Friday, May 1, 2009

Rough Riding NZ...

With some of the very dubious “must do's” of the South Island of New Zealand under my belt, it was time to turn up the tempo a little. Undoubtedly, in a country like New Zealand where tourism has been one of the primary sources of income for the past few years (yes, we have the Lord of the Rings to thank for that...) everything could be achieved, but at a price.

Leaving Duneaden, we headed for the most southerly city in the world! (Except for those in South America.) This was a set of claims to fame which many different places we were to visit would tout at us. Never did they do the place justice.

Always the claim to fame went something like, the fourth highest/largest/longest/biggest/smallest place in the South Island/New Zealand/Australasia/Southern Hemisphere. If only we were left to just enjoy the vista, the superlatives would have flowed from our mouths – and they would be far more impressive.

On the way to our destination, we stopped by a small cove which was to prove one of the most beautiful sights on our journey. Reminding me very much of the home which I left almost five months before, we walked to the end of a steep pinnacled ridge, lighthouse adorning the top, to view a few hundred sea-lions and seals wallowing in the morning sun. It was a sight to behold, and now something which constitutes my netbook's wallpaper.



A few hours of driving further on, just before night-fall, we stumbled across a small sign leading us to a waterfall. Here in the late dusk we walked through dense woodland before coming across a surprisingly majestic waterfall, made better by a total lack of any tourists. The sun setting, we enjoyed some sporting photos before we headed off to our spot on the roadside where we were to make the final stride towards the “activity capital of the world”- Queenstown. First it was time to take a few hours to undertake some activities of our own – some DIY caving.



Parking Lucy on the side of the road to be taken advantage of by any passing motorist, we donned a jumper and grabbed a torch before heading off into the cave to locate some glow-worms. After a few minutes of tight squeezes, we came across a rather deep pool with only a fine ledge around the circumference. Time to get wet. Edging around the pool, I managed to make it to the other side, just in time to capture Alex falling in with my camera. Sorry Alex!



Queenstown has declared itself as the “Adventure Capital of the World”. With a title like that, both Alex and I were to see what it had in store for us. Splitting apart for the first time in over a week, we undertook our own separate activities. Alex did a [very high] bungee jump, whereas I decided to go jet-boating and then take an off-road motor-bike out for a spin.

Jet boats are a cunning invention, specifically designed to allow the boat to skim over only a few centimetres of water, floating on a “plane”. All the time they keep moving, they have incredible power and manoeuvrability through normally treacherous waterways. Couple this with a cunning design which gives the perception of the front being far further forward than it actually is, and what results is an excellent adrenaline filled ride – you just have to turn the scientific parts of your brain off!

Each edge is taken slightly closer than you would imagine is safe, but the drifts have been carefully choreographed to ensure that the driver is struggling to get closer to the cliff, with the power of the boat forcing it away from the hard granite edge. Still, there are no tracks under the water, no safety barriers on the rocks, and certainly a large amount of skill on the part of the drivers. Ours also had a well polished banter about being a novice, which went down well.



Finishing up with the jet boating, it was now time to put control in my own hands. I've never really been a fan of activities which one endures, far better are those which you can influence. Jet boating was thrilling, but you always know you will be safe, as you are in the hands of an expert. Give a 250cc scramble bike to a total novice and ask him to make jumps and ford rivers. Now that's a far more amusing adventure sport!

Despite the millions of companies within Queenstown which were happy to take the tourist dollar for anything from skydiving to white-water rafting, only one company actually allowed you to take your life in your own hands and ride a scramble bike. A few more offered quads, but with four wheels comes stability and safety. We don't want that now, do we!

Walking into the office, I did happen to catch a glimpse of the sign mentioning that you had to be an “experienced rider” to take their tours. Having ridden a motorbike pillion through India, I was very experienced – just not at driving. How hard could it be right???

Exaggerating my skills to the guy in the shop slightly, I managed to blag myself onto the tour. A short ride into the surrounding countryside later, and I was sitting astride the bike. Here I asked “just to be sure” what all the controls did, and received a very short answer. I also told them I was rather rusty, as it had been over 5 years since my last ride. This wasn't a lie, I had ridden one of these before, for about an hour, in my cousin's ranch in Australia. Time to learn, and fast.



Although the first half an hour of the session was certainly bumpy, with some very dodgy gear-changes and rather close slide-outs, I managed to hit the minimum standard, albeit just, was given a guide and sent off into the bush.

Being a keen mountain biker, I loved the feeling of whizzing over the rough ground. Power certainly gives you a warped sense of distance, with huge hills being just a thirty second activity, rather than the massive slog they would be with a mountain bike.



In a mother scaring moment, I want one of these bad-boys. Luckily, they are pointless in the UK, but if I move somewhere remote – watch out mum!

Wrapping it all up with numerous river crossings and a few baby jumps, it was time to end my activity filled day, dirt grinding against my teeth. Queenstown had done me proud. It was time for a more serene experience – the lost tranquillity of Doubtful Sound...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Sooooooooo jealous !