Highs And Lows

Friday 15 December

We had just got up when Juz phoned to say that “Christmas had begun” in their household, and they were all getting quite excited. Next the newsman on the television informed us there was just ten days to go till Christmas! It feels very strange as it not at all Christmasy here –there is a Christmas tree in the hotel lobby – one of these cone-type trees made of cardboard seen in all the shopping malls and town squares, decorated this time in gold stars – that’s really the only difference from tree to tree here - the colour of the stars – they are all about fifteen feet tall, a perfect cone shape, dark green, with stars, or occasionally a few bows as well. There are a few other baubles around in the hotel (like a bambi in the window of the restaurant? – why), but no one seems in the festive spirit – when you mention Christmas people always seem to talk about barbeques and picnics, lobster and prawns for Christmas dinner (no one eats turkey that’s for sure) and they don’t seem to understand what a Christmas pudding is.

Today was our “free day” to relax – but we had arranged two separate activities – the first for me was hang gliding off the Remarkables - a mountain chain running north-to-south through South Island (the only other chain to do that in the Southern Hemisphere is the Andes) with Colin as my official photographer, and the second was a four-wheel drive through the “Lord of the Rings” country to see where some of the scenes of the film were shot. Other options included a tour of the town on an old fashioned bus. When we saw the bus later, it was a number 12 Routemaster from London.

I had only had a yen to hang glide since we saw it happening on the east coast of Australia on our last tour, but it would also be another first. The collection vehicle – a beat-up minibus - collected five of us from our hotel – three girls from the US on our tour (Maureen, Sharon and Allie) and Colin and myself – and there were two others on the bus already – Helen from Workington in Cumbria and Mike from somewhere in Germany or Poland. The six of us were going to fly tandem off the mountain from about 2,000 feet.

The bus made its way up an unmade track, snaking its way around the bluff – it seemed a mighty long way up. We eventually stopped by a grassy bank, just short of the ski field further up the mountain and when we climbed the short distance up on the side verge to the brow of the hill – Wow – the wind was blowing gently and there was this vast drop, back down to ground level. Help!! – this is where we would be flying from. We would be going in two sets of three, and Maureen, Sharon and Helen had asked to go first. There were three tandem flyers, one older and two youngish males, who were busy collecting huge long parcels zipped in lightweight covers from the top of the van and unpacking their “wings”. The three girls were getting kitted out with suits and helmets by Ryan, an 18 year lad, learning to fly himself, and hoping one day to qualify as a tandem instructor. I was taking photos of Maureen on her camera and Colin was taking her on video, which he would later download on to disk so she could have a memento of her flight. When everything was set up on the ridge, the instructors took each girl through the taking off and landing routines – two walking steps and then run to take off, and arch your back so that your head and feet are away from the ground to land. Simple, nothing to it! We watched each of them take off, floating away through the thermals, up and down in the large shallow bowl gouged out by a glacier, in the side of the mountain. Then they disappeared around the end of the cliff – we climbed up another path to see if we could see them, but we couldn’t. Ryan, meanwhile, was packing up all the casings and paraphernalia left behind and loading it back into the bus, to go down and bring the instructors and their “wings” back up to the top. Colin and I went down for the ride and to find out how everyone got on. All three thought it was brilliant, but it made your nose run! The gear was once more packed up and loaded on the bus, and taken up the rough stony track to the grassy verge. Now it was my turn.

