My final few weeks in New Zealand have been nothing less than amazing, full of excitement, trips and adventures. I’ll start by telling you about my birthday week:
It started off quite well with an opportunity to take a jet boat ride up the Rakaia Gorge through the resort I have been working at, Terrace Downs. It just so happened to be that there was a last minute cancellation with a group of guests at the resort, and since the boatman already had the boat in the water, ready to go, they graciously offered the ride to whichever employees could make the trip. So, two of my best New Zealand friends, Kat and Holly, along with a few others from the Terrace Downs team and I jumped on the opportunity and raced down to the Rakaia Gorge to catch this jet boat ride. When we got there, the boat was all ready to go like they said, so we hopped in and after your typical “Keep your arms and hands inside the boat at all times” speech, we were off with four-hundred horses underneath us, shooting us over the beautiful turquoise, glacier fed river. Our driver Chris was pretty keen on scarring us silly by going full throttle towards a jutting rock or cliff face and then at the last possible second turning the jet boat, splashing the perilous rocks, getting so close that the spray hitting the rocks would come back at us, soaking us as well. The roar of the massive engine and the incessant screaming of the girls in the boat, and well, maybe myself as well, was all too much fun as the brisk air and freezing cold glacial water jolted our adrenaline into gear, making the experience all that more extreme.
This entire time I was so entranced at the beautiful cliffs and scenery around me, I had forgotten to look below me, and when I did, I nearly jumped out of my seat in fright as I soon realized that there was literally less than two feet of water beneath us. Chris later explained that because of the boat being a jet boat, it really only needs a foot of water to suck in and jet out the back as it hydroplanes across the top of the river. There were so many instances where I thought we would scrape the bottom or hit a protruding rock, but the beast of a boat soared over it all, unscathed and free from harm. He said that there were many places along the river that if we had slowed down, we actually could have scraped or even gotten stuck, but his excellent driving experience proved true as we somewhat safely sped up through the gorge.
Coming to a technical stage of deep rapids, where I thought the boat was going to need to turn around, but to my surprise, Chris said that we were all going to need to hold on tight as he attempted to go up the rapids and onto higher river. No way, I thought to myself. This isn’t possible. He was joking, right? Nope. As he began to rev the engine to full throttle, we began swerving and splashing our way up the rapids jumping from one deep spot to the next. We were like salmon trying to make our way up stream, literally getting air, out of the water as the rapids did everything they could to inhibit us from continuing. And, as I did everything I could to hold on to not only the boat but also my lunch, I then got that rare feeling that I love so much. That feeling that I crave. That feeling that I search for where I’m not totally sure I’m going to be okay; riding that thin line between chaos and control. I could feel the adrenaline hitting my system; my eyes dilating and my heart beginning to thump as goosebumps arose from all over my stimulated body. Reaching the crest of the rapids, it was like the boat gained full traction and shot forward, endorsing an uncontrollable yaaaahhoooooo that I’m sure echoed all throughout the gorge, letting everyone know just how electrifying this boat ride was. Even Chris had a grin ear to ear as we shot out from the rapids. I think we both share that passion for thrill and excitement.
Now at a different section of the river, the scenery began to change a bit; there were waterfalls protruding from the cliff sides, similar to those I had enjoyed so much in Guam, yet instead of being fueled by tropical rain water, these waterfalls were gushing icy cold glacial run off. Hundred year old evergreen trees held on to the deteriorating cliff line, roots exposed, almost as if reaching out for a solid grasp on whatever earth they could hold. Some weren’t so stalwart, showing remnants of their defeat extending out of the water, hundreds of feet below that we would have to maneuver around. In the far distance I could see acres of green pasture with little white dots speckled all over it. The sheep in New Zealand outnumbering people twelve to one is very apparent almost anywhere you go.
Finally reaching a point where the tour came to a turnaround, we began heading back down river going with the current now, increasing our speed noticeably. Skipping over the shallow waters, we soon reached the rapids again, bouncing down them, much quicker this time, back onto the lower part of the river. Chris had one more trick up his sleeve for us as he slowed down to speak over the rumbling engine. He said that when he twirls his finger in the air, we have to hold on as tight as we can. With disturbed looks on all of our faces, we all nodded our heads in exciting anticipation of what was about to happen. He then sped back up, sending us down river and sure enough when there was a wide open clearing of water, Chris twirled his finger and we all gripped the boat until our knuckles were white. Watching Chris then push the throttle all the way forward, while simultaneously wrenching the steering wheel to the left, we began to swing around, spinning across the top of the water. While doing a full three-hundred sixty degree turn, everything went into slow motion as a chorus of screams went up into the air. With the background becoming a blur of glacial spray, I could see the sheer thrill of terror on everyone’s faces as we spun. Coming to slushy halt, the entire boat was in a frenzy of laughter and amusement at Chris’s stunt. I was loving every bit of it, and was excited as we went again down river and saw Chris’s finger yet again begin to twirl in the air. Holding on tight, we spun for the second time, shooting water all over the place.
