Here’s a map of South Island to orientate you.
Ist stop, a 4 day trek near Queenstown in the Greenstone Valley, so named because of the abundance of the green jade (Pounamu) there, which is found in NZ south island and nowhere else (I didn’t find any).
The hike involved staying in cabins without electricity or running water (switched off in winter as would freeze otherwise). There was a log stove but you had to collect your own wood and light it yourself.
After a few hours tramping through a wooded valley bounded by snowy peaks I reached the 1st hut where 4 hunters were already staying (the refuge slept up to 24). Hunters, being outdoorsy men and familiar with firearms I imagined they’d be much like 19th century cowboys. I was wrong. They didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t gamble (in fact no games of any kind) and there wasn’t even any bawdy talk. They only wanted to discuss, at length, deer they’d shot, deer they’d failed to shoot, and deer they planned to shoot. One of them that day had missed a deer and hit a tree. This kept them amused for hours.
I left them to their story telling and went out to look for Pounamu and collect firewood. At nightfall I returned to find them still discussing deer so I drowned them out with PG Wodehouse read by Stephen Fry.
Next morning the weather was so inclement that all the hunters, including the retired park ranger, insisted that I not even attempt the next leg of my journey, the alpine pass. Heavy snow in the night would make it too treacherous without an ice axe etc.
I felt short changed, but there was nothing for it but to turn back. Pleasingly the return journey was quite different due to the night’s snow/rainfall and now many of the streams I’d hopped over had become little rivers.
Back in Queenstown and feeling that I was owed some trekking I decided to try Ben Lomond (BL) which overlooks Queenstown. The Department of Conservation (DOC) advised not to attempt climbing in winter unless equipped with ice axe, crampons etc. I resolved to not to be an idiot, but to see how I got on without said equipment.
The start was discouraging “BL TRACK CLOSED DUE TO CONSTRUCTION” and there were some chappies in hard hats loitering at the foot of the path, which was roped off.
Fortunately the track was accessible a little higher up by climbing over a church wall out of sight of the “workmen”.
The route was well maintained and I reached the gondola with no issues. Then, continuing on up to the saddle there was only a dusting of snow. So far so good. Then as it became increasingly icey I came to a sign: ”This is the end of the made path. Beyond this point expect precipitous drops and slippery surfaces”.
The peak didn’t look very far away though, so I proceeded with caution.
The way became steadily more treacherous and I was hanging on with tufts of grass and following in the footprints of better equipped climbers. Finally I reached a slope which was as a ~ 60 degree incline and with 2 feet of soft snow on top of smooth rock. There was no purchase even if you dug down to the rock surface. I tried to make progress plunging my arms and legs deep into the snow, and then moving one tentative limb at a time, similar I thought to the way a tic climbs up a shin. Hopeless. The snow just slid away beneath me in disconcerting sheets. I was this close to the summit:
Of course, as well as being a mecca for winter sports, Queenstown is the birthplace of commercial bungee jumping (first actual jump was in Bristol 1979 by David Kirke / Simon Keeling, Oxford students and members of The Dangerous Sports Club). I’ve jumped once before in Peru 15 years ago so I consider myself a veteran of this sport (if you can call it a sport when the participant is essentially ballast). Stepping off into thin air, and seeing the ground rushing up to meet me, was more exhilarating than doing a parachute jump, I think because when jumping out of a plane the ground is too far away for the primate brain to really appreciate what’s happening. With the bungee jump however, it’s as though you’ve just leapt out of a very high tree, and now your hindbrain is bracing you to hit the ground very very hard.
Having done it already though, I plumped for Queenstown’s latest variation on a theme: The Catapult Bungee Jump.
“Only two things scare me and one of them is nuclear war…”
I like those pop-up funfairs that are a bit rickety, bit rusty, and you find yourself wondering “is this actually safe?” For comparison I have included the footage of my Peru jump, which felt very much like the travelling-carnie equivalent as opposed to the ultra safety conscious NZ bungee experience. As an objective measure of how terrifying I found each, consider the very un-manly scream I give when falling from the cage in Peru, as opposed to the rather lame sigh I make being launched on the NZ catapult.
As a warm up, here’s another variation on the theme. Girls on a swing:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-1r7w_I0oGStqgokBcuOHfx86dU_Ik74/view?usp=sharing
Peru Bungee Jump:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-2pZfBAvMkivbQKXemvcbDFjGBnbYF6x/view?usp=sharing
Catapult:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-8NvNtPOuogsPrzCWWiOhfPt9DbWj0ZV/view?usp=sharing
And if you’re not bored of it already, here is the Catapult from another perspective:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-9yvX7-AEbCjrdsq35WOZr4DXldP-0Fm/view?usp=sharing
I did get a lovely view of the canyon as they winched me back up.
Also along the way I got trapped by flooding in West Port:
I’m proud to say Boxer drove on through knee deep water without protest.
I almost tripped over a sleeping Seal:
And now I’ve arrived in New Plymouth. Or should I say: “home”. Work starts on Monday. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Edd Whewell: the New Zealand years 
Enjoying these Edd 🙂
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