Best. Place. Ever. - 1-26-12 - 1-29-12

Ride out of Queenstown to Bungee Jumping and Jet Boating

Digressing into our days spent free in Queenstown is both reminiscent and difficult having just enjoyed some stale pizza atop my rental car’s roof, taking in an Uluru at sunset: one of the most well-known – and possibly only – sights to be seen in central Australia, straying far from any sort of city.  That recount will be for another day, as I must stay true to chronology.  Queenstown: I don’t think I could have dreamed up a more perfect town for myself if I had all the time in the world.  Imagine a blend of Telluride,  Aspen and farm country all rolled into one backpacker – and subsequently young person – infested package that boasts the title of extreme sports capital of the southern hemisphere.  I have never felt more instantly content than I did as soon as we landed in this small town, large village.  

Plane and Caitlyn's head shot.

As soon as we stepped foot off the airplane we were welcomed with jutting, rugged mountains coming out of nowhere, ending an expansive plain of tall waving grass: our personified welcome party.  I typically mock the stereotypical group of people – that shall remain unnamed so as to not offend my Asian readers - that step off the plane to immediately snap 10 or so shots of the plane on the tarmac; a memory and image to last a lifetime.  This particular airport, however, we all found ourselves shoulder to shoulder with these photographically armed to the teeth tourists snapping pictures of our chariot with the extreme scenery as a backdrop.  Improvised writing side note – a rat just ran under my bar stool in the outdoor bar of Ayers Rock resort – of which I am somewhat of a squatter…sleeping in my Suzuki Intimidation, or something like that.  I digress, until he attempts to scale my stool – at which point this post is going nowhere but to the story of a rat in a bar.  Anyway, the landscape of Queenstown is absolutely spectacular and reminded me greatly of Interlaken or Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland; two of my favorite cities I had ever been to.  We were all stoked as we loaded into our shuttle to check into the aptly named Adventure Backpackers Hostel.

Nomin on a Furgburger

Seriously impressed by my whole experience at ABH.  Owned by an Aussie dude from somewhere on the east coast – who had done quite a bit of his own travelling and hostel bunking – it was a 50 bed small joint right in the middle of town who had awesome service and great clean rooms.  Definitely one of the better places we stayed on the trip – although I could have been homeless in this town, for all I cared.  We had the whole afternoon to jump into something, so we headed off to debate over a Fergburger – the best and most famous burger joint in New Zealand, rightfully so.  I attempted to recruit and convince everyone to go on a Jetboating ride – a “must do” in Queenstown, supposedly.  Alas, after much deliberation only 3 of us ended up committing as the others fortunately found a pretty fun luge type course on the top of the gondola just out of town.  (The mouse is back, but I’m fighting to maintain my focus).  

We were recommended one of the smaller, family owned jet boating guides for the optimal canyon time on the boat and for the spectacular drive out on the old gold road that took some 6 years to build through the mountains and into the canyon.  The drive alone made it worth it as we winded along mountainside roads barely wide enough for our van, and subsequently coming what appeared to be perilously close to the edge which made for a fun ride down.  

Shot of the Shotover River and the road along the ridge.

The jet boat operation consisted of a couple tractors, a couple boats, and a moveable dock – all of which were painted bright blue and scratched down to the metal, a sign of what was to come, I’m sure.  We suited up with our very unassuming companions of eclectic decent, fairing from Taiwan, Spain, Slovakia or Japan, and I bolted for the dock to stake my claim in the front to get some solid GoPro footage of an intense ride up and down the canyon.

El Capitan pointing out Liv Tyler's scene location

These guys are absolutely nuts and the boats are some of the most impressive pieces of machinery I have ever been in, so obviously I asked how much one of the bad boys costs.  Apparently they run anywhere between 10 and 100 grand, and I promised our driver a permanent position as my personal jet boat driver as soon as I got my hands on one, to which he replied that he doubted that he had enough experience – comforting kiwi humor.  I had been chomping at the bits to see some Lord of the Rings film locations, being a nerd as it may be, and along the section of river we shot down there was a scene filmed from the first film when Liv Tyler was at the edge of the water with those mean black wraith guys chasing after her.  Pretty cool to see it first hand – illustrates the impressive landscape sweeping the country.

World's First bungee and 90 meters shorter than the one we are doing the next morning, the Nevis.

Up top world's first Bungee Jump

After the ride we stopped by the original location of the first ever commercial bungee jump which was some 100 feet shorter than the one we were slated to do the next morning at ten, and we were subsequently treated with a bit or premature butterflies – which is always a good thing, I guess.  Just makes it all the better when the time comes to take the jump.  After our ride back into town we were met with a storm coming into town so we hunkered down in one of the local watering holes, Cowboys.  This place was ridiculously clad with boots, buckles, hats and dead animals everywhere, topped off with saddle bar stools.  Absolutely incredible, so we knocked back a few, shot some pool and attempted to psych – or spook – ourselves for the impending jump the next morning.  The rain drove the majority of our group to bed, but Matt and I persevered, as it was Australia day, after all and although we weren’t even in Australia, we were intent on celebrating either way.  It was, after the fact, a big mistake, but worth the stories made.  The next morning we nervously scarfed down our last breakfast, and a few stopped by the package store to purchase some courage – something it seemed the majority of us were lacking.  The buildup is always the most intense and dramatic part of the jump, and it was a blast to experience in a big group like this.

