Day 14: Bungy BUNGY Bungy
The day you're scheduled to do three bungy jumps, you really don't spend much time thinking of anything else. I'd bungy jumped once before off of Victoria Falls Bridge on the border between Zimbabwe and Zambia, and still I felt giddy all morning. A cocktail of nervous excitement.
Corinna was beating herself up over passing on the bungy jumps. I felt sympathy watching her beat herself up over it. Bungy jumping is one of those activities that, for most normal humans, doesn't compute logically. The more you think about it in a rational fashion, the crazier it seems, and just contemplating it is enough to give one sweaty palms and an elevated heart rate. She's an adventurer, though, and I know that someday she'll take the plunge. She gave me a hug after breakfast to wish me luck, and it carried a mixture of well wishes, guilt, distress, and regret.
Laura, Kjetil, Olav and I checked in and were bussed off to our first jump, the world's first ever bungy jump, the Kawarau Bridge. We were joined by Jun and Jehan who had signed up just to do this one jump. Though it was only a short leap of 43 meters off a bridge into the river below, the Kawarau Bridge held historical significance as the place where A.J. Hackett invented this crazy sport, and so it was a suitable starting point for the day.
The build-up to every jump gives you time to ponder the leap. It's part of the experience. It means waiting in line with a whole bunch of other people preparing to leap, most of them emanating a lot of nervous energy. It's contagious. The whole time videos of people jumping are playing on TVs all about you. Then you get weighed, and they mark the back of your hand with your weight in kilos. The weight serves two purposes: it lets the jump coordinators on the bridge know how much bungy cord to let out, and it also determines the order in which you jump. For some jumps, like the Kawarau, they send people off from lightest to heaviest to gradually stretch the cord out. On others, like the Nevis (the second jump of the day), they let folks out from heaviest to lightest.
We got to watch Jehan and Jun jump first. Poor Jun had a case of the nerves on the ledge, and when the first countdown concluded he quickly grabbed a hold of the handlebar and his legs went to jelly. But eventually, somehow, almost everyone's mind blinks for just a second, and in that second your body makes a break for it and sneaks away.
Jun had that moment, and all of us on the observation deck could read his body language. A flash of resolve came over his face and he jumped. But with short bungy jumps in which the cord is tied to your lower legs, you have to dive out headfirst in order to prevent an uncomfortable whiplast moment at the bottom when the cord grabs a hold of your feet. Jun jumped feet first and got a nasty snap at the bottom in which he went from feet down to head down in a fraction of a second. Ouch!
The A.J. Hackett personnel on the bridge asked me if I wanted to get dunked in the water. It wasn't an option for me when I jumped in Zimbabwe as they usually restrict first-timers from the baptism. This time I was game. I was told that as long as I didn't leap out too far away from the bridge, my head should touch down in the water. All good.
Meanwhile, Kjetil was set to leap just ahead of me. It would be his first bungy jump, and he asked not to get dunked in the water. He was going to be one of the first few jumpers on a new bungy cord. I think, considering that the bungy is a giant rubber band, that being one of the first to use a bungy cord is a good thing.
Murphy's Law--during Kjetil's jump, the new cord finally "let out." That, explained the bridge personnel, was when a new cord was finally officially broken in, releasing a bit more than usual. Kjetil splashed. I couldn't resist busting out laughing. A raft below picked him up and next thing I know I was out on the ledge.
While waiting for the jumper on the ledge next to mine to go, I made small talk with the crazy young dudes who always seem to operate these adrenaline activites.
"I haven't been this nervous and excited since I lost my virginity," I said.
"This will last longer, mate," quipped the guy, stealing what was to be my follow-up line. Everybody's a comedian.
I jumped. It was all over in a flash, and the disappointing thing was that only my arm entered the river. My second drop snapped me around pretty good. It was a thrill, but given the height, only an appetizer of things to come. It whetted my palate and warmed my heart up. We picked up our videotapes (A.J. Hackett provided a tape which we were to carry to each of our three jumps that day), walked by the construction site where they were erecting the world's first bungy museum, and celebrated our first jump in the parking lot.
