As a youngster I had always wanted to make a rugby tour of South Africa and I had always wanted to visit Crete, where my father was captured before spending four years in a prisoner of war camp.
I went to South Africa, three times, and I made it to Crete, which was so much like my father had described it.
But there was one place missing, still on the bucket list - Alice Springs. Ever since I saw the movie A Town Like Alice as a boy and read Nevil Shute's novel, it had held a special fascination.
I'm not sure why. Maybe it was its sheer remoteness. Maybe it was how the town had thrived in the aftermath of World War 2.
Maybe it was because of the outback characters who gave the place a special atmosphere. So there we were at 6.30 on a Saturday morning, boarding the plane from Darwin to Alice Springs, 1500km and two hours' flight away.
The flight emphasises the sheer vastness of Australia and the amount of land, useless or otherwise, which is uninhabited.
Alice Springs is a town of about 28,000 plonked in the desert in the middle of Australia, and surrounded by the MacDonnell Ranges. We are immediately taken with it. There is even a grassed children's play area in front of the airport terminal. There is no rush and hustle here. It's Australia the way it was.
It's cold at night (sometimes down to 0degC) and about 20degC during the day in the Dry.
There is not the humidity of Darwin. The sun burns, literally.
It's more like Alexandra in mid-summer.
We have booked in to stay at the Todd Tavern, not without some apprehension. We have resigned ourselves to a rundown pub complete with the inevitable beery smell and basic facilities.
The reality is a pleasant surprise. It might have been built in the 1950s, with the wraparound veranda that is a feature of Aussie pubs of that era, but our room is spacious and spotless, the owners and staff friendly and, at $A80 a night, it represents excellent value compared with our basic digs in Darwin.
And it's within easy walking distance of the shops and town centre, where people socialise over Saturday brunch or browse in one of the many shops selling Aboriginal artefacts. It's a well-laid-out town, just as Nevil Shute described it in his novel.
Our first venture is to walk to the top of Anzac Hill, where the views over Alice and the surrounding countryside are spectacular. We then walk to the headquarters of the Royal Flying Doctor Service, an organisation which, over the years, has saved so many lives and has become so integral to those who live and work in the outback.
By late in the afternoon, we're pleasantly tired. We've walked a fair few kilometres and the heat from the sun, even in winter, is intense.
But Liz is keen to go camel-riding and we travel a few kilometres to the outskirts of town where soon she is hoisted high on a camel and spends the next hour trekking through the bush. She arrives back, excited and with the adrenalin still pumping. I had been ostrich-riding in South Africa and thought camel-riding would be similar so I gave it a miss but, from the look on Liz's face, it is clear I made a mistake.
We go back to Todd Tavern, tidy ourselves and head for the bar and dining room. The beer is ice-cold and slides effortlessly down the throat. The tucker is hearty and plentiful. We settle for a roast and celebrate its excellence with dessert. The company is convivial. There's a sense of satisfaction of being in this famous little town in the Red Centre of Australia.
We spend the next day exploring other parts of Alice and its environs and it is with genuine regret that we board the early-evening flight back to Darwin, which passes quickly as Qantas serves an excellent dinner.
The next Saturday we are at Darwin Railway Station to board the famous Ghan, which had been on Liz's wish-list for years.
Passengers settle in for the 3000km journey to Adelaide which takes three days and two nights.
The train is massive. Its average length is 471 metres. The Ghan's symbol is a camel and its handler, in recognition of the pioneering Afghan cameleers.
While most passengers settle in for the long haul, we are mere day-trippers, bound for Katherine 340km away. The first stop is at Adelaide River, 110km away, the supply head for Darwin's defence during World War 2.
It takes just under four hours to get to Katherine, a town of about 10,000 on the banks of the Katherine River.
Our first venture is out to the Nitmiluk National Park where we take a two-hour cruise up the Katherine Gorge which is surrounded by cliffs and sandstone ledges.
Back in Katherine, an Irishman who I had met on the Ghan and I go to buy beer at the local supermarket and are surprised to be asked for photo identification. The rule has been brought in in the Northern Territory to try to curb the growing alcohol problem, particularly among the Aboriginal population.
But the highlight of the day is Marksie's camp-tucker night, which we had arranged before we left New Zealand. He learnt his bush skills from his grandfather who trapped rabbits for a living.
There are six of us for dinner and the food is cooked on hot coals and over a log fire. We sit at a long table under the stars and wallabies frolic in the background as Marksie (it seemed almost superfluous to ask his proper name) yarns about his life in the background.
We start with a plate of kangaroo, buffalo and barramundi and eat damper straight from the oven. The main course is roast lamb followed by scones and gum leaf billy tea.
It's a magnificent meal with excellent company. I sit next to the local coroner who tells me he drives about 250,000km each year in the course of his work and talks of his work, much of it depressingly sad, among the Aboriginal population.
Katherine is an unremarkable little outback town but we like it and the local people. The motel is tidy and pleasant with the inevitable swimming pool. But we recognise, too, that Katherine has its share of problems. There is a large Aboriginal population and many seem to have little purpose other than sitting in the shade and talking.
We take the Greyhound bus back to Darwin the next afternoon but, halfway there, we burst a radiator hose in the middle of nowhere. It's stiflingly hot and it brings home the dangers inherent in breaking down in the outback. But the driver is resourceful - they have to be in the outback - the radiator hose is patched up and, in less than an hour, we are on our way.
We pull in to Darwin in the early evening, the water sparkling, the sun still warm as people take refuge from the heat in the shade of the outdoor bars.
Our adventure is almost at an end. It's been so richly rewarding and frustrating. There are so many boxes on our list that we still haven't ticked.
I would have liked to have gone to Tennant Creek where exiled All Black Keith Murdoch lives, but it was a small matter of 507km from Alice Springs.
I would have liked to have learned more of the problems facing the Aboriginal population. They are better looked after financially but, for many, their lives seem similar to the blacks in South Africa.
Queensland and the Gold Coast are the favoured winter holiday destinations of New Zealanders but, with due acknowledgement to that most attractive area, we enjoyed the Northern Territory, warts and all, even more.
It's modern Australia, and Australia the way it used to be, all wrapped into one.
