The Last Go 'Round In Queenstown

Jaclyn had been all suited up and ready to go, her nerves being tested with every passing second as she waited, watching the group before her enter the plane to either have the best experience of their lives or to meet their maker. It had been a brisk morning but by the time we’d gotten through the formalities (like all that safety nonsense) the sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky; a beautiful day to fall at 60 meters per second from 12,000 feet in the air. We all watched the bright red plane take off and go back and forth, increasing in altitude as it went, but then it did something we didn’t expect. It came back. The winds had apparently gone past the threshold required for safe jumping and so everyone had to come back to Earth for a while and wait it out. At first I felt bad for Jaclyn who would have to go through the process of getting herself psyched up all over again, but in her wisdom she pointed out that those unlucky enough to be in the plane and on the precipice of the most monumental leap of their lives were the biggest victims and I concurred. We waited for half an hour while all the instructors played soccer in the hangar only to find out that the entire day was a no-jump day. The day, sadly, was a wash but we drank our troubles away with one of the many bottles of vino we had left over from our Marlborough expedition. To our immense satisfaction the next day was as clear as could be and first thing in the morning Jaclyn was being strapped up all over again. This time we got the pleasure of following the big red plane up through the sky and watching the little specks of white as they turned into human beings in flamboyant jumpsuits floating through the sky like petals in the wind. It’s at that moment when that little spot of color in the sky can be distinguished as be a person that all those waiting to go let out one synchronized ‘holy shit’. Finally, it was Jaclyn’s turn. She, along with 3 others, marched boldly to the plane while I sat on the relative comfort of a picnic table top. I watched the plane as it followed the same path as before and just as it reached the critical height something funny happened. I knew that Jaclyn had drawn the short straw and would be the first out of the plane and I did indeed see one white speck leave the plane and I let out a sigh that was a mixture of relief and pride. The strange thing was that no one else could be seen leaving the plane. Even after she had done her 45 second free fall at terminal velocity and her parachute had been deployed, no other person could be seen to have exited the plane. I could only think of two possible explanations; one is that the next person in line had decided that throwing themselves from a perfectly good plane wasn’t exactly for them, thus ruining it for the next people in line, or two, that the wind had picked up again and they needed to return which would’ve seen Jaclyn in a bit of a pickle. As soon as my little pocket camera could detect her I was filming her descent; for over a minute I captured her floating gently down and finally landing before walking over to me filming and repeating the pre-jump mantra of ‘holy shit’ only this time with a huge smile smeared across her face as opposed to a look of utter terror. Jaclyn got changed out of her jumpsuit and we were strolling back to the van having forgotten about the other jumpers when all three simultaneously swooped in over our heads and landed comfortably in the drop zone. Whatever the reason for the delay, they arrived safe and sound. Thus is the tale of how we started our morning that day before heading off to our final destination. I suppose the one regret I have concerning this massive trip is not saving the best for last. Queenstown would’ve been the place to do it too but the marathon of insanity I partook in last time I passed through kinda left the bar a little high. Still, with but 3 days left of my grand adventure (if you don’t include the 30th and 31st which will be spent globetrotting to various airports without a moment’s peace) Jac and I tried to soak in the experience as much as we could. The last night in Wanaka was the last we’d spend in our faithful little campervan Avatar. She’s been a real gem this whole time, making many a-traveller jelly and being kind to us on the fuel front. We decided to upgrade to a hostel for this last stretch for two reasons; firstly because we wanted the privacy to fully relax and enjoy our time here and secondly because we desperately needed the extra space to store and eventually organize all the shit we’ve bought and need to cart home. Personally, I will be donating the better part of my wardrobe to the good people at the Salvation Army and I have to say I won’t be sad to see a lot of it go having worn most of it far too often over the last 4 and a half months. I’ve even managed to fit all my belongings into my blue backpack despite having brought along an empty guitar case to act as my 2nd checked bag. One thing I insisted on having Jaclyn try was the phenomenon that is Fergburger. We walked by it on our tour of the town and found it just as it was when I was here before; packed. Only this time, there was something new for me to experience! Just next door they had opened a new shop cleverly titled Fergbaker where they’re distributing some of those amazing pies I mentioned before only infused with that same illicit, addictive drug (I’m assuming cocaine) Ferg puts into his burgers that makes them so damn tasty. Naturally we each had a pie for lunch saving the burger for dinner. Speaking of dinner at Fergburger, when was the last time you had been told there would be a 30 minute wait at what is essentially a fast food joint? Only at Fergburger would they dare have the nerve to say that with a straight face and only at Fergburger would you squeeze yourself inside like a pack of sardines and wait like an expecting father for your number to be called. Last time I was here I had gone in with the expectation that I would order the largest burger they had, and I thought that I did, but I was wrong. Mr. Big Stuff, despite the name implying the contrary, is not the largest burger on the menu. Not by a longshot. I rectified my error this time through by purchasing the $17 Big Al, a monstrous creation, presumably forged in the fires of Mount Doom by Sauron himself. It contains every item that your previously favorite burger has except in larger amounts and higher quality. It was a monumental occasion not only because it was easily the best burger I’d ever eaten but also because it holds the distinction of being the only burger that has ever made me full enough to not even want to look at the accompanying side dish. I’d love to tell you that we did something more exciting and productive than eat a burger on our first night in Queenstown but I’d be lying. We had made plans to head to a waterfront pub to watch the final rugby test match between the All Blacks and the Aussies but the burger sent us both into a meat coma which we wouldn’t awaken from until the next morning. On the second day Jaclyn took a 12 hour tour by bus to Milford Sound and I used that time to clean out the van, pack my bags and then just relax. I went down to a café right on the beach with one of the most spectacular views in the world (and I don’t throw that phrase around lightly), sipped a flat white and, inspired, wrote some ideas down into a notebook. I was so comfortable I didn’t notice until the last minute when some crazy person floated over my head in a paragliding apparatus. He had clearly jumped from a mountain top about 10 minutes previously and he executed a perfect landing on the beach not 10m from my table and proceeded to casually stroll into town (I’m assuming to Fergburger). Only in Queenstown would that be an accepted sight. I can’t wait to see what the reckless people here conjure up next in terms of adrenaline activities. I’m sure I’ll come back in a few years to find some company that’s offering to fire you out of a cannon into the sun for $50. Monday, our last day and we’ll be taking a cruise down Lake Wakatipu, playing some Frisbee golf in Queenstown Gardens, maybe even go skating on their ice rink. Jaclyn has been gracious enough to treat me to a classy last meal (that sounds ominous) for being the driver of this extensive road trip. Tomorrow morning we drop old Avatar off at the airport and begin the long journey home. The end has come.