Next up, Laura, Kjetil, Olav, and I were off to the Nevis, once the world's tallest bungy jump. A bus full of other Nevis jumpers picked us up.
The ride out to the Nevis is almost as nerve-wracking as the Nevis jump itself, and it certainly does a great job of warming up the fear factor. We rode up a narrow canyon road with no railing and a massive dropoff to our left, bouncing around like so much cargo in a tin can. The drill sergeant of a guide didn't help, barking stern instructions at us about what to do once we made it up to the jump site.
The Nevis jump occurs from a gondola suspended on a wire hung over a canyon between two mountains. After we were weighed, and after we donned the bungy harnesses, we gathered in a large group outside, the gondola a ways off in the distance, and a canyon of unknown depth just beyond us over the edge of the cliff. One of the workers called out names.
"Laura?" Not the words she wanted to hear, I'm sure. "You'll be first up. Anyone you want to bring with you as your partner?"
Laura gave me a nervous, questioning glance.
"Sure thing," I said.
We were sent out to the gondola in a tiny metallic cage with a mesh grill bottom, and we finally got a great view of the canyon below us. This, again, was part of the build-up. Laura was already at her breaking point. Sure, they can tell you not to look down, but has anyone ever, ever obeyed that command? The depth of the canyon (300 meters) was awe-inspiring.
The gondola was no respite because it had a glass bottom. The side of the gondola with the open door and the jump ledge was separated from the other side by a small metallic gate. Next to the ledge was a chair in which the next jumper sat and was clipped in before walking the plank, so to speak.
A boombox blasted heavy metal music, a clever move designed to set the mood. AC/DC is to gravity-assisted jumping what Barry White is to candlelight-induced bumping. Two other jumpers were with Laura and I in the gondola, and before Laura could gather herself, she was in the chair getting strapped in. I had brought my camcorder and had it aimed on her.
I could tell her legs were jelly as she shuffled with absolute terror onto the ledge.
"Oh my god, oh my god," she whispered, eyes wide. At that moment I felt as close to complete empathy with another person as at anytime in my life. Somehow when we see our fellow man in situations of terrible distress, we pick up their amplified emotions in the sharpest fashion. I was rooting for her silently, trying to send her my support.
"Alright," shouted the jump operator standing behind her, holding the harness in his hand. "Five, four, three, two, one, jump!!"
Laura's legs went soft and she grabbed a hold of a bar on the side of the gondola.
Here's where the operator's experience came into play. He'd launched who knows how many people out of this gondola, and he ran through his script of magic words.
"It's okay, you're supposed to feel scared to death, it's not supposed to feel normal. Just jump and we'll have you back up here in no time. It will all be over in 9 seconds. Don't look down. Look straight ahead to the horizon and just leap out as far as you can."
After a minute or two of encouragement, the jump operator initiated the jump sequence again.
This time, Laura jumped. One second she was there, and the next second all I could see was an empty ledge and a bungy cord flying out of the gondola like it had been fired out of a cannon.
I dashed over to the glass bottom of the floor to catch some footage of Laura on the rebound. Part of the experience of the Nevis is that the entire gondola rocks slightly whenever anyone jumps. It's the special spice in the adrenaline sauce.
After Laura was winched back up and into the gondola, I was fired up to go. But then the cage came out and brought a whole set of other jumpers, all of whom outweighed me. And then another cage full arrived, carrying Kjetil and Olav among others. And so I had to sit in that gondola and watch one jumper after the other go ahead of me. I filmed Kjetil and Olav making their leaps, and another guy did the "hands in my pockets the whole way down" leap. Quite impressive.
By the time it was my turn to go, I was ready to throw myself out of the gondola with or without the bungy cord. Sitting in that tight space with a gondola full of terrified people was getting to me.
The jump operator attached me to the harness, and then suddenly I was shuffling out to the edge of the ledge and I was overcome with that feeling that I experienced as a child, walking up to the piano for a recital. It wasn't my first recital, but it was the first time I was old enough to know and understand the fear of performing publicly. It's a glorious feeling of terror and excitement, the most alive a person ever feels, when all you feel like is a bundle of neurons firing all at once.
