Road To Ruin (Rotorua)..........Again

That was one heck of a cold night! Truth be told it was one heck of a cold morning. One that I did not want to get out of my sleeping bag for. It’s not just a sleeping bag we have to shield us from the wintery New Zealand nights, oh no. I have a thin (and WELL used!) sleeping bag, my sleeping bag liner outside of that, two king-size bed sheets and a duvet to finish. Plus, thanks to the dollar store in Whangarei we both have hot water bottles for the nights where we aren’t at a campsite. So for the cold morning to get through all that it must have been cold. Not freezing, although there was definitely a crisp frost on the ground and dewy spiders webs on the fences. There was also quite a lot of morning fog around, very similar to the fog we had on our first morning after free-camping in the north. I crossed my fingers and hoped that this fog would be gone by 10am…

We were somewhere near to the town of Taupo, and some may know that this is one of THE places to do a skydive. We had left Rotorua specifically to get to Taupo on the Friday morning as I would be doing that exact thing – attaching myself to a stranger and jumping out of a plane at 12,000 feet over Lake Taupo. I knew people who had done this and had been told how amazing it was and having always wanted to do it I thought that I should go for it here as I probably wouldn’t ever do another one, depending on how the first one would go. For those of you don’t know me all that well, I do not like heights. Moreover, I do not particularly like flying. But the decision to combine the two did not faze or daunt me in any way. I knew that I would be safe and it wouldn’t be my decision when to jump, all I would have to do is curve my body into a banana-shape and enjoy the ride.

We arrived early enough for me to sit through the promotional video and safety video twice whilst the other divers arrived, and was fully prepared for what was ahead. James would not be joining me up in the air but he would be at ground level with the trusty camcorder trying to catch as much footage of me falling to the earth as possible. I was paired with Damo M (there were two Damo’s, which didn’t surprise me on bit) who looked like he knew what he was doing. As I got suited and booted I got chatting with one of the girls handing out all the gear and it turns out that she was from…..Southport. I couldn’t believe it. You go to the other side of the world and you just can’t escape the Sandgrounders anywhere! She had even gone to my high school (albeit a few years after me, and had been in year 8 when the school closed – she got to go to a much better school after that!) and even knew my parents road/house. Small world. After our brief reminiscence over home and the usual hang-outs it was time for me to get up in the sky.

I didn't choose the pink plan!

There were 5 of us jumping and I would be last in and first out. Fine by me. At least James would be filming the first one out just in case. The plane was small, single-engine and…..pink. Not my choice, and I didn’t know it would be a pink plane either, but all I would be seeing of it for the next 20 minutes was the inside so I didn’t care. Crammed in like some kind of tiny fish in a small can we climbed into the air. It took twenty minutes to get to diving height (two of the others were to go from 15,000 feet, but that cost a lot more money and you needed oxygen in the plane for up there) and all the while I sat between Damo’s legs in an all-too-unnerving position whilst he took pictures and filmed away on his little handycam. I remembered the instructions for what to do when we left the plane, and soon it was time to get out into the big blue. The door was slung open and we edged towards the opening. With Damo sitting on the edge of the plane I was literally dangling out of the plane with nothing to hold onto, just hoping that all the straps would hold me in place.

We lurched forwards. We tumbled out of the plane and suddenly all my senses were being attacked on all sides. I didn’t know where to look. Various things filled my vision one after the other: lake, mountain, plane, lake, field, plane, lake. And then we settled into a straight dive down to the ground. The 45 seconds of freefall went by in an instant. The wind rushed into my face and up my nose. The goggles that covered my glasses that had been so tightly strapped to my face were digging in even more with the force of the rushing air. Through the deafening noise I could hear Damo occasionally shouting “look into the camera (on his wrist) and smile!” which was easier said than done. And then the parachute opened and I felt the G-force through the harness slow our rapid descent in the blink of an eye. And there we were, floating in the air above the lake in a much more serene way down to earth. It was about 5 more minutes before I was back on the ground and after a few more photos and videos I was free to go. And that was that, one of the best things I have ever done and something I will never ever forget. Just like the stars the night before.

What an experience!

We were soon on the road to Rotorua…..again. And this time we were praying that we would be able to pick up our broken netbook, the “new” netbook, and the data that Malcolm (and Steve) had been working so diligently to get for us. As soon as we walked through the door we were greeted enthusiastically by Malcolm, which we took to be a good sign. He proceeded to update us on the progress they had made and that it should be ready in half an hour. So me and James went to eh Rotorua Countdown (again) and picked up some more food for the larder. On our return it was all ready for us. We would need to purchase a new internal hard drive, but the majority of the data was safe and on the new netbook (christened “LAPPY 2” as it is