I’ve been traveling around New Zealand’s South Island for several days now, and my body is beginning to show the wear and tear of this adventure-laden country. I recently climbed the Franz Josef Glacier, and I think I may have invented new muscles to absorb the immense aches and pains that come after walking on ice for 8 hours. That said, I’m still on a high, and as I get back on my Stray bus, I can’t wait to see what’s in store next.
Haast To Wanaka
After climbing the glacier, we spent the night in Haast, and getting up early the next morning is not easy. Rob, the animated bus driver who’s been with us since the beginning of our trip in Picton, is cheerful even on a rainy morning. From Haast, we continue to head south down the west coast, and before we even leave the hostel, I’ve got my camera ready. If the scenery today is anything like the two previous days, I want to be prepared.
As we go a bit farther inland, the roads become surrounded by looming green mountains. There are so many clouds that I can’t actually see the peaks, but this is actually working in our favor. The more it rains; the more waterfalls there are.
Everywhere I look, waterfalls of various sizes are cascading down the sides of the mountains. Some are just trickles, but their white trail meandering through the green trees is still impressive. Other waterfalls start high up where the clouds mask their origins, and the amount of water coming down makes me wonder if the road might be washed out if the rain keeps up. We pass at least one waterfall every minute; they are endless.
Mid-morning Rob pulls the bus over and we take a short walk in the rain to see Roaring Billy Falls. We tramp through a rainforest and soon come to a river. On the other side, where the riverbed ends, the land slowly climbs to form a small hill. It’s covered with thick green trees, except for one spot which is littered with dark boulders. This is where the water flows down into the river, forming Roaring Billy Falls. They’re not the biggest falls I’ve ever seen, but what makes them spectacular is their surroundings.
On either side of the falls, fog hovers around the mountains. In some places it reaches as low as the river, leaving the peaks exposed. In other areas, it obscures the top of the mountain. The fog eventually rolls over the falls, hiding them for just an instant. The scenery changes every second; and it keeps getting better and better.
Our first major stop for the day is Wanaka, and it brings to light one of New Zealand’s biggest faults. There is too much to see and do here, and unfortunately, choices have to be made. There are plenty of tramping trails and other outdoor activities available here, but I’ve opted not to get off the bus as many others do.
As we get closer to Wanaka, I start to regret my choice. The sun has come in time to shine on the area’s stunning lakes and mountains. Rob takes us to a viewpoint, where a huge blue lake lies in a valley surrounded by mountains and wispy clouds. Thank goodness for digital cameras, otherwise, New Zealand would cost me a fortune in film.
We spend a few hours in Wanaka, and Rob drops us off at Puzzling World. This is an attraction probably designed for children, but I find it immensely enjoyable. Besides getting lost in the huge maze with my traveling buddy Jolene, we also spend some time in each of the themed rooms in the main building. The first contains hundreds of holograms, and the second is a sea of white faces. As we walk in, three walls shaped like a starlet’s dressing mirror covered in faces greet us. The faces are somehow 3-D, and as we walk around the room, they follow us. It’s creepy.
My favorite area is the slanted room. The floors are slanted in a way that while you are actually standing straight, it feels and looks as if you are leaning far forward. At first it’s hilarious, but then my body realizes that what it’s feeling doesn’t correspond to what my eyes are seeing, and I feel sick to my stomach.
Before making my way out, I play around a bit. I pick up balls off the pool table, but when I put them back and they roll down the table, the slant makes it look like they’re rolling upward.
Next, I sit on a chair hooked to a railing at the bottom of a slope. But when I let go of the railing and slide down the incline, the slant makes it feel as if I am shooting upwards. It’s too much for my brain to process, and I have to leave.
The last test of our senses comes in the form of optical illusions. There is one more room, again with a slanted floor, but this time for a different reason. There are two doors at either end of the far wall of the room. Jolene and I enter via the biggest door at the bottom of the slanted floor. Cameras film me as I walk up the incline, watching my head as the ceiling gets closer and closer. Jolene waits at the bottom. I see now why the other door is so small; the floor has sloped so far upwards that it is nearly reaching the ceiling. Jolene joins me and we walk out the small door together and take our place in front of the waiting TV to see what the fuss is all about.
A minute later, the screen flickers and Jolene and I are on TV, entering the room through the huge door. We look tiny. When I start to walk upwards, I seem to grow. When I reach the small door, I look like a giant compared to Jolene at the bottom of the slope. As she joins me, her size rapidly increases to match mine. A secret of the movie industry revealed; this is one way they made the Hobbits look so small in Lord of the Rings.
Queenstown
From Wanaka we head on to Queenstown - the adventure capital of New Zealand. I’m slightly dreading this stop, for the simple reason that almost everything Queenstown has to offer involves risking your life in some way, shape or form. For example: skydiving, white water rafting, jet boating, bungy jumping and swinging through a canyon on a contraption resembling something in between a plane and a rocket.
Don’t get me wrong; I love adventure. I do. I climbed the steepest and fastest flowing commercially guided glacier, remember? But I also love my life very much. I’m just worried my new Stray friends will think I’m a wimp if I don’t fly through the air tethered to some sort of rubbery safety line. So when we pull up at the Kawarau Bridge AJ Hackett Bungy site, I’m relieved when only two people decide they are going to jump. (I’m not one of them.)
AJ Hackett Bungy, named after the Kiwi who bungied off the Eiffel Tower in the mid-eighties, making the sport famous, has four jumps near Queenstown. Kawarau Bridge was the first commercial bungy site in the world.
As we approach the bridge, my stomach does flip flops, and I’m only a spectator. At only 43 meters, it’s one of the shorter jumps in New Zealand, but it still involves jumping off a platform head first towards a river. To be honest, bungy jumping is something I know I’ll never do. I just could physically not jump. I think it would be easier to go tandem skydiving – that way you have no choice.
