London, United Kingdom - Olympic Games 2012 Part 1 (Athletics)

Irony is an Irishman travelling half way around the world to attend the closest thing to a "home Olympics" his country will ever see. For years I have waited with baited breath for the greatest sporting event on Earth to reach the other side of the Irish Sea, yet when this moment arrived it was not a simple Ryanair flight which was merely required, but rather a 17000 kilometre, 30 hour journey from hell. But living in one of the most remote countries on the planet was not going to interfere with my arrangements to spectate at the Games of the 30^th Olympiad. Inspired by the ancient Games held for over 1000 years in Olympia, Greece before being ceased in the year 393 AD, this festival of sporting excellence was revived in 1896 and has been held every 4 years since, with the exception of during both the first and second World War. 2012 marked the third occasion the United Kingdom’s capital would host the event and anticipation had never been higher with demand for tickets reaching almost farcical levels.

While I certainly intended to sample a few of the 26 sports on show at the Games, the number one priority was to gain access to the Olympic Stadium itself, where the traditional Olympic flame would burn brightly, and where track and field, the blue-riband showpiece of London 2012, would take place in front of 80,000 gazing pairs of eyes. Entry to the stadium proved much more emotionally tiresome than first anticipated and after approximately a dozen attempts over the course of 14 months to secure tickets, I eventually managed to get my hands on a few of these much sought out paper slips, specifically for both the morning and evening sessions of Wednesday 8^th August and again for Friday evening, the 10^th August. All the rest of the action was viewed from a combination of public houses and big screens, with many a pint of the smooth tasting London Pride to accompany me.   

Where easier to begin a review of London 2012 than by talking about Usain Bolt. The flamboyant Jamaican has been track and field’s showpiece act over the last four years and by far the biggest draw for casual fans of the sport. An astonishing talent as a youth and junior, “Lightning Bolt”, as he has been nicknamed, announced himself to the mainstream sporting audience and media at the Beijing Olympic Games in 2008 where he won the 100m and 200m, both in world record times of 9.69 and 19.30. A year later at the World Championships in Berlin he bettered both marks, clocking 9.58 and 19.19 respectively. However, notwithstanding a world title over 200m in 2011, many believed that the showman from Jamaica was starting to appear fallible, illustrated in particular by defeat to his countryman Yohan Blake over both distances at this year’s Jamaican trials. However in London Bolt found an extra gear, defending his 100m title in 9.63, the second fastest clocking of all time, ahead of Blake, who claimed the silver medal in 9.75, equaling his personal best in the process, while disgraced former Olympic Champion, American Justin Gatlin edged out compatriot Tyson Gay to take bronze in 9.79. Seven of the eight finalists ran sub 10 seconds in what was unquestionably the quickest race in history.

A few days later, Bolt returned to successfully defend his 200m crown, clocking 19.32, again pushing Blake down into silver medal position in 19.44, a victory which was more convincing than the 0.12 margin suggests. Warren Weir completed a Jamaican clean sweep taking the bronze in 19.84. In claiming double gold, Bolt became the first athlete in history to win both the 100m and 200m in consecutive Olympics. It remains to be seen whether he will defend his titles at the next Games in Rio de Janeiro or instead take on new challenges in the sport. Whatever he decides the cameras will not be far away and the charismatic sprinter will be lapping it all up. We wouldn’t want it any other way!

Usain Bolt may have received the vast majority of media’s plaudits throughout London 2012, but arguably the performance of the Games came from David Rudisha. The Kenyan 800m runner has been virtually unbeatable over the last two years, breaking the long standing 2-lap record held by Denmark’s Wilson Kipketer, not once, but twice in 2010 and claiming World Championship gold in Daegu last year. The 23 year old entered London as possibly the most overwhelming favourite in all of track and field, and he did not disappoint, leading from the gun to claim gold in a staggering world record time of 1:40.91, becoming the first man in history to dip below 1:41. What made this performance all the more remarkable is that it was achieved without the aid of a pacemaker. In this day and age, in events from 800m and up, a world record being set during a major championship is completely unheard of. It does not bear thinking what this man may run over the coming year in a properly paced Diamond League race, with many believing that he is destined to break the 1:40 barrier. It is also worth noting that all 8 men in the Olympic final ran sub 1:44, with the eight placed runner, Great Britain’s Andrew Osagie, clocking a time which would have won gold at the previous three Olympics. However, the record breaking performances of the other seven men will be merely a footnote to David Rudisha in Olympic history.

Rudisha wasn’t the only record breaker at London 2012 however. Three other world records were set during the athletics programme. The US women’s 4x100m relay team of Tianna Madison, Allyson Felix, Bianca Knight and Carmelita Jeter annihilated the old record by over half a second, with a remarkable clocking of 40.82. This performance was all the more incredible given the fact that the old record, a tainted mark held by East Germany, had lasted a dominant 27 years. The men’s 4x100m world record was also broken, with the Jamaican quartet of Nesta Carter, Michael Frater, Yohan Blake and Usain Bolt recording a sensational 36.84, the first sub 37 second clocking in history, while Russian Elena Lashmanova set a new standard of 1:25:02 in the women’s 20k Walk overhauling serial championship gold medalist and fellow countrywoman Olga Kaniskina in the dying stages of the race.

Some personal highlights of mine centered around the women’s 100m Hurdles and women’s 200m, with two of the sport’s greatest ambassadors, Sally Pearson and Allyson Felix, finally claiming the Olympic gold that their dominance over recent years deserved. Pearson, who ran the fourth fastest time in history (12.28) last year when claiming World Championship gold has been almost unbeatable over the last two years and entered London as the clear favourite to claim the one title that eluded her. However, the Australian had to battle all the way to the line, edging defending champion Dawn Harper of the USA by just 0.02 seconds with an Olympic record time of 12.35 in unfavourable conditions. With the pressure of the Olympics now off her shoulders, few would bet against the Queenslander breaking the long standing world record next year.

Allyson Felix, on the other hand, was much more comfortable in claiming gold in the women’s 200m, an event I had the privilege of viewing from inside the Olympic Stadium. The three time world champion over 200m clocked 21.88 to easily beat the 100m champion, Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce, into second place (22.09), with Carmelita Jeter taking the bronze (22.14). The 26 year old American was one of the biggest winners of the Games claiming 3 gold in total (200m, 4x100m, 4x400m) and finishing 5^th in the 100m final for good measure.

The host nation Great Britain had a successful Olympics, winning six athletics medals in total, including four gold. However, it was the evening of Saturday 4^th August which provided perhaps the greatest night in British sporting history. In the space of 90 minutes, the host nation won not one, not two, but three gold medals in front of an elated and patriotic home crowd inside the Olympic Stadium. Jessica Ennis began the festivities with a dominant victory in the heptathlon. The glamourous Sheffield athlete set a new British record of 6955 points, a performance which lifts her to number 5 on the world all-time list. Next up was Greg Rutherford, who took the spoils in the men’s long jump with a leap of 8.31m, defeating silver medalist Australian Mitchell Watt by 15cm in what was a disappointing competition, with too many sub-standard performances. Mo Farah completed a famous hat-trick with gold in the men’s 10000m, demolishing the best East Africa could throw at him with a devastating 53 second last lap, with his training partner, Galen Rupp of the USA, claiming an excellent second place. Farah went on to complete a historic double one week later, taking 5000m gold and becoming only the 7^th person in history to win Olympic gold in both events at the same Games, joining Hannes Kolehmainen, Emil Zatopek, Lasse Viren (twice), Vladimir Kuts, Mirutz Yifter and Kenenisa Bekele among the pantheon of Olympic legends.

