Its been the best part of six months since I was last heading to Sydney, on a flight from Thailand, but now, having completed a huge circuit through and around this giant country, it was time to go full circle.

Leaving Byron Bay in the knowledge it was my final overnight Greyhound journey down the east coast, there was more than a tinge of sadness. The initial novelty of seeing the differences in Australia – the different road signs, the gum and eucalyptus trees that line the highways and byways, different retail names and brands, even the Aussie accent, had all long worn off.

It has, to all intents and purposes, become home.

To say “I’m just nipping out to Coles” rolls off the tongue as normally as “I’ve got to pop to Tesco,” back home. I long mastered the Australian currency, although I still think the $2 coin should be bigger than the $1 coin, and seeing incredible coastlines, crashing waves and beautiful beaches has become as much as part of life as driving along the Humber on the A63 back home.

It has crept up on me quickly, and I don’t think it has sunk in yet that within just a couple of days, my time in Australia will be no more, that I’ll have moved on to pastures new, and my friends here that I am so used to being in touch with via text message or Facebook in the same time zone will once again start living further and further away from me.

But I had a few friends to catch up with first before I finally said farewell to Australia, and the first involved a short 24 hour stay in Newcastle, a few hours north of Sydney. Leaving the surf behind in Byron Bay, I joined the Greyhound in the town centre and got comfortable for a night’s broken sleep on the road. Thankfully, two days of hard work on the waves had left me shattered, but its still hard to get a ‘proper’ sleep on a bus, nomatter how many ways you contort your body to try to get comfortable.

Sleeping on buses, I have learned in the last few weeks, is something of a fine art. For best results, take a pillow – my tiny British Airways issue pillow has been worth its weight in gold. An oversize hoodie provides a great way of keeping your body and head warm, and when pulled over your eyes, acts like a sleeping mask.

Most of all, night time coach travel requires you to be short, which I’m not. How I look in envy at some of the smaller people in life, quite happily curled up on two seats and enjoying the slumber. For me, when my legs aren’t trying to find available cavities under the seats in front of me to fill, they’re often flapping around trying to become horizontal. That’ll involve trying to get comfortable by resting on seats across the aisle, only to be knocked down shortly after by someone getting on or off the bus.

You might just nod off, only for a debilitating pain to strike up, usually in the buttock region, from being sat in a weird angle for too long. Or your arms have gone to sleep from resting on them. Or we’ve just flown around the last corner too quick and I’ve banged my head on the window again. Or the pillow has slipped and my skull is vibrating on the glass.

You probably get the picture that sleeping on a bus isn’t necessarily for me, but when you’re backpacking, it does save the cost of a night’s accommodation. And for me, that’s the most important thing right now – I’ve got the rest of my life to sleep properly in a bed!

Somehow, the night passed and I woke up on the outskirts of Newcastle, a coastal town built up around a busy port, and where I get off the bus for a day. Its somewhere that, before this trip, I would have happily sailed through on the motorway and on to Sydney, but that part changed in Thailand.

Newcastle is home to my friend Liz, who I met in Chiang Mai and spent over a week travelling around the north of Thailand with back in December. We rode and washed elephants together, enjoyed countless Chang beers and Sangsom whiskeys, toured waterfalls and beautiful scenery and had countless laughs in a group with our friends Bryce and Erin. Regular readers, however, will just remember her as the Australian girl I managed to throw off the back of a scooter on the motorbike ride back from Pai.

Thankfully, our friendship survived that little test and we’ve stayed in touch, and I promised to call by should my journey take me anywhere near Newcastle. After a few hours of much needed sleep at one of the town’s only backpacker hostels, Liz picked me up. It felt strangely normal to wave her down in the street and jump into her car, despite it already being six months since we were causing trouble in Thailand together.

Liz is studying to be a journalist, which probably explains why we get on so well together, but she had a bit of coursework due to be handed in that afternoon. We headed straight to a lovely bar and restaurant complex near the docks, where she treated me to lunch and refused to take any money.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still travelling,” she said.

We had a great few hours catching up, laughing about our adventures together in southeast Asia, and finding out all about each others’ travels since. The last time I saw Liz, she was running out of the dorm room in Chiang Mai, late for her taxi (bad timekeeping is another thing we have in common) to the airport for a flight to Cambodia. She told me all about her new year celebrations in the country, as well as her onward travels to Vietnam and Laos, following a similar route that I took a month previous.

