All Things Kiwi

My last blog left Shannon and I cruising down the west coast of New Zealand. It rained most of the time, and our only outdoor activity was a short glacier hike at Franz Joseph, after which we boogied back across the country to Christchurch (on the east coast) and picked up Shannon's friend Lindsay. A quick rental car later, and the three of us we were off to see my ol' buddy Bert, a friend from High School whom I traveled with to Australia back in the summer of 2000.

Queenstown is a great little place on the southern part of New Zealand's South Island, that is economically fueled by adventure tourism. In the winter, it's skiing and snowboarding, and in the summer, bungie jumping, sky diving and everything else you could imagine. If there's a high-up scary place around, people in Queenstown will find someway to throw you off of it.

Our four days and nights in Queenstown were pretty intense. Shannon and Lindsay went skydiving, every day Bert took us to a different lake for rope swinging or cliff jumping, we went camping on another lake an hour outside of town, and I don't think there was a single evening where we made it to bed before 4am. One night we were out so late, Bert ended up being 3 hours late for work (though you can imagine lack of sleep wasn't the only thing that caused him to be so tired the next day).

While every part of staying Queenstown was pretty memorable, I've got a few photos here that will make one bit extra interesting to tell. We went cliff jumping one afternoon in a place they called "Little Tailand", a 14m rock face that dropped you into a frigidly cold lake. You can see Bert and I standing on the edge here of where you jump off. Yes, we are definitely both some fine, dashing young men, wouldn't you say? Anyway, the jump down is long enough that you have time to yell, catch your breath, and start another little squeak before hitting the water. I did it once then stuck to the smaller cliffs, but Shannon's friend Lindsay, well... she had the boys building her up to make the jump, and after 20 or so minutes of "C'mon, you can totally do it", she finally took the plunge.


Here's how she looked the next day.




So let that be a warning to all of you looking to hurl yourselves off large cliffs - either keep your legs nice and straight, or just ignore all the silly boys whispering in your ear to "go for it."

After Queenstown, Shannon and I quite literally took off out of the country, catching a 6am flight to Brisbane, Australia the next day. Getting such an early flight proved kind of nice, as by 8am we had a rental car, and by midday we were in Byron Bay, the backpacker Mecca of Australia. Okay, maybe it isn't "the" Mecca, but the demand to stay here was so high, even a cheap hostel room (two person) cost us a minimum of $90, with many places requiring you to stay at least 3 nights. We unfortunately stayed a little two long in Byron, and by our last night, as we watched young 20-somethings wander into the ocean at 3am, drunk, stoned and delirious, we were ready to leave.

And that, my friends, will be where I pick up the adventure in the next blog. Stay tuned next week for tales of sharks, dolphins, tiny Australian hamlets and the noble quest to find the perfect didgeridoo. Till then, thanks for reading!

Rich