"So come with me, where dreams are born, and time is never planned. Just
think of happy things, and your heart will fly on wings, forever, in
Never Never Land!"
-J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan
This the last in the series from my trip back in time to New Zealand...
The
23rd May 2003 proved lucky for us.
We awoke to a crystal clear morning in Wanaka, a ski resort in the South
Island. The snow capped mountain peaks
twinkled in the morning sun as we approached the hangar at the airfield. After we had been weighed and suited up, we
were introduced to our tandem masters and the camerapersons who were doing our
video.
And still no clouds in the sky...
After the four other attempts, I had imposed a media
blackout – no-one was allowed to talk to me about the sky dive that morning,
thus preventing a huge build up of excitement/terror, to be followed by a huge
anticlimax/relief, if the jump were called off.
My tandem master was very nice, joking that he had
only done this once before and telling me to pay extra attention to the video
showing us the procedures so that I could tell him what to do, apart from
"Don't let go.”
Fiona and Bex, a Zimbabwean girl we were friends with,
and our tandem masters and video cameramen all loaded into an extremely small
airplane.
As we took off, I held on very tightly to the windowsill of the plane, my knuckles pure white. Grinning, my tandem master, unhooked my
fingers and I had visions of him having to peel my fingers from the doorjamb when
it came time to jump.
As the plane got higher and the ground got smaller, the
fear abated. At one stage, between eight thousand and twelve thousand feet, I actually said to
my tandem master
that the plane was very small and noisy, and I couldn't wait to get out of
it. I think at this point my brain had
gone on strike, like it was
saying to my body, "Go ahead do what you like, but I am not getting
involved." I went into autopilot.
Shortly after that, the doors opened. Fiona was
first. She went over to the door and vanished. I let out a wail.
She just disappeared so fast.
Then it was Becky and then me.
Sitting on the edge of the plane was surprisingly
okay. I was confused about which camera to
smile at, wave at and maintain eye contact with. Remember, my brain was on strike, so I just
kept trying to get into the position for the freefall. The tandem master kept
turning my head to this camera and that one.
Then in a blinding, stomach-whooshing, vacuum-breathing
moment we were out, flipping over, back upright and flying.
 |
| Look how tiny the plane is! |
The wind blasted past my ears. I sliced through crystalline crisp air at two
hundred kilometers an hour. What a rush!
Somewhere between twelve thousand feet and
eight thousand feet, I fell in love with my tandem master – even though I
couldn't remember what he looked like. The feeling of flying was so soul
filling I kept thinking "Thank you.
Thank you. Thank you." But I
wasn't really sure who I was thanking.
The tandem master pulled the parachute. Then came
my favorite bit. Only when we slowed
down to a graceful glide did it impact on me just how fast we had been
going.
The tandem master asked,
"Well, what did you think of that?"
All I could breathlessly say
was, "Holy Majoley!” Well, the brain
was still sulking.
 |
| OMG - the scenery! |
We floated over stunning scenery, chatting, with the tandem master pointing out the names of various
mountains and lakes. Mostly I didn't
answer, just grinned inanely and wondered if angels felt this way when
they look down from heaven on a perfect earth. From up here you’re not
close enough to see the rubbish that the up-close intricate detail shows.
The landing was uneventful and graceful enough for a
first timer. I landed on my feet, and not for the first time since I’d embarked
upon my travels. After the dive I was a
bit shaky, my brain obviously kicking back in.
I also saw my tandem master for what seemed like the first time. Love affair over. Brief but beautiful.
As if that wasn’t enough, the next day Fiona decided
to do the Canyon Swing – a ten second free-fall for one hundred and nine meters,
ending up in a swing across a canyon.
Bex, our fellow skydiver from the previous day, and I decided to go watch
Fiona. As it turned out she was the only
one scheduled to do it. She did it
twice. It looked terrifying.
Her first canyon swing began with her suspended over
the edge. The jump guy gave Bex a cord to pull and some gave way beneath Fiona. Hers eyes and mouth popped open with shock
as she plummeted towards the canyon floor, but she loved it and came back for
another one.
This time she did "The
Chair." A plastic patio chair was
strapped to her. She was still safely
snug in her harness and they balanced her over the edge backwards, like an
errant pupil swinging on her chair, and then her let go. Off she toppled, with fear etched into her face. I told the
jump guys, who were whooping as she wailed through her free-fall, that they were
“evil bastards.” They took it as a
compliment.