And then, just like that, I snapped out of it as I remembered that I wanted to get this on tape. Leave it to the vain showman in me to wake me up. I shouted at Kjetil to get in position to film me. He looked through the viewfinder and then looked up with a thumbs up. Perfect.
I turned and looked out over the ledge. Holy shit! This was nearly twice the height to the ground of the Zimbabwe Victoria Falls Bridge jump.
"The camera's out of batteries!" shouted Kjetil. I looked over in disbelief. Just as I was about to jump, my camcorder had gone dead.
I barely had time to curse when the jump operator got my attention. That's just too bad, mate, he said, and then he initiated the launch sequence. Wait, wait, wait! Maybe I can load a new camera battery? Too late.
"Five four three two one jump!" I didn't have to time to think and suddenly I was hurtling through the air like a missile towards the ground. It was a freefall of about nine seconds, and somewhere in that nine seconds I achieved a glorious feeling of weightlessness, like freefall but different. This is what it felt like to fly! WHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The cord was so long that it didn't snap me up quickly. Instead I felt myself slowing slowing slowing until I stopped, and then it felt like I was bungy jumping in reverse direction, accelerating skyward like a rocket picking up velocity to break through the earth's atmosphere. The rebound was massive. I felt as if I could almost bounce back into the gondola. I could see the gondola's glass bottom ahead of me and flashed two thumbs up.
But no, gravity had me in its grasp, and I slowed, and then I was falling towards the river below again. On my second rebound, I remembered that I had to pull a release cord that would unlock one end of my feet and allow myself to flip right side up. I did an upside down situp at the apex of my second bounce and pulled the rip stop. I flipped rightside up, attached only at the waist, and now I could enjoy the view about me right side up. And what a glorious view it was.
By the time I had stopped bouncing, I was ready to just hang there, suspended in that canyon, for hours, just gulping down the crisp air and feeling the blood racing through my body like an angry river.
My last image before leaving the gondola for my cage ride back was a row of tiny girls sitting bug-eyed and shivering with fear on the back ledge (remember that the sent people out of the Nevis in order of heaviest to lightest jumpers).
Our last bungy jump wasn't scheduled until 6pm, just after dinner. I had an afternoon free, and Johnny, Urban, and I decided to go mountain biking. We rented a couple of bikes in town, grabbed a map from the shop owner, and headed off on our own.
I hadn't brought any bike gear, and the shop didn't have gloves or bike shorts. All they furnished was a bike and helmet. I hadn't ridden a bike without gloves and shorts since I started cycling in 99 to rehab my reconstructed knee, and it wasn't a comforting prospect. But when in Rome...
My bike was an antique. The shifting was clunky, the brakes terribly weak for a mountain bike, and the suspension couldn't have been any more ineffective if I'd been sitting on pogo stick. Also, not only did they not have clipless pedals, they didn't even have shoe cages! The shop owner explained that the best bikes were reserved for the guided tours which had departed earlier that morning. Lovely.
But the weather was gorgeous, and nothing could dampen my spirits. We explored some single track along the edge of Lake Wakatipu. With the lousy brakes on my bike, some of the long steep descents scared me nearly as much as the Nevis, and sans clipless pedals, some of the steep ascents were impossible to ride. But at this point I was just redlining the adrenaline the whole day. Because I had the one bungy jump remaining, I had to split off from Urban and Johnny early and rush back to the hotel to change and shower.
The
last jump of the day was the
Ledge. It was situated at the top of the mountain overlooking Queenstown,
just a short gondola ride up from town. The unique aspects of the Ledge
were that it offered a view of the town and that it was the only bungy
in Queenstown which attached the jumper only around the waist, meaning
your legs were free. That meant you could get a running start.
Many of the other folks from the rest of the tour group had finished their daytime activites and came out to watch us jump. Jens and Rob were also signed up for the Ledge jump.
