You Ain’t Going Nowhere, Sunshine…

I’ve always viewed my long cycle trips like a moon shot. On such a mission the excitement is all about being at the moon but much of the anxiety arises in the launch and re-entry. My trips have the same issues. I’m always worried about packing the box, remembering all the things I need to carry, box sturdiness, the weight and not least getting this large package to the aeroplane. When returning the challenge is finding a large cardboard box at the departure town to pack the bike in. On this latter challenge then imagine finding a bike shop with a surplus box and then carrying it 3 miles back to where you’re staying to pack it!

So I was never relaxed about the flight to Sydney. Something approaching relief would have happened when I pushed the box into my hotel room. With the alarm set for just before 4am I tiptoed out of the hotel room at Manchester Airport attempting not to wake my first wife. In the reception I was reunited with my bike box and loading my other bags on the trolley I wheeled the lot down to Check In at Terminal 2.

The bike has to be put on the trolley end ways up to push it through the narrow passageways that litter your route. I got to Check In at around 4.15am in line with instructions for a 7.45am flight (!) The process starts with using those awful electronic stations. They never seem to function properly and an assistant, usually hard pressed as a lot of passengers want his time, has to help due to some malfunction. I overcame the Check In hurdle and was directed to another person at a desk who requested my passport.

I handed it across and literally after opening it up he asked me to wait whilst he hot footed it to another colleague. I was urged to join them where this colleague said to me plainly without any empathy that the passport was damaged and I couldn’t fly.

Weeks of planning, lots of expenditure, accommodation booked, items bought, fitness  kept maintained in a rubbish winter now all discarded in a heartbeat. The passport was weary, true. It had been through the wash in Port Douglas, Queensland in April. However, I’d had no problem subsequently in Australia, New Zealand, France, Spain or the UK. Never even a comment made by an airline or border official.

In distress I said that it hadn’t been a problem elsewhere and so was passed to my third person. She advised that the airline could be fined for carrying me to Australia; as I’m talking the tickets were being ripped off my luggage. My interview was seemingly over as they moved onto other passengers.

Stunned!

Back in the hotel room my bride was rudely woken as I regaled her with this unbelievable situation. Following this I ran around that morning getting a passport application form from a Post Office, passport photos from a booth in Tesco and a counter signature from a friend across town and drove to Liverpool to get a passport on a guaranteed week’s delivery. I now await its delivery.

(Note, this new passport will have a new number. I will therefore have to re-apply for an updated Australian visa. Obviously this can’t be done until I get the new passport and see the number.)

Booking.com and Qatar Airways advise that I can reschedule this flight (and my return ones) for an amendment charge. I somehow don’t feel that lucky but we’ll find out.

So that photo of a smug Yorkshireman in a T shirt in front of the Opera House is on hold.

Following this debacle I did contact Simon Calder of the Daily Telegraph on ‘X’ about Qatar Airways. It seems they have a lot of ‘previous’ with this action. In fact amongst their victims is Matthew Parris who got evicted prior to a flight to an African destination.

Check the condition of your passport and don’t fly Qatar Airways.

Lastly thanks to all the sympathy I got from a load of folks on Facebook and Instagram with my video explaining my problems. Hopefully my next social media post will be happier.