Today was the day we’d head to Te Anau / Manapouri, the staging point for our trip on the Milford Sounds. It was a four / five hour drive from Omarama, but we planned to stop half way down in Queenstown, where we hoped to pick up something fun like a bungee jump.
When I say something fun, i do, of course, mean something a little bit terrifying.
The drive to Queenstown itself was something special, full of mountainous passes and windy trails through gorgeous landscapes:
Firstly, we stopped at a place called Lindis Pass, for some amazing views of the road behind us:
Just as we were heading back to the car, I head an old lady muttering some language that once again seemed familiar; quizzically, I glanced to Yo to see a bemused look on her face. Yep another set of Israeli’s were already here in the lookout point, miles away from any sort of civilisation. Clearly I must have attracted Mossad’s attention and they were spying on me. What else could it be??
Leaving list trails as we made our hasty getaway, we once again were greeted with some pretty amazing views.
And then we hit Queenstown proper and began looking for the bungee jump places. Queenstown itself was a pretty chaotic place to drive through, pedestrians clearly didn’t care about stepping in front of the car, trusting instead to your skills with the brake.
The jump we booked was Kawarau Bridge, historically the first ever bungee jump created for commercial purposes. There’d been some crazy pioneers before this jumping off bridges for their own personal amusement, but Kawarau was the first one that sold the experience to the paying customer.
Feeling (un)confident, we drove the 20 minutes to the location and began the mental process of psyching myself out. Mainly I watched other people do it. Many whooped for joy as they plunged, others screamed. One poor oriental girl clearly didn’t want to do it, and clutched desperately to the side for around 10 minutes as the instructor coached her. Eventually she jumped (or was pushed?) to the sound of raucous applause and cheer form the spectators.
Then it was our turn.
I decided to jump first. They weighed me (twice), triple checked it, and scrawled it on my hand (63kg) for good measure. Then, like a man going to his execution, I trudged to the centre of the bridge and they fitted me with my noose - er… body harness. They then wrapped a towel around my ankles, tied it tight with cord and then clipped it in place to the bungee cord - with a second clip going to my harness for good measure. All the while they were yelling my weight to some guy playing with pulleys and mechanisms to ensure i didn’t crash head first into the Kawarau River at 100 mph. Whilst I did ask for my head to be dunked, they said I weighed too little for the cord they were using so they couldn’t guarantee it.
Finally, they hobbled me to the edge, made me smile for the cameras and say something witty for my last words… and told me to jump.
…and jump I did. I was damn impressed with myself.
Just over a year ago I went rock climbing in Israel, and I found it enormously difficult to trust to anyone or anything controlling my descent. Most of the time that involved me awkwardly climbing down myself rather than taking the plunge and trusting others. This, I foresaw, would be a very similar situation, only I didn’t have myself to fall back on (literally) and climb down.
I hesitated for a second, I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re poised at the edge of a gangplank, overlooking a 42 meter plunge into foaming white water. Natural preservation of life kicks in, and you grab hold of the nearby handle before you even think about what you’re doing.
But i overcome it. I don't know how. Probably watching the dozen or so people in front of me all come out of it fine helped, but whatever happened I found myself leaning forward and soon passed the point of no return.
I dived headfirst, and once again found myself doing my signature ‘Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!’ yell. I yelled the same thing when I skydived, and I yell the same thing whenever I see I’m about to fall off my bike and can do nothing about it. Clearly, it’s my signature panic yell. My subconscious go-to word when the shit hits the fan.
But damn it was good.
The free-falling felt absurdly long for the shortness of the drop. Perhaps that was due to the water-water river rushing up to meet me, and my mind wondering just when the snap of the bungee would save me from an embarrassing death. I remember the wind pushing at my face, contorting it as it dragged the skin back, but mostly I remember the absolute lack of feeling the bungee as it took my weight. I expected to feel a wrenching or tugging, or something mildly painful, but I guess it’s testament to the crew and the safety lengths they go to that I didn’t feel a thing - or maybe the adrenaline did something, I don’t know. All I know is that one moment I was hurtling towards the rapids, the next I was hurtling back to the bridge.
Anyway, I shall let the video and pics do the rest. I also suspect that Yo will comment on her own experience on a different post, as a few minutes later she followed suit and dived headfirst into the river.
After the plunge, we sat and drank a coffee, letting the adrenaline wear off before we got back into the car.
The next destination, Manapouri, of which there were many more gorgeous views:
The lake next to Queenstown:
Once we arrived, we checked into the motel (a proper motel, this one, in every sense), and headed down to the lakeside. Lake Manapouri is an incredibly tranquil place, the only sounds the lapping of the water and the occasional birdcall. I even took a puddle in the cool waters and made a short video:
Afterwards, we had tea in the restaurant, and waited until it got dark. Then, we headed back down to the lake and did a spot of stargazing. Sheltered by a small copse of trees, the lake offered zero light pollution and was a perfect place to see the night sky. I don’ think I’ve ever seen that many starts before. We even think we got to see the Milky Way, (we saw a big band of stars running across the sky from horizon to horizon. Inside the band was more stars than you could count, thousands, easily. Outside the band whilst there were still stars, it was not nearly as populated) though our amateur eyes could be mistaken.
A day full of firsts, then. And with that, so to bed.
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