Other memorable moments included the men’s 400m, where Kirani James became the first non-American to break the 44 second barrier en route to winning Grenada’s first ever Olympic gold medal; the women’s 400m, where Sanya Richards-Ross of the USA edged out defending champion and home favourite Christine Ohuruogu; the men’s 400m Hurdles, where 34 year old Felix Sanchez from the Dominican Republic rolled back the clock, reclaiming the title he won 8 years ago in Athens; the women’s 100m which saw the top five athletes break 10.90 seconds, with Jamaican Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce defending her Olympic title with a sensational 10.75; the men’s high jump, where the eccentric Russian leapt 2.38m to easily win his first major outdoor title; and the men’s 3000m Steeplechase, which saw Kenyan Ezekiel Kemboi unconventionally cross the finish line in lane 8 to win his second Olympic gold medal.

While London 2012 was filled with many unforgettable moments, there were nonetheless a few uglier instances which leave a bitter taste in the mouth. Many long term followers of the sport could say with a reasonable degree of confidence that these Games have been the cleanest in a long time, as anti-doping procedures are getting more stringent by the year. However, as always, there will be those who slip through the net, those who succumb to the temptation to take a short cut. A particular sad sight was seeing Turkey claim both gold and silver in the women’s 1500m, with Asli Cakir Alptekin taking victory, while her compatriot Gamze Bulut followed closely in second place. Cakir is a convicted drug cheat, banned from competition for two years in 2004 and this year she has run a staggering 3:56, making an eye-opening 6 second improvement on her pre-2012 PB. Bulut, although very young at just 20 years of age, has made an astonishing 17 second gain in the last 12 months. What makes the performances all the more suspect is the sad fact that, as a nation, Turkey has an appalling history with regards doping, to the degree that it is very difficult for them to be taken seriously anymore. I’d like to think that these two ladies have now fulfilled WADA’s criteria for future target testing!

From an Irish perspective the unquestionable highlight of London 2012 was Rob Heffernan’s performance in the men’s 50k Walk. The Togher athlete has been a very reliable championship performer over the years, finishing 6^th at the 2007 World Championships over 20k, 8^th at the Beijing Olympics at the same distance, and 4^th in both race walking events at the 2010 European Championships. After finishing 9^th in the 20k at these Games, in what was effectively used as preparation for the 50k, Heffernan turned his attention to his main event, which took place 7 days later in front of huge galleries of supporters along the Mall and Buckingham Palace. Cheered on by remarkable Irish support and numerous renditions of the Fields of Athenry, the Corkman paced himself perfectly, electing not to go with the early leaders, and over the closing stages picked off tiring athletes in front of him one by one. Heffernan eventually finished in 4^th place in a sensational time of 3:37:54, knocking 7:36 off his old Irish record, and was just 38 seconds behind bronze medalist Si Tianfeng of China. This clocking puts him up to 15^th on the world all-time list, and would have been good enough for silver in Beijing and gold at every other previous Olympic Games. While he is no doubt disappointed not to come away with a medal, one gets the feeling that his time will come in Moscow next year at the World Championships.

There were a few other encouraging Irish performances in London, namely from Laura Reynolds in the 20k Walk. The 23 year old recorded a personal best of 1:31:02 to finish in a highly respectable 20^th place in her first major global championship. Given the nature of the event, and the fact that race walkers often don’t reach their peak until their mid 30s, there is no doubt that Reynolds has a bright future in the sport ahead of her. Other athletes who recorded personal bests during the Games were Brendan Boyce in the men’s 50k Walk and Fionnuala Britton in the women’s 5000m. The Irish women’s 4x400m team are also worthy of mention as they finished in a credible 13^th place. While they were 3 seconds off the national record they set at the World Championships last year, this is nonetheless an impressive achievement given Ireland’s population in comparison to the other competing nations.

However, while there is no questioning the passionate efforts of each and every member, there can be no getting away from the fact that the performance of the Irish athletics team as a whole was disappointing. This is not because of the fact that we won no medals, as athletics is the most global and fiercely competitive sport in the Olympic Games, where gold, silver and bronze is very much at a premium for many small countries, but rather because many of the athletes themselves fell depressingly short of their own standards. Paul Hession failed to qualify from his heat of the 200m; Ciaran O’Lionaird trailed home second from the rear in the 1500m, evidently far from fully fit, in a time he could have run as a junior; Alistair Cragg never looked like making an impact finishing a dreadful 17^th in his heat of the 5000m; Joanne Cuddihy did reach the semi-finals of the 400m and finished 16^th overall, but her 51.88 was four almost half a second down on her season’s best recorded in Japan back in April; an injured Catriona Jennings trailed home last in the women’s marathon, in a time slower than many average female club runners; Deirdre Ryan could only manage 1.85m in the high jump, well off the magnificent 1.95m she leaped last year en route to 6^th at the World Championships; while pole vaulter Tori Pena, who has an impressive PB of 4.52m, dismally failed all 3 attempts at the opening height of 4.10m. Even Ireland’s reliable championship performer Derval O’Rourke was well off her best in the 100m Hurdles. While she did reach the semi-finals, and twice ran a season’s best of 12.91, this was well below her personal best of 12.65 and the high standards she has set over the past few years.

What makes this all the more frustrating is the fact that three seriously talented young athletes on B-Standards, who were in form, and have recent championship pedigree, were not selected to compete in London. Mark English, aged just 19, finished 5^th in the 800m at this year’s World Junior Championships, with the gold and silver medalists ahead of him making the podium in London, Brian Gregan, aged 22, has lowered his PB significantly this year and almost medaled in the 400m at the European Championships in Helsinki in June, while Jessie Barr, aged 23, has done likewise, finishing in 8^th place over 400m Hurdles at the Europeans. The OCI’s lack of foresight, logic and ability to see anything other than black and white meant that only athletes with A-Standards were selected to compete, resulting in English and Gregan being left at home, while Barr was ludicrously left up in the stands of the Olympic Stadium, as she was in London for the 4x400m relay anyway, thus robbing these great prospects of valuable Olympic experience ahead of the next Games in Rio de Janeiro. I’ve no doubt that all three of the mentioned athletes above would have made the semi-finals of their respective events in London, and had common sense prevailed, we’d be looking at Irish athletics right now from a completely different viewpoint, full of positivity for what lies ahead over the coming years.

While the athletes themselves must take responsibility for their own performances, much of the blame has to lie with those responsible for selecting what had been hailed as the best prepared Irish team in history, those who overlooked the likes of English, Gregan and Barr, while selecting athletes who had achieved A-Standards back in 2011 but hadn’t performed close to the required level in 2012. Furthermore the black and white nature of the A-Standard requirement resulted in athletes traipsing around Europe right up to selection deadline day in a desperate hope of securing a qualification time. With a system like this in place, even if an athlete did manage to secure a ticket to the Games, it is highly unlikely that he/she would be able to peak again in London just a month later. Hopefully the OCI and AAI will learn the harsh lessons from London 2012 and will bring in an effective selection process for Rio 2016, which ensures the best athletes are chosen to represent Ireland. There’s an unprecedented level of talent coming through in Irish athletics. Let’s hope this talent is nurtured by the AAI, and that the same issues will not be discussed again four years from now.

The attendances at the athletics events at London 2012 were nothing short of outstanding. What was particularly heartwarming was the huge numbers of supporters lining the streets of London for the marathon and race-walking events. I have never seen such attendance levels for a race walking event before. It is hard to make an accurate estimate of how many people were along the Mall and Buckingham Palace for the men’s 50k, but an approximation of over 100,000 would not be very farfetched at all, and the atmosphere was among the most memorable of all sporting events I have attended over the years.

