“No” I hastily reply, the whole gravity of the situation catching up with me. Normally I wouldn’t mind being blinded for a brief spell, but when you’re about to free fall for 60 metres and then swing for 200 metres over a canyon full of jagged rock and river, not knowing where you’re going can induce a little panic, to say the least.
While Doug and Dan, my jump masters, are clearly professionals, they’re not afraid to take cruel liberties in their position as they lead me down the ramp. They grab my shoulders: “Whoa, don’t fall over! Don’t go yet!”
“Awww, I messed up, if it goes wrong, blame me!”
I’m doing the “birthday gimp.” A special jump where I’m suspended head first over the canyon, the cowl over my head, disorienting me and making breathing a tad difficult; it’s just a pale yellow haze and the slightly muffled sound of Dan’s instructions. After a bit of suspense, I think I’m about to tumble, but I feel a quick tug- the cowl comes off, and I’m staring at an upside down Dan on the ledge.
“Hello.” hey says.
“Hi?” Clink.
And down I go, 60 metres head first, my arms flailing like I’m Micheal Phelps in the 100m freestyle, my body unable to utter any sound short of an escalating “Whoooaaaa” until the river pulls up in front of me, curving like a pendulum, up to the top of the swing where laughter can never be resisted. The laughter of survival.
This was my second jump. The first, the “pin drop”, was a simple folding of the arms and a jump off the ledge. Not as easy as it sounds. Getting suspended off the harness and released is one thing; but to take action and be the mover yourself, to initiate what your body judges to be fatal, that is the true test of strength.
It was a birthday to remember.
Bars jam packed with rowdy backpackers, hoping around to pseudo-country bars or underground music clubs (complete with uber-awesome heavy metal) are open till four am.
Queenstown was supposed to be a respite from camping. It was anything but. But damn was it a fun town! We had to get out before we went broke in a week.
Luckily, New Zealand’s scenery, it’s powerful, natural beauty, finds its heart just southwest of Queenstown. The Fiordland National Park, with it’s dozen or so Fiords providing incredibly humbling landscapes- and us so very lucky to have a few clear, sunny days to witness the park in all it’s glory.
Day 2, though the most difficult, was incredible- we spent the entire day above the treelike. The mountains in the distance were snow-capped, a sapphire-blue lake lingering deep down the mountainside.
The mountains were tufted with plush yellow grasses and shrubs, working ever upwards to rock-splattered peaks. In the distance, I could see the kepler track carved through the dense bush of the mountain- a clean cut, samurai-like, as though the gentlest of nudge would have the top of the mountain slide off like a severed head.
The views, were panoramic. Overwhelming. You never knew which way to look. And even when you rested, you had to make sure the mischievous Kea Parrots didn’t steal your sneakers.
It was a good long week through one of New Zealand’s most treasured and unique landscapes. We’ve been blessed with a clear and warm tour of the Fiordland. But now it’s time to round the southland and continue around back north up the east coast. We don’t know where we’re sleeping tonight. But that’s the beauty of it. We’ve come to explore everything this country can offer and lose ourselves in it, and take each challenge as it comes our way. Make sure you check out the full Fiordland and Kepler Track albums- they're our favourites thus far.
Kia Ora!
-K&B