It's incredible (or perhaps not) how many people tell you to go to Hell or that more enigmatic place, Buggery, yet nobody is willing or able to tell you how to get there. I've yet to discover these destinations in a street directory, or on a travel agent's destinations list. Finding the back o' Bourke or the far side of the Black Stump would be easier. Bon Scott of AC/DC told us there is a Highway To Hell, but he didn't tell us whether it branched off from Fifth Avenue, King's Park Road or Downing Street.

Maybe if we played Meatloaf's song, "Bat Out of Hell" in reverse, we could retrace his steps to find one of these destinations. Of course, if we could find the road that is paved with good intentions rather than tarmac, we'd be on the right track, but we'd probably have to search for that road somewhere beyond the Black Stump. Take a cut lunch and a water bag for that quest.

Equally perplexing is the means of transportation needed to reach these destinations. Any vehicle being driven at twice the speed limit on the Freeway could transform that road into the short cut to Hell, while a seat on a rickety plane could get you there for a little more expense, but the way to Buggery is more difficult to envisage. Maybe a train would get you there faster than a Holden FJ; that way you wouldn't need a street directory, just a platform number.

The next time somebody tells me to go to Hell or to Buggery, I'll put some thought into the actual journey. I probably won't be in any particular hurry to get there, so I may indulge myself in some fanciful methods of transporting myself.

A slow boat to China would ensure my arrival in Buggery in a relaxed condition, stuffed full of egg foo yong to boot. What's the Chinese name for Buggery? Note: ask one of my Chinese friends to come along to translate, or I could arrive there stuffed full of Peking duck instead.

Or perhaps Buggery is somewhere in the Bosporus, and I'd have to take the Orient Express train to get there. Though I do remember one of Agatha Christie's victims going to Hell or Buggery somewhere along the journey, assisted by a round dozen fellow travellers Hell-bent upon revenge, so it may prove to be a waste of money to pay for the full trip.

It appears that the journey could be much more interesting than the destination, depending upon the means of transport chosen. For instance, a cruise among the Greek Islands may or may not lead to Hades, but the search would be delightful. Blue skies, blue seas, an attentive dark eyed steward, moussaka and retsina, what could be better? Maybe a Tom Conti look-alike, straight from the movie "Shirley Valentine", promising not to "make fock" with me on that sea that goes down forever.

On the other hand, a Trans-Siberian train journey in winter may be a foretaste of hell, though maybe not the Christian idea of the place, more like Valhalla perhaps.

With the various means of transport available in the world, the search for Buggery could be an exciting trip, something to plan for after my long overdue large Lotto win.

I think I'd like to start with a sunset camel ride on the beach at Broome, followed by a helicopter flight over the Bungle Bungles, or up Katherine Gorge. A balloon flight from Uluru would probably add nothing to the search, but a lot to the excitement. Maybe Buggery is in one of the countries that the Danube flows through, so a nice trip from its source, right up to the Black Sea would occupy me for a while between a flight under the Golden Gate bridge in San Francisco and a sail on a junk in Hong Kong Harbour. Note to self: Organise a journey on a cable car while in San Francisco.

Then would be a nice time to take a trip on a Nile boat, searching in the Valley of the Kings and the Temple at Luxor for my elusive destination. I wonder how the club social secretary would like to organise that as a club trip? Maybe she'd be happier with something closer to home.

Let's see, what's the name of that overland track to Alice Springs? Ah yes, the Gunbarrel Highway. That would probably be the best way to start my quest, and maybe quite a few members of the club would travel that track in order to give me a good send off. Maybe the writers group that I tutor would be brave enough to attempt it? How about somebody coming to the station to see me off? I'd probably have to settle for a good luck phone call the night before I set off. Honestly, people just don't have a spirit of adventure any more!

© Sandy Parkinson October, 2005. Word count: 821