For every single track and field session, whether morning or evening, the stadium was packed to the rafters. I was in complete shock to see such high attendances for the morning sessions, where usually athletes are competing in front of an almost empty stadium. I thought Daegu was impressive last year with the crowds that attended the heats in the morning, but London has taken this to a whole new level. It must have been an incredible kick for lesser ranked athletes, those who got eliminated in the heats, to compete in front of 80,000 people, something which most certainly did not happen during the Sydney, Athens or Beijing Olympics. The support was excellent from the British public, particularly for those athletes who wore the GB vest. While many of the spectators inside the stadium were not particularly knowledgeable about the sport, this was not an issue, and no doubt some of the people in attendance will be inspired to get involved in the sport in the future. One minor complaint I would have however is that no effort was made to ensure that people involved in the sport on a regular basis gained access to the stadium. A fair solution would have been to guarantee 10% of all tickets to UK athletics clubs, instead of putting the tickets on public sale as a complete chaotic free-for-all.

However, to find complaints you’d need to really go searching for problems. The truth is that London 2012 provided a truly unforgettable 9 days of athletics competition, which will no doubt leave a lasting legacy in the UK, and British athletics will reap the rewards of this in years to come. There has never been a better supported Olympic Games, and we may never see the likes of it again. London, take a bow.

Inside the Olympic Stadium in Stratford 

 The Olympic flame

The Olympic Stadium lit up at night

Rob Heffernan of Ireland en route to a magnificent 4th place in the men's 50k Walk

A large mix of nationalities outside Buckingham Palace for the men's 50k Walk

The crowds came out in their tens of thousands to support the athletes in the men's 50k Walk

Mariya Savinova, eventual winner of the women's 800m, in action in her first round heat

The US 4x100m relay quartet celebrate a new world record

Ireland's Joanne Cuddihy runs a storming leg in the women's 4x400m relay heats

The US 4x100m team receive their gold medals

Meseret Defar of Ethiopia strikes for home in the women's 5000m final

Allyson Felix storms to victory in the women's 200m

The iconic Olympic flame which burned brightly inside the stadium for 17 days

Hobart, Australia

After 9 months without leaving the State of Victoria, in late May, I finally rewarded my itchy feet with a weekend of sightseeing in the city of Hobart, the capital of the island state of Tasmania, an hour’s flight south of Melbourne. Originally discovered by Dutchman Abel Tasman and formerly known as Van Deimen’s Land, Tasmania was claimed by the British and first settled in 1803 in Hobart and became a penal colony of the United Kingdom for the majority of the 19^th century, as thousands of convicts were shipped half way around the world in an ill thought out method of solving the problem of overcrowded prisons in the UK. Tasmania is roughly the size of Ireland, but with a population of just a little over half a million, and makes up only 1% of the total land area of Australia. Almost half the state’s residents live in Hobart, leaving a lot of the island, particularly the West side, uninhabited.

Thanks to its convict history Hobart is the second oldest city in all of Australia after Sydney, but unlike its older brother, it hasn’t had its heritage seriously damaged by 20^th century mass construction and development. The city is not littered with soulless skyscrapers and thanks to this Hobart still very much retains its history in a very visible manner and there still remains numerous old buildings in their original form that date back to the early 19^th century. This is perhaps most noticeable at Salamanca Place, a street consisting of numerous sandstone buildings which were formerly warehouses in the city’s early years, but in recent times have been converted into pubs, restaurants, galleries and craft shops. To put it simply, there is more historical architecture crammed into this one small street than there is in the entire unremarkable city of Perth.  Australia offers a lot of things, but history is certainly not one of those them, so Hobart provides a refreshing change, which was very much enjoyed by this picturesque architecture loving individual. This charming street also plays host to the famous Salamanca Market which takes place every Saturday throughout the year, rain, hail or shine, where the residents of Hobart congregate to buy and sell all sorts of useless junk. I’m usually not absorbed by street markets, but I was drawn to this particular version by the stunning backdrop of early 19^th century buildings, as opposed to the array of vases and mirrors available for purchase. All in all there was a very cheery atmosphere on market day, with plenty of live music to lift people’s spirits.

Salamanca Place is not the only part of Hobart that is steeped in history however. Hunter Street, situated right on Hobart’s waterfront, Sullivan’s Cove, is much like Salamanca Place, with ancient Georgian sandstone warehouses still existing in close to their original form. Another area of Hobart rich in heritage is the suburb of Battery Point, in particular its main street, Hampden Road. Despite being just a 5 minute walk from the city’s Central Business District, you can’t help but feel that you are walking through an old English country town. The buildings are old, simple, but delightful and the area retains much of the character of 100 years ago, with lots of historic houses, restaurants and small businesses in view. The super-corporations of McDonalds and ANZ feel a million miles away when strolling through this hilly quaint street and I for one couldn’t have been more content, as I ran down my camera battery in no time. With Hobart in general, and Battery Point in particular, the main appeal is simple – aimless wandering through a beautiful throwback to simpler times. A delightful experience.

While Battery Point was certainly impressive, the little colonial Georgian village of Richmond, located 25 kilometres outside Hobart, was in a different league entirely. Founded in the 1820’s, this tiny town is literally one cute 19^th century cottage after another, containing numerous historical landmarks such as the nation’s oldest catholic church, the Richmond Bridge, the oldest bridge in Australia that is still in use, along with the Richmond Gaol, the oldest still intact prison in the country, where hundreds of convicts were crammed into a small enclosed space and forced to live in sinfully appalling conditions. During my few hours strolling through these country streets I genuinely didn’t feel like I was in Australia as Richmond feels very much like a cosy village in the English countryside. Even the dour overcast skies and the light but persistent rainfall gave the impression that I was a little closer to home. Throughout my travels through South America I fell in love with some of the beautiful old colonial towns which I encountered, namely Paraty in Brazil, Colonia in Uruguay, Valparaiso in Chile, and Cusco in Peru. I’m glad to say that, in Richmond, Australia has something to somewhat rival these places, and while not nearly as old, it certainly holds its own with these places in terms of beauty, but in its own unique way. Richmond is certainly a true hidden gem of Australia.

Not only is Hobart culturally and historically beautiful but its natural surroundings are equally as impressive, with numerous mountains and bays providing a stunning backdrop to this charming city. The most striking of Hobart’s natural landmarks is the commanding Mount Wellington, which stands authoritatively over the historic city, peaking at 1271 metres above sea level, comfortably higher than any mountain in Ireland. A 30 minute drive from the city centre is all that is required to reach the summit, yet the climate and landscape couldn’t be more dissimilar. From about three quarters up the mountain the scenery changes dramatically from one that is overwhelmingly forest based to a landscape consisting of rough sub-Alpine vegetation. It certainly didn’t look anything like Australia. From approximately 1000 metres above sea level we stopped to take in some fabulous views of Hobart sitting cautiously by the glistening bays and inlets, encircled by several protective mountains.

If the scenery was this good merely from here then surely I’d be in for an absolute photography feast from the top you would think. Wrong! As soon as we approached the summit we were greeted by a swarm of furious clouds, seemingly smug in the knowledge that they had ruined the afternoon of numerous tourists. We literally couldn’t see a thing from more than 30 metres away, with the exception of an unremarkable white mist. To add insult to injury, the weather was bitterly cold, approaching freezing point, but with gale force winds to add a severely unwanted wind chill factor to proceedings. Generally speaking, Australians do not understand the meaning of the world “cold”. It could be a nice winter’s day in Melbourne with the temperatures in the range of 15 degrees Celsius, yet you will never go more than 5 minutes without hearing some soft soul rugged up in winter woollies complaining about how penetratingly cold such harmless conditions are. However Mount Wellington is an exception to this rule, and anybody who ventures to the top has every right to a good moan. It is drastically uncomfortable and after fifteen minutes braving the elements in the hope that the clouds would find some other mountain to bully we gave in and rushed back to the comfort of our heated minibus, resigned to the fact that those picture perfect postcard views would not be making their way onto my camera any time soon.  

