Day 10: Sky dive, quad bike, beach party
Our skydive group was split into two. I went out in the morning with group one: Corinna, Olav, Kjetil, Jens, Laura, and Albert. Listened to some tunes on the iPod to get pumped, but the clear baby blue skies were already burning happy tunes in my eyes. Everyone else was a first time jumper, so again I fed off of their nervous energy like a benevolent vampire.
Skydive Abel Tasman was located about a half hour away. Headquarters was a shed attached to a garage, set in an open grassy field with a short concrete airstrip. Unlike the first time I went skydiving, there was no legal liability video to watch. No, the fact that we had to sign away all our rights to sue should our chute not open or open too late, causing us to lose some of our appendages, was all noted in writing, in demure fine print.
The
plane could carry three jumpers and their respective tandem instructors.
Our two Norwegian friends, the naval architecture majors, too-cool-for-school
Olav and Bob-Smiley Kjetil, were first up. Even framed against a perfectly
clear sky blue background, the plane and jumpers weren't visible until
they had fallen to nearly 5,000 feet. Olav and Kjetil seemed landed, dizzy
with post-near-death exhilaration.
Corinna and Laura were next, and when they landed, they were also giddy. Corinna thanked her instructor over and over. Everyone should skydive once in their life. It's no cakewalk, but most people find it much less intimidating once they're at 13,000 feet than they'd imagine. You're so high up it's almost surreal, unlike bungy jumping, where you can see with reasonable accuracy the patch of ground where you'll die if something goes wrong. Plus, in skydiving you're attached to an instructor who does all the hard work, someone who pushes you out the door so you don't have to jump of your own volition.
Finally, Albert, Jens, and I were up. My instructor's name was Damon, and like most instructors, he's made several thousand jumps in his life. We climbed in the little prop plane, pulled the sliding hatch shut, and off we went. As we ascended, Albert had a look of either fear or absolute boredom on his face. I couldn't tell which. Our instructors marked our altitude by flashing their altimeters at us from time to time.
13K. Go time. Albert's instructor pulled the hatch door open and the cabin was filled with the turbulent crowd noise of the air rushing past. Albert and his instructor fell out into the world outside and disappeared, and a few moments later so did Jens and his instructor. And then, I stepped to the edge of the door, hanging out of the door, my back strapped to my instructor's chest, the green and golden blocks of color laid below me like a pastoral mosaic. Then the push from behind as my instructor propelled us away from the plane, and then the feeling of falling and twirling with no idea which way is up (much like the feeling you get sometimes in your sleep), and then the weightless wind tunnel of freefall.
The arm was warmer than I had expected based on my previous jump. Your first impulse as a first-time jumper is to try and breathe through your mouth, which is near impossible when plummeting at that speed through the air. I learned from my previous jump and drew air through my nose, clearing my ears of the pressure changes every so often. Freefall is a wonderful feeling; 99.9999% of your life you feel gravity's constant grasp on your body, and then for 60 seconds your body feels nothing but the wind rippling over your jumpsuit. No sensation of the pull of gravity from below or above or any direction; only the direction of the wind and visual cues let you know which way you're moving.
Then
the thumbs up from your instructor, the signal that he's about to pull
the chute. And then the massive tug up as you're pulled upright by the
chute slowing you down from your 8000 feet/60 seconds plummet speed to
a lazy fall, like a snowflake gently riding down on a cushion of air,
or a leaf spiralling down from a branch above in the autumn. Damon pointed
out Abel Tasman park and the brewery where they produced Mac's Gold, my
favorite Kiwi beer. The sun piercing our chute produced a rainbow-colored
block of light on a cloud below, and Damon took me actually into and through
the cloud, the highlight of my descent. We landed about a hundred feet
from the shed, in a grassy field. It was a beautiful ride--very scenic
spot to skydive in New Zealand, if you're so inclined.
The
other crew showed up, with Ali, Stephanie, Ben, Kerryn, Rachel, and Stefan.
They were somewhat nervous, while we were all spiked on adrenaline, so
we tried to rub some of it off on them before we left. Later we learned
that the plane had a flat tire while landing after my jump (or was it
Ali's jump?), and the others had to wait at the shed for 4 to 5 hours
while it underwent repairs before they could jump. Nothing like leaving
virgin jumpers stewing in their nerves for several hours to give them
their money's worth.
After a lunch at a pizza joint near the Aloha Lodge (during which we sampled the area delicacy, green-lipped mussels), a crew of us headed off for an afternoon of quad biking. Quad bikes are 4 wheeled ATVs.
We
had to take a driving test, first, to prove we could upshift and downshift
using the foot-controlled 5-speed transmission. No problem. Then we were
off, each of on our own quad bike. The first two hours or so consisted
of a long ascent into the hills, with one river crossing and two stops,
one for a quick nature lesson on some of the special trees of New Zealand
(all those horticultural lessons have long since leaked out of my memory)
and one for, what else, a tea and cookie break.
