During our first weekend back in Sydney, Mark had the terrifying prospect of skydiving from 15,000 feet. This event had been organised for his 30th birthday by his brother (probably as revenge for some childhood incident) and mother (who then intentionally forgot about it to stop herself from worrying)
Following some brief instructions from his tandem partner and a farewell kiss to a very concerned Meg, Mark climbed into the rickety old plane and took his place on the floor. It took about 20 minutes for the plane to reach full altitude, all the while everything seeming like a dream.
At 15,000 feet he was clipped to his partner and received a last minute instruction to "just belly-flop out of the plane". The rear door of the plane opened and the first jumpers leapt out. Within an instant they were just dots above the clouds - it was at this point that the reality of what was about to happen actually hit home! When it was Mark's turn to go, his instructor edged them both forward and without stopping to think, they were falling out of the plane. Mark had asked "what happens if I bottle out at the last minute" to which he received the no-nonsene response "No sounds a lot like Go!"
The "bellyflop" turned out to be an understatement as they somersaulted several times before settling into a horizontal position.
They then fell free-fall for 50 seconds which was enough time to eventually stop screaming and enjoy it. But only just enough time!
The scariest part was falling through thick cloud and not being able to see the ground. But once he emerged from the cloud, the views were spectacular. After a few spins, the parachute was opened and they fell to the ground at a more relaxing rate, landing on their feet.
After an easy day in Queenstown to rest our weary legs we continued north up to the West Coast region of New Zealand to visit the Fox and Franz Josef Glaciers. The two glaciers are an impressive sight as they descend from the Southern Alps to less than 300 metres above sea level. The near-vertical rock walls of the glacial valleys are equally as impressive and we enjoyed walking along the valley floors to within about 100 metres of the glaciers.
Looking at our photos it would appear that the two glaciers are the same ... but they are not. They are about 20km apart. The key way of telling the difference between the two is that Mark is wearing a white t-shirt at Fox Glacier and a black t-shirt at Frans Josef!
On our last day in New Zealand we took a knife-making class. This was clearly Mark's idea, but turned out to be a great day of forging, grinding, rubbing-down and then polishing the steel blade as well as forming a handle from timber and brass. The end results look fantastic and will almost certainly be used when we get back to England. Be warned - if you come for dinner, you must comment on how beautiful the knives are!!
For lunch we relaxed by throwing axes, as you do!
We then headed to Christchurch for our flight back to the Australian summer in Sydney.
The next stop on our journey was Fiordland, the stunning south-west coast of NZ. Having looked online and found that all the 'Great Walks' (multi-day hikes through stunning scenery) were fully booked, we wandered into the visitors' centre to ask about day hikes. We noticed a sign saying 'Milford Track- places available', and wandered out again half an hour later having booked ourselves on, and wondered what we'd got ourselves into! The track is a four-day, 55km trek along a glacier valley floor through beech forest, up and over a mountain pass, back down again, and along another valley. All of which doesn't even begin to describe it....
Realising that Meg's wheelie suitcase-with-backpack-straps perhaps wasn't the best pack for such a walk, we headed to the hire shop to grab some extra gear, including lightweight cooking pots. Bunk-beds with mattresses, cold running water (from the river) and gas stoves for cooking are provided at the three sleeping huts along the way, but everything else (including food, bedding, and a very chic pink headtorch- all the cool kids have 'em) had to be carried in on our backs.
The adventure began with a boat ride to the head of the track, and then an easy 3 mile amble through the bush to our first night's hut. There we were introduced to sandflies, which fortunately are too slow to be able to keep up with a modest walking pace, therefore making them not a problem while walking, but which unfortunately atone for this deficiency by being incredibly efficient at biting you the second you stop moving. The Maori legend about these creatures says that one god created Fiordland, which was so beautiful that all the people stopped working and just stared in wonder, so another god created the sandfly to get them moving again. Whatever the explanation, they certainly promote gentle exercise. Thankfully, they go to bed once it gets dark.
The next day, full of proverbial oats in the form of a big porridge breakfast, we hiked along the valley floor marvelling at the incredible snow- capped peaks and waterfalls surrounding us. As we sat and enjoyed a lunch of salami and crackers (for Mark) and peanut butter and crackers (for Meg) amongst the trees, we heard a low, loud rumble, somewhere between thunder and a giant chewing rocks, and our hearts leapt into our mouths as we realised the noise was an avalanche. Eventually it stopped and we tentatively carried on. We soon passed the place where the avalanche had occurred and saw a huge pile of snow at the bottom of the mountain.
After racing quickly through a number of sections of track helpfully signposted as 'avalanche zones' we arrived at the next hut safe and sound, and Mark went for an ice-cold dip in a nearby lake, while Meg watched another, smaller avalanche happen across the valley.
We'd been told 'the third day is what kills everyone' and soon saw why- after a two-hour ascent up to the top of the pass, we then faced a four-hour descent of 970 metres over what the Department of Conservation website describes as 'rocky, uneven terrain'. As part of the main track was closed due to avalanche danger, our 'emergency track' route was even steeper and rockier. The effort was worth it, however, as we had glorious weather at the top of the pass which gave us spectacular views of the mountain peaks surrounding us. As we'd been told that parts of the track can receive up to 9 metres of rain a year, and knowing the previous day's walkers couldn't see anything from the top of the pass, we felt incredibly lucky despite the knee and ankle pain.
That evening we swapped accounts of avalanche sightings (we saw and/or heard at least 5 during our walk) and injury details with our fellow walkers, and passed around a miniature whisky bottle that one clever person had had the foresight to bring - and the willpower to save for the last night.
Our final day was a slow, painful walk along the valley to the boat which would take us back to civilisation. The predicted rain shower never materialised and the clear blue skies and sparking waterfalls distracted us from the pain in our feet, ankles, legs, knees, shoulders, and necks. Mark's previously injured knee held out till the end of the walk through a combination of grit, determination, large quantities of ibuprofen, and the promise of a cold beer. As we sailed out through Milford Sound with visions of majestic peaks and crystal waterfalls before our eyes, we almost wished it wasn't over.... almost!