I completed a thoroughly enjoyable three days with a theatrical show called Louisa’s Walk. This unique piece of theatre is ranked as Hobart’s number one tourist attraction according to TripAdvisor. Two English actors, Judith and Chris Cornish take you on a journey into the life of Louisa Regan, a mother of three who was convicted for the petty crime of stealing one loaf of bread to feed her family, and sent to Van Deimen’s Land for a seven year sentence, forced to leave her children behind. The actors are in full 1800’s costume and you walk with them for approximately two hours, beginning at the Cascade Brewery (which resembles a haunted house), taking you on a journey to the Cascades Female Factory, where Louisa spent much of her imprisoned time. The show was excellently presented and gave a great insight into the horrid conditions and treatment the female convicts had to endure during the 19^th century in Hobart. It is simply disgraceful that such insignificant crimes were punished in such a heartless manner. The show was very simple, with no props, lighting or any other mod-cons you’d find at a more conventional piece of theatre, with each audience member encouraged to delve deep into one’s imagination. My one complaint is that at times the show got a little tacky, and the actors tried to be funny a bit too often, when the reality of the situation was anything but a laughing matter. But overall Louisa’s Walk was an excellent and informative way to spend my final afternoon in Hobart.

So overall Hobart has left me with an extremely high opinion of the state of Tasmania and has given me a taste for more. Hopefully I will get to see more of Van Deimen’s Land in the near future with the Tasmanian Wilderness on the west side of the island being at the top of my list. But for now I have a four week visit home to look forward to, incorporating 8 days in London for the Olympic Games. It has been 22 months since I left Ireland and I am greatly looking forward to reuniting with family and friends over a few proper pints of Guinness.

   

Wilsons Promontory & Point Nepean National Parks, Australia

Quite some time has passed since I last updated this blog so I thought I’d provide an update on the past few months. When I last posted here I had just completed my 88 days of torturous farm labour, a hellish yet necessary evil required in exchange for a second year Australian working holiday visa. Moving back to Melbourne in late November I checked into a hostel for what was supposed to be just one week, but ended up pushing the better part of two months! After three months of severe isolation in communities which you wouldn’t force a criminal to have to reside in, I was just so overjoyed and relieved to be back in the company of other members of the human species. It is something which is so easily taken for granted, until you are dwelling in a location where mowing the lawn is amongst the most interesting, enjoyable and mentally stimulating of all available activities!

A lot of fun was had, I met some very nice people and made new friends, but it wasn’t long before I grew sick of the hostel culture. It is one thing staying in them when travelling, but when working from nine to five, it becomes a dreadful inconvenience living in a squashed five person dorm. One of the people staying in my dorm has resided at that particular hostel for close to seven years now. There’s something very strange and creepy about that, but whatever floats your boat I guess. Once the Christmas period was over, I made it my business to make my escape and find a real place to live, which I managed within a couple of weeks.

The last few months have been very normal and regular, so I won’t bore you with the details about my job, house hunt, or nights on the beer. I have re-settled back into Melbourne quite well at this stage. While I haven’t done very much exploring since finishing my farm work, I have made a few brief trips out of the city which are worthy of mention.

The first of these was a one day group tour back in December to Wilsons Promontory National Park, the most southerly part of mainland Australia. With just one day to explore “The Prom”, as locals like to call it, we were always only going to be scratching the surface of an area renowned for its great bushwalking, hiking and camping. However my time there did give me a taste for the beauty of the area, a place with striking rainforests, unspoilt picturesque beaches and abundant wildlife. Unfortunately I only got to meet Wilsons Prom when she was mildly hungover. While the weather could certainly have been a lot worse, it was overcast throughout the day, and so I didn’t get to see this impressive coastline in its full energetic glory.

The trip however did produce an absolutely bizarre and unexpected tale.  After exploring Norman Beach, our tour guide gave us the option to hike to nearby Squeaky Beach, or to take the bus. The vast majority of people opted to walk, to fully make the most of the day. However, typically there were a few astonishingly lazy sods who opted for the 5 minute drive ahead of the exploration of a beautiful part of Victoria. Uncharacteristically for a tour guide in a reasonably remote area, she drove this small minority to Squeaky Beach and merely let the rest of us fend for ourselves on a self-guided walk to our destination, where she would greet us upon arrival. She provided us all with simple directions, and she fully expected us to arrive without any issues.

During the trip I became friends with two nice Italian sisters, one with a perfect fluent command of the English language, the other with barely a lick of said native tongue. During our hike we spent a lot of time talking and having the craic, and before we knew it, we had lost the rest of the group. No panic though, we still had our tour guides trusty directions vaguely residing in our memories. However it wasn’t long before our “direct” pathway suddenly split into three different routes. She never mentioned any of this! At this stage we were completely confused. We stopped and asked a couple of passers-by for directions, to which we were provided with the heartbreaking response that we had to go back the way we came. So a quick U-turn, and back we went in the hope that we would find a sign directing us to Squeaky Beach. However, we eventually, much to our dismay, found that these people didn’t know what they were talking about at all and we were right back where we started from two hours previously. At this stage, enough was enough, and I refused to walk another step. The three of us stood out on the isolated main road, and proceed to try hitchhike our way to the beach. Very few cars passed however, and none of them stopped. It wasn’t looking promising. We were on the verge of becoming probably the first people in history to get lost on a one day bus tour. Thankfully we spotted a few people about to pull out of a nearby car park, and we begged them to drive us to the rest of our fellow travellers. Upon arrival at Squeaky Beach we were greeted by a mildly stressed looking tour guide who revealed that she didn’t want to have to fill out any paperwork. She hates paperwork she tells us! To be honest, the whole experience was a bit of a laugh, and added some adventure to the trip.

The second journey out of Melbourne was barely much of a trip at all to be honest. In January, I competed in the 400 metres at the Victorian Country Athletics Championships in the old gold mining town of Bendigo, two hours north of Melbourne. I had a few hours to kill after my race before boarding my return train back to Melbourne, and so dragged my lactic acid filled legs around the centre of the city. By Australian standards Bendigo has some pretty decent, historical architecture, but being honest, the house where my dad grew up down in a remote part of South Kerry is older and has more character than the majority of these “historical” buildings. It certainly is one area where Australia is badly lacking. The country is still just a teenager and lacks the signs of age and wisdom that is prevalent around Europe, Asia and South America. Having said that, Bendigo is quite a pretty town and is worth a solid 30 or 40 minutes.

Yesterday, the girlfriend and I went on a day trip to Point Nepean National Park, located on the very tip of the Mornington Peninsula. I had long heard that this region of Victoria was nice, but being honest, I had the idea in my head that it was just an area densely populated by massive villas and holiday homes. So my expectations were very much exceeded when I saw this picturesque national park. This narrow pointy piece of land separates the ocean from Port Phillip Bay and provides a wealth of bush walking along with scenic views of the majestic coastline, the bright blue water, and powerful white waves. Its splendid scenery rivals the very best that the Great Ocean Road has to offer, with only a fraction of the amount of tourists that sites such as the Twelve Apostles attract. It is certainly one of Victoria’s hidden gems and I couldn’t have been more impressed with this semi-isolated wonderland.

Aside from its marvellous, rugged coastline, Point Nepean is known for a couple of other things. Firstly, for many years throughout the 19^th and 20^th centuries, this area of land was completely closed to the public, and was under the control of the military, ready for gun fire, fully prepared to blow this stunning area to smithereens should somebody even dare to attack. Thankfully, Australia’s paranoia was unfounded and none of the high tech equipment was ever utilised, and the land escaped unscathed. There are however numerous unexploded bombs still in existence throughout the national park.