After we descended the mountain again, the guides let us loose on a short loop of a course. That's the moment I had been waiting for. Cranking around the course, I got my first revenge on Corinna when I caught and passed her during our circuits. You can really crank those puppies hard in the turns, spraying rocks and dirt all over the place as you power through your skids.
Afterwards we all looked hilarious, covered in light brown dirt, but none more so than Corinna who had a Frida-esque blond unibrow.
Back at the Aloha Lodge, Ali and I met up to plan our party. Finding alcohol wasn't a problem. A stop at the local liquor store with my credit card, and 190 frequent flier miles later, we had several bags full of all the traditional favorite liquid poisons. The problem was finding a place to host the party. The hotel dining room was not an option because we'd wake all the guests and probably get Connections banned from that hotel permanently. The liquor store handed us a brochure basically informing us that drinking in public anywhere within city limits was illegal. Ali and I even stopped by a cafe on the beach to see if we could commandeer their patio, to no avail.
But I would not be so easily deterred. I went scouting on my own, up and down the beach. I spent a good hour wandering, and finally came upon a lifeguard shack nestled against the treeline which separated our hotel from the ocean. This shack was on the ocean side, with an unobstructed view of the ocean and coast in both directions. Perfect.
I spread the word about our party at dinner, and afterwards a healthy portion of the group wandered out with me to the shack. And an alcoholic shall lead them to the ocean. We were just in time to catch the last 30 seconds of the sunset, and as we sat in the lifeguard shack (more of a wooden cabana), more people showed up. Even Angie and Johnny paid us a visit, and after we warmed up with a few beers and a few shots, we began teaching each other drinking games. Bit difficult to tell what's going on in the dark, even with the moonlight reflecting off of the ocean.
Somehow I once again ended up more intoxicated than everyone else. Blame it on being the party host and having to lead by example, or blame it on the Olympian livers of the Australians. Once again, my memories of what followed are fuzzy.
I'm dancing the dance of the seven veils with Ali's sarong. A few times I trip and face plant in the sand. Gemma, Trudy, and Penny show up. From where? I have no idea. Corinna and I are wrestling, and she inadvertently (I think) elbows me in the groin. I shrivel up in pain. Kerryn and I contemplate the constellations while lying in the sand. I point out Orion. She tells me that I'm looking not at Orion but the sosspin. I'm like, "Say what? The swordsman? I guess Orion was a swordsman." No, she says, the sosspin. I finally realize she's saying saucepan in an Australian accent, and indeed I later read a start chart and realize that the belt of Orion is part of a Big Dipper-esque constellation. We're both right.
I wander out to the ocean, some hundred yards out. What a long beach. Somehow I walk straight enough to wander back to the cabana. We build a six person human pyramid. Gemma loses her sunnies (i.e. sunglasses). I decide to wander about with a flashlight searching for them.
Suddenly I'm alone on the beach. What happened? Where did everyone go? My visual senses work in slow motion, feeding signals to my brain which aren't processed, so I can't find the path through the trees that leads to the hotel. I wander up and down the beach alone, in the dark, pointing my flashlight to and fro like a radar hand.
I'm in the courtyard of the Aloha Lodge. The front door is locked. It's 2 in the morning. How do I get in? I shine my flashlight in someone's room and wave it back and forth rapidly as a distress signal. A curtain opens, a silohouette appears, backlit, then disappears. It's Kerryn, and she lets me in.
The party continues in Olav and Kjetil's room. Kerryn and Rachel, Olav and Kjetil, Steph and Brendan and Ali are there. I think. We've got the munchies, so Steph orders some takeout pizza. We're in luck! One place still delivers at this hour. I call all the girls wanton sex goddesses in my best Bridget Jones' accent. Olav makes me listen to some loud Norwegian music on his Discman. Is Aha still making records?
At some point, I stumbled to my room. Stefan, bless his soul, had left the key in the door. I collapsed on my bed in my street clothes and passed out.
Next: Wine, whales, and Camelot
Skydive Abel Tasman: great views of Abel Tasman and the ocean as you hurtle towards the earth. Highly recommended. If you have a choice as to where to skydive in NZ, put this at the top of your list
Happy Valley Adventures quad biking is a bit tamer than you might imagine. You're not given free reign to do your Evil Knievel impression. Still, if you don't mind getting dusty, they let you rip for a few laps at the end of the more sedated guided tour. Wear high-coverage sunglasses, and prepare to be covered in dust by the end of your half day.
Australians and Kiwis abbreviate many nouns by truncating and adding -er or -y or -ies. To wit:
- sunglasses become sunnies
- swimsuits become swimmers
- chewing gum becomes chewies
New Zealand beers worth trying: Mac's Gold, my personal favorite, Speight's Pale Ale, Lion Red