Still in New Zealand and it's very nice

Since my last post I did something both reckless and grand. It began by the driver of the Kiwi Experience bus drunkenly telling me that above all else, the purpose of the tour was to try and push yourself beyond your normal limits (he wasn't driving at the time, by the way). I took stock of this. It continued by two new friends, Matt and Matisse, aggressively attacking my decision making abilities by calculated and strategic use of peer pressure. And so it came that I signed my name on a piece of paper that declared that I would love nothing more than to be pushed out of an aircraft between 12,000 and 15,000 feet up in the air.

The next day, quite unexpectedly in fact (we thought it would be the day after), the three of us, plus two other friends named Sam and Marian, were collected and driven to an airport in Taupo so that we could all take part in a skydive. When we arrived we were shown a DVD of what to expect. None of us were mentally prepared due to the short notice, but I couldn't help but detect that the others seemed actually excited about it all and not the correct way of feeling, which is to be scared.

Only three people could jump at a time, so we split between boys and girls. Myself, Matt and Matisse would go together. We had the option of diving at 12,000 or 15,000 feet. Matisse chose 15,000. I hesitated, then also, dunno why, chose 15,000 too. Matt hesitated further for economic reasons, then through calculated and strategic use of peer pressure, I made him sign up for the 15,000 feet jump. The big difference between the two is the amount of time you having free falling, which is the exciting bit. And also the cost.

Anyway, blabbering a bit. So we got kitted up in overalls. We looked a bit like the Beastie Boys. Then we met the men who would be attached to us when we jumped out. For those who don't know, if you're an unprofessional skydiver you'll most likely take part in a 'tandem' dive - you're strapped to a person who has the parachute and will control your dive and your return to the ground. My person was called Mike. I was surprised when Mike led me straight towards our plane. Apparently any training I needed could be done in conversation during that short stroll.

The plane was pink and small. A tube probably about a metre and a half in diameter, with wings stuck on it. Yet it took off, and stayed in the air. After about 20 minutes we'd reached our desired altitude and the exit door slid open. I asked Mike if he ever gets nervous doing his job. 'No.' was the short response. 'Are you nervous?' he asked. I didn't lie. He gave me no sympathy. I have a strong recollection of Matt disappearing out of the door. I was then pushed to the edge, my feet dangling out of the plane. Just clouds below, so no perception of my distance from the ground. A small push. And then falling. Not a bit of falling, like when you jump off a wall or something, but a lot of falling that doesn't stop, and you've never felt anything like it. Once my mind had got round the idea of what was happening I had an impulse to scream, which I did for pretty much the entire 60 seconds that I was rushing through the sky.

Then the wind stops and silence. Partly because the parachute has opened and you're no longer moving so fast, but also because your ears have popped due to all the air pressure. Hurt a little bit actually. The rest of the journey down is calm and serene, as you float gently towards the Earth. I literally hit the ground running, then fell over, then got up again and pulled a ridiculous pose for the cameraman who'd been recording the whole thing for the DVD which shows each of our dives. I'd never felt so satisfied about doing anything in my whole life. Matt had a massive great grin on his face for the rest of the day. Matisse, Marian and Sam were also in jovial spirits. We celebrated that night by drinking and dancing until the early hours. That's a lie, I was knackered and went to bed at about 9.30. I'm pretty sure the others did the same or similar.

The next day was an incredibly boring time spent in Taupo, so I won't write about that. But the day after we went to a place called River Valley, a secluded area with beautiful surroundings, including a magnificent river called the Rangitikei River. I decided I would like to do some white water rafting down that river, seeing as the option was there. Rangitikei is a river with Grade V rapids, which are really dangerous apparently. I was with Matisse again, and also two girls from Sweden. It was very fun, and nobody fell out. At one point we were encouraged to leap off a 15 metre high rock in to the river, which only myself and Matisse were willing to do. See, I told you I wasn't a wimp. Actually I hesitated quite a lot, so I am a bit of a wimp, but at least I did it.

The next stop was Wellington, the capital, and after a couple of nights out partying, on to a ferry towards the South Island. We spent halloween doing nothing halloweeny in Nelson, on to Westport, then stopping in Mahinapua for the famous 'Poo Party' fancy dress evening. Franz Josef was next, home to a large glacier that we hiked up for the day. Pick axes and boots with spikes on and everything. Then on to Wanaka near the Alps and eventually here, to Queenstown, a wonderfully vibrant place with enthusiastic night life and a backdrop of snow capped mountains and a clear blue lake. Yesterday we even met some genuine native New Zealanders. A rare sight, seeing as almost everyone here is British or German, or sometimes Swedish. I've less than a week left in New Zealand, and I'm really going to miss it. Australia will have to work hard to match it.

All the attractive people in this picture are the New Zealanders.