I was zipped into a flying suit and given this padded front contraption with lots of belts and buckles and hooks at the back that were adjusted so that it fitted snugly. Leg ropes, attached to a metal bar that you stood on, were shortened to fit my leg length. Helmet and gloves on and I was ready. The instructors were rebuilding their machines, putting thin metal struts in the wings, attaching guys and hooks to the frame, and attaching wheels to a metal bar at the base of the frame. I was going to fly with John, the older man – a bit disappointed there were no hunky men like in Australia. We practiced the taking off and landing procedures, and he showed me where to ‘hang’ on – loops on his jacket, one on his right shoulder and another on the left side of his waist – on no account was I to hold on to, or touch, the frame of the machine – John would be guiding us around by moving the bar backwards and forwards and moving our hips side to side – you have to get very close as there’s not a lot of room on a hang glider. We practiced lying down in a press-up type position, with my feet on the metal bar, which was then looped over my left arm, as I got ready to go. Mike took off next - then it was my turn. I stepped into the frame, clung on to John, as I had been instructed, who was testing for the thermals. Suddenly he’s saying “Ready, steady, go”! And we were off – after only a couple of steps we were off the ground and flying! I then had to let go with my left arm and drop the metal bar down, find it with my feet, and push forward so that I was lying flat with my feet trailing behind. We circled around in the lee of the mountainside, moving hips to change direction while John moved the frame bar backwards and forwards to go up and down. I could see our shadow in front of us on the ground and hear a buzzing and whirring sound as we gained and lost altitude. Another shadow came up behind which was Allie who had safely taken off after us. We circled around, watching the ground whirl beneath us, trees and shrubs looking like miniatures (similar to the view from the helicopter over Ayres Rock – except there was green grass and green bushes instead of red earth and stunted tussocks of yellow grass). I took over the controls for a few a few minutes and felt the flying machine go up and down as I moved the bar backwards and forwards. John took back the controls again as we rounded the bluff, and he suggested we did a “wing over” whereby he flips the wings and we do a roll-over - it was a bit like being on a roller coaster – and I had to remember to hold on. We then did a “free fall” whereby we went straight down, only to brake and rise back up in the thermals. I think I screamed at this point, but it was exhilarating. We continued weaving our way over the fields below but all too soon it was time to land. I remembered to arch my back and hold my feet up so that we landed on the wheels, but my stomach padding still skittled across the grass. John’s padding went down to his feet, which he scraped on the ground to slow us down, finally doing a half turn to come to a stop. I scrambled to my feet and took all my gear off while John took the machine apart once more. Colin meanwhile had been recording my flight from the top of the mountain, as well as taking photos for Allie – ambidextrous or what! But it wasn’t long before Colin (and Ryan) had the van loaded again and joined us all at the landing site and the other two flyers and their partners landing close by. It had been a really exciting experience for us all and another first for my 60th year. Photographs and video had been taken on a camera attached to an arm, whilst we were in the air, and we all purchased these souvenirs to bore the folks back home.

The minibus dropped us back at the hotel and we just had time to download the piccys to disk for Maureen, and have a cup of tea, before being collected for our afternoon adventure. The four-wheel drive arrived and already had four other people on board – two young girls from Australia and an Australian guy with his Singapore girlfriend. We took the last two seats on the truck and set off to explore the sights where the “Lord of Rings” had been filmed. Our first stop was – guess where – yes – where we had taken off for our hang gliding experiences this morning. Our guide “Mush” (about 50, with craggy moustache and grey hair, wishing he was 20), informed us about the sights we could see from here and showing us stills from the film in his souvenir book. A hill at the foot of the Remarkables (moraine from the glacier) was used for several of the battle scenes with the Auks and other creatures. Not being one of my most favourite books, I couldn’t remember many of the scenes or the characters he described. I knew Fredo and Gandolf and could picture a few of the other scenes, but that was all. Colin could obviously relate more to the book than me.

We drove down from the Remarkables and continued our tour up near Chard Farm (the most southerly vineyard in the world) and the bridge where the original bungy jump was made about twenty years ago. Just down the river from the bridge on a sharp right-angled bend, characters had jumped from the cliffs into the river, a settlement had been built on the river bank at a cost of US$70,000 only to be washed away in a flood before filming started, and several of the other river scenes had been filmed. Another tour group arrived whose driver had been the personal assistant to Peter Jackson, the director of the film. “Mush” took us through rivers, deep enough for the water to come over the bonnet of his Land Rover, over dromedary humps in the track where we bounced off the top, up steep rough tracks where the vehicle was nearly vertical, and across fords filled with large boulders that he purposely drove over to give us a bumpy ride. Every time we stopped for a view or more information about the filming, we changed seats – the front one being the most comfortable while the back two seats, faced inwards from the sides and bounced you up and down most ferociously (some people even hit their heads on the roof, especially if they hadn’t put their seat belts on).