I also read through one of her assignments for her, giving her a few pointers but mainly putting her mind at ease that it would get a good grade. She’s actually a really good writer, and I know she’ll go on to do well in the industry.

Like all good journalists, Liz also knows how to have a good time, and that night we met up with some of her friends as one of them was leaving, funnily enough, to go travelling. We’d promised to relive some of our party nights from Thailand, and we certainly did our best.

I woke up the following morning only having had a few hours sleep and with a sore head – a familiar feeling from our nights in Chiang Mai together – and managed to pack my belongings into my bag for the 9.40am departure to Sydney. Co-incidentally, Liz, her partner and her sister will follow me a few hours later with friends to see the Temper Trap gig at the Opera House, and we agreed to meet up for a few more beers afterwards.

In the meantime, I boarded my coach and watched as Newcastle passed by outside the window. When I’d mentioned to a few people I was stopping off in the city, I did get a few quizzical looks.

“Why on earth do you want to stop there?” people would say.

When I explained I had a friend there, all was understood, but actually, I really liked the place. For me, there were many similarities to home in Grimsby – by the coast, with a beach, a hugely important port and a rich history. Coal exports are a huge deal for Australia, and much of it passes through Newcastle. The port very much resembles that of Immingham, an industrial landscape with huge piles of coal ready to be loaded onto ships for markets overseas.

I didn’t see much more of the journey however, after I managed to fall asleep in a snore-inducing position with my head wedged backwards between the seat and the window. I twice woke myself up with particularly loud snorts, and judging by the looks I was getting from other passengers, they weren’t the only two I’d managed in the three hour journey south. The fact I woke up, on the outskirts of Sydney, with a dry mouth and slightly sore throat was all the evidence I needed that I had, indeed, snored my way from city to city. I kept my head down and avoided eye contact with other passengers until I was well away from the coach.

The way back into Sydney took me for my first crossing of the famous Harbour Bridge before we pulled into Central Station, my 3,000km journey down the east coast of Australia finally complete. While Sydney felt familiar, it seemed a world away from the Sydney I arrived in at the end of January. Back then, the height of summer, I had everything to look forward to in Australia – I had all my friends to meet, I was catching up with my friend Cat from home, and Jack, one of my best mates from university, was in the city for work.

Now I had arrived knowing the end was near, and that my trip is slowly but surely moving into the twilight stages before I finally head home. I walked along streets that I had walked along before my ‘Ballarat family’ was even known to me.

That I walked along believing I was heading to Mount Gambier in South Australia to help out at a roadhouse. That I had walked along not knowing I would attend the Australian Grand Prix, break down in a mate’s car at Ayers Rock, get thrown out of a hostel in Darwin or learn to surf in Byron Bay. Back then, I had no idea how my stay in Australia would pan out – but I smiled as I walked back to my hostel in Sydney knowing I had made the most of every moment here.

As I pressed the button on the lift at the World Square Hostel in George Street once again, my mind flashed back to that day in January when I was doing the same, on my way up to room 403 where Cat was staying, my friend from Hull who was the main person who inspired this trip. I remember the nerves, and of wondering how long I could afford the expensive place that Australia has become. Its almost six months, yet it feels like just a few hours ago that I had last been in the building.

Back then, Cat was in the same position I now find myself in, having worked her way around Australia and arriving in Sydney with a couple of days to spare before flying out to New Zealand. I checked in with reception, before heading off to Darling Harbour and to my friend Katrina’s office.

Having left my bank card in Alice Springs, I have been living on a credit card for the past month. Now, however, the funds on the credit card have dried up, and I couldn’t have timed it any better to pick up my card. It was initially sent to my hostel in Darwin, but I’d left before it arrived. It was down to my friends Dan and Laura, who I left in the north, to send it on to Katrina in Sydney, who in turn left it with security at her office for me to collect. It was a relief to get my hands on it, and I could go on to pay for my hostel as a result!

I met Katrina for lunch at the Hard Rock Café on the harbour for a catch up and a goodbye before I left. I’ll always be grateful to her for the help and support she gave me during my first few days here, and we had a great couple of hours laughing about some of my travel tales, talking about her Crossfit exertions and savouring our last meeting for a while.

