The Coolest Kiwi Corner: Part II

Day 2

For me, the second day began at 7:00 am, though for Harsh it apparently started when my 5:30 alarm went off, forced him awake but not me, and allegedly left him awake for another hour before he found sleep again, which was how I found my roommate when I got up, blissfully unaware of the damage caused by my alarm.

Today was THE day, because we were finally in South Island, finally in Queenstown, and finally going to the Luge. "A mix between sledding and go-karting" we'd been told several times in the days, and even months, leading up to it.

The excitement of the day ahead had everyone buzzing with anticipation, so after a quick breakfast of PB&Js we were out the door, braving the cold in our layered outfits, and ready for whatever the day would bring. We drove into the heart of Queenstown, then up a steep hill where the streets slowly became less and less crowded. Soon we were driving into a multi-storey carpark. We made our way to the main centre where we would get the gondola up to the mountains. We already had our tickets, bought weeks ago, for six rides as there was six of us. We made our way to the gondola, joining the end of a long but relatively fast-moving line.

The ride up was amazing - quiet and peaceful as we looked both up at the mountain we would soon be standing on, and down at the bustling city we were leaving behind. However, it was immediately clear what the mountain had gone through to make way for our mode of transport. The clearing through which the cable car operated was littered with felled trees and dry grass, as though the Uruk-hai had been at it.

The peace and quiet was soon broken when someone spotted a mountain goat, immediately triggering a scramble of feet rushing to the windows, faces pressed to the glass as we peered through, trying to spot the small, black-and-brown baby goat. As we continued to rise higher and higher above the city, at least three more goats appeared in the mountain terrain below us, somehow finding footing despite the steep uneven ground made by the many fallen trees and wayward tracks in the dirt seemingly left by thick wheeled machinery.

Once at the top, we walked through multiple rooms occupied by shops, cafés, a few framed arts made entirely with jellybeans (The Lord of the Beans and Bean around the World), a model of the Luge for people to take photos on, and a brief timeline of the evolution of the sport. We stepped outside onto the balcony, leaving the warmth of the building for the treacherous cold of the mountain we would be spending the majority of our day on.

The wind was harsh, the air crisp, and the cold cutting through us without a care for our many layers. We stood huddled like a group of penguins, waddling up and down the metal stairs and dirt path to the base of the Luge. We would collect our helmets there, get our tickets checked, and hitch a ride to the top of the Luge track. Before long, we were clad in our helmets, Aunty Darshana in her recently purchased gloves, Harsh with his infectious excitement, our dads, who had almost transformed into children as they bet on who would be the fastest down the mountain, and then my mum, who was very much unaffected by the ecstasy surrounding her.

The ride to the top of the track was on a chairlift. It hooked up three sleds underneath it as it circled around. The chairlift did not stop for its passengers, so the passengers had to time their backward jump on to the seat without hurting any limbs. We split into our family groups, literally jumped on the chairlift, pulled down the protective barriers and looked ahead.

The ride up was smooth. When we got off and regrouped, all that stood between us and the Luge was a winding line of people that led to the track. We queued up, moving steadily along, watching people racing down the slopes. As we got closer, we had to show the already fading stamps on the backs of our hands. "So you'll be coming up another five times then?" was what the staff at the entrance said, which left us quiet for a second. It dawned on us then that when we purchased the tickets that said "six", it didn't mean for six people, but rather six rounds of the Luge per person!

Now equipped with the knowledge that we'd be doing this six times, the planning began, the strategy, the tactic. Six rides, two routes - test each route out and then pick the one you want. As we formed a clear idea of which route we'd all be taking, we reached the front of the line, and the top of the Luge track.

The actual Luge was like a toboggan and a go kart put together with a little handle at the front that controlled our speed and direction and space to stretch our legs. We were briefly explained how to speed up and slow down and what to do if we crashed or found the Luge coming to a standstill. Then we began our descent.

Everyone but my mum and I raced down the hill, disappearing from sight before long, My mum, not a fan of adventure sport, wanted to get the hang of it first, hence not speeding away. I, on the other hand, got stuck as the Luge wheels were somehow off the ground, rendering me immovable. I had to awkwardly 'shimmy' until the wheels found themselves reintroduced to the track. Then with a quick swivel of my head to make sure nobody witnessed my predicament, I sped off, Luging away from my embarrassment.

With each lap of riding the chairlift up, queuing and taking the Luge down, everyone grew more used to the tracks, turning from 'trying everything' to full-fledged 'racing'. For my mum, however, it was Groundhog Day - she grew bored of the repetitiveness of the activities. By the fifth loop, I was in agreement with her, but my feeling of boredom was short-lived as we queued up for our sixth and final round. A change. A new, amazing, wonderful twist that none of us had even thought could happen.

