DEL.ICIO.USFROM GEORGIA TO NEW ZEALAND
Atlantans go to New Zealand for dream vacation
Bungee jumping, paragliding and cross-country cycling highlights of trip
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Queenstown, New Zealand — Our dream vacation began with a cliffhanger.
Jet-lagged from our 20-hour, multi-leg journey from Atlanta to Queenstown, the three of us had barely set our luggage down before we were on a rigorous hike to the top of a mountain. We had traveled halfway across the globe to take part in a cycling tour, but before we even got fitted for our bikes, Péralte had something on his to-do list.
Tim Parkinson /Special
Susan Puckett and guide Tim Parkinson soar over Lake Wakatipu in Queenstown, New Zealand, on a paragliding adventure.
Peralte Paul / cpaul@ajc.com.
Peralte Paul’s penchant for adventurous vacations convinced him to take a cross-country bicycle tour in New Zealand, even though he’s no biker.
Susan Puckett / spuckett@ajc.com
Morieka Johnson was gutsy enough to bungee jump from the Sky Swing, which drops straight down from more than 1,300 feet before it loops high above Queenstown.
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He was determined to bungee jump in the bungee-jumping capital of the world — and we could either join him or watch. Our palms began to sweat over the possibilities.
We came to three different decisions — and for each of us, that choice would be the defining moment that shaped our trip.
For Péralte: Achievement
My thirst for adventure has taken me up the Hudson sailing on a replica cutter ship and whitewater rafting down the Ocoee River, even though I can’t swim a lick. I’ve gone zip-lining through the Costa Rican rain forest, hiked up volcanoes in Nicaragua and belly-crawled through the underground Cu Chi tunnels of Vietnam.
So when two friends asked if I’d be up for cycling on New Zealand’s South Island, one thing came to mind: What greater rush could there be than bungee jumping in the country that invented it?
It sounds crazy to harness oneself to a rope and free-fall 1,000 feet off a cliff.
AJ Hackett Bungy’s platform is just over 1,312 feet high overlooking Queenstown and the azure waters of Lake Wakatipu set against the backdrop of the Remarkables mountain range.
What’s 1,312 feet? Imagine jumping from the pinnacle of the Bank of America Plaza building in Midtown and swinging over Atlanta. And the Bank of America building is only 1,023 feet — 289 feet closer to the ground than my Queenstown perch.
I was scared witless. So there I stood, harnessed, roped and belted wondering if the “we’re-not-responsible-for-your-death” form I’d been asked to sign was God’s way of saying “Do you really need to do this?”
Sweat flowed from my armpits and down my sides like Amicalola Falls as I looked over the edge. Though my knees were buckling, my feet were cemented in place.
“Uh, I can’t do it. I really can’t do it,” I half-whispered to my bungee instructor in a half-whisper.
I was bummed to find a fear I couldn’t conquer. Morieka and Susan did their best to cheer me.
Morieka reminded me that I hadn’t done practice rides before our trip, so the cycling likely would be challenging.
As we cycled away from Queenstown toward Te Anau, I distracted my thoughts with the scenery: From crystal-clear rivers to thick clouds hovering so low over the lakes they seemed to bounce off the waves.
Those thoughts played tug of war with a more pressing challenge:the cycling itself.
Our group averaged 35 to 40 miles a day. Some of us rode more, with yours truly doing a little less.
Peddling the lush rolling hills of New Zealand should be easy, except the Kiwi version of a hill resembles Kennesaw Mountain. (Training for these cycling trips beforehand, much like runners prepare for marathons, is advisable; instead, I rode two times over four months.)
As the days wore on, Preparation H and a Down Under version of Icy Hot became my best friends.
I was pushing myself beyond my limits, but thoughts of the failed bungee attempt plagued me with each mile.
It took an overnight stay with sheep farmers Georgie and Russell Carter to help me see that differently.
Georgie Carter said if I remained stuck on the big things I failed to do, I’d overlook all the little things in between. By obsessing over the bungee, I was missing out on appreciating “all the little moments” and so many of the experiences on the trip.
We were on the opposite end of the Earth, seeing glacier-capped mountains formed by the last Ice Age, night sky constellations that could only be spied from the Southern Hemisphere, and birds and animals unique to this land. And we were meeting people who were just as interested and curious about us as we were about them.
Her words gave me a new perspective on cycling, and I committed to the challenge.
Our guides, Marilyn Somerville and Jill Jenkins, always gave us a map showing the route and difficulty of each day’s ride the night before, except on that last day. That should have been a clue.