Point Nepean is also known for being the place where Prime Minister Harold Holt vanished while still in office. It is quite funny that a country can simply lose a Prime Minister, but that is exactly what happened in Australia on the 17^th December 1967. It is worth noting that the beaches at Point Nepean are extremely dangerous, contain treacherous rips, and under no circumstances should anybody enter the water for a bit of breast stroke or butterfly! The political leader of Australia however, unfathomed by all the warning signs, and clearly forgetting to take his common sense medication, paddled in for a quick dip at Cheviot Beach. He walked out about a couple of hundred feet, and then disappeared in an instant, never to be seen again, and with no trace of his body ever found. It is hard to believe that somebody holding such a high position could be so atrociously stupid to risk his life for the sake of a bit of a swim and surf. It is because of this that numerous conspiracy theories have developed, from the very possible claims that he committed suicide, to the ludicrous and comical suggestions that he was kidnapped by a Chinese submarine, or abducted by a UFO. In any case his death will forever remain a mystery. The interesting thing about all of this is that it really is not seen as a big deal. The incident is pretty much forgotten now, most young Australians have no knowledge about this event at all, and overlooking Cheviot Beach there exists just a tiny memorial plaque in his honour. In Melbourne however, there is one thing which bears the name of Harold Holt… a swimming pool. God bless Australians and their unique sense of humour!

The Athletics Victoria track and field season has been a big part of my life down here over the last six months or so. During this time I have begun to take my training a lot more seriously and have brought my 400 metres time down from 64.04 seconds to 58.68. However, I won’t bore you with stats and figures that don’t really have much meaning to those who don’t follow the sport. What I will mention briefly however is one event which stands head and shoulders above the rest – the Victorian State Decathlon Championships. I competed in this competition back in February and it was honestly among the most enjoyable weekends I have had since arriving in Australia. For those who are not aware, the decathlon is a 10 event track and field competition, spread over two days, comprising the following: 100m, Long Jump, Shot Putt, High Jump, 400m, 110m Hurdles, Discus Throw, Pole Vault, Javelin Throw, and 1500m. Points are scored based on how well you perform in each event, and the person with the greatest total at the end of this gruelling competition is determined the winner. It was no secret that I was a complete novice in the majority of these events, but never once did I feel out of place among the faster, stronger and fitter athletes on show. While everybody was competing against each other, for these couple of days brief friendships developed, with each person encouraging the rest of their compatriots on. Some of my competitors even kindly gave me a crash coaching session to try to improve my technique over the jumping and throwing events that I am not accustomed to. The memory of the camaraderie among the 20 decathletes competing is something which will remain with me for a long time.

My big trip of 2012 will be in July and August when I visit home for four weeks, incorporating eight days in London for the Olympic Games. In a few weeks’ time I head to Hobart, the capital of Tasmania, for a three day weekend. I’ll make sure to update then.

Farm work in Broadford and Glenrowan, Australia

After an incredible two weeks in South Korea where I witnessed the very best in international track and field fight for gold, silver and bronze, in what was most definitely the best live sporting event I have ever attended, I treated myself to the most spectacular comedown imaginable. Yes, one day I was sitting track side for Sally Pearson’s wonderful gold medal winning performance for Australia in the hurdles, and sneaking into press conferences, putting questions to Usain Bolt et all, a few days later I was a member of the Australian agricultural community.

As I have explained in an earlier blog, in order to get a second year working holiday visa, a working holiday visa holder must complete 88 days of specified work (construction, forestry, farming , fruit picking, mining etc) in a regional area (anywhere outside of Melbourne, Perth, Sydney, Brisbane and Gold Coast). Back in July I completed 12 of these days, meaning that another 76 would be required by the time my first visa expires in order for a second year visa to be granted.

With construction being a no-go for me due to health reasons, the two main avenues available to me were paid fruit picking work, while living in a working hostel, or volunteer farm work under the WWOOF or HelpX scheme, where payment is zero dollars an hour, but accommodation and food is provided for free. I have heard nothing but horrific stories about fruit picking, and the unreliability of obtaining work, so with my motivation being to secure the rest of my 88 days as quickly as possible, rather than earning money, I chose the volunteer route.

So within hours of landing back into Melbourne airport after a long haul flight from Seoul, I arrived into Broadford, a tiny town one hour north of Melbourne, to begin work on a small hobby farm. To begin with, it wasn’t too bad. I had an unlimited supply of Internet, which is a rarity in the countryside it seems, and I could go back to Melbourne easily when needed, as I was just a short train ride away.

The work was quite varied. The main job was to dig trenches underneath various gates so that electric fencing could be installed. While the constant digging wasn’t easy on the body, it was the type of job I expected to be doing. However, I was given numerous other tasks that made me feel more like a slave rather than a helper. I had to feed and look after their pet horses, feed their dogs, cook them dinner occasionally, and worst of all, clean the gutters. While it felt like I was being a bit used, I wouldn’t have minded so much, had appreciation been shown for the labour I undertook.

The couple I stayed with consisted of an English man and a Finnish woman. While he was a very pleasant person to be around, nothing could be further from the truth with regards his other half. I found her to be the most condescending, belittling, rude, lazy and obnoxious of people, one who never made me feel like I was welcome, who never showed any thanks for the work I did, and indeed didn’t even bother to say goodbye to me when I left. There are too many examples of why I disliked her so much, but one particular occasion sticks out above the others. One evening, they had visitors over for dinner, and I was eating with them, as I did every evening. She proceeded to offer everybody on the table an alcoholic beverage, except for my good self, the one who had been cleaning her gutters, and indeed cooked her lunch on my first day working for her (usually it is supposed to be the other way around!!), despite being in a jet lagged state. After 17 days I was glad to leave, and she has proudly put herself up there into the top 2-3 worst people I have met since leaving Ireland in September 2010.  

So, three different farms, and just 29 days of work signed off. It honestly felt like I was destined to engage in farm hopping for the remainder of my 88 days. But as luck would have it, I found a family who owned a sheep farm out in Glenrowan that were looking for somebody to work for two months. Absolutely perfect as far as I was confirmed, and after a few phone interviews I left Broadford, and headed for Glenrowan, a tiny township, 2 hours north of Melbourne, famous for Ned Kelly’s last stand (more about that later).

I was very much thrown in at the deep end, and on my first morning of work, I had to assist in the marking of about 300 lambs, a process that these dumb animals certainly do not enjoy. While it is for their own long term good, the sight of 300 tails being chopped off certainly wasn’t something that I particularly enjoyed. I can now, ever so slightly, see why some people go vegetarian. Not me though, I love my red meat!

The family consisted of a married couple, and four children, ages 7, 5, 4 and 1. The first week I was made to feel very welcome and I was invited to eat with them most days. In addition they did so much with regards getting me settled. They provided me with my own private cottage, about 200 metres from their own house. Within this accommodation I had a kitchen, TV, DVD player, along with plenty of DVD’s and CD’s. Most importantly they provided me with a Telstra mobile broadband Internet stick, which I could recharge myself at my own convenience, allowing me to stay in touch with the outside world. I would also provide them with a shopping list every week and there were no restrictions on what I could request, and I had an unlimited supply of beer, for whenever I wanted to crack open a nice cold one after a hard day’s work. In addition they very kindly offered to drop me off at, and pick me up from, the train station every weekend, so that I could go back to Melbourne whenever I wished, a kind gesture that I very much appreciated.

