'Wicked' take worn out old campervans and make them cool by tarting up the chipped paintwork with their 'Wicked' graffiti. I got 'Gollum'. Very apt, given that South Island NZ is famous as the location for Lord of the Rings. Also very apt, given that Gollum comes 'naked' with just a sink, a water bottle, a worn out thin foam mattress, an empty gas bottle and an empty fuel tank!
I love Gollum. No airs and graces. No worrying about bumps and scratches. No extra insurance costs to cover every eventuality. No worries, period. Except whether we will make it from Queenstown to Christchurch.
To be on the safe side, we make the first driving day a short one and head for Te Anau.
I am smitten by the scenery on South Island. It is everything I love in one place. We pass along remote turquoise lakes hidden in mountain valleys and across open plains. Manipoura,nr Te Anau is my first destination. Chickening out of wild camping on my first night I choose a low budget campsite by the lake. I just make it and am the last to get a space as they are full in this summer season.
I hardly notice the little black flies as I check out the pitch but before long I am raking my skin with the itching. As I flick them away, little drops of blood appear on my skin. These vampires are worse than any of the mozzies I encountered on my  travels through many malarial countries. By the time I've swapped my shorts and sandals for long trousers, socks and shoes I have been eaten alive.

Originally, I had planned to visit the Great Barrier Reef, but a chance meeting with an adventurous New Zealander in the summer persuaded me to forego this in favour of a tour of New Zealand's South Island.
Distances in Australia are immense and I have no wish to spend more time constantly on the road after 3 months in a bus. New Zealand has a lot to offer and I am anxious for discovery.
Landing in Queenstown is like travelling to another universe. We fly in over snow capped mountains, jagged and precipitous and then descend along a valley with the river below into a sunsoaked pretty airport. I am unprepared for the cold air which hits me as we exit the plane and quickly don my fleece for warmth. It's 23C and I'm freezing.
Queenstown is an easy place to love. It is small, quaint and lively, surrounded by beautiful mountains and situated at the end of a glassy, turquoise blue lake. It's a scene straight off a  picture postcard.
My accommodation is a cross between a backpackers and a hotel and is perched halfway up a mountain. The room overlooks Queenstown and the view is well worth the climb. Families, young backpackers, and oldies like me, mix and chat in the kitchen and lounge.
The Shotover Jetboat experience up the river is recommended with Skippers Canyon adding a 4x4 rough track mountain ascent to get to and from the start point. I am also keen to do some walking and horse riding. By the end of my few days there, I have climbed a mountain, ridden through fields of wild lupins, fairy woods, up glacial rivers, and seen where they filmed Lord of The Rings. I have also ridden in a high speed Jetboat up a narrow canyon in less than a foot of white water, after scaling a mountain track with sheer drops off the side (memories of Kathmandu put that into perspective though!). Time to move on for more adventures.

Although the official end of the trip was our arrival in Sydney, most of us had wanted a more significant occasion to punctuate the end of our epic adventure together. In true Ozbus style, it was a slightly disorganised, disparate get together down the pub, where we reviewed the trials and tribulations, the highlights and lowlights of the trip with those we had grown closest to on the journey. Some will continue their adventures together, others will start a new life together, others will return to their old lives. None will be forgotten.
I still have a few more adventures up my sleeve before I return home and my first challenge is the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb. Anyone who knows me well, knows these 2 things about me:
1. I get nervous at heights
2. I always challenge my fears

Apparently, one of of my forefathers, was involved in the construction of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, so I feel honour bound to hand over the AUD200 (150 quid) for the terror of scaling the dizzy heights. My biggest fear is that I will chicken out.
During lunch with a former colleague I keep staring up at the little ants tethered together as they slowly traverse the high arc of the bridge to the apex and back down the other side.
The butterflies in my stomach get more lively as the appointed hour approaches. Three and a half hours are allocated! OMG. It must be steep to take that long. Our group of 9 are ushered into a small room for a safety briefing. 3 strapping German lads, an English couple, an Asian couple, an Aussie and me. We sign our lives away, enter the room where we are allocated our PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) and are shown how and when to use it.
Into another room, where we have a practice run on some steps and an overhead gangway.'Anyone nervous?'. Me and the Aussie indicate nervously. 'You'll be fine' we are assured. We do not feel re-assured.
Why are you here? I ask the Aussie. 'A friend bought me the experience' he tells me nervously. 'Some friend' I sympathise.
All too soon it's time to be off. The 3 Germans push to the front. Eek. I wanted to be closer to the guide in case it all goes wrong. I get in behind them. My Aussie buddy is trailing at the end, I feel for him.Once we are in line we cannot change position and he is far from the guide's support. Maybe he's not that nervous.
We set off, dragging our safety harnesses through the safety line. The first hurdle is a narrow wooden scaffold bridge over the main harbour road to get to the main Bridge parapet. It's only 2 planks wide and the road is clearly visible 30ft below. Pretty soon we have negotiated various obstacles along the way and are about to start the main ascent. Our guide turns to give us some history.  before moving on but it is clear our Aussie cannot take another step. Assistance is called to take him off the bridge so we can continue. Now I am thelone nervous person. The English couple behind me are quite chatty and we talk about their Aussie experience and my epic bus trip as we climb. My nerves dissipate but we still have a steep open ladder and the external arc to climb. The German in front of me keeps turning to check I'm ok. We climb up the open ladder until we are above the traffic on the bridge. It doesn't seem so high after all. We start the ascent up the arc bu the girders are solid beneath us and extend well beyond the handrails on either side. We are tethered to a line in case of high winds or slipping but the weather is beautiful and the views across Sydney are stunning. As we go, our guide stops to tell us about the roled of the 1600 workers on the bridge including the catchers, balancing on metal plates 130m above the water with nothing to hold on to, as someone chucks white hot rivets across for them to catch in a bucket. It's amazing that only 3 died from falls in the 9 years it took to construct. I feel very safe compared to them and do a little victory dance when I get to the top.  As we make our way back down the other sode and the celebratory bubbly my friend has waiting for me. I feel sorry for the Aussie who didn't make it. He had already done the scariest bit.

In the morning we get a chance to see a bit more of our beautiful surroundings before continuing our journey to Sydney. On the other side of the river is a wooded reserve, where we go koala hunting. We spot possums and kookaburras (yes, in an old gum tree!) but no koalas as we wander along the river path. There is flooding in the woods and it looks ethereal as with the sun streaming through but we can't go looking there. . Eventually the (silent) cry goes up. A koala has been spotted in the fork of a riverside tree. As we all gather round to take photos, he wakes up, rubs his eyes, stretches, looks nonchalantly down at the crowd below, decides its all too much effort and goes back to sleep again..
We are now on the last leg to Sydney and we are all keen to reach our final destination and start a new chapter. We even forego the opportunity to drive through the nation's capital (Canberra!), as it will add another 3hrs to our journey.
It seems like only yesterday we were gathering at the Embankment in London, nervously introducing ourselves to a bunch of strangers with whom we would get very intimate in the coming months. We have travelled through 17 countries and 3 continents, completed more than 25000 kms together, seen the sun rising and setting in the most beautiful locations in the world and soon it will be time to say goodbye and move on to the next chapter in our lives. We drive into Sydney and pull up at Mrs MacQuarie's Chair for a final group photo with Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House in the background before making our way to the city centre where we will split up and go our separate ways.