We watch a few jumpers, and I marvel at their braveness. They walk out to the edge of the platform and jump headfirst without hesitating. It’s while we’re standing here, that Jolene suddenly announces, “I’m going to do it,” and starts shaking with nerves. Chris, an English fellow we met on the bus, decides to jump with her and they go and pay for a tandem jump.
As soon as Jolene and Chris walk out onto the platform, I know something is wrong. Although they’re tied together at the feet, Chris is way ahead of Jolene. She sits down and grabs onto the railing and shakes her head back and forth. Eventually, Chris coaxes her to her feet and envelops her in a bear hug. Slowly, they take baby steps toward the platform. They’re almost there before Jolene starts panicking again and shaking her head in a very emphatic no.
I’m yelling encouraging things like “You can do it! It’ll be great! Come on – jump!” while thinking, “Just turn around and get out of there”. I feel for her. I’d be doing exactly the same thing. But all of a sudden Chris is leaning over the edge, Jolene is being pulled after him, and then they’re gone. It happens in slow motion; Chris jumps while Jolene grips his waist for dear life and lets out a scream I can still hear today. And then they’re bouncing back up and I hear giggles. I’m so relieved that I rush down the stairs to meet her at the river. She’s ecstatic and on a high that lasts for the rest of the night. Although I’m still not sure she can actually claim that she bungy jumped – after all, it was Chris who did the jumping.
Queenstown is also famous for its nightlife, and The Discovery Lodge, where we’re staying, has an adjoining bar, aptly named Altitude. It’s quiz night, and we form a team and have fun picking our brains trying to answer random questions about New Zealand, sports, and pop culture. We lose, but it doesn’t matter. Before long everyone is up and dancing and it’s the wee hours of the morning before I drag myself home.
The next morning I take a walk around Queenstown. It’s set in a gorgeous location; mountains surround the little town which sits next to a deep blue lake. The only drawback here is that everything is much more expensive than in other areas of the country. After all, it has a reputation to live up to.
In the afternoon, I decide to try one of the water based adventure activities that Queenstown is famous for; river surfing. I love water, and although you can sky dive and bungy jump almost anywhere in New Zealand, river surfing is unique to Queenstown, so I decide to give it a go. Jolene comes along. She thinks that after jumping off a bridge, surfing down a river will be easy.
On the hour long drive to the surfable section of the River Kawarau, the tour guide explains a bit about the sport. It sounds fairly simple; we’re going to float down a fast moving river on a boogie board. When we arrive, we gear up in wetsuits, rubber booties, life jackets and helmets. I feel very safe and secure in all that padding, until I step into the icy water. It penetrates the wetsuit and I’m shivering within seconds.
Before the water has time to warm next to my skin, I’m speeding down the river with only one hand gripping the boogie board. My other hand is trailing somewhere behind me in the force of the current. Next thing I know, I’m crashing into other river surfers, and my frozen hands feel every bang from Jolene’s board.
“Sorry!” she yells, with a look of pure terror on her face. I’m a strong swimmer and spend a lot of time in the water, but Jolene doesn’t. We manage to get our boards in front of us and hold on with both hands. For a few peaceful minutes, we flow down the river and have a chance to take in the rocky cliffs on either side. I hardly notice the blue water anymore; I’m coming to accept as normal around here.
Too soon, we hit our first rapids. I rarely panic in water, but this set of white water has my heart pounding. They teach you how to maneuver the board, turn left or right, etc, but when you’re up against a powerful river, guess who wins. I’m zipping through the water, boogie board flying out of my arms and water in my eyes, ears and now. I can’t see where I’m going and I concentrate on just trying to breath.
We pop out of the rapids and I see Jolene, who looks close to tears. “This is scarier than bungy jumping!” she yells as we approach another set of rapids. I take a deep breath and pray until the next set of white water ends. I’m really not enjoying myself; my freezing arms are aching from gripping the boogie board for dear life and I’m dreading every minute of what’s left of my 6.5 kilometer ride down the violent river.
Eventually, things slow down again and I catch up to Jolene, who tells me that she wants to get out. “Me too,” I whisper, “but I don’t think we have a choice!” This is the first of two rides down the 6.5 kilometer section of river, and we both decide to give the second one a miss. That’s just about when I get stuck in a whirlpool. I’m suddenly going round and round in a circle, slowly, but enough to disorient me.
“Kick yourself out of it,” yells the guide, but he doesn’t realize that that’s exactly what I’m trying to do, but my exhausted body won’t let me. I give up and just go with the flow, and just as suddenly, I pop out and am rushing down the river again. I’m a bit more prepared for the next set of rapids, and this time I manage a barrel roll as I rush at a huge wall of white water, and miss the worst of it. To perform a barrel roll correctly, you have to lift the board up and twist at exactly the right time.
By the time we make it to the end, I don’t have enough energy to swim against the current to the riverbank where everyone else is already getting out. I thought that river surfing would be fairly relaxing; in all the brochures everyone is smiling and throwing their heads back with glee. I have to be pulled to the side by a guide because I’m so exhausted from kicking to stay on top of the water, away from the rocky sides and following the guide through the safe part of the rapids. I land on the riverbed and lay in the mud, waiting for feeling to be restored to my limbs.
“What did you think?” the guide asks me. I just grunt and look at Jolene.
“Hm,” I shrug. The last half wasn’t really so bad, once I figured out how to maneuver through the rapids without thinking I was going to drown. “Are you going again?” I ask Jolene.
“Are you?” she puts the ball back in my court.
We both break into smiles. “Yeah, why not.”
For a closer look at life overseas, check out my e-book, Watching Clocks Sing in Turkish, detailing the adventure-filled year I spent teaching in Turkey!
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