Kiwis, Koalas, and Kava... Oi, Mate!: Chapter Four, "Queenstown, 'We Are The Champions, My Tourmates!'" (Friday and Saturday, 14 and 15 October 2011)

I know you're wondering, so yes... there were baked beans on the breakfast buffet again.  It's a Southern Hemisphere thang.  I do not understand.

Our morning flight to Queenstown, "the adventure capital of New Zealand" on its South Island, was uneventful, and we arrived without losing any of my tourmates (we think).  Although we traveled South, the inverted geography means we actually traveled in to a sub-Arctic region of snow-capped mountains, stinging winds, and glaciers that roll down the streets like tumbleweeds.  Leaving the airport, we detoured to Arrowtown, a former gold mining village outside of Queenstown that kickstarted the South Island's gold rush "a few years back."  Arrowtown is now a quaint suburb, whose shops and commercial buildings maintain the rustic character of the town's original buildings, giving it an old world charm that stops just this side of kitschy.  Shabby craft shops and cafes blend nicely with modern merchants and contemporary eateries to create one HELL of a tourist trap.  My lunch consisted of a meat pie (I'm hooked) and a ginger beer (ditto) and my only "take away" was a "gorgeous" bottle of local Riesling.  (New Zealand is known the World over for its wines, a great reputation that is well-deserved.)

From Arrowtown, we detoured again to the "Original Bungi Bridge" on the outskirts of Queenstown, where bungi jumping is said to have originated.  I have always wanted to bungi jump at least once in my life, and what better place to do it than here, right?  Unfortunately, our tour itinerary read as if we would only be stopping at the bridge for photos and would not have the opportunity to try our hands (or ankles) at actually jumping, so I committed to another, less death-defying activity for the afternoon that could not be cancelled.  It was not until we arrived at the bridge that our tour operator invited someone (presumably me or one of the newlyweds) to "give it a go."  Checking my watch, I decided I had ample time to "live on the edge" and do both: bungi jump and river canyon jet boating.  And just as I had psyched myself up to jump from the very bridge where it all started... the bungi crew went on a 45 minute break, abruptly slamming the narrow window of time I had to do both.  So as a few of our tourmates stayed behind to watch one of the newlyweds dive from the bridge, the rest of us boarded the coach bound for check-in at the hotel.  It wasn't meant to be.

Though a bit isolated from the heart of Queenstown, our hotel, The Millennium Hotel Queenstown, is beautiful, and considerably more contemporary than its sister hotel in Rotorua (and no pesky sulfur smell).  I dropped my bags and left almost immediately for my "adventure" on the Shotover Jet, a high speed jet boat that runs the course of the Shotover River as it twists and turns through treacherous canyons surrounded by the Remarkable Mountains. (That's actually what they are called.)  But this is not "your father's jet boat."  The Shotover Jet's patented design makes it capable of manuevering (including 360 degree spins) at speeds of up to 65 mph (please don't ask what that is in km/h!) in as little as 4 INCHES (10 CM!) OF WATER!!!  On a "normal" day, say in the Summer, this might be a heart-pounding, exhilirating experience... but this was not a normal day.  Picture if you will a very gray afternoon with temps around 45 degrees Fahrenheit (you can figure out the Celcius temp on your own!).  There is a steady, cold rain, but the kicker is a hard, chilly wind that, at times, blows the rain perfectly horizontally in your face.  Now picture yourself on a speed boat, going 65 mph, thus insuring that the wind and rain are ALWAYS blowing in your face, on this gray, cold, rainy, windy day.  THIS... was my Shotover Jet Experience!

I've learned to dress in layers and be prepared for virtually anything, so considering the weather, I did just that: jeans, a long sleeve t-shirt, a thin fleece pullover, a thicker fleece pullover, and a water-resistant windbreaker with a hood.  I don't know what the others going on this trip we're expecting, but their t-shirts, shorts, and - good grief! - flip-flops suggested we were NOT on the same page.  As we prepared to board the boat, we were issued thin plastic rain slickers (with no hoods), life jackets to wear over them, and goggles for those not already wearing glasses.  Despite my layers and the hood on my jacket, I felt ill-prepared for the Abu Ghraib-esque "waterboarding" simulation that ensued.  I actually pitied the kids in shorts and t-shirts (except for those wearing flip-flops).  It was like being on a log flume in Alaska in January with 1,000 high-powered water hoses being fired directly at your face, while buckets of frigid water are tossed at you from all sides and dumped from above, and all that stands between you and the elements is a $0.50 poncho.  When it was all over, my ears were on fire, my face was stinging, and I was soaked almost completely... and I dressed appropriately.

