Wednesday 18th was meant to be our skydiving day, but there was a bad storm. While it was very windy in Wanaka (sounds like a good name for a first album), it was dropping 1.5 metres of snow on the hills. Too windy for skydiving and too snowy for skiing.
We decided it was time to make a move; we had skiied, drunk coffee at nice places (Fusion), tried to skydive, gone walking, and stared for hours at Lake Wanaka. The most obvious destination was Queenstown. We checked out, late as always, from the Purple Cow. Despite it being quite a nice hostel, I felt decidedly underdressed compared to the Japanese snowboarders who looked SOOOO COOOOOL! I might as well have been wearing flecked trousers and luminous socks compared to the bleeding-edge fashion of these snow warriors.
I rang up 'Southern Laughter' hostel. There might have been some laughter at some point in time, but it had long since passed along with dry rooms and a clean kitchen. We were in the outbuilding along with the people who work there, and when they arent working they are getting very pissed and getting to know each other intimately on the sofa in the lounge. I might not have minded if I hadnt been woken by the loud drunken conversations or have to sit in the soggy patch when I had my breakfast in the morning. Actually, there was no soggy patch, as I interrupted mid-coitus in the night when I need the loo. The dribbling but sheepish couple had faces red enough to glow in the dark. I was happy.
Generally though, I think Queenstown is overrated, full of kids wanting to be cool but not knowing how to go about it, and assuming spending money on cRaZy activities will help. Me, I plumped for the Nevis highwire, and the jetboating, as I think that will make me cool. Unfortunately the jetboating was off as all the rivers were swollen.
We made up for it in Q'town by eating and drinking well. There are some cool cafe's and eateries. 'Vudu' did some very nice pastries and cakes, while 'The Cow' on Cow Lane (or Cow La as Cathy wanted to call it) does excellent pizzas, and if you ask for some bread to start with, you get a loaf, a WHOLE loaf, freshly baked, with butter, an EC mountain of it. Cathy also did an awesome meal of roast veg with roast nuts and sesame seeds served with pitta, aoili, red pepper humous, garlic mushrooms and couscous.
This helped settle me down for the day of the big bad bungy. This was a fairly sleepless night, what with fear and drunk people and noise and rain and a full stomach. I awoke crotchety, tired and not very eager to do the jump. We checked out at Southern Laughter (hahahahahhaha. not) and went to the AJ Hackett office. There, others were stood, looking nervous or backslapping each other in fake bravado.
The coach arrived and the assortment of idiots got on board. An American, some english, including a foolish girl from R.A.M.C., some koreans, including a very brave girl, and an Irish couple. Everyone had the grin of fear on their face, myself included. After a 4 wheel drive up the hill we caught our first glimse of the contraption. The Gondola is suspended by four wire cables over a canyon. A small trolly takes you out to the gondola then the preparations begin. The cuffs are put on then you watch the first few jumpers. Its a long way down and their screams fade quickly as they descend. It came to be my turn, and I sit in the comfy chair so they can attach the bungy. One of the guys plays with you, in the sense of testing your resolve, and playing mind games. His buddy mentions it might time to revamp the rope, which I smiled and tried to look relaxed about. Like a lamb to the slaughter. I have to say a few words for the tape which I do. Nothing profound, "I havent done anything wrong ever! Its not my time!" Then I jump.
I thought, really thought I was going to die. I screamed but then couldnt. The only sound was of rushing wind. I kept falling, it felt like an eternity, and I could see the ground coming to meet me but it wasnt going to shake hands. Then the wind stops and your body relaxes a little. Your ankles try to swell up to make sure you dont fall through the cuffs, but then the elation at having missed a messy demise coarses through your veins along with the adrenalin that has been released in unethical corporation sized amounts. Only then did I start feeling the pain caused by a missing lump from my shin. The bungy clip and flicked and hit my shin, causing a considerable amount of pain. Ahhh, the buzz of dangerous sports.
The rest of the day was a blur, and I didnt notice the face of the bloke who was staring at me, only that I was ready for a fight. It turns out he remembers me and after a bit of prompting I remember him. It was Shannon, from my old cadet unit. He remembers Colour Emmett, while I have to admit to only remembering a small boy in a badly fitting uniform. I certainly found it hard to recognise the bloke who was taller than me, wearing a beard and yak coat, scarf and some kind of ethnic beanie.
We had a good chat and caught up on the Eastleigh gossip. he was with a friend from Boyatt Wood, that bastion of middle-class in the railway terraced last century museum that is Eastleigh. It was very very strange to bump into someone I know at the end of the world, but even stranger when I had blood made of rocket fuel and lumps missing from my leg.
I need less of this excitement. I got Cathy on the insurance as I was a bit of a liability, and she drove my battered tingly body to Te Anau, for some peace and quiet.
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