Megan and Jillian swung by after 9am, we through our packed bags atop the car, and tide them down with the orange climbing rope. Once again we said our final good-byes to Helen. As we drove away down the hill, I looked back to see Helen still on the porch, looking like a child, slowly waving with a sad face.
A New Zealand sub-theme was created a week or so ago from Tim singing the damn American country music, including Willie Nelson's "On The Road Again". It was then sung by one or two every time we started a days tramp or piled into the car. Hearing this a couple of times was more than too much for me, and I voiced my opinion louder each day, eventually coming to screams on deaf country ears and sickly smiles. Of course it was all a joke. Until today. Five minutes along the road and someone had that song queued on the cassette player. The others happily sung along. In desperation and anguish I schrieked, wrapped my head and ears in Megan's Foxtrot Flats (Kiwi cartoon) bed pillow, and childishly declared, "I'm going to hold this pillow on my ears and fart!". And I did. And they were very sorry. I smiled.
Two weeks ago John and I weren't successful in booking Wanaka's canyoning adventure and I was bummed. I then deliberated over doing a bungy, balancing cost versus gain. Bungy is the country's most original and popular adventure. John and I investigated the choices around Queenstown, and decided on the Kawarau Bridge because of location. We had stopped for a look when first arriving Queenstown, although our intentions weren't there at the time. Megan was the first to rehash the subject on the ride back from Milford Sound, and being caught off guard my reaction put my heart in my stomach and my stomach in my throat. I need to confront certain issues in the proper attitude, my brain sitting, relaxed, and with safety straps on. I brushed aside the advance, and thought occasionally about bungying while reading my book, slowly letting the concept melt into my veins, and coming to one question, "What happens if we don't?". We hadn't been great with budgeting while in New Zealand, however of all the crazy adventure activities we only took on black water rafting. Bungy, created, commercialized, and promoted by the famous A. J. Hackett is a sport New Zealanders look upon fondly, homegrown, and with new locations and slants continually sprouting. It's first permanent location is the 100 year old Kawarau Bridge, established in 1986. I have been hearing about bungy jumping since that time, curious and with desire, but my only possible opportunity was during a trial run on the 300 foot high bridge between Zimbabwe and Zambia that Dan Fazekas and I crossed ten years ago.
Jillian was also signed up for the bungy. Like a piece of meat on an processing line, we filled in our 'toe tag', sign a release, paid $NZ99, and chose a package that didn't include photos but did include an optional video only so we could see ourselves on film afterward. We were then weighed and had the weight written onto the back of our left hands in red marker. Walking onto the bridge, I glanced around at the dozens of spectators on a large viewing platform. More leaned hard over on the bridge to watch the jumpers.
There wasn't a long line. On the left jump spot, the one for light people, an oriental girl missed her cue, and stood shaking. On our side a blonde girl waited, so nervous that she couldn't reply to my casual comments, and we guessed she did not speak English. We later found she was American. I was nervous too, my clammy hands shook. Not overly conscious of the haphazard line waiting to jump, I saw John sliding onto the launching spot. He almost casually listened to the crews directions, exchanging banter. A heavy bath towel was wrapped around his lower legs, the bungy tied around, and lastly a black Velcro strap to hold it together. John stared at his without expression, a sign of anxiousness. As he started to stand I ran right and up onto a viewing step, leaned over, and yelled my support. Jillian was there too, Megan on the viewing platform with three cameras. A crewman counted down, "5, 4, 3, 2, 1, bungy! ...". With a great swam dive, John was off. I careened to see him touch the water and recoil upward.