I gasped when they handed out the maps. This ride was going to be hard. And I was so sore from our ride two days earlier, I hadn’t cycled the day before.
Marilyn didn’t even take my bike down off the rack. I told her I was going to ride. “Hmmph,” was her reply, so I couldn’t back down.
We headed toward Owaka, 25 miles away. In the distance, a little “hill” we’d have to climb. It started gradually enough before taking a sharp incline — just over 820 feet straight up — toward the sky.
I stopped a couple of times and looked back to see how much of the “hill” I’d conquered, only to face forward to see how much more I had left to reach the summit.
I wanted to quit more than once. But pride, stubbornness and knowing I’d have an 820-foot downward slope and gravity aiding me on the other side helped. Jill slowed down to pedal alongside me.
At one point, I hit a bump and fell off my bike, cutting my shin. I didn’t realize it until Jill pointed to the oozing blood and gave me some gauze. She asked if I wanted to stop. “I’m not a quitter,” I told her.
After all that peddling, nothing felt sweeter than the moment when I started to coast downhill. As I approached, our group was cheering, and I felt like I was in a semi-comedic cycling version of “Chariots of Fire.”
So, I didn’t finish first. And it really didn’t matter as long as I finished. Funny, what I thought would be the easy part of our trip, cycling, turned out to be the true test. And through it, I had captured the Kiwi spirit.
For Susan: Escape
Paragliding looks scary.
It is — for about a minute, as you push your way through a powerful headwind toward a 2,100-foot drop, trying not to topple over backward. Then before you know it, you and the pilot are airborne, and your fears dissolve into giddy euphoria.
Like my two buddies, I had given serious thought to doing the bungee jump. But after watching several daredevils return, teeth chattering and knees quivering, I had to ask myself: Why?
I came to New Zealand to de-stress. For months, I had looked forward to a relaxing vacation of moderately challenging cycling through breathtaking scenery. Did I really want to kick it off with 30 seconds of potentially heart-stopping terror? Nah.
So while my buddies continued to contemplate taking the plunge, I hopped on a chairlift, then took a short but steep walk through woods to a mountain clearing for a less risky thrill.
As Tim Parkinson, my shaggy-haired pilot, and I soared over dazzling Lake Wakatipu, he pointed out sights, clowned around with a video camera and told me of how he traded a career as a banker several years earlier for a job that took him to other heights. After 20 or 30 minutes, we pirouetted downward, landing gently on an athletic field. As our whirlwind relationship drew to an end, he had one last question: Would I like to buy the DVD of my adventure?
I hesitated — but ultimately whipped out my credit card as he burned our high-flying journey together onto a disc. Feeling both buoyant and slightly ripped off, I headed to the base of the mountain, where my companions awaited. I could hardly wait to strap on my bike helmet.
For Morieka: Adventure
How should tourists kill time in the self-proclaimed adventure capital of the world?
Well, gullible tourists take a flying leap. Extremely foolhardy tourists bungee jump before embarking on a cycling tour of the country.
That’s how I wound up peeking off the face of a cliff about 1,312 feet above Queenstown.
“I’m scared,” I whispered to Tim Stevenson, the bungee guide I had known for roughly one hour.
“I’d be worried if you weren’t scared,” he replied. “Fear is good because it turns into adrenaline when it’s over.”
I should have gone paragliding or found a spot in one of those lovely little restaurants down below. My traveling companions, the ones who weren’t capturing this moment on film, were happily indulging in green-lipped mussels, New Zealand sauvignon blanc or my new favorite, sticky date pudding.
I was wearing an elastic diaper and clutching bungee ropes. The Sky Swing challenges you to drop straight down and then swing across the cliff side, enjoying a bird’s-eye view of the city.
Tim said he hadn’t lost a client yet. Other tourists watched; I had managed to attract quite a crowd. It was getting harder and harder to back out. And I wanted to do this, right?
Since seeing “The Lord of the Rings,” I had dreamt of visiting this lush country, just to make sure it was real.
So what if the bungee company sneaks a page labeled “Toe Tag” in with the requisite release forms? That’s the New Zealand version of a joke. Besides, I was here to experience New Zealand. I had taken an hour-long hike to reach the top of that cliff. I wasn’t going to leave without jumping.
Tim’s instructions were simple: Attach a hook to the main line, wave at the camera, then let go.
With a deep breath, I hooked, waved — and let go.
It was the most exhilarating moment of my life.
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