However, once the initial pleasantries were performed, they made very little effort to include me in their daily life. It wasn’t like I was expecting to be eating dinner with them every night or anything, but an invitation to join them for some food and a beer once a week would have been nice. The reality was that they didn’t seem comfortable with the idea of having a stranger getting in the way of their living habits. This is of course understandable, given the fact I was the first helper they ever had, but it certainly made me feel extremely isolated, and was really just treated as a worker, and nothing else, which isn’t the whole idea of the WWOOF and HelpX scheme.

To say that I was very bored and lonely in the evenings would be an understatement. There was quite literally nothing to do, nobody to talk to, and the nearest town, Glenrowan, has a population of approximately 900, and is one of the most boring places I have set foot in, and indeed, probably would no longer exist, if it wasn’t for a complete mad man taking on the entire police force in that very town in 1880, wearing a dustbin on his head throughout. I have travelled extensively around South America as a solo traveller, and am very comfortable in my own company, and have endured many a 24 hour bus journey with nothing but a book and the Latin American landscape to accompany me, but this experience of solitude was a step too far. I simply could not recommend a single person to do what I did for 2 months. A couple of weeks are fine perhaps for a break, but nothing longer. The whole setup is something which would be ideal for couples, but awfully monotonous for a solo helper.

The work I did throughout my two months in Glenrowan was quite varied, consisting of various sheep related tasks, fixing and re-wiring fences, digging trenches, knocking cement off bricks, along with a lot of gardening tasks, which usually involved digging, digging, raking, and some more digging. Every now and again, I would help out at the host family’s friend’s vineyard, close to the town of Wangaratta, and would assist in maintaining the vines. Occasionally, as always, I was given completely pointless tasks, that any city dweller would deem to be a complete waste of time. The worst of these was painting the wool shed. This job took a total of 2 days, and for what? So that the sheep can admire the gentle brushstrokes while the wool is being ripped off their bodies? Besides the sheep and the shearers, not a single soul will ever set foot in that wooden building. There really is nothing worse than doing a task that you consider to have zero purpose whatsoever.

I can honestly say I have learned a lot of valuable life skills, and the experience is something I will very much value as I get older. However, the constant manual labour took a dreadful toll on my body. I developed tendonitis in my hands, a stiff back, a sore groin, and tightness in the hip area. My core strength wasn’t up to the level needed to undertake such long term constant physical labour, and with about 3-4 weeks to go my body broke down, and several trips to the physio were required, resulting in close to 300 dollars in fees paid. My insurance company back in Ireland will be getting a nice Christmas present off me that’s for sure! 

In addition to fighting through this discomfort, I also had to contend with soaring temperatures, consistently in the high 20’s to mid 30’s. Words cannot describe how difficult it is for somebody from Ireland to cope with undertaking such physical exertion in such uncomfortable conditions. My mind kept going back to that infamous football match at the 1994 FIFA World Cup in Orlando between Ireland and Mexico, where half the Irish team were barely able to jog in what was close to 110 degrees Fahrenheit. At least I had regular access to water, unlike the players that day!                         

Given I was working on a sheep farm, it would be wrong of me not to dedicate a paragraph to what is without doubt the dumbest animal on earth, the sheep. They are quite unbelievable. Just when I think that their idiocy has reached its limit, they find astonishingly stupid new ways to injure and kill themselves. The level of self-destructive behaviour they undertake knows no boundaries. Watching them trying to jump through (yes, through, not over!) a fence in a pitiful attempt to escape is quite an entertaining sight. They don’t seem to use whatever intelligence they possess, and will just follow the rest of their brain-dead buddies, and run away from anything that comes anywhere close to them. While chopping off their tails may be seen by some people as animal cruelty, it is 100% necessary, as these animals are far too stupid to not crap all over their tails. Without this human intervention these helpless creatures would suffer from widespread fly-strike, which is one of the grossest things one can ever witness.

Another creature that I had to deal with on a few occasions was the spider. Everybody I’m sure is aware of how dangerous some of these insects can be down in Australia, particularly the Red Back and Funnel Web, both of which have the potential to cause a massive coronary breakdown with just one bite. Even though many of the spiders are harmless (albeit large and ugly) it is best to assume that they are all venomous, as the chances are you won’t be able to identify a spider’s exact breed, unless you are quite knowledgeable in this area. On three occasions I came in contact with a large spider, assumed, but not confirmed, to be a huntsman:

1)      One evening, after a long day of work, upon entering my cottage, I noticed a hideous creature sitting on the door. I turned around very briefly to pick up something to bash it away with, only for it to have disappeared into the house, nowhere to be seen. It is a little unnerving knowing that such a thing was creeping around the house somewhere. But I came to terms with it and forgot about this eight-legged beast pretty quickly.

2)      A few weeks later, I went to put on a pair of shoes that I had not worn for a while. However upon entering my feet into them I noticed that my left shoe didn't quite feel right. So rather than tie my laces, I decided to take it off, and fix the sole of the shoe, which was what I assumed was the problem. When I went to put my hand into the shoe, out popped a gigantic spider, assumed to be a huntsman, probably the same one that had crept into my house a few weeks previously.

3)      Just when I thought it couldn't get any more ridiculous, the following happened. In the car, on the way to the Buckland Valley to go camping with the family who own the vineyard, I noticed a fairly stocky looking spider crawling up the back of my thigh. Unconfirmed whether it was venomous or not, but obviously I jumped for my life and demanded that the car be stopped immediately. This led to the three kids in the backseat, whose ages range from 3 to 8, going into a state of uncontrollable laughter, and I was the butt of all jokes for the rest of the weekend. "James is scared of spiders, nah nah nah nah nah". I think I'd have rather had the spider bite to be honest!

The spider does however serve one useful purpose, and that is to kill those awful flies that will just never leave you in peace. Rural Australia is full of them, and unlike the ones in Ireland, the Australian version of these useless creatures will not bugger off no matter how hard you try to get rid of them. They are relentless. They are persistent. They are on a mission to piss you off, and there is nothing you can do to stop them!

The final chapter in this tale goes to the infamous Ned Kelly, an Irish Australian bush ranger, considered by many Australians to be a folk hero and a symbol of Irish-Australian resistance against the Anglo-Australian ruling class. While this is certainly true, there can be no denying that the man was a criminal, a cold-blooded cop killer, and the way he is hailed in the township of Glenrowan is completely over-the-top. Reading about his life in the museums you would swear that this man was Mother Theresa of Calcutta! Glenrowan was of course, the site of the famous shoot-out between the Kelly Gang and the police back in 1880, and considering that such a significant moment in Australian history took place here you would expect quite a lot of interesting tourist sites. But the reality is that Glenrowan has made an absolute hames of it, and the town is not cashing in on the Ned Kelly story to the degree you would expect. There is a rather large Ned Kelly statue, one adequate museum, good enough to kill one hour, a second museum which is appalling at best, an embarrassing cheaply made animated reconstruction of the Siege of Glenrowan story, which the delusional gentleman at the cashier compared to Disneyland, and then a few random sites around the town, including the actual site of the Ann Jones Hotel where the shootout occurred. All that exists on this site now is an unused field, and a small sign to indicate that a historic event took place here. I dedicated three hours to immersing myself in the Ned Kelly story, and by the end I was running out of things to do.

So I have come to the end of my 3 months of regional work. While I learned a lot, being honest, I did not enjoy my time in rural Australia. But the whole ordeal was a means to an end, and last Wednesday my second year visa was granted, allowing me to live in Australia until at least December 2012. Now I am back in Melbourne, and am in the middle of the tedious process of starting all over again, and trying to get re-settled into the city. Notwithstanding the farm labour, 2011 has been an awesome year. Here’s to an even better 2012.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Daegu, South Korea

After five days in Seoul, I set off on a 2 hour bullet train journey southeast to Daegu to attend the 13th IAAF World Athletics Championships. The competition began in 1983, and now takes place biannually, bringing the very best in world track and field together over 9 days of competition. In terms of global television viewers, the championships are the third largest sporting event in the world, after the Summer Olympic Games, and the FIFA World Cup, and this year's edition is the first time the event has taken place on mainland Asia.