There was one other goodbye that evening, to Brandon, who was in my dorm at the Gilligans hostel in Cairns. He’s also made his way down the east coast, but in his own car that he’d bought for his travels.

We’d agreed to take in the Vivid light festival together, and met at Darling Harbour in time for the weekly fireworks show at 8.30pm. It’s a great little display, one that I watched with Katrina when I first arrived in the city earlier this year, and Brandon was impressed that it was a weekly event. It certainly brings in the crowds to the area, where, despite the rain, hundreds of people line the quaysides.

We walked on to Circular Quay, where you get the best views of the Harbour Bridge and Opera House, and where the Vivid festival takes place.

It’s a collection of illuminated art, the centrepiece being a special display on the sails of the iconic Opera House. I was lucky enough to visit the exhibition last year, co-incidentally on the same weekend as this one during my three week trip around the world. But whereas last year the famous sails were lit in bright colours, that would change and evolve into shapes, this year there was a projection of two figures onto the surface.

While they would move, roll around and appear to walk on the landmark, for me it wasn’t quite as effective as last year, which was a shame. The rest of the exhibition was as fantastic as always, including Customs House and the Museum of Modern Art being lit up with some incredibly clever 3D projections.

We spent hours walking around in the rain, taking in all the smaller pieces dotted around the area, before heading back to my hostel for a final beer together. While I leave in a matter of hours, Brandon also heads back to his native Canada, and to Saskatchewan, in a few days. As he disappeared down the spiral stairs and back out onto the wet Sydney streets, I headed to my bunk.

Its hard to sum up my feelings. There’s sadness that I will probably never spend as long in Australia, meeting so many good friends, ever again, but gratitude that at least I’ve had the opportunity to make this trip. There’s a feeling that it’s passed by so quickly on one hand, yet when I think back to my arrival here, it can seem so long ago. Then there’s excitement at a new chapter in my travels about to unfold, a visit to a new country that I have never been to but heard so many good things about. And I also know it means my journey around the world is slowly coming to an end. In just over a month and a half, I will be back home – Sydney, its Opera House, my Australian friends and those uncomfortable Greyhound bus seats will seem so far away.

As I hauled my bags over my shoulders in Australia one last time, I said goodbye to the staff and took my final steps out of the hostel. It was raining, yet again, which seemed to suit my mood. I made my way to Town Hall station, but paused before disappearing down the steps and onto a train to the airport. I looked up and around, taking in one last view of the city, and smiled.

I came to this country knowing just a couple of good friends, who helped to look after me, support me and made me feel so welcome in their homes. I leave with a huge list of new friends, who I will stay in touch with, remember fondly and hopefully, at some point, meet again in the future, either back in this fantastic place Down Under, or back home on British soil.

I also came here with a few ticks outstanding on my bucket list – Uluru and the Whitsundays were high up there. Somehow, despite a few financial problems that cropped up along the way, I had visited all the places I set out to see, and more besides. The beautiful Great Ocean Road and stunning Grampians in Victoria with Siobhan and Matt from home; the sights and sounds of Ballarat with my ‘family’ of Nat, Jess, Liv, Jane and James, the Ghan train to the outback with Dan and Laura, Alice Springs and Ayers Rock with my friend Neil, complete with the fateful breakdown of his car. Diving the Great Barrier Reef, cruising along the beach on Fraser Island and learning to surf the Aussie way – so many highlights, and memories that will always be with me.

On the way to gate 36 for my Qantas flight to Auckland at Sydney’s international airport, I stopped off at a souvenir shop. I had just five Australian dollars left in my pocket. There was only one thing I could buy – an Australian flag patch for my backpack. Its quite fitting that its larger than any of the others from the rest of my trip, having spent the longest time here.

As we turned off the taxiway and onto the main runway, the engines screamed to full throttle. I was pushed back into my chair, and wedged my head into the window and watched as the terminal disappeared behind me. We lifted up into the air, a slight bump as the wheels left the ground, and I left Australian soil for the final time. The street lights of Sydney’s suburbs began to drift away below me, and I watched until the coastline disappeared from view.

I know I’m going to miss it, and I don’t know when I will be back in this far-flung part of the world. But I do know that this huge, beautiful country, and all those who have helped make my stay here so memorable, will always have a very special place in my heart.