Queenstown #2 (or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb)

It had been Saturday night at some stage. There had been people from Australia who I had been surfing with and they were in town. There had been a very long happy hour. There had been great music. There had been lots of fun and revelry. It had been a great night.

But now it was 11am Sunday morning and I was standing in a gondola suspended 140m above the river below with a giant latex cord attached to my feet.

2 hours before I had been lying comatose in a lovely warm bed, dreaming of pleasant things when my travel buddy shakes me into reality and says "Wanna do the Nevis Bungy?". My hangover was large and my brain cells were at an all time low in calculating capacity, so I just looked at him cross eyed and said "Sure, why not". He said "Cool, we're leaving now". So without as much as a shower or a piece of toast I was sitting in a cold bus 20 minutes later, destination Nevis Highwire Bungy (until recently the highest fixed bungy jump in the world, now only second highest).

I had always wanted to do a bungy jump, but my excuse had always been that I wanted to do it in New Zealand. 31 years later and here I was. Somehow I had also imagined the decision to jump was going to be long and painful one, psyching myself up for days on end. Moralising about it all. But in the end all it took was about 0.4 seconds blurry thought.

The 4wd drive up to the gondola station was about as much adrenaline as most people need in a year. 100m drops on both sides of the very narrow dirt track. Inside the station we were weighed (86kg folks, hasn't changed in the last 7 months) and a ball hugging harness was welded on to my buttocks. Then we were escorted outside to look across to the gondola and see the actual drop for the first time. Scariness factor: Moist pants. 134m is high, I mean the highest mountain in Ireland is only 8 times higher than this drop! The largest fricking building in Italy isn't even as high. The gondola gently swayed in the wind and we all grinned weakly at each other and the nervous chatter started in earnest.

We were then ferried across to the gondola in a little cart like contraption. Some people were already looking decidedly pale. Safely inside the gondola we were arranged in order of weight. I was going to be number 5. So I had plenty of time to realise what I had let myself in for. The fact that part of the gondola's floor was made out of perspex didn't help matters greatly. Rodrigo from Brazil (117kg) was first off. He was sat down in a nice comfy armchair with his feet in the air (amazing similarities with gynaecology) whilst the bungy was attached. A couple of seconds later he was helped up and was led to the very very very very narrow jump ledge (think enough space for two size 9 feet). He shuffled up and stood there looking very brave, it all had a very piratesque feeling. 5.4.3.2.1 and Rodrigo was gone, hurtling toward the ground at 120kmh with only a 3cm wide length of latex to keep him from being salmon food. We all rushed over to the perspex floor to watch him and this was when my brain started to realise the enormity of the action I was scheduled to do. Rodrigo fell and fell and fell and fell. We all thought he wasn't going to stop. Then suddenly about 8 seconds after Rodrigo has left the comfort of the gondola, the bungy goes twang and Rodrigo is saved from the river and is hurtling back towards the gondola at high speed. 10 bounces later and he is being winched back up. Inside the gondola the nervous laughter gets even more skitty. My knees start to shake vaguely. Tongue: Dry. Thoughts: I wish I had taken a crap this morning.

The next three all succeed in jumping and suddenly my name is being called. There is now a pronounced shaking of my knees which I vainly try to disguise as muscle pain. Rivulets of sweat make themselves known to my armpits. Up I hop in the Gynie's chair, get the cord strapped on and our "Jumpmaster" is making some idle banter with me as if all I am about to do is take a stroll down to the bloody supermarket. He then advises me to do a nice dive so that it will look good on video. I want to slap him and say that I don't want marks for artistic impression, but rather survive this whole adventure without any fatal injuries or mental neuroses. He winks at me and says "Let's go". I shuffle like a prisoner up to the gangplank and place my size 11s on the edge. Everyone says don't look down, but hey, I'm cool... I look down. At this point my knees start doing a fandango and my brain is screaming "Turn around you stupid Muppet, go back, have some breakfast, read a book, take a nice walk down to the lake, but stop this INSANITY now". Whilst this thought is emerging Mr. nice guy "Jumpmaster" has started the countdown. I consider asking him if he can perhaps start at 10 or maybe even 20 and if I should jump on 1 or on 0. Oh shag it, it's all too late, one last look at the majestic mountains in front of me and I launch myself Johnny Weissmuller like into the abyss. I soar, I fly, I have wings. Then suddenly like in a Roadrunner cartoon, gravity remembers to kick in and I start plummeting groundwards like a boulder. The air gets louder and louder in my ears, my eyes start to water and the experience is as close to sensory overload as you are going to get. Just as soon as the river is getting worryingly close, a feeling runs through your body as if you are a puppet and God has just pulled your string. From 120km downwards, the force is transformed into about 50km upwards and for a couple of tantalising seconds near the top of the first bounce you are completely weightless. The whole blood in my body has decided to party in my head and a huge sense of euphoria sinks in. I scream.

Back in the gondola my knees are still knocking and the people who have jumped all nod and wink at each other. Everyone jumps, no refusals, no tears, no nervous breakdowns. 2 hours later I am sitting on the sofa in the youth hostel with a nice cup of coffee (tm) and the whole experience seems so surreal. Was I REALLY there? Was it all just some alcohol infused trauma? Then I see I have goosebumps while I think about the jump... That doesn't happen after dreams. 10 minutes later and I fall asleep on the sofa as the adrenaline slowly makes its way back home.

Summary: The scariest thing I have ever done in my life.