The championships got off to a rather bizarre start when a sprinter by the name of Sogelau Tuvalu took to the start line for the preliminary round of the Men's 100 metres. Just 17 years of age, and weighing over 20 stone, Tuvalu, a shot putter from American Samoa, was entered to compete against some of the fastest men on the planet (Don't ask me why he was entered for this particular event!). His training regime for the championships was reported to be an intensive one month programme, and he entered the starting blocks not wearing spikes, a serious rookie mistake for a sprinter. As the gun fired, this well built chap was lazy out of the blocks, recording the slowest reaction time of all seven runners. As it turned out, this was of little importance, as the Samoan could have jumped the gun by a whopping four seconds and still finished at the rear of the field. The poor man was completely out of his depth and eventually, after what felt like a painful eternity, crossed the finish line in a time of 15.66 seconds, a new personal best. I was personally close to tears of laughter watching this, but one has to ask the question, is there not somebody in the whole of American Samoa who can run 100 metres quicker than this? 15.66 would struggle to be competitive in a girls Under 12's Athletics Victoria track meet!

However, the endeavors of Sogelau Tuvalu were quickly forgotten once Usain Bolt took to the stage. The multiple Olympic and World Champion and world record holder for 100 metres and 200 metres was understandably the star attraction for many casual fans visiting the stadium, and was fully expected to win gold in the blue-ribboned event, the men's 100 metres. However, as has been widely publicised by now, Bolt made an absolute hames of the start in the final and reacted before the starting gun was even fired, recording a negative reaction time. Under the current rules an athlete is disqualified if he/she false starts once. No second chances. The entire stadium literally gasped at once when the red card was shown to the showman from Jamaica, and there were even a few spectators who got up and exited the stadium before the race took place. There has since been too much talk about the false start rule, and the fact that the IAAF are even considering changing it, shows nothing but pure disrespect to every other sprinter in the competition. Just because the most famous athlete in the world was unable to control himself for a few split seconds does not justify modifying the rules. There have been lots of sprinters who have false started in major competitions before Bolt, and not an eyelid was batted. The rules are the same for everybody, no matter how fast or slow, popular or unknown somebody is. The person I sympathise with the most during all of this is Johan Blake. The man became world champion and yet his achievement was completely overshadowed by nonsensical debates about the fairness of the false start rule!

However this was one of the few low points of Daegu 2011, a championship which provided many memorable moments and performances. Firstly, there was Sally Pearson's stunning gold medal run in the women's 100 metres hurdles. The Australian stormed to victory in a blistering time of 12.28 seconds, the fastest time since 1992, putting her fourth on the all time list. However, without trying to say too much, in the eyes of most people this was a world record performance.

If Pearson provided the performance of the week, then the women's and men's 400 metres provided arguably the races of the championships. In the women's event, Amantle Montsho of Botswana and Allyson Felix of the USA went toe to toe down the home straight. Felix closed significantly towards the final stages, but Montsho held on to claim the gold ahead of the popular American in a personal best of 49.56 seconds, with Felix also recording a lifetime best with 49.59. In the men's race, Kirani James, from tiny Grenada, took the gold medal just days before his 19th birthday, in a personal best time of 44.60 seconds, overtaking disgraced American LaShawn Merritt in the last 10 metres of the race. For athletics fans this was the right result given Merritt's controversial past, having recently served a 21 month doping ban.

Another highlight of the championships was the emergence of European sprinting. Kevin Borlee of Belgium took a well deserved bronze medal in the men's 400 metres, Christophe Lemaitre claimed the bronze in the men's 200 metres, running a sensational 19.80 in the process, and most significantly of all, Dai Greene of GB took gold in the men's 400 metres hurdles, beating everybody around him from the USA and the Caribbean. Who says Europeans can't sprint eh?

Other memorable moments included the men's 10000 metres, where unheralded Ethiopian Ibrahim Jeilan stunned the overwhelming favourite Mo Farah of Great Britain with a devastating finishing kick over the final 100 metres; the men's 200 metres, where Bolt finally got his act together and took the gold medal in 19.40 seconds, one of the quickest times in history; the women's 400 metres hurdles, where Lashinda Demus came within just 0.13 seconds of the world record on her way to gold for the USA; the women's high jump which saw a great battle between Anna Chicherova of Russian and Blanca Vlasic of Croatia, with the former snatching the title on count back after both athletes cleared 2.03 metres; the men's 4x400 metres relay, where the South Africans came extremely close to defeating the perennial victors, the USA in a thrilling race; and the men's 3000 metres steeplechase, not so much for the race, as it was possibly the most mundane of Daegu 2011, but rather for Ezekiel Kemboi's antics as he crossed the finishing line from lane 7, and proceeded to spend the next five minutes doing what can only be assumed to have been a poor form of Kenyan dance!

The medals table was topped yet again by the USA, who claimed 12 gold, 8 silver and 5 bronze. To say that I was sick of hearing the Star Spangled Banner would be a gross understatement. To make matters worse, I had to endure the Russian national anthem on 9 occasions, and Kenya's a further 7 times. With 28 of the 47 gold medals going to these three countries, I became increasingly desperate to hear something else, anything else. I don't think I've ever been so happy to hear God Save the Queen. Anything but the Star Spangled Banner please!

From an Irish perspective there were some fantastic performances, along with some disappointments. The most impressive achievement was by Deirdre Ryan in the women's high jump. Less than one month before the championships she jumped an Irish record of 1.93 metres, which gave her the B-Standard for Daegu. In the qualification round she went better and cleared 1.95 metres, giving her a place in her first global final. In the final itself, she cleared 1.93 metres at the first attempt and was agonisingly close to clearing 1.97 on her final attempt. She finished the competition in a tie for 6th place, the best ever performance by an Irish high jumper in the history of the world championships. Ryan's performance also is living proof that B-Standard athletes should not be overlooked, as is done so often by the Olympic Council of Ireland, when selecting the Irish team for the Olympic Games. Deirdre Ryan didn't achieve the A-Standard before the championships, and if such strict criteria was imposed for Daegu 2011, then we would never have witnessed an Irish athlete mix it with some of the all time greats such as Blanca Vlasic and Anna Chicherova. Hopefully, this result will force a change of attitude among the powers that be ahead of the London Olympics next year.

Another Irish athlete who came of age in Daegu was Ciaran O'Lionaird, who qualified from both his heat and semi final of the 1500 metres, earning himself a place in the final, the first Irish man to qualify for the final of the metric mile since Niall Bruton in 1995. The "Bullet with the Mullet" as he is affectionately known, acquitted himself well against his more illustrious opponents, and in the final, was not out of his depth, eventually finishing in 10th place. At only 23 years of age, there is a lot to look forward to from Ciaran over the coming years. Hopefully he keeps the mullet, it's become quite a hit in Korea!

The women's 4x400 metres relay provided another impressive Irish performance. The Irish quartet of Marian Heffernan, Joanne Cuddihy, Claire Bergin and Michelle Carey smashed the Irish record by almost three seconds, recording a time of 3:27.48. This placed the team 12th in the World, just 1.47 seconds off qualification for the final. And considering there was a mix-up at the start where time was lost, there is certainly more that can be taken off that national record, perhaps at the London Olympics next year, which Ireland are now well on their way towards qualifying for. Given our size, and lack of participation numbers, Ireland don't often qualify relay teams for major championships, so our 4x400 team finishing 12th in the world is certainly an achievement that can't be downplayed.

