Queenstown, NZ

The big smoke.

Traffic, of all things, welcomed us to Queenstown. I suppose it wasn't unexpected, it just wasn't really expected if you get my drift.

The drive from Tekapo was grand. Cloudy and dramatic, with patches of afternoon sun, rain, rainbows and snow. We visited Mt Cook National Park (other footprint), Twizel (for Frasers sake, or rather for pies) and hammered through Cromwell in a mad dash to get to the snow centre before close. Lift passes for tomorrow's skiing was essential admin.

I do recall holidays being a leisurely affair; namely that sleep takes priority over all activities, people and places - especially once sleep has begun. This holiday has not been leisurely much at all. As it would turn out, combining a holiday and work does not magically produce additional hours in the day to both holiday and work. I'm certainly not complaining - we're extraordinarily lucky in numerous way to be able to do what we're doing - I'm just pointing out that if you see bags under my eyes it's because we're not all play down here! That said, a 9am ski date is hardly an early start!

Speaking of play, boy did we get a cracking day at Coronet Peak on Friday! First day of the season, plenty of first tracks, fresh snow and loads of people. Managing to escape without injury was undoubtedly the highlight of a day marred with poor technique, awkward crashes and general embarrassment. If we bounced when we were young, one could accurately regard our graceless inability to remain upright as remarkably unskilled and they'd not be far at all from the truth. Recovery periods and quantities of bruises are at life long highs.

Fortunately we'd only committed to going two days on the trot, because by the time Tom and Celeste had finished educating us on the standard we should be at, we were well and truly spent.

We opted to support a local tour company on Sunday. At least that's what we told each other as we indulged in a treacherous trip to Skippers Canyon. Chariot #1 was a late 90s OKA, which had seen better days. But it took to Skippers road like a duck to water, and there was plenty of water gauging rivers from the road as we proceeded in torrential conditions and with windows fogging faster than the recollection of a hefty night on the turps. Lucky, because the unguarded corners had some gut wrenching vertical drops which were probably best left unseen.

Surviving the ride of Chariot #1 granted entry to Chariot #2: a jet boat. We rugged up warm, Cat especially, and belted up the upper Shotover river with yelps and screams in some actually quite painful stinging rain. Heated handholds were a slice of heaven and made all the difference between suffering and enjoyment. The latter definitely winning out in what was an adventurous day.

Work, work, work rounded out our last day (and some) in Queenstown before our wee trip down to Milford.

PS - yes, of course we got Fergburger, and Ferg Pies. We're not animals!Read more