I know it's bee a while since I've posted, so this puppy has all sorts of gems built up. Woo!
Queenstown sure lived up to it’s reputation. Had a helluva good time there. Made a bundle of new friends, ran in to some old ones, and did all of the big adrenaline pumping activities that they’re known for.
Since Queenstown has the reputation for being the adrenaline-fueled party capital of NZ, I decided to google “party hostels” upon my arrival in town to find a place to stay. I came upon Nomads, highly rated for it’s clean amenities and friendly staff. It was indeed clean, but I quickly realized that’s cause this place is a well-oiled machine meant to take in and turn out hundreds of travelers every week. I’ve been staying in all sorts of small, sometimes family owned and operated places for the last 3 weeks, so this was a big change of pace.
It wasn’t all bad, but it was filled with masses of 18-year old Brits straight off the Kiwi Bus who are scared to look up from their phones in the common rooms to carry on a conversation. The folks in my 8 bed dorm were friendly-ish at first, but as the Saturday night heated up they turned cold and clique-y. Meh, not for me. I made friends with a mustachiod Aussie named Jack and we hit the town. After 5 different bars each in increasing stages of wildness, I stumbled home to sleep.
The next morning I exited the hostel as fast as humanly possible to find coffee and bacon. On the way, I walked past the information center I had visited the day before. Today however, it was staffed by two girls who were quite easy on the eyes. I shuffled in, pre coffee, to get a proper adventure consultation from Queenstown’s finest. When I left, I had appointments to paraglide, bungy jump and hit the worlds largest swing. I’m such a sucker for a cute salesgirl.
Paragliding was pretty much everything I could have dreamed, and I’ve had a TON of flying dreams in my day. I soared off the top of the mountain strapped to Brendan, and I couldn’t kick the shit-eating grin off my face until 10 minutes after we landed. If you haven’t tried it, I can’t suggest it enough. It’s peaceful and calm and adrenaline pumping all at the same time.
I didn’t think it was possible, but the Bungy Jump was even cooler. The Nevis Bungy is the highest in NZ, 137 meter drop over the river from a raised platform.
As you ride this little gondola out to the platform the first time, it’s pretty much silent. Everyone is scared shitless of what they’re about to do, and the smiles are nervous and tense. After the jump however, it’s easy to become fast friends.
And make friends I did, with an Australian named Jay from Melbourne. We agreed that we HAD to do the bungie again. We also agreed that the Swing would be even cooler if we went together, thereby doubling our mass and, most importantly, our speed. It worked.
On the 2nd bungy jump, I noticed another ‘Murican accent in the skybox. It was Meg, a Minnessotan on holiday for a few weeks in NZ. She, Jay and I agreed to meet up later for burgers and beers at the famous FergBurger in town.
This was my 2nd Ferg encounter, the first one having left me feeling like a bear shot in the ass with a tranquilizer dart. The burgers are pretty unreal, and hold their own against the likes of Smash Burger, Shake Shack, and InNOut. They do NOT however, topple that Mighty Burger Barron, Au Cheval.
While smashing meat in to my face at Fergburger, I ran in to more people I knew! Kevin and Roger (can’t actually remember his name), both (almost) doctors from California who were in my hostel in Te Anau. And then, most incredibly, the Hut Warden, Abbey, from Mount Luxmore who we drank Jameson with during the Kepler Track showed up as well. She had gotten off the mountain THAT DAY and was getting her Ferg Fix like the rest of us.
Abbae shout out
With the addition of my trekking friends Finn and Jakob, we had quite the drinking squad that evening, eight of us in total. The California Docs dubbed me “the most popular dude in Queenstown.”
I awoke the next morning with a headache in proportion to the amount of laughs we had had the night before. Despite this, we all gathered for a hike to the top of Ben Lomond, the massive peak that overlooks all of Queenstown. Along the way, we made another Aussie friend, Steven, who joined the pack.
The hike was easy at first, but brutally steep as we got closer to the summit of Ben Lomond. We were panting and sweating, immediately followed by freezing cold as the winds at the summit whipped through our sweaty clothes. Finn nearly died chasing a Kea (large mountain parrot) with his camera, we took some good group shots, and then we started sweating again as we went down.
Unable to resist, we all signed up to do the luge racing at the gondola summit. It was WICKED fun, way more than I expected. With 6 of us whipping around the corners, cutting each other off, we had ourselves a hootenanny.
After one final FergBurger that night, my Queenstown time thus came to an end. I decided to scoot off to Wanaka, the hippy/outdoorsy brother of Queenstown to the North. It was a rare rainy day, but I was determined to sweat off all the beers and burgers of my jaunt in Queenstown so I headed out the freaky-long drive to Rob Roy Glacier.
The walk was gorgeous as usual, and it’s where I identified what I'm calling "Trail Chuckles". It’s this moment when I’m completely alone on either a road or a trail, no other humans in sight for miles, and I stop to look around at my unbelievabley beautiful surroundings. I feel this energetic surge start in my stomach, work its way up my chest until I release a booming, joyous laugh. It’s when I almost can’t believe the things I’m looking at, and the place where I’m standing. It’s pure unbridled awe and joy bursting out of me, and it’s usually accompanied by a vocal “where the fuck am I?!?!” I've had countless Trail Chuckles so far this trip and this day was no different.
When my friend Shantel from Oamaru hit me up on FB about needing more photos for the Steampunk HQ, I couldn’t resist the chance do a proper photoshoot at such an awesome location. I hopped in my car and buzzed over to Oamaru, where I did my best to get artsy with the art and stuff:
Shantel ended up donning the full Steampunk garb and I got a chance to really practice my portrait photography! This is something I have wanted to do for ages but haven’t had the opportunity. Shantel was a great subject and we had a lot of fun playing with the different lighting and atmospheres of the Steampunk venue. Here’s a few of my favorite shots:
The first week of June, the New Zealand Steampunk Festival is happening in Oamaru. It’s a 4 day bonanza of Victorian steampunk glory, and I managed to get myself involved as a photographer working pro bono. Wooo! Stay tuned for pics from that event, it's sure to be a hootenanny.
As my Oamaru stay came to a close, I got several urgent texts from Jay and Meg to get my ass over to Fox Glacier so we could do the highest skydive in NZ. By now you must realize I can’t resist such things, so I drove my ass across the country again and had yet another adrenaline filled adventure with Jay and Meg.
The skydive was INCREDIBLE. We jumped from 16,500 feet. The last 4,000 foot climb in the plane we had to wear oxygen masks. I was absolutely freezing as the frigid wind hit my face but didn’t care in the slightest. It was a clear blue day and the snow dusted mountains in the distance competed with the sun glinting off the ocean for the most beautiful sight I’ve seen in all of New Zealand.
After a raucous night of partying in Jay’s camper van, I started working my way up the coast with Meg. She and I parted when I went to tour the Monteith’s Brewery in Greymouth and she headed to Kaikoura.
I’m penning these last paragraphs from a coffeeshop in the charming town of Nelson, the largest and northernmost city on the South Island. I linked up with Lydia, a KiwiBrit I met back in Dunedin, to explore this town. The weather here is wonderful, and I think I’ma head out and get myself lost in some nature.
Oh, and craziest thing happened this morning! I was on a run around Nelson and a random car swings out of nowhere honking it's horn. It was Linda and Joschka! My German friends!! Pretty sure they're stalking me still. Small island eh?
Thanks for reading, everyone! Your feedback has been wonderful and encouraging to keep this puppy running.
Ta ta for now,
-K