The blonde girl's boyfriend setup next. I sat just behind on the bridge and watched in detail, wondering mostly about that black Velcro strap. Without hesitation, he was off. Blacky and I slid forward. One crewman loosened me up by asking where I was from and where I had traveled. I had heard that when the bridge first opened, naked jumpers went for free, and I questioned them about nudies. I sat and watched the wrapping - towel, bungy cord, that Velcro strap. Standing was difficult with feet wrapped together, as was hopping into position on the edge of the platform. Tripping and falling would not be cool. I looked down 142 feet, it seemed a little further now, no - a lot further. I looked out at the scenery - the main road bridge ahead, the surrounding dry hills and mountains, the gorge and rushing blue water below. I felt the spectators watching, the crew working around me and working on the other launch platform. I even felt the age of the 100 year old bridge I stood on, solid and attractive, made of heavy iron and cables. I felt Blacky clenched in my hand. But mostly, I felt the dizzying height, the twirling sensation of standing on the edge of a ledge 142 feet high above a gorge. Without ceremony, I heard "5, 4, 3, 2, 1, bungy!". Similar to my one jump from a plane while at university, I listened and obeyed, like a mindless soldier. No hesitation, just a mind of emptiness. Hands up, I pushed up and out. My body slowly pitched so I was head first, and in a flash I was nearing the water. I felt a strangeness as the water approached, what was it? This sensation wasn't overwhelming, just a soft inkling in the back of my nearly shutdown mind. Something wasn't the same, somewhere in my foggy processing, I knew this act of falling was different. I wasn't accelerating as I neared the water unlike every other jump in my life from height. That was it! My fingers touched, the water slowly covered my arms and stomach, then I started back up. I wanted to enjoy my bungy as much as possible so I spun my arms and twisted my body, feeling the weightlessness at the top of the recoil. Eventually I was just hanging upside down with dozens of people watching, talking, pointing, taking pictures. I was then lowered to the Avon below. Two men worked the boat, one stretched out a PVC pole. I was still spinning, and also swinging on the bungy, so it took a few attempts at grabbing the pole. Lowered on my back, I laid there, feet in the air until I was untied. Suddenly, I noticed Blacky - still in my hand, wet! I was excited, smiling, jubilant! I did it! I bungied - naked!
In Christchurch, five hours later, Megan drove through a 2km tunnel, by a commercial ship port, along a elevated hillside, and into a small scenic pull off in Corsair Bay. We thought we were taking a look at the view, but Megan's sister Caroline, and husband David, live in the house higher up the hill across the street. Again, we were in the warm company of the Child's, a remarkably happy couple with energetic and mischievous kids. With David, Caroline, three kids, and four traveler, the house was friendly and noisy. John and I were in heaven at dinner - a great home cooked lamb dinner with trimmings.
Afterward, with the kids in bed, the women retired to the livingroom for a light game of scrabble, while the men of men, concerned about humanity, ethics, and global infrastructure concerns, played with the boys Lego sets for hours. John made a steerable hot rod, David geared down a spinning hanging contraption. My creation was titled, "The Hokey Pokey Platform of Death". Four different colored Lego spacemen stood on a rotating platform on one leg, the other leg kicked forward. Bets were taken according to color, and the Platform of Death spun until only survived.
Tu 1/19/99 - Christchurch
Christchurch is a pretty cool city, Megan's choice for a place to live. It's the second largest in New Zealand, but toned down from the more bleak concrete cityscape of Auckland by an older aesthetic flare, the city center very tourist friendly. John, Megan, and I (Jillian had flown to North Island), arranged to meet Caroline and David for Busking, the name used for the art of street entertainment. We pulled up a piece of pavement, for all restaurant tables surrounding the stage were taken.
The first act, Mike Segal from Glasgow, in orange work overalls, jumped from the stage and moved towards us to grab a volunteer. I proudly offered Megan, who was then on stage - to introduce me. Damn, that backfired! Segal asked if I was superstitious, and whether walking under ladders was bad luck. I then remembered reading about him, he walks over a volunteer while on a ladder. I laughed and replied stupidly. I thought of how other volunteers and game show participants look on stage, what people do to look good, so I put on the biggest smile possible and clapped at Segal with the audience, as if thoroughly enjoying myself, which I was although a bit embarrassed, but I really tried and hoped to play my part as well as possible. I was directed to lay on a piece of cardboard, but acting up, I jumped and rolled to land with a smack onto my back. I heard the crowd laugh and some applause as I stared at the sky and I grinned hard. Segal then went into the core of his act where he walks up the ladder, wobbling as if he may fall. Straddling the ladder top, with a leg on each side, he tipped the ladder side to side to walk it over my feet. Looking down he cracked jokes about my endangered manhood, and walked along my body.
