Queenstown

We left lovely sedate Wanaka for Queenstown, the self-styled adrenaline capital of NZ. The journey on the Crown Range Road proved to be more than exciting enough for Clairy, with its super tight hairpins and mahoosive vertical drop-offs, so she spent a fair amount if it determinedly looking in the opposite direction.

The weather was still super luscious.


The valley below the range contains some of central Otago's best vineyards.


We arrived at the Lakeside Holiday Park and set up our little tent. The name was pushing it a bit as only from the very far corner of the place could you actually see the lake. It wasn't hugely full when we arrived but as the evening wore on more and more huge camper vans arrived, to the extent that when walking back from the showers it actually felt more like we were camping in a car park or some kind of horrific camper van expo. Despite the incredible number of crazy things you could do there, we decided we would head on from Queenstown the next day.

We packed up the tent in record time in the morning, but still found ourselves stuck in a queue trying to get out of the holiday park in the morning. Some annoyingly awkward numbnut's security card would not let them out through the (totally unnecessary) security barrier, and they appeared to have given up in a sulky fashion and resorted to just sitting there whilst blocking anyone else from leaving. Clairy did the decent thing and jumped out to use our card to get them through, and the miserable git didn't even say thanks, slightly adding to my increasing hostility to incompetent camper van drivers. Obviously then afterwards our card wouldn't let me through the barrier, so I had to trick it by running round and opening it from the other side then pegging it back to the car and driving us through before it slammed down on us. It must have looked a bit of a sight.

Queenstown is a picturesque little place sitting as it does on the banks of Lake Wakatipu. We parked the car in town and wandered around the fairly cosmopolitan centre before getting some nice coffee down us. We passed this lovely big protected tree a Wellingtonia Giant Sequoia.


Lake Wakatipu and some indifferent seagulls.


I quite fancied heading up on the Gondola that apparently gave good views of the town and its surrounds, but it looked to be a seriously steep, if not a nearly vertical ride so Clairy sensibly declined. She was happy to wander the shops. We agreed to meet up in a couple of hours back at the car.

The view from the bottom.


Off I go...


For some reason the mere presence of a gondola makes me think of Switzerland, and the mountainous alpine landscape only seemed to reinforce that. I think the present cable car system was actually was made there as well.


A bit higher.


My hairy reflection.


Right at the top. This one gives poor Clairy vertigo just looking at the piccy.


Inside the complex at the top of the gondola, they had a car from the original system. It looked realy nice, but the whole thing popped open on one tiny hinge at the back. I found that strangely disturbing.


I did actually have an ulterior motive for heading up there, and here it is. The luge, a (reasonably priced) downhill run on a strange little 3 wheeled cart.


There were great views from the observation deck.




The mountains in the background are the brilliantly named Remarkables.


More Swiss references...the chair-lift that takes you up to the top of the luge. I'd kind of fantasised that the luge track would go all the way from the top of the gondola to the bottom, but sadly not. In the end I think people's arms would have given up the ghost and they would have crashed off the side of the mountain long before the bottom, had the track really been that long.


I paid for 3 goes. Sadly the first one had to be on the 'scenic' run to prove you are not a complete imbecile and can cope with the 'advanced' track.


'I eat you tiny people'


There was a set of automatic camera's arranged in uninspiring locations on the track to catch you having a screamingly exciting time. You were then supposed to pay a rather hefty amount of cash for a print. Annoyingly though the only one that appeared to be working was the one right at the end, where you already had to have slowed right down, and despite my best efforts at pulling scared/excited/deranged faces, the pictures just looked rubbish. In the end I managed to persuade one of the bored attendants to snap a pic at the start whilst stationary.

The carts are quite cleverly designed so you have to push the handlebars forward to go, and pulling back to stop. I did actually get up some pretty good speed, to the point where I smashed into the sides quite hard trying to get round one of the sharper corners at as fast a speed as possible. I have to say I did thoroughly enjoy it.


Token tourist signpost. London is the one in the middle that you can barely see (quality photo skills from me). It says 18946km, the furthest one away.


Heading back down, I saw one of the cars looking a little worse for wear, and thought maybe it had a little accident.


But it turned out to be the supply car for the restaurant at the top. Far less interesting...sorry.


I couldn't resist a photo from the ticket booth at the bottom however, of this slightly damaged looking luge rider. Look at those hands! Poor bastard never should have been allowed on the advanced run.