I was sad to have ended the boat ride, but after thanking Chris for an amazing time, I then began to think about my next trip planned for my birthday. Being that my flat mate Dustin and I have been working hard here in New Zealand, well sort of, we rarely get time to hang out aside from the occasional tennis match or movie at the house, so we decided that since we both coincidentally have birthdays within a few days of one another, that we could take a trip down to Queenstown to check out the “adventure capital of the world.”The drive down south to Queenstown was about five hours and was truly one of the most beautiful drives I have ever experienced. We went by beautifully beaming blue lakes, rapid rivers, lush green valleys and dry, high desert. We stopped a few times to grab a few pictures of the amazing scenery, but we were determined to make it down to the Queenstown area before dark to meet up with a couple we had me here in New Zealand. They were living just outside of Queenstown in an old mining town called Arrow Town. There are very few places in New Zealand that I would actually consider cities, which is great. Most towns are small and populated with less than three thousand people, so almost everywhere you go, you get that small town feel. Our friends, Ray and Melissa, showed us Main Street that looked like something straight out of an old western movie, aside from the new pavement. The town had its own brewery where we stopped for a few drinks before retiring early for the night, eager to get a jump start on exploring Queenstown the next day.
Waking up early, Dustin and I said our goodbyes to Ray and Mellissa and headed down the road towards Queenstown. Only about twenty minutes away, we arrived quickly, and began searching for our hotel we were to stay at that night. Unbeknownst to us, the “hotel” was actually a youth hostel, which was great because it gave us a chance to talk with other people our age and get an idea of what we should do with the next twenty four hours of our time there in Queenstown. After almost everyone telling us to do a pub crawl, we decided that we would walk around town to see what maybe some of the locals had to say about it. Walking up and down the tourist filled streets, we soon found out that almost nobody was truly local. This entire town was comprised of travelers, backpackers and foreigners working for accommodation. We literally did not meet one person that was actually from Queenstown. This was most accurately the definition of a tourist town. Everyone was very friendly though, and everyone was all about having fun. Being that it was our birthday, almost everyone said that we had to do the pub crawl we had heard about earlier. We figured we would give it a try, but before that we decided to walk around a bit more and luckily we did because we ended up finding a burger joint called “Ferburger” that was most definitely the best burger I have ever had in my life. We also stopped by the lake that went right up to the town’s edge. It was absolutely beautiful; mountain ranges all around us with a substantially large lake right in the middle with a cozy little town that was more quaint than a southern bed and breakfast.
With the sun setting behind the mountains, orange rays of light made every attempt to beam through the dark grey clouds, which weren’t looking very promising for dry weather. Luckily though, after a short hour of rain it remained dry and off we went to our pub crawl on schedule. Our large group of thirty-plus people started off at “The World Bar” which was an appropriate name being that almost everyone we met was from a different country. I loved every bit of it; talking with Russians, Germans, Brits, Kiwi’s, Aussie’s etc. Everyone was there for the same reason; to have a great time.
Dustin and I had a great night, going from pub to pub, all of which were unique and fun in their own way. One that stood out in particular was the last pub we went to called “Below Zero” which was an Ice Bar, where our entire group had to put on coats due to the cold temperatures the pub is kept at in order to keep all of the walls and furniture frozen. Everything was made out of ice. It was truly a sight to see, especially with all of the frozen artwork that was chiseled out that day.
The next day Dustin and I drove back through the scenic, New Zealand countryside to Methven where we continued working our jobs, going on the occasional hike and playing the intermittent tennis match until finally it was time for the next adventure. Saying goodbye to the close friends I have made in New Zealand was hard, as it always is. They truly made New Zealand a great experience for me.
As I now sit on this plane, looking out at the white fluffy clouds towards the horizon, I can only imagine what adventures Thailand, Cambodia and Laos are about to bring me. I will be meeting my lifelong friend Tommy, who I consider a brother, in Bangkok tomorrow. From there, everything and anything is possible. Everything and anything…
