So we were back in Queenstown and we were all tucking in after our ridiculous foray into speed-hiking. It occurs to me in retrospect that if I had been informed of the length of our journey for that day I would have done two things: laughed, and then not gone. But, lucky for me, and all who are currently appreciating my so-called photography "skills," I did go. But anyways...
In the morning we packed our stuff, turned in our pillows and sheets at the checkout counter, and started to face the day. Just as it had been the day before, the weather was, to be generous and crass, crappy. A constant drizzle and a chilling damp cold offered a bleak outlook for the day. Back on the bus we headed into the center of Queenstown to catch the gondola up to a place from which we could look out over the city and participate in a completely ill-advised activity called "lugeing." Affable Dave had joined us by hitching over from Dunedin on Friday and had gone hiking the previous day right in the vicinity of Queenstown. He and Laughing Dylan (who also hitched over) had tried to finagle their way onto our bus to hike the Routeburn with us the day before, but red-tape "liability" had prevented them from being allowed on board. Dave was able to join us for our gondola trip and the luge experience, however. The Queenstown gondola takes one from more-or-less sea level (or lake level, in this case), up a mountain which overlooks the city and Lake Wakatipu. Had it been a less overcast day the view would have been stunning, as it was however, it was just a mere beautiful on the vista-appeal scale. After taking in the sights our quartet ambled over to the luge sight. I didn't take any pictures of this (it was raining afterall) so I will try to describe it as best I can. To start with, this is an activity that would NEVER be allowed in America, or really any place where liability exists. That no one, or so they said, has ever been (seriously) injured, is a goddamn miracle. Lugeing, is an activity where, once outfitted with properly fitting safety equipment (this consisted of a helmet, sans chin strap), one sits on a plastic cart-type thingy. Maybe four feet long and 18 inches or so across, the luge has two fixed wheels in the back which end up being under one's butt when they sit down on their chariot, and a single wheel in front which is attached to what look like scavenged bicycle handlebars (this impressions was reinforced by the fact that no two of the luge's I noticed had the same handlebars). The "steering" of one's luge is a complicated operation involving pulling back on the handles, which forces the wheel in the front of the luge down, allowing the luge to start rolling. This is really the only "safety" feature on the luge, were one to get scared and let go of one's handlebars, the luge would come to a stop... eventually. There were two different tracks, the "Scenic" track (as if one would be looking anywhere but the part of the course right in front of them), and the "Fast" course. Naturally, after our requisite run down the scenic track which resulted in only a few near roll-overs, we decided that in order to satisfy our adrenaline fix we would have to up the danger to the fast track. Additionally, being the testosterone-filled questionable-decision makers that we are, we decided that the only proper way to attack this new course was as a race. Lining up five abreast at the top of the track we had the attendant count us down. Unfortunately, we had lined up a little too far up the track where there wasn't enough of a grade to get us moving once we pulled back on our handlebars. This caused only a slight delay however and we were all soon pulling ourselves forward. As though this experience wasn't dangerous enough as it was, what with the banked turns, s-curves, lack of cushioned barricades, and WET race track, trying to ram each other and slow each other down while making it difficult for the person behind you to pass definitely upped the ante. Surprisingly no one was hurt and all arrived safely at the bottom of the two or three minute race. After another valiant attempt to kill and or maim ourselves on the luge track, we gave up and headed back inside.
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| Queenstown |
We met up with the other fools who had signed their lives into the hands of high school failures who were now working as glorified rubber band testers and took the gondola back down into town. We arrived at the AJ Hackett store at the time indicated on our tickets and boarded a different bus that would take us to the two bungee sights. Twenty minutes out of the city we pulled into a parking lot and deposited people at the Kawarau Bridge sight. Measuring 43 meters high from bridge to water (which one has the option of actually entering, if one chooses the duck option), the Kawarau Bridge was the place where AJ Hackett and his moronic friends first invented bungee jumping. Marveling at the height of the bridge as we drove off to the Nevis bungee, we were reminded by some jerk that where we were headed was going to be a little over four times as tall. As I was falling asleep the night before I had created a "jumping" playlist on my ipod consisting of Anberlin, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Incubus, Wolfmother, and other generally angry/intense/pump-up music. As we pulled up to the Nevis bungee sight hearts began to beat a little faster. I momentarily removed my headphones to speak with Ethan, Justin, and Dave (who was able to come with us in the capacity of photographer-extraordinaire).
At the direction of the bungee crew we dawned harnesses, we weighed, and then headed out on a platform to look out upon our impending doom. We boarded a little basket that acted as a ferry between the mountain we were standing on and the jumping platform which was suspended between our mountain and another. The basket swayed perilously as we rolled out to the platform. Once on board the (also slightly swaying) platform, we were greeted by rather intense euro-techno. For those of you over the age of maybe 25, that means lots of very fast beat created through electronic means, which you would probably call "noise." Its a musical genre favored by euro discotechs (sp?) and college kids; and it helped get me amped up. I think there might be a video of me dancing in my chair somewhere... JUSTIN! But, instead of trying to describe the experience, I will just provide pictures, because trying to convey the epic-ness of it all is completely futile and would never grasp how it actually was in real life. So, pictures:
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| the Nevis bungee |
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| Affable Dave and Scruffy Ethan (on the left) headed out |
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| The basket headed out to the jump platform |
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| Football Jacob gettin ready |
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| exercising perfect form |
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| notice the text ^ |
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| freefall |
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| Scruffy, Affable, Kiwi, and Me... a pretty dynamic crew |
When it was all over we caught a bus back to the Kawarau Bridge sight to meet up with the rest of the Dunedin/Otago group. Once again, Affable D wasn't allowed on the bus so he had to resort to hitching back to Dunedin. Dave threw his backpack on our bus and then took off across the parking lot towards the main road. Before our bus had even left the parking lot Justin received a text from Dave saying that he had just gotten picked up by a crazed girl driving to Dunedin to break up with her cheating boyfriend. Oh yeah, and that Laughing Dylan was also in the car. Coincidences... Dave and Dylan arrived in Dunedin almost a full hour before us due to the fervor with which their driver attacked the windy roads of Southern Otago. [A quick clarification might help here, Otago University, my school, is named after the Maori name for the region of the South Island. This was also picked up by the European settlers and used as the name for the state-like province of the South Island.]