I was talking to my mum as we lined up for the final chairlift when I saw white dusting her shoulders and sprinkled over her helmet. It was snow! As we made our way to the chairlift and began our ascent for the final time, it no longer felt boring, or repetitive, as we simply stared up at the countless white dots that fell and settled over everything around us. The whole mountain was blurred by a constant, ever-moving haze of falling snow. As we reached the starting point of the Luge track, for once we didn't rush to our next round, as the six of us simply stood and admired the mountains and fir trees covered in a thin blanket of white that grew perennially thicker.

From there, surrounded by beautiful snow, one would think that our Luge experience was infinitely better. No. It was not. If anything, it was infinitely worse. I could not see - my eyes were squinting as hard as they could to keep the snow out; if I could not see I could not steer; and if I could not steer, I risked repeating the embarrassment of my first Luge ride, or worse still, crashing into an unsuspecting Luger. The task was impossible.

I found relief only when the ride was over. I blinked away the water from my eyes not knowing whether it was tears or melted snow or a mix of both. As we took off the helmets and left behind whatever future we may have had in the sport, we were all uncontrollably happy, not for the ride, but for the snow, the unplanned and unexpected wonder that made our time on the mountain feel complete.

https://video.wixstatic.com/video/8586bd_c3689dd28c654c2bba0f6535fbe3f624/1080p/mp4/file.mp4

The gondola ride back down was spent reminiscing, debating over who was truly the fastest, and staring longingly up at the mountain we were leaving behind, watching it slowly loom over us as we descended back down to the city.

It was a little past 2:00 pm. My parents and I wanted to visit Bob's Cove, a nearby hiking trail, while the others wanted to stay in Queenstown and explore the main city. We picked up some fries at Night 'n' Day, New Zealand's equivalent of 7/11 on steroids, and got in the Kia Carnival to be dropped off at the mouth of the trail.

As soon as the fam drove away after dropping us off, we had a feeling that we weren't quite at the start of the trail! We wandered around, spotted a small shed with a tiny street library and the drawing of a tūī. There was also an impressive sculpture of the bird outside. We were at the entrance of the GlenTui Heights.

Google Maps showed that the actual Bob's Cove public parking was about 20 minutes' walk down the road. So we walked.

Once we reached the parking area and started the actual hike, it was worth it. The weather was cool; the entire trail was around the Lake Wakatipu. We walked up and down the path, sometimes right by the water, and other times cloaked by trees and shrubbery. It was very quiet and peaceful; we didn't see many people.

We came to a clearing where several people were gathered - pairs, small groups - looked like some of them had a picnic there. There was a broken structure nearby, which I initially thought was the kiln, but it wasn't. We spent a few minutes there - I tried skipping stones with little luck but was happy to entertain my parents with my attempts! From there the historic kiln is only a few metres.

Soon it began to rain. Luckily, we'd come prepared with umbrellas. We trudged on, our surrounding growing muddier and slipperier with each passing minute. The clouds had blocked out the sun, and cast an endless shadow over the lake. The newfound shade paired with ripples from the rain that ran over the lake's surface had me feeling like we'd entered the picturesque world of Studio Ghibli, the visual further enhanced when we arrived at a small jetty. While my parents walked on, I stayed for a little, completely mesmerised by the beauty and serenity of the scenery we'd found ourselves in.

Despite the rain, we walked for a little longer hoping to reach a lookout point a short distance away. But no matter how high we climbed up a steep trail, we didn't seem to be getting any closer to the top. The rain got heavier and no other soul was in sight, so we gave up and started our walk back to the carpark.

By the time we returned to the carpark, the drizzle had intensified into steady rain. We'd asked the fam to pick us up. After 10-15 minutes, we saw the familiar Kia Carnival roll into the gravel carpark.

As we drove back, an impromptu decision was made to visit Arrowtown, a nearby town famed for its historic Chinese settlement as, much like Ballarat and Bendigo, it was a hotspot during the goldrush era. The drive was just under 40 minutes, and as we got out we were struck by just how miserable the weather made everything. Trees were still dripping, the ground was still wet, and barely anyone could be seen outside. We walked over to the first sign of what was likely a heritage trail, but after concluding that the weather ruined any enjoyment of such trails, we decided to head back to the car, but only after stopping at Patagonia for some incredible gelato!

We got back to the Airbnb, had a cosy dinner, showered, and went off to bed with the promise of tomorrow's excitement. But of course, Harsh and I only fell asleep after chatting for a few hours!