This was published 3 years ago
Crossing Australian state borders under COVID-19 restrictions: My long journey from Melbourne to Alice Springs via Sydney
By Emma Buckley Lennox
The writer on board a bus during a long wait to be taken to her Sydney hotel.Credit: Emma Buckley Lennox
When I accepted a job in Alice Springs in late July, I knew moving from Victoria wasn't going to be straightforward. A few days before, South Australia had banned Victorians from transiting through the state, and Queenslanders didn't want us either. Driving was off the cards; I would have to fly.
With the most direct flights (via Sydney, with a one-hour stopover) canned as soon as Melbourne entered Stage 4 lockdown, I booked a DYI stopover in Sydney through two separate carriers. Staying overnight was unavoidable.
A few days before I was due to fly, the rules changed again. I would have to spend my stopover at a hotel the NSW Chief Commissioner of Police nominated, but as my transit was less than 48 hours, they'd put me up for free.
Breakfast at the hotel.Credit: Emma Buckley Lennox
At Melbourne Airport I'm temperature checked, asked to prove I have the necessary permits to enter NSW and the Northern Territory. On the flight, there was a seat between me and the person next to me – not 1.5 metres, but we both had masks on.
After we alight in Sydney at about 5.30pm, we're met by police directing us through the International Terminal – more space to triage people, I assume. We wend our way in socially-distanced lines through empty customs checkpoints, and slowly down into the huge baggage carousel area. There, we are temperature-checked by people who seem to be health staff in full PPE, and asked what we're doing in Sydney.
"Transiting," I say.
An early-morning departure from the hotel in Sydney.Credit: Emma Buckley Lennox
I'm directed to one of the three areas between two frozen carousels dotted with people on socially-distanced chairs. Police flank either end.
Another PPE-clad person asks me for my permit number, gets me to fill in a form with arrival and departure flight information. They tell me we're staying at a "police hotel", but they aren't sure where. I get a sticker, indicating that I'm cleared to stay. We wait. A police officer I ask also doesn't know where we're staying. Other groups are getting up to get their bags.
After an hour or so, we're told to get our bags and police escort us to three buses where army officers load our cargo onto the first one. We wait on the bus for another hour. More people board another bus. Finally, we're off.
The flight from Sydney to Alice Springs.Credit: Emma Buckley Lennox
We fly past the hotels closest to the airport, and end up near Ultimo. We're met by army personnel (reservists, I find out later) and police officers. An officer boards and reads us a statement on the law that enables our predicament.
Three at a time we get off the bus to "check in" with police on computers. It takes about 15 minutes per person. An hour later, I'm off the bus telling the police officer my flight details as she checks my ID and permits. An army officer escorts me to my room. There are security guards in the hallway.
It's 9.30pm when I get to my room and eat my dinner – a plastic-wrapped sandwich. I video call my sister, who lives just a few kilometres away. I'm in bed by 11.30pm.
At 12.30am I startle awake to loud knocking on the door. I'm a heavy sleeper. I groggily get up at another booming knock. A voice yelling "POLICE" thunders.
"One second," I respond, trying to find pants.
I open the door, and two police officers say they need to see my passport and need me to fill out a form. The form asks for the same details I already gave twice: to the staff at the airport and the police officer in the hotel lobby. These new officers say it's for a different system.
My alarm blares at 6.30am. I eat breakfast - cornflakes, peaches and a muesli bar - and wait for a call. At 7.35am, my phone rings. My ride is here.
I'm met in the lobby by two uniformed police officers. There's no bus this time - I'm getting my own police escort. In the car, I overhear that there's another person in the hotel on my flight, but due to social distancing, they can't transport us at the same time.
About halfway to the airport, I realise neither officer is wearing a mask. I am. They don't have time to take me to the gate, so drop me and double back to get the other passenger.
Later, as I'm about to board, I spot both officers again. They're wearing masks now and look a bit freaked out: they've since been told their car needs a deep clean after transporting me, a person from a "hotspot". Apparently they hadn't been told beforehand.
The flight to Alice Springs is beautiful, long stretches of red with dotted indentations and rocky formations pushing up and out. I have a whole row to myself.
We touch down at 12.30pm and are triaged into people from hotspots and everyone else. Here, the police aren't in charge. There are still three of them on the side, out of the way, keeping an eye on us. We provide our permits and a bit more information, and are told we're staying at a "facility", a hotel in town. They don't like to use the name, but it's the Mercure.
Fifteen minutes later, we're collecting our bags and on the bus. At the hotel, we're greeted by health staff who call us out by name. We're given a bag full of information about our stay, taken to our rooms and told to order lunch.
It's 1.30pm when I enter my room. I look around at the noughties-era plastic laminate desk and cupboards and U-shaped red arm chairs — the limits of my world for the next fortnight, save for the half hour of designated rec time I'll get in the "yard" each morning. I look at the fresco of the Alice Springs skyline at sunset on the wall above my bed, and imagine life in a non-locked-down state. Only 14 more days.
See also: Masks on, seats full: Our reporter flies the Sydney-Melbourne route
See also: Seven of the strangest things about Australia's state borders
Sign up for the Traveller newsletter
The latest travel news, tips and inspiration delivered to your inbox. Sign up now.