Queenstown to Wellington
Having struggled to find the balls to do a bungy jump, I get to know the feeling of liberation and relief when I discover that they were attached to me all the time. Curious then that I do my best to batter, bruise and sever them for good on a gruelling jetboat ride and a horse called Wilson.
If you only do one thing in Queenstown then you really aren't getting out enough. Seriously, the one thing that everyone of all ages and sizes seems to sign up for in Queenstown is jetboating. There's an endless queue at the dockside for the hourly jaunts along the Kawarau and Shotover Rivers and the happy, chirpy people in the promotional literature look like they're having non-stop fun in the sun. As I pull on my heavy, wax, rain jacket, the thunder is rumbling overhead and I'm not smiling.
The next hour is a jarring roller coaster ride. Imagine though that the roller coaster cars actually leave the track for a few seconds and then come crashing back down without any consideration for the delicate parts of the passengers, especially the male passengers, none of whom are strapped in incidentally.
I'm sitting up front beside the driver, the best seat to occupy I'm told. It's only when we get going that I realise why everyone else is cowering in the back and why the driver himself is wearing something akin to an industrial welder's mask. The spray and rain pierce my eyes like daggers and the frequent 360 degree turns - the 'extreme' element of jetboating - have my head and stomach going in opposite directions. The Japanese girls in the back row love it though and scream for more. Crazy kamikaze chicks! By the end, I'm longing to be back in the warm, comforting bosom of the bungy community.
Now a word of warning. The next few paragraphs talk a bit about various film locations sites used for the Lord Of The Rings (LOTR) trilogy and make reference to miscellaneous Tolkien trivia. If you're not a big fan, I won't be offended if you scroll down past this point. Join us again at the paragraph that begins "After the arrest..." Just kidding. Or am I?
Queenstown is situated about half way along the right hand side of a large, s-shaped lake called Lake Wakatipu It's not difficult to see why the LOTR crew spent a considerable amount of time here shooting footage for all three films. Everywhere you look, the scenery is breathtaking and you only have to travel a few miles in any direction before stumbling across a multitude of film locations.
Directly opposite the town the skyline is dominated by a range of sharp peaked, craggy mountains called The Remarkables, surely the most aptly named mountain range in the world. This backdrop was used for various scenes including long shots of Mordor (where the bad guys live), the people of Rohan (some of the good guys) fleeing to Helm's Deep and Dimrill Dale, the bit in the first movie after Gandalf The Grey (good wizard) dies. Hope that didn't spoil the plot for anyone?
Nearby, in a lovely little gold mining town called Arrowtown, I saw The Gladden Fields, the place where the Ring goes missing for a number of years and also the Ford of Bruinen where the Nazgul (bad guys on horses) get washed away.
My favourite location though is the road that wanders 45 kilometres out of Queenstown, running north along the lakeside to a place called Glenorchy. The lake is hemmed in by steep mountains on both sides and along the way we pass Amon Hen (where Sean Bean gets killed - more plot spoiling, sorry) and Ilithien (getting bored with these LOTR names yet?), finally ending up at Isengard (big tower, bad wizard). High above all of this in the far distance is the permanently snow covered Mount Earnslaw which doubled as the Caradhras Pass (Fellowship's ill fated skiing trip).
We've come to Glenorchy because I've somehow been talked into doing an all day horse riding adventure that will visit Lothlorien, the magical forest where weird, telepathic elf, Cate Blanchett lives. Thing is, I've never been on a horse before.
On arrival at the stables, we get the news that the day trip has been shortened to a two-hour ride because the rivers are too high to cross due to recent rain. I'm pretty sure this wouldn't have stopped Aragon or Legolas but for a novice like me it's not too disappointing.
I was hoping for a horse with a gutsy or mystical name like Brutus or Champion or Shadowfax but up plods a nag called Wilson who, like me, has clearly not had his breakfast yet. I'm also a bit disgruntled to be made to wear a frankly, unstylish white riding helmet with a tight chin strap. I had been hoping to ride wild and free with the wind blowing my long flowing blond mullet behind me! Mullets are still all the rage back home, right?
Mounting the horse (no giggling please, Russell) is a chore in itself. As soon as I get on to the saddle from a platform on one side, I'm sliding off the other because it hasn't been tied tightly enough. What is it about people in this country miscalculating my weight? Once secure though, I'm a picture of man and beast in perfect harmony. I get an overwhelming feeling that I was just born to be in the saddle - this is where I belong. Not actually out riding you understand, just sitting there slightly slouched looking cool like Steve McQueen recruiting potential gunslingers.
Finally, it's time to head out on to the plains of Rohan but not before we're given a seemingly endless list of instructions.
"Keep your heels down, knees in, back straight, hands up, reins short, do the hokey cokey and oh, did I mention, KEEP YOUR HEELS DOWN!"
