New Zealand – The A J Hackett Bungee at Gibbston and a Ride to Twizel

A J Hackett Bungee, Gibbston, Nr Queenstown

 

Somewhere deep down in our consciousness there lies a need to be frightened either by sitting watching a horror movie or worse than that the news. Combine this fraction of our persona with an actual dare and something like the Bungy is born. Back in the 80’s the thought of jumping off a bridge with a rope tied to your feet would probably have been seen by the many as an audition for the lunatic asylum. This escapade was top notch daring. We didn’t have GoPro cameras then to record the insanity but word of mouth spread and the type of people who made the ‘Jackass’ series suddenly surfaced in the world. This disease was then made fashion by the safe jump, organised groups informing those who had the desire to see what a person committing suicide actually experiences when they go through with the tragic act. And in a nutshell there it was, another  of life’s unnecessary acts debunked.

The curious fascination with Bungee jumps is now also synonymous with those with a bucket list, and falls into the category of things people must do before the reaper comes to collect his life tax.

A J Hackett Bungee, Gibbston, Nr Queenstown

At the establishment and all round entertainment centre in Gibbston just north of Queenstown, the now legitimate Bungee can be viewed at all angles while posters reveal the oldest person to jump (94), the lightest (35kg) and the heaviest (235kg): there is no mention here of the dumbest as everyone that pays 200 dollars (plus the 80 for the video and pictures) falls into that category.

Michelle then asked me the question,

Michelle, (far right) working out the insurance claim!

“Would you do it?”

“Of course.” I replied breathing extra air into my cup of frothing latte with a love heart on it that I’d purchased to watch other souls step backwards from the ramp rather than myself.

I did not want her to think of me as inadequate, a male without valour. Yes, of course I would do it. I am a lemming and therefore when the Pied Piper whistles his flute I would take my leap of faith putting complete trust in the now safe Bungee jump. And there now is the rub. I believe it is more dangerous to drive on the M25 than jump tied to the super safety rope and I don’t pay 200 dollars for the privilege. Long live the Bungee, I say. It gives its customers a thrill and all would testify to the fact but don’t expect me to think of you as brave.

However, the biggest cheer (including my cynical self) went up when a balding 60 something took the plunge. Was it a tick on his bucket list I wonder?

 

The road to Twizel was going to bisect the stomach of the southland in a horizontal line. From west to east we travelled and the terrain changed again. On another unparalleled day when the weather gods were handing out sunshine days like they had loads to spare we stopped at a lookout and surveyed our new environment.

The road to Twizel

 

This was countryside that had turned beige. It was uniform champagne colour, a somehow bright incongruous drought that made the land a distinct undulating hessian carpet. There was hardly any bush. It was as if the rain had ran out when it reached the region. Sorry, that’s all we have! Set against the blue black sky the effect was another new moment to record.

The blue black sky.

The road is loooong with many a winding turn!

Just how many more tricks did New Zealand have under its cuffs?

Twizel had one of its own. Another boring old blue lake. Don’t you just get sick of those? Er no, we don’t.

Lake Ruataniwha, Twizel, New Zealand

We love them and cherish them like they are the most sacred thing in the world and today, for the first time in a long time we did nothing for a couple of hours sitting beside one eating chips purchased in the town. The traffic sped by slowing to catch the rabbit that had been pulled from the countrysides hat and I took lots of pictures to record our approval of the creation. Little did I know that 2 hours later Michelle would be in fits of hysteric laughter doubled up on the floor as I swung across a river on a rope tied to a large branch.

She was laughing at the swear words I was using as my version of Bungee took place in front of her. Despite my initial fears and caution (I gave her my iPhone but kept my clothes on) I swung Tarzan like across the chilled clear water uttering the aforementioned expletives at my own daring. I did not require a safety harness, have the need to open a business and advertise the oldest, lightest and fattest people to have also swung from the rope, but I did satisfy the male ego that walked away from the jump that morning …. Even if my wife did find it the funniest thing she had seen in weeks!

Who needs a Bungee when you can walk on water?