I should have gone bungi jumping!

Once back in Downtown Queenstown, it was dinner time.  Driving through town earlier, I learned that Queenstown has not one, but two casinos.  So on the way to dinner, I stopped in one.  My report: Queenstown's casinos "will ROCK YOU!!!"  (Fortunately, New Zealand dollars are worth less than US dollars.)

I chose a South African-style (your guess is as good as mine) steakhouse called Flame for dinner, the specialty of which is BBQ ribs.  (I was at a loss too.)  Since I was in a country known for its lamb (and having not had any yet), I ordered the rack of lamb.  It was delicious,

but was BBQed like the ribs, so it was a different taste than I was hoping for.  Walking back to the hotel, I stopped in The Remarkable Sweet Shoppe, where Willie Nelson played on the soundsystem and I tasted bubble gum-flavored fudge for the first time.  ("You can't stop modern science. Can't stop it!")  Back in the room, I opened the bottle of local wine and watched a movie.  I finished the glass of wine; the movie... not so much.

The next day, Saturday, was our only full day in Queenstown and a free day.  The biggest draw by far in this part of the World is Milford Sound (which, incidentally, is not really a sound, but a fjord, a mountain valley carved out by glaciers, then flooded by rising sea waters... THE MORE YOU KNOW(TM)), and the most common excursion is a five hour in, five hour out coach trip with a 2-3 hour lunch cruise as its highlight.  Not wanting to lose the entire day, I opted instead for a 40 minute flight in, 40 minute flight out with the same cruise.  The catch is the weather on the Sound side of the island can be very different from the weather in Queenstown, and if weather precludes flying on any given day, the coach has left hours before and you have no other option for seeing the Sound.  Nevertheless, I took the chance.

After breakfast, I waited in the lobby to learn whether I'd be flying that day.  As I waited, Uncanny Story #5 unfolded right before my eyes.  A group of my tourmates had planned a 3 hour excursion on their own and were describing it to our tour director.  She was concerned that they had booked an excursion that she knew to be really bad and wanted to warn them off of it.  The following exchange happened right in front of me.  I have NOT embellished it!

Tour Director:  What is the name of the excursion?

Tourmate:  I don't know.

Tour Director:  Is it "The Remarkable Experience" [referring to the mountains (see above)]?

Tourmate: I think so.  It gets us out of the hotel for 3 hours.

Thank goodness for bladder control.  Abbott and Costello would be proud!

Moments later, I got word that my flight was on!  A taxi van picked me up and took me to the airport, from which I flew "shotgun" on a 6 passenger, twin-engine plane over snow-capped, glacier-riddled peaks toward Milford Sound.  Kiting through the clouds, we passed close enough to the summits that I felt as though I could touch them.  But as picturesque as the flight was, and as unique as was my perspective from the front seat, nothing could have prepared me for the all-encompassing splendor of Milford Sound.

I can count on one hand the number of times I was so certain of GOD's existence that I felt as if I was sitting across from and gazing directly upon GOD's face.  Twice (a car accident and a near drowning), death seemed certain until GOD intervened.  A third time was when I saw the Austrian Alps up close for the first time.  The fourth was when I cruised out onto Milford Sound.

Never have I been so overwhelmed by the beauty of nature and so certain of the presence and influence of a higher power.  Never have I been driven to tears and simultaneously compelled to pray a prayer of thanks for such a massive and powerful blessing.  Never have I been at once reminded of how small we are as human beings and just how much we have in common, despite where we live, how we worship, the languages we speak, or what we look like.  Milford Sound is, quite simply, the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and experience I have ever had in my 41 years on this planet.  Words will never come close to doing it justice, and pictures only tell a small part of the story.  If Milford Sound is not on your bucket list, you don't have a bucket list.

I had lunch at a cafe adjacent to the Sound -yes, I had a ginger beer... who wants to know? - then flew "shotgun" back to Queenstown.  I skipped dinner and stayed in to catch up on "the footy," watching the Wales v. France Rugby World Cup semi-final.

Tomorrow we leave New Zealand and begin the Australian segment of the tour, starting with Melbourne.  Nod your heads, Melbourne.  My tour group's coming!