I
spent a lot of time debating what type of jump to execute. I was torn
between doing a somersault or the Superman which the jump operator recommended.
I finally settled on the Superman, in which you leap out head first with
one arm forward and one arm tucked at the side, the way Christopher Reeve
flew in the Superman movie. I should have done the somersault, though.
The Superman looked ridiculous.
My crucial mistake with this jump was that I let the jump operator tighten the harness too much. As soon as the bungy cord caught me, my family jewels alerted me to this error by launching an explosion of pain up nerve endings to my brain. I grabbed a hold of the bungy cord to try and pull myself up and relieve the pressure between my legs, but it was no use. Every bounce was a trial of suffering. Everyone from the tour group could hear me scream, "I don't think I'll be able to have kids anymore!"
It was a lifetime's worth of thrills in one day. The evening, in comparison, was tame. After dinner a group of us went into town, exploring. We tried to get into the ended up at The World dance club which was packed. We had a cruelly early morning departure time the next day, so we didn't stay out much past 1am. After the day's adrenaline output, I was due for a crash, and it came in the form of a deep deep slumber.
Next: Milford Sound
Queenstown is the mecca of adventure sports in New Zealand and arguably in the Southern Hemisphere. You could stay for days and not run out of crazy things to do.
Bungy jumping is the activity Queenstown is most famous for given that A.J. Hackett invented the sport there. The Thrillogy combines all three of Queenstown's A.J. Hackett bungy jumps in one for a discounted price. You can do them all in one day or spread them across two days. Or you can book each of the three jumps individually:
- Kawarau Bridge: the birthplace of bungy jumping. "Only" a 43m drop from a bridge into the river below, with an option to get dunked. A warmup jump.
- The Nevis: the tallest bungy jump in Australasia at 134m. As pure an adrenaline rush as you'll experience, and you'll reach 128 km/hr in velocity during your nearly 9 seconds of falling. If you only do one bungy jump in Queenstown, this is far and away the one to do.
- The Ledge: a 47m jump whose primary distinction is leaving your legs free so that you can get a running start off the ledge. If possible, schedule this jump after dark so you can see the city lights glimmering below.
Another popular activity is jet boating. These are boats designed to cruise at high velocity in water as shallow as 4 inches. I didn't try this out in Queenstown because I'd already experienced the awesome rush of the Flat Hills Sprint Jet on the north island, but many people in our tour group went for a ride in these boats that reach speeds of around 50mph.
- The Shotover Jet is the most popular and well-known of the jet boat operators and charges NZ$85 for an adult ride through narrow canyons for about half an hour.
- Twin Rivers Jet is supposedly cheaper and offers a longer 60 minute ride. I've heard it's not quite as thrilling as the Shotover. It goes across Lake Wakatipu and into the Kawarau and Shotover rivers.
- Another option is the Kawarau Jet which covers a similar route to the Twin Rivers Jet.
If you're in Queenstown with that romantic someone and money is no object, Sunrise Balloons will transport you at dawn via hot air balloon over the Wakatipu Basin in near silence, concluding with a champagne breakfast upon landing.
Mountain bikers will find some fun single track just a short ride from Queenstown along the forests skirting Lake Wakatipu. I can't remember which shop I rented my bike from, but there are plenty. Just stroll into town and look around, or search online. A quick glance in Google uncovered a number of different operators.
Another fun option is parapenting or paragliding. Or hang gliding. Or para hang penting while gliding. Whatever. There are a dozen or more operators. A good jump to do is one from above the gondola on Bob's Peak. A tandem jump will run you about $50 US.
If you're visiting Queenstown during their winter (late June-September), hit the mountains for some skiing.
I could go on and on. Stunt plane flying, river boarding, skydiving, hiking, white water rafting...if you can imagine it, you can do it in Queenstown. If you can't find anything to do in Queenstown, I don't want to know you.
At night, if you're in the mood for some dancing, hit The World dance club. Remember to bring a passport or driver's license.
Shopping is also not a problem. Shops line all the downtown streets. I picked up some sweet New Zealand All Blacks rugby jerseys in town.