The next act was Barto, an unpainted clown from Belgium, a juggler and contortionist. His highlight was pushing his body through a narrow barrel with legs and arms bent and twisted at impossible angles. Lastly he passed through the barrel ass first. At intermission, I wandered into a pub and was rewarded with a free drink for my performance. People on the side of me heard the bartenders comments, and smiled. Hey, not bad! The third act was Dino Lampa of Italy, a smooth moving acrobat and dancer and juggler. Lastly, Shirley Sunflower of Australia, the act causing the nights busking to be advertised as for adults only. Shirley wore old geeky black glasses, a yellow grass skirt and black halter over her hard body, and displayed her active hormones with grunts and long moans and loud purring. Her act was all delivery, for the finale had her diving into the arms of six shirtless and greased young men then diving head first into a pale of water taped to the bulging stomach of an older man. I was chosen to hold the dive platform and took advantage of the position to lift her skirt a bit and report back to John that her panties were black.
We 1/20/99 - Christchurch
Megan wanted to spend the day with sis, so John and I motored the blue Cyclone around Christchurch, first visiting the Antarctic Exhibit near the airport. Christchurch is the center for New Zealand and American flights to the pole, across from the museum on a hanger reads "United States Air Force, Antarctic Mission". The exhibit was great. Both John and I have fantasized of spending a year at McMurdo, John verbally claiming he is more than just amused. The interesting exhibits covered geological history and man's current roll there, but no exploration history, which I would have enjoyed. There is a cold room where everyone must wear gum boots and jackets. Kids can even slide down little snow slopes on plastic disks. My favorite highlight was a twenty minute wide screen presentation fed by five slide projectors. The scenic panoramic landscape views were very impressive, including wide scenes of great geometric ice flows, and long lonely stark photos of mountains and plains.
We needled the help at Dick Smith's Electronics about handheld computers. John wants to buy one and I would like to upgrade mine with more memory and spell checking. The local YMCA accepted my American membership card. Although I am no longer a member, the card does not have an expiration date. The weight and aerobic facilities are stark, but they do have the best climbing walls around, which John took advantage of.
We met Megan back at the Child's, bringing along flowers and wine as a thank you gifts. The five of us went to a park for Shakespeare comedy by the Court Jesters. We picnicked, relaxed, and enjoyed seeing all Shakespeare's work twisted with silly humor in an hour and a half.
Th 1/21/99 - Christchurch
John made plans with Martin a climbing instructor at the YMCA for some climbing and went into town by bus. I was in need for some exercise, slapped on the running shoes, and followed the path down along the hillside to the small beach below that we visited our first evening here. As I ran past the raft I had sat on I recalled a young local boy who asked whether America was as violent as TV portrays it. That had shook me as I wondered of other impressions portrayed through the tube of home. From the beach, the trail ascended the hillside again, and I was confused at my lack of breath. Although we had just finished endless days of tramping, I had to stop running and instead walk to the hilltop. Further along near a small playground two seagulls found interest in me. They loudly and obnoxiously squawked and bombed by my head, annoying the hell out of me. I guessed I was near a nest, or even worse, I remembered as a kid pedaling between Manchester and Salem and back and having a bird dive down to pluck hair from my head for its nest both times I passed. When the birds hounded me on the return run I was mad enough to peg rocks at them hoping to nail their pea brains and see them tumble to the sea. No luck.
I caught a ride to town with Megan and waited in the YMCA's cafe, trying to create a birthday card for Michelle Dallaire's 40th. I first toiled over a limerick, typing ideas and lines on the handheld over and over, then put the lines into a six part cartoon stripped of stick characters.
There once was a girl named Michelle, 8
Whose name I would never rhyme well, 8
With bitty, old, gray, and nag, 7
Feeble, wrinkled, and with hag, 7
But I'm in trouble - sure as hell ! 8
Later the three of us met for a few more errands. Dinner was at the Child's and the thought of leaving New Zealand at 6:45 in the morning brought on a sadness for a country we spent two great months in, a sadness for the goodbye to come with Megan, our wonderful Kiwi tourguide and traveling companion for most of those two months, and a sadness for saying goodbye the Child's.
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Trip cost summary - 81 days, $31.98/day, $160.53 over budget
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WHAT WE DIDN'T DO IN NEW ZEALAND THAT WE SHOULD
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-North Island-
Waikarenoana Lake Walk
Mt. Edmund (Mt. Taranaki)
Summit Top of Island
-South Island-
Kepler Track
Copland Pass Track
Taupo River Canyoning
Stewart Island Tramps
Queen Charlotte Walkway
Bank's Peninsula Walk
Abel Tasman Walk
Ball Pass Track
Milford Sound in a boat
Doubtful Sound
paragliding