Back in Dunedin life carried on at a significantly less insane pace. I managed to make it to almost all of my classes, missing only one optional tutorial because I couldn't in fact find the building. Interestingly enough, no one I asked seemed to know of the buildings existence let alone its location. Luckily for me, the location has since been switched to our lecture room, which I do know how to locate and I am fairly sure exists... I could get all philosophical here, but thats really not where I'm going with this blog.
Thursday after class I packed a few things into my backpack and headed off to the airport to catch my flight to Auckland with a stopover in Christchurch on my way to visiting Northern Leah, Southern Browning, and Young Oliver. While waiting for the boarding call I met a very friendly bloke named Robert Knight who was headed up to Auckland for his daughter's wedding. Coincidentally we had adjacent seats on both flights and discussed everything from the differences between the US and NZed educational systems (Mr. Knight and his wife had spent three years teaching in Atlanta a year or so ago) to the ramification of rugby being added to the Olympic games. As we were getting off our second flight, Robert volunteered to give me a ride to Leah's apartment where I was meeting my long-lost Auckland friends. After negotiating a confusing set of keycard activated doors, elevators and gates I was finally reunited with the homies. After getting situated and sitting around for a while we headed out on the town for a night for revelry and general good-times.
Friday, Southpole Browning and Northpole Leah, both of whom were class-free all day took me all around Auckland. From the Viaduct to sky city , from uptown to downtown, from the Auckland Museum to Albert Park, from the Auckland University campus to the grocery store and finally back to Leah's apartment, I swear we covered more distance than the marathon runners we had been seeing all day. Having promised to treat Leah and Browning to a hearty feast, I began cooking up a storm with my recently purchased ingredients from the grocery. Summer Garden Pasta (large amounts of basil, cherry tomatoes, and sausage dumped into a couple pounds of penne), garlic bread, and some of NZed's finest economy wine were a delicious treat at the end of a long day of city-exploring.
Saturday the four of us met up "early" and headed back down to the Viaduct to catch a ferry to Waiheke Island for some beach time, wine tasting, and relaxation. We spent the day loungin around, enjoy each others' company, and comparing stories of life in Auckland and Dunedin.
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| Waiheke Island |
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| Leah and Browning looking dashing, as always. |
Monday morning I woke up early in order to make breakfast for Browning, Leah, and Leah's roommates who had been more than welcoming while I crashed at their place... french toast and sausage. Loud Haley and I spent the day together while N. Leah and S. Browning were in class touring the few places around Auckland that I could navigate us to.
Back in Dunedin life continued. More classes. More chillin time with the mates. More den-mode sessions. The arrival of Thursday was bittersweet. While we had the excitement and activities of St. Patty's day to enjoy, Thursday also meant that Affable Dave's time in Dunedin was coming to an end and he was going to be leaving us for his temporary home in Wellington in the morning. With a vow to do-it-up-right and have a full-on rager of a night we headed out for one last big hurrah with Dave. Dunedin, while settled by the Scots, definitely pays homage to whatever Irish heritage they have. Students were out in full force to a level not seen since O Week. In accordance with the age-old traditions of St. Patty's day celebrators worldwide, our first stop of the evening was at The Bog, an Irish pub, for a pint of Guinness. We then headed off to a party at the Dollhouse - the self-coined name for a flat (or actually three adjacent flats) where several hilarious girls lived who Scruffy E and I had met a couple of weeks ago. The girls, Cougah (an unexplained nickname), Nicole and Emily, just as they had promised the night we met them, had decked their flat out in full St. Patty's day form. Green lights, green drinks, green everything. We left the Dollhouse headed for Kiwi J's with talk of sittin around and having a nightcap before calling it a night, but our planned end-of-night relaxation was not to be, an impromptu dance party had begun in Justin's living room. Hours later we finally got around to saying our goodnights and each went our separate ways: Scruffy E to his flat, I to mine, and Dave to one last night on Justin's couch. I can't believe that after being here for four weeks, as long as I have been in Dunedin, Affable Dave was finally leaving. J, E and I agreed that we didn't even feel like Dave was visiting anymore, he was just part of the crew. I was very sorry to see someone who had been such a good friend of mine leave, but knowing Dave and how things just seem to work out for him, I'm sure we will run into each other again.
[Okay, for the first time since starting this blog, I am actually relatively caught-up. I am only a couple days behind now, a fact which is definitely satisfying.]
Edit: Dave posted this article from the Otago Daily Times on my Facebook on Saturday morning: http://www.odt.co.nz/news/dunedin/152336/alarm-partying-students-crowd-sagging-verandah its debatable whether we are actually in this picture... it wouldn't be surprising, I'll put it that way.
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