We crossed the Arro river many times on our route and we stopped at one point and panned for gold – not so lucky for me as I dropped our new camera in the river – it fell out of my trousers pocket as I was bending down to wash my silty deposits looking for specs of gold – in fact I did find a few which were put in a small roll film case for me to keep. I rescued the camera as quickly as possible, but it was wet – the card and battery chambers seemed dry but there was water inside the lens! So I am not too optimistic that it is going to work again successfully. We will have to take it into a shop in Christchurch on Monday and see if the damage is repairable. Needless to say I was pretty upset about this and couldn’t concentrate for a while. We had tea and cakes at the panning site (out of a thermos and from a supermarket), the bonnet of the vehicle serving as a table. We packed the goodies away, and made for Coronet Peak and Skippers Canyon on the other side of the valley – a very long and winding, twisty and bumpy road – Colin and I were in the back at this point, and he definitely didn’t feel too well by the time we got to the top, so I insisted he sat in the front on the way down – it was probably his turn again by now anyway – and no one seemed to mind. From here we made our way back down to lake level with Mush pointing other sights as well as a few famous people’s houses, like Sam Neil and Shania Twain before we returned to our hotels in Queenstown. We saw the bright red speed boat going through its paces at Shotover river, traveling though a very narrow, high gorge with lots of twists and turns – I think some of our party were doing this ride. Mush had promised Alan we would be back for 17.15, in time to catch a boat for the next venture on our tour today and we were there, with minutes to spare.

We all boarded a different coach, with Hamish as our driver, for the five minute journey to the Wharf to catch the evening sailing of the TSS (Twin Screw Steamer) Earnslaw to Walter Peak Farm, a sheep station on the edge of Lake Wakatipu, across from Queenstown. The boat had been launched in February 1912, the largest ship on the lake, built to service the remote farming communities. It was built in Dunedin, 280 kms away, and after assembly, was dismantled and railed to Kingston (where we were yesterday) and re-assembled on the lake. This ship was one of many plying the lake in the late 1800’s, being mainly used for cargo. The Earnslaw could carry 1500 sheep and 30 cattle on her decks. This is the only surviving vessel of the fleet, and one of the last remaining coal-fired passenger vessels still operating in the Southern Hemisphere.

The “voyage” took all of thirty minutes, as we chugged up the Lake, with that concentrated smell of oil you get from an old engine. In the centre of the deck was a large hole where you could look down and see the engine working – the pistons going up and down and round and round, men checking all was well on the many dials associated with the engine – and you could venture on to the catwalk, even closer to the engine and the heat generated from it, if you were brave enough – most of the men went below to ogle – definitely a boy’s thing.

We docked at the side of a large low palatial white building with a bright red tiled roof, sporting spires, minarets and chimneys. This was our dining location – along with a couple of other groups who were celebrating Christmas in style, with their red furry Santas hats or pom-poms waggling on heads, and lots of flashing earrings. The fare was another buffet, with soup for everyone to start, then choices of seafood, salads, carvery, casseroles, and desserts. By the time we had wound our way around the carousels and tasted most things, we were quite full – but where was the cheese? - the biscuits and fruit were there, and a large cavernous space for the cheeseboard. On enquiring with the carvery chef (not such a bright idea as she was South American and spoke only a little English), she passed on the message to someone else, who, like Chinese whispers, passed it on again and again, until eventually, about five minutes later a large tray of many cheeses appeared. We have hardly been offered cheese at all on this tour, and yet there are many interesting and varied cheeses made in New Zealand. Me, and a good few others, all enjoyed our cheese selection tonight.

There was just enough time for a cup of tea before the shepherd was calling us to watch the “Sheep Show”. Peter (the shepherd) and his dog (who had been in an accident and therefore enthusiastically limped everywhere at a fast pace) were waiting for us in the barn from where we could watch the dog (I can’t remember its name) put through her paces at collecting and gathering merinos, driving them to pens or back up to the hillside fields. The dog performed perfectly, responding to calls and whistles – just like a smaller version of “One Man and His Dog”. Peter showed us how to shear a sheep – very professionally as the fleece was all in one piece at the end – and then we went outside and bottle-fed a couple of lambs, two weeks old, whose mother had died the day after they were born. They greedily sucked at the teats on the bottles, until every last drop had been drained. Just then the boat sounded its loud siren to let us know it was back and waiting for us to board.

On the return journey there was a lady pianist on the top deck and we were all issued with song books. She played an array of old English songs, Aussie favourites and Christmas carols which everyone joined in. We were still singing five minutes after the boat docked – we were all so engrossed in the tunes. Hamish was waiting for us and soon had us all back at the hotel, packing our cases once again, for our visit to Franz Josef tomorrow.

Today has been action-packed and we were feeling extremely tired by the time we made our way to bed. We did try to catch up on the food log – also some way behind, but it all proved too much and we were soon sleeping soundly in order to be ready for tomorrow.