Stalked by coronavirus but free at last
It feels like COVID-19 has followed me around the world, tracking me across three continents and pinning me into a corner.
Travel writers like to think they have a knack for getting themselves in the right place at the right time. Like any reporting, you put yourself where the action is. But sometimes you walk a little too close to the edge, especially when the action involves a highly contagious virus.
Maybe I’m paranoid but it feels like COVID-19 has followed me around the world, stalking me across three continents and pinning me into a corner. After 112 days confined to quarters in Melbourne, I have been freed, but for a while this virus had me on the ropes.
In February, I was skiing in Colorado, just as murmurs of a new illness were beginning to spread. Soon it wasn’t just murmurs spreading but the virus itself. The language of travel changed, and “global hotspot” no longer meant a travel destination in high demand. A group of Victorian skiers caught the coronavirus in Aspen and imported it back home. I protested my innocence. Colorado is a big state, I pleaded, and I wasn’t even in Aspen. No one seemed convinced.
Weeks later I was skiing in Switzerland near the Italian border, just as Italy descended into corona chaos. I was crammed into a gondola with 80 people, nose to moistened nose, some noses no doubt from Italy. Talk about an extreme sport.
On arrival home even my family gave me a wide berth. I became known as the guy who went to Aspen and to Italy, even though I went to neither. Still, I got pretty close. Wrong place, wrong time.
We all know what happened next: national lockdown and the great sourdough bake-off. But we got on top of things, or so we thought. Domestic travel started opening up again in June. Tourism operators were crying out for visitors, visitors were crying to get out. I circled dates in the calendar, booked some trips. We drove to the NSW South Coast and back through the Snowy Mountains. It was wonderful to be on the road again. But COVID-19 must have sensed I was venturing back onto the stage and it returned for an encore. A new hotspot sprang up in Melbourne, right in my suburb (of course). Once again I was a pariah, a filthy Victorian who had ventured north with the plague. Before you could say “quasi quarantine”, Melbourne was back in lockdown and I was back on sourdough.
Coming out of lockdown was like being out on parole. Inevitably, my first trip was to that enchanted suburban destination, Bunnings. Freedom was stocking up on home renovation and repair supplies essential for a handyman with skills such as mine. Yes, I bought cable ties, gaffer tape and super glue. It was nice just to go somewhere.
While the frustration of confinement was acute for those yearning to travel, I felt especially sorry for business owners. Exceptional leisure, travel and culinary experiences don’t just happen. Entrepreneurs take risks, research markets, borrow money, strive to create something unique and lasting. It can take a huge leap of faith. Victorian businesses are now back in the game, and they had better brace themselves — thwarted travellers like me have been unleashed.
On November 9, the “ring of steel” came down, opening up regional Victoria. The following day I hit the road. On the Thursday I was up on the Murray River gazing across the water to that forbidden frontier, NSW. I had travelled as far as I legally could, as soon as I legally could.
Next week, fingers crossed, that border comes down, too (technically I think they are leaving the river in place) and a truly special travel experience that seemed as distant as Mars not long ago beckons: Christmas with family. That’s if the virus doesn’t find me first. Travel writers are supposed to know how to get around, but COVID-19 must surely be the doyen of travel. You just don’t want it sitting next to you on a plane.