My ankles joints are creaking at a tortuous angle and we still haven't left the stables. Just as I'm about to utter the macho, cowboy command, "Giddy up there boy" to get us going, Wilson takes off on his own accord, following the horse in front of him at a slow walk. I guess the novelty of carting tourists around all day wears off quickly. The sooner he leaves, the sooner he gets home to eat. My kind of animal.
Once we're out in the fields it's time to change gear and accelerate into a trot. More instructions.
"Heels down, stand slightly out of the saddle, grab the mane, a quick snap of the reins and Neil, will you keep those heel downs. PLEASE!"
As the pace of the horse quickens, I finally understand why more girls go horse riding than boys. This is absolute murder on the balls, the nuts, the precious ones, whatever your descriptive preference might be. No wonder John Wayne walks like he does. I pull Wilson up quickly and tell him either we walk the rest of the way home or we visit the glue factory, his choice.
After the arresting (see what I did there?) views around Queenstown, the road east towards Dunedin is no less interesting. Every few miles the landscape changes throwing up scenes and views reminiscent of other parts of the world.
The goldtowns of the Otago region with its scorched rocky mountains could be wild west Arizona or California. The perfectly ordered rows of vines at the nearby wineries bordered by tall poplar trees evoke images of Tuscany. And approaching the coast, the Scottish borders come to mind with their rolling green hills crammed with sheep. Talking of which, if you get a bit lonely in New Zealand... eh, never mind!
Dunedin ("Edinburgh of the South" is the Gaelic translation) was established as a Scottish settlement back in the 19th century. It's full of familiar names like Princes Street, the Canongate and Corstorphine and I was hoping to get a bit of a Scottish 'fix' by coming here. Unfortunately, it's shut. Well not shut exactly but a bit drab and lifeless and it's principal claim to fame seems to be that it has the steepest street in the world. Spend all of two minutes looking at this on the road out of the city.
Two days, and a lot of miles later, we're at the top of the South Island. We had intended visiting Abel Tasman National Park, "sea kayaking capital of the world" but in the end, we just can't be arsed! It's reputedly very busy and very difficult to access and we end up doing a relaxing sea kayaking day out around the beautiful Marlborough Sounds. Top tip for sea kayaking - always take the rear seat in a two-person kayak - you can have far more sly wee rests while your partner does all the hard work at the front! "Honest, I'm paddling!"
Next up, the North Island, where every town, big or small, has some kind of bizarre, international claim to fame. Gum Boot capital of the world anyone?
Till then.
Love, Neil x
Having struggled to find the balls to do a bungy jump, I get to know the feeling of liberation and relief when I discover that they were attached to me all the time. Curious then that I do my best to batter, bruise and sever them for good on a gruelling jetboat ride and a horse called Wilson.
If you only do one thing in Queenstown then you really aren't getting out enough. Seriously, the one thing that everyone of all ages and sizes seems to sign up for in Queenstown is jetboating. There's an endless queue at the dockside for the hourly jaunts along the Kawarau and Shotover Rivers and the happy, chirpy people in the promotional literature look like they're having non-stop fun in the sun. As I pull on my heavy, wax, rain jacket, the thunder is rumbling overhead and I'm not smiling.
The next hour is a jarring roller coaster ride. Imagine though that the roller coaster cars actually leave the track for a few seconds and then come crashing back down without any consideration for the delicate parts of the passengers, especially the male passengers, none of whom are strapped in incidentally.
I'm sitting up front beside the driver, the best seat to occupy I'm told. It's only when we get going that I realise why everyone else is cowering in the back and why the driver himself is wearing something akin to an industrial welder's mask. The spray and rain pierce my eyes like daggers and the frequent 360 degree turns - the 'extreme' element of jetboating - have my head and stomach going in opposite directions. The Japanese girls in the back row love it though and scream for more. Crazy kamikaze chicks! By the end, I'm longing to be back in the warm, comforting bosom of the bungy community.
Now a word of warning. The next few paragraphs talk a bit about various film locations sites used for the Lord Of The Rings (LOTR) trilogy and make reference to miscellaneous Tolkien trivia. If you're not a big fan, I won't be offended if you scroll down past this point. Join us again at the paragraph that begins "After the arrest..." Just kidding. Or am I?
Queenstown is situated about half way along the right hand side of a large, s-shaped lake called Lake Wakatipu It's not difficult to see why the LOTR crew spent a considerable amount of time here shooting footage for all three films. Everywhere you look, the scenery is breathtaking and you only have to travel a few miles in any direction before stumbling across a multitude of film locations.
Directly opposite the town the skyline is dominated by a range of sharp peaked, craggy mountains called The Remarkables, surely the most aptly named mountain range in the world. This backdrop was used for various scenes including long shots of Mordor (where the bad guys live), the people of Rohan (some of the good guys) fleeing to Helm's Deep and Dimrill Dale, the bit in the first movie after Gandalf The Grey (good wizard) dies. Hope that didn't spoil the plot for anyone?Nearby, in a lovely little gold mining town called Arrowtown, I saw The Gladden Fields, the place where the Ring goes missing for a number of years and also the Ford of Bruinen where the Nazgul (bad guys on horses) get washed away.