I was adamant I was not going to do it. The guys working on the swing offered Bex
and me a two for one deal. I said no way... No doing it not even for free... But Bex was
particularly low on money, so the deal was great for her, but the guys said if I didn't jump
(or at least pay or a jump), no deal.
What to do? Bex really really wanted to do it... Guess what I did....
Ten minutes later I stood terrified with my back to
the ledge, harness on, ropes attached, balancing over a one hundred and nine meter drop. I decided to go off
backwards, for something different. Something different? How mad does that
sound? I stared into the eyes of the jump-master as he counted down. I nearly
bottled. I hadn't had time to fully disengage my brain, but at the word “Go” I
managed to somehow launch myself. Fiona
reckons my legs collapsed beneath me and for the second time in thirty six hours
I was free-falling.
I roared all the way down. It was so far that I had time to go “Arrrrrrrrrrrgh!” Breathe
in and restart a new, “Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh!” again.
It wasn't as violent as the bungee I'd done six months before in South Africa
and the swing part was lovely, whistling through the canyon with the river
beneath me. I laughed at myself,
replaying the scream in my head, as they winched me back up. Anyway, once was enough for me.
I vowed no more free-falling for at least a year. I was dreaming about it at night.
It had been amazing. Not just the crazy stuff we were doing but
the gang of friends we had gathered up was great too. But alas, as with everything, it had to come to
an end. It was a tearful farewell
between us as we moved on to our next adventure in life. Fiona promised me that
now she’d had her skydive, she’d stay safe and sound inside her Air New Zealand
plane on her way west to Australia.
I went to Milford Sound. This was where some of the Lord of the Ring's
most spectacular scenery was filmed. It
had been raining for a few days and the fjord was just teeming with
waterfalls. I think I photographed most
of them.
Queenstown was a huge party town and I was glad to be
leaving if only for the sake of my liver.
There were many mad nights out and drunken adventures. I won a bungee jump one night in the pub and
resorted to having to "lose" the voucher. I'd had enough adrenaline.
The weather here had been frustrating. It was too cold to do much by way of outdoor
pursuits but no snow for skiing. A warm-up
was in order.
After a disappointing lack of skiing due to the fact
that it hadn't snowed, I too decided not to hang around and headed back up to
Auckland. I’d made friends up with a couple of sisters from Cork,
Jen and Brid. I arranged to travel with
Jen and Brid to Fiji the following where I was hoping to meet up again with Bex.
I’d simply had a marvelous time in New Zealand but was looking
forward to settling down in Canada
for a while and living a tamer life. No
more jumping off bridges, out of planes and off the sides of gorges. I was looking forward to the monotony of
routine and some sunshine in the mountains.
But I still had to get
through Fiji
first.
I’ll always
remember the toast Fiona and I raised our glasses to on the first night in Auckland.
“Why spend thousands of pounds on counseling when you can do this
instead.”
Fiona was the best travel buddy I could have wished for. We laughed so much and
rejoiced in each other.
In New Zealand,
I experienced freedom from my broken heart.
New Zealand
was about rekindling the magic of a lost era.
I began to think and react like I had done as a teenager. Not as a form of regression, but more by way
of digging up old values and remembering things that I had forgotten I liked to
do.
I saw the world
as beautiful again. Like I used to
before I met my ex. I used to love the
sounds of nature; for example, rain tinkling down a broken drainpipe outside my window a musical sound, despite the exceedingly
primitive digs I’d lived in as a student.
Sunsets made my heart ache before I'd even known what real heartache was. I'd look at a velvet black sky, knowing that the stars were in fact real diamonds, placed there by
God. A spider’s web on a frosty morning
was the manifestation of those diamonds on earth. The simple pleasures in life!
Back in my youth, my imagination had been free and innocent, before it became tainted by skepticism and cynicism. Back in those
days, I had believed in magic.
New Zealand
and the friends I'd met there, re-introduced me to the girl I was before and I really liked it. I could once more cry, “I believe in
Fairies” and know that Tinkerbelle would live. After all, hadn’t Fiona and
I flown? We have the photos to prove it...
Next week - back to the present...like buying in dog food for Ninja, the mutant Rottweiler... you know, that sort of thing...
Byddi Lee
