As we come into Queentown, Seagull pulls into the first bungy bridge in New Zealand. There you had the option to do a 43m bungy that day or organise any future bungies you may be doing during your time in Queenstown. Before I knew it I was handing over my debit card to pay for the Nevis Bungy, a 134m drop and the second highest in the world. There were five of us altogether, all girls, and we were all bonkers. That afternoon there was one guy who did the 43m bungy and we got to cross the bridge and watch him throw himself off. From the bridge we got to see just how high 43m actually was. It was very high and that was only a third of what we would be doing the following day.
We arrived in Queenstown, adventure capital of the world, at about four and I liked it immediately. It framed by a group of mountains called the Remarkables and sat on the edge of a beautiful clear Wakatipu lake. It was a town that had the most bars, clubs and restaurants in relation to it's population in New Zealand although the place was a lot smaller than I had expected. It soon appeared to be the party capital of the world.
A group of us from the bus stayed in a small hostel called the Black Sheep, a new hostel that was snug and comfortable with big TV room with a log fire, something that was definitely needed in the cooler temperatures of the south. We settled in, did laundry (finally!!) and met the rest of the bus in a bar called Altitude for our $3 BBQ. After having seconds, obviously, I was so full and tired that I went back with Irene and we went to bed pretty early. I really didn't fancy doing a bungy jump with hangover.
I didn't sleep well that night. In fact my stomach reacted to my nerves so much that as soon as I forgot about the bungy long enough the get to sleep, I was up to the toilet. I woke up early and had breakfast to try and settle my stomach. Me and an English girl called Sarah were together in the hostel doing the bungy and we were equally as nervous. We were picked up and we made our slow and nerve-wrecking accent up the mountain until we could see the bungy pod hung by thick cable wires suspended over the Nevis river. I was ready to throw up and I was shaking so much that I had to get someone to put my harness on for me. Eventually though we couldn't put it off anymore and we stood in a little metal trolley to ferry us over to the bungy pod. This was like a little hut which could hold a maximum of 10 people and it had a glass bottom floor so whether you wanted to or not, you couldn't escape just how high you actually were. The sheer drop down was petrifying and I had several moments of doubt whether I had the stones to throw myself off. I also happened to be the last one out of seven of us to do it. A couple of people had small freak outs and needed reassurance from the lovely bungy crew to get the motivation to jump. This didn't help my nerves at all. Eventually I was sat in the chair having my legs strapped together and my harness double checked. I shuffled to the edge and looked down. Big mistake. I hovering on the edge of a small wooden platform with a 134m drop below me. It was officially the scariest moment of my life so far. I felt dizzy and sick. What the hell was I thinking?! But I was there, I had paid and everyone else had done it. Next thing I knew the man that strapped me up called out 3...2...1 and before I process the thought of not jumping, I was flying over the edge towards the rocky ground below. It was so exhilarating it completely took my breath away. Before I even realised where I was the bungy cord slowed me down and recoiled me back up for a second fall which was another 80m. On the second bounce up I had to release my feet using a red cord at my ankle, so I was able to sit comfortably in my harness and enjoy the view whilst they winched me up. By the time I got to the top in the pod I was laughing hysterically from the amazing rush I had just experienced. I was on a complete high and I was smiling from ear to ear. We got back to base and looked at our photos and videos they had taken of our dives. It made my stomach turn even watching it. I was so proud of myself. When we got back to Queenstown we celebrated our survival with a full English breakfast and I uploaded all my photos from my trip in New Zealand so far. Sarah and I also looked into tattoos done but they couldn't fit us in. I arranged mine to be done three days later to give me something to look forward to (I'll explain the design when I get it done). By 5pm my adrenaline from the morning had run dry and I completely crashed out. I slept for a few hours before meeting the rest of the crew for a few hours.
The next day I went for a run early and a bunch of us got ready to catch the bus to Milford Sounds - an 8hour journey there and back with a ferry around the sound lead by an unusually tall gentleman white hair and a hearing aid called Russell. The ride to the sound was long and tedious with a multitude of stops for photos of yet more mountains, trees and rivers. We even saw a Kea bird, a pesky thing that looks a bit like a dark green parrot that has a habit of being a bit mischievous. At one point we witnessed it trying to sneak into someones open car door. Finally by 3pm we got on the ferry to see the sounds and the waterfalls running down the steep mountains either side. The trip was ok I suppose but the ferry ride was a bit disappointing for the log drive we had to do. The area was extremely foggy with the peaks of the mountains being hidden by a wall of white but at least the rain held off. Got some nice photos but it wasn't anything new. It was a long journey back but we stopped for good fish and chips out of a box which I personally thought was the highlight of the day (trust it to be about food).
We arrived back at about 9pm and the original plan was to go out on the town but after the long day some of us didn't really feel like it. I, however, slept like a baby on the bus and went completely hyper when we got back to the hostel. We ended up going out that night to a place called World Bar, a club well known for it's 'teapots' (how English). A majority of people that got off earlier in the trip had caught up with by this point so there was a good bunch of us that boogied the night away. It was an amazing night and everyone came back in good spirits (vodka, whisky, gin etc...hehe).
The day after we woke up with the need for hangover food and there is only one place to go for a greasy brunch in Queenstown. The legendary Fergburger. I had been told about this place in Aukland when I first landed so I immediately took up the challenge. People would queue round the block for this burger so naturally I had to see what all the fuss about. We I finally had one in my hands I realised that it would feed me for all three meal that day and probably the day after that too.it was huge. At least twice as big as my head. And it was the best burger I had ever tasted. A perfect combination of freshly baked roll, thick homemade burger, salad and delicious tangy relish. It reminded me of a Subway sandwich in the fact that there is an art in eating it without getting half the contents down the front of your top. It was heaven in a burger. They had other amazing combinations with funny names like the Chief Wiggum and the Bun Laden. Now I could see what all the fuss was about and if anyone ever gets to Queenstown, have one, hangover or no hangover (although it's hard not to get a hangover in Queenstown). The rest of the day was spent watching DVDs and walking around the shops as it the rainiest, coldest day since I had been in New Zealand, excluding the National Park fiasco. It was the perfect chill out day. That night, out again. O dear.
Todays hangover was worse, o so much worse than yesterday's. I ended up munching through another Fergburger and a chocolate bar for breakfast. When that didn't help I had to sleep. Even sleeping two extra hours failed to shift the pounding behind my eyes. A part of me didn't so bad because Irene was feeling equally as pants but in contrast to the day before it was a beautiful sunny day. By 4 o'clock we decided enough was enough and Irene and I went up the nearby gondola to see Queenstown in all it's glory. Queenstown looked like a spec by the time we got to the top with the vast Lake Wakatipu stretched next to it. Legend has it that Lake Wakatipu was formed when a young and brave pauper went to rescue a princess that a giant had kidnapped from a powerful king. The king promised that anyone who rescued her safely could marry her and live in his castle. The pauper was the only one brave enough to fight the giant and found him sleeping amongst mountains on a mattress made from the thick forest trees. The pauper set fire to his mattress and the giant burned to death, leaving a large crater in the valley of the mountains which eventually filled up with water. All was left was a huge lake in the shape of a sleeping giant. True story apparently. After feeling better about ourselves that we actually did something constructive we went back to the hostel to relax. Out yet again that night (sorry dad but it's Queenstown, it needs to be done) so it was a easy one due to the days current hangover level.
The morning after, with a heavy heart, it was time to finally say goodbye to Queenstown. We packed our bags, badly, and said our goodbyes to the awesome people we met on the bus. Cheerio Queenstown. I will miss you.