However there were also some disappointments for the Irish team. The silver medallist from the previous World Championships in Berlin, Olive Loughnane, struggled badly in soring temperatures and 88% humidity and finished down the field in 16th place in the 20Km Walk. Paul Hession was another athlete who had a poor championships by his own high standards. The Galway athlete has been a model of consistency over the last few years, narrowly missing out on the 200 metres final at Osaka 2007 (12th place), the Beijing Olympics in 2008 (10th place), and Berlin 2009 (10th place). However on this occasion, he could only finish in 4th place in his heat and failed to qualify for the semi finals.

However, the biggest disappointment from an Irish perspective centred around Cork sprint hurdling heroine, Derval O'Rourke. The two time European silver medallist and former World Indoor champion had high hopes of becoming the first Irish sprinter to qualify for back to back World Championships finals, after her 4th place finish in Berlin two years ago. O'Rourke had previously commented on how well her preparations had gone this summer, and how this was the first season in years that hadn't been interrupted by injury or illness. In the heats, everything looked to be going to plan, when she eased her way into the semi finals in second place, barely breaking a sweat. For her semi final I was sitting by the start line, the place where myself and some friends sat in Barcelona last year when she won the European silver medal, something that I was hoping would provide a good omen. However, when the women came out of the tunnel for the semi final, there was no sign of Derval at all, leaving myself with a feeling of pure disbelief. It wasn't until about half an hour later that I heard what had happened. When warming up for the semi final her calf tightened, and no matter what the physio tried, nothing could be done in time, and she was forced to withdraw. One can't help but feel devastated for her, considering how much time and energy would have gone into preparing for these championships, only for it all to be taken away by cruel bad fortune. As it turned out 12.84 seconds was good enough to qualify for the final, a time that Derval would have been expecting to run without any problems. While a medal would have been highly unlikely, given the times ran by the top 3 athletes, there's no doubt that she would have been competitive and ranked highly. But these things happen in sport, and she will no doubt come back stronger for it. Hopefully at the Olympic Games next year she will get the opportunity to show the world just how fast she can go.

There were many ups and downs for the Irish team, but I am absolutely proud of the efforts of every one of them, and it was a pleasure to be in Daegu to support them. I chatted to a few of them throughout the week and each of them were very pleasant and friendly, and were very appreciative of the journey made to come and support them.

However, in Daegu, it wasn't just elite athletes who were the centre of attention, but also us supporters. I have lost count of how many times I was stopped inside and outside the stadium by Korean kids asking for a photo. On one occasion I was even asked to sign my autograph. The locals clearly thought I was competing at the championships, and I didn't have the heart to tell them the truth and disappoint them. It was absolutely surreal walking around the stadium, being bombarded for photos. Real paparazzi stuff! However this pales in comparison to what some poor chap from Jamaica had to deal with. Over 6 foot tall, dressed in jeans, and with a Jamaican flag hanging over his back, this man was nothing but a passionate athletics fan, and was certainly not competing at the championships. However, to the Korean kids, this personal description could mean one thing, and one thing only....USAIN BOLT! Within minutes of his first photo request, this man was surrounded by somewhere between 100-200 local children, all of whom were jumping up on him, flashing their cameras in his face, screaming like...urm....children, and basically hounding him. The disgruntled Jamaican could do nothing to get away from this fanatical onslaught, and with his friends just laughing their heads off and offering little help, he resigned himself to the fact that he was not going to be left alone and ended up signing autographs and getting photos taken for a solid 15 minutes. Korea is a strange strange place I tell you!

Another interesting thing about these World Championships was the Korean attitude towards security. Like any event, there are different sections in the stadium, entry to each dependant on which type of ticket you hold. Usually there are security personnel at a sporting event to stop somebody accessing an area of the stadium to which one is not entitled, such as the VIP section for example. Daegu 2011, had such personnel of course, it's just they weren't particularly good at their jobs. Throughout the championships I waltzed into the VIP section, and athletes section on numerous occasions without a bother in the world. In addition, on one particular evening, I was given a press pass, valid for only the 2nd of September. This gave me access to all the press conferences afterwards. During this I got to put questions to numerous athletes, a very enjoyable experience. However, as the old saying goes, give and inch and he'll take a mile. After being in the press conference the night before, there was no way on earth I was going back to sitting where I usually was, and so brought my now expired press pass with me and flipped it over so that the date wasn't showing. No questions were asked, as I eased my way back into the press conference room, seated myself in the front row, and proceeded to ask Mr. Usain Bolt about his possible plans to race the 400 metres after the London Olympics! To say that security was lax would be a massive understatement, but I would have it no other way. The beauty of athletics is that it is a very accessible sport to fans, where athletes are (barring the odd exception) very down to earth, and have no big egos. I've lost count of the amount of times I saw Steve Hooker sitting out in the non-athletes section of the stadium, sitting in amongst the supporters. This is something that made Daegu 2011 so enjoyable, and an aspect which will be more than likely lacking at the London Olympics next year.

While security in the stadium may be lacking, one thing that was very stringent in Daegu was anti-doping. Just a week or so before the championships started, the IAAF announced an unprecedented drug testing programme in which every single athlete would be subjected to one mandatory urine test and more importantly one mandatory blood test. On top of this, any athlete could be asked back again for another random blood test. This is of course on top of the normal testing that takes place after each final. It is without doubt the most comprehensive anti-doping programme ever undertaken in sports, and it is something that, in my humble opinion, should be adopted by all other sports also. There will always be those that will slip through the net of course, but it is now becoming increasingly more difficult for those who are willing to take a short cut.

The weather conditions that the athletes had to compete in cannot be ignored. Every day was like a combination of a sauna and steam room. Temperatures were consistently in the mid 30's and the humidity levels were regularly at over 80%. I've never experienced such discomfort in all my life, and the sweat was literally dripping off my face. And I was just a spectator. I can't begin to understand how difficult it must have been for the competitors, especially those taking part in endurance events. Much respect!

While athletics is not a very popular sport in South Korea, the locals of Daegu did a fantastic job in embracing the championships. Many people, myself included, were worried that the world's best would end up competing in front of a half empty stadium, but such fears proved to be unfounded. The stadium appeared to be over 80% full on every evening, and the atmosphere was absolutely magnificent. The Koreans have a clear lack of knowledge of the sport, demonstrated by the lack of cheering when household names such as Allyson Felix are called out, but they made up for this with their enthusiasm towards the event. Even the morning sessions had big crowds. I have watched athletics for 17 years and have never seen a morning session as well attended as these championships. Every kid in Daegu must have been in the stadium over the course of the week. The organisers of the event deserve a serious pat on the back, and these championships will no doubt leave a lasting legacy in Korea.

I have had a fantastic two weeks in South Korea, have met some brilliant new people, and have experienced a new culture. The people are among the most polite I have met, and regularly offered their help when they saw me looking very lost and confused, standing at the side of a road with a giant map in my hands. A perception of a country is largely based on what the local people are like, and South Korea achieved a grade of A1 in this department. It is a country that I cannot speak highly enough of and I hope that others who visited for the World Championships will take as many fond memories home with them as I have.

To Korea, kamsahamnida.

With Olympic Pole Vault Champion, Steve Hooker of Australia 

With GB legends Steve Cram, Sebastian Coe and Darren Campbell

With the tricolour in Daegu Stadium 

With some of the Irish team 

This lad was mobbed by local kids for autographs and photos. Guys, he's not Usain Bolt! 

Usain Bolt cruising through his first round heat in the 200 metres 

With 3 time 200 metres World Champion and 2 time Olympic Silver Medallist, Allyson Felix of the USA

With 2 time Olympic Javelin Champion, Andreas Thorkildsen of Norway 

In the front row for Usain Bolt's press conference after his victory in the 200 metres