We had a 20 minute ride out to the valley to give us time to scare the hell out of one another and in general act like mindless fools to try and forget about the 134 meter plunge that lay ahead (the same height as the Sydney Harbor Bridge, it turns out).  Suited up, rode the gondola out to the whatchyamacallit, and everything then really started to get crazy.  This bungee was much better coordinated and organized than the other one I have done, in which they rented out the gondola and brought their own equipment to sort of rig up – a practice that now seems a bit sketchy, for lack of a better work.  Either way, this one was a ton of fun because everyone was right there in the giant gondola thing with you, when you were jumping, screaming obscenities and warnings at you to not jump or that you better not not jump or whatever.  If anyone had doubts now, they were to be forcefully and deliberately pushed aside when they stepped up to the plate with so many eyes on them – many of whom had already taken the jump, no matter the onslaught of explicatives that made their way out when the time came to waddle up to the platform.

Video of mine will do just fine.  Absolutely incredible:

Adrenaline pumping lunatics then took over our previously apprehensive selves as we reveled in our “adventurous” side.  Definitely going to be celebrating hard tonight on the pub crawl we signed up for, that’s for sure.  After a walk around the incredible park what jutted out into the lake, we stopped for a celebratory beer at a café on the water and relived our jump, over and over.  I will have to continue on with the pub crawl, drive to Christchurch and Christchurch exploration later.  The bar is heating up, to my unfortunate demise as I have an early morning slated for tomorrow to meet the sunset on Uluru.  Right on.

Awkward delayed continuation of Queenstown blog, in keeping it brief as I am about to get on my plane back to the states – bittersweet for sure.  The night after our bungee jumping tour and messing around outside all day, we went on an ice bar pub crawl in true kiwi form.  We met a ton of cool people from all over all along the way, and although we had been to most of the bars the night before, the ice bar was a treat in and of itself, I guess.  The concept of an ice bar is way cooler than the actual experience itself, no pun intended.  After strapping up our ridiculous fur-hooded jackets, having a couple drinks out of their ice cups, and breaking as much of them as we could before a scolding from the pub crawl leaders, we pretty much were over the allure of the ice bar in roughly 10 minutes.  And there was no bathroom as I don’t believe an ice urinal would hold up well to a bar full of full bellied, or bladder, imbibers.  All in all, it was an awesome night and we saw all of the small town that was worth seeing, as night life goes, anyway.  Wearily went to bed a bit too late as we had a skydive planned the next morning for 7:00.  It’s gonna be an early one.

We were all set for the skydive, signed my life over to them, watched the briefing video over and again to mentally prepare, all the while waiting on the bus to come and take us to the jumpzone where we would fall from 15,000 feet and free fall for roughly a minute.  All this, I hear is a rather peaceful and relaxed experience after bungy jumping, but I am not all too sure about that yet, as right when we were hoping the bud was to arrive the administration lady that I signed my life – and a hefty chunk of my wallet – over to crushed all dreams of flying for us.  Unfortunately there were some intense high altitude winds that could seriously ruin a novice diver’s first jump, so although disappointed, we were grateful to them to save us from the risk in general.  Third time a planned dive has been thwarted for me.  One of these days, I suppose.

However adrenaline jacked and subsequently let down I had been led to a dreary demise for me on the bus ride to Christchurch – a 7 hour ride through some of South Islands most spectacular terrain, and least populated regions.  The first several hours was absolutely spectacular as we were crammed into an 11 person van, all 11 of us with a nice cozy little seat.  We took in lakes, valleys, peaks, fields, snow capped mountains, small towns, smaller villages, and about a billion or two sheep.  Words can’t describe and neither can pictures do it justice.  I can confidently say I will be making my way down to these parts in the future again at some point.  I fought to stay awake for much of the ride as I did not initially let my body realize how little sleep I had gotten the night before, what with the excitement of imminent airplane ejection, but as soon as that wore off, so did my conscious.  I, unlike many of the others, had no trouble snoozing away in the airport all that night to wait on our 6:00 am flight back to Auckland to catch our flight back to Sydney.  Ya, it was one of those sort of travel days.

I digress back to our time in Christchurch.  We got dropped off as close to the main part of town as we could to grab a bite and avoid the shut off and dangerous central area of the City.  We walked from there, after lunch, into what we believed the heart of the city.  You could begin to see the destruction as we walked along a graveyard where most of the headstones, fences and spires had been turned over or sunken in from the February earthquake – a very eerie image indeed.  Continuing into the city we saw less and less souls and were greeted, rather, with more and more desolate destruction.  Much of what was destroyed or damaged had now been demolished and removed to avoid any dangerous structural collapses, but in certain areas everything seemed to remain untouched – like it was all left just how it had been on that destructive day.  I did not expect it to be as moving as it was, but the feeling of the city was almost something of nuclear fallout.  Obviously this is nothing close to that level, but that is the feeling and appearance the city set out at the epicenter, walking along the fenced off central, and most dangerous, area of the city.  Truly something else, and you wonder if a city so destroyed would ever be able to bounce back with continual aftershocks happening so frequently – one happened about 3 hours before we landed, it turned out.  One comforting thing we came to discover is the city had life yet as we walked from the center of the destroyed town, some 200 meters away we came on the park and a Buskars (street performer) Festival taking place that afternoon.  We figured, why not? And give it a whirl.  These guys needed desperately to stick to the streets; it was nothing more than mildly amusing and slightly awkward.  Nonetheless, the park was extremely crowded and full of cheer, and it was good to see people carrying on with life as normal as they could.  Hopefully things will continue to look up for Christchurch.

The end is a blur: got to the airport at 11:00pm, slept until 4:30am, caught our flight to Auckland at 6:30am, arrived in Auckland at 8:00am or something, sat in the airport until out flight at 3:30pm, arrived in Sydney at 6:20pm, and finally made our way back just the way we had started to Wesley college.  Time to make the best of the last few days we have in this amazing country.  Certainly going to miss everything.