My favourite location though is the road that wanders 45 kilometres out of Queenstown, running north along the lakeside to a place called Glenorchy. The lake is hemmed in by steep mountains on both sides and along the way we pass Amon Hen (where Sean Bean gets killed - more plot spoiling, sorry) and Ilithien (getting bored with these LOTR names yet?), finally ending up at Isengard (big tower, bad wizard). High above all of this in the far distance is the permanently snow covered Mount Earnslaw which doubled as the Caradhras Pass (Fellowship's ill fated skiing trip).
We've come to Glenorchy because I've somehow been talked into doing an all day horse riding adventure that will visit Lothlorien, the magical forest where weird, telepathic elf, Cate Blanchett lives. Thing is, I've never been on a horse before.
On arrival at the stables, we get the news that the day trip has been shortened to a two-hour ride because the rivers are too high to cross due to recent rain. I'm pretty sure this wouldn't have stopped Aragon or Legolas but for a novice like me it's not too disappointing.
I was hoping for a horse with a gutsy or mystical name like Brutus or Champion or Shadowfax but up plods a nag called Wilson who, like me, has clearly not had his breakfast yet. I'm also a bit disgruntled to be made to wear a frankly, unstylish white riding helmet with a tight chin strap. I had been hoping to ride wild and free with the wind blowing my long flowing blond mullet behind me! Mullets are still all the rage back home, right?Mounting the horse (no giggling please, Russell) is a chore in itself. As soon as I get on to the saddle from a platform on one side, I'm sliding off the other because it hasn't been tied tightly enough. What is it about people in this country miscalculating my weight? Once secure though, I'm a picture of man and beast in perfect harmony. I get an overwhelming feeling that I was just born to be in the saddle - this is where I belong. Not actually out riding you understand, just sitting there slightly slouched looking cool like Steve McQueen recruiting potential gunslingers.
Finally, it's time to head out on to the plains of Rohan but not before we're given a seemingly endless list of instructions.
"Keep your heels down, knees in, back straight, hands up, reins short, do the hokey cokey and oh, did I mention, KEEP YOUR HEELS DOWN!"
My ankles joints are creaking at a tortuous angle and we still haven't left the stables. Just as I'm about to utter the macho, cowboy command, "Giddy up there boy" to get us going, Wilson takes off on his own accord, following the horse in front of him at a slow walk. I guess the novelty of carting tourists around all day wears off quickly. The sooner he leaves, the sooner he gets home to eat. My kind of animal.
Once we're out in the fields it's time to change gear and accelerate into a trot. More instructions.
"Heels down, stand slightly out of the saddle, grab the mane, a quick snap of the reins and Neil, will you keep those heel downs. PLEASE!"
As the pace of the horse quickens, I finally understand why more girls go horse riding than boys. This is absolute murder on the balls, the nuts, the precious ones, whatever your descriptive preference might be. No wonder John Wayne walks like he does. I pull Wilson up quickly and tell him either we walk the rest of the way home or we visit the glue factory, his choice.
After the arresting (see what I did there?) views around Queenstown, the road east towards Dunedin is no less interesting. Every few miles the landscape changes throwing up scenes and views reminiscent of other parts of the world.
The goldtowns of the Otago region with its scorched rocky mountains could be wild west Arizona or California. The perfectly ordered rows of vines at the nearby wineries bordered by tall poplar trees evoke images of Tuscany. And approaching the coast, the Scottish borders come to mind with their rolling green hills crammed with sheep. Talking of which, if you get a bit lonely in New Zealand... eh, never mind!
Dunedin ("Edinburgh of the South" is the Gaelic translation) was established as a Scottish settlement back in the 19th century. It's full of familiar names like Princes Street, the Canongate and Corstorphine and I was hoping to get a bit of a Scottish 'fix' by coming here. Unfortunately, it's shut. Well not shut exactly but a bit drab and lifeless and it's principal claim to fame seems to be that it has the steepest street in the world. Spend all of two minutes looking at this on the road out of the city.
Two days, and a lot of miles later, we're at the top of the South Island. We had intended visiting Abel Tasman National Park, "sea kayaking capital of the world" but in the end, we just can't be arsed! It's reputedly very busy and very difficult to access and we end up doing a relaxing sea kayaking day out around the beautiful Marlborough Sounds. Top tip for sea kayaking - always take the rear seat in a two-person kayak - you can have far more sly wee rests while your partner does all the hard work at the front! "Honest, I'm paddling!"Next up, the North Island, where every town, big or small, has some kind of bizarre, international claim to fame. Gum Boot capital of the world anyone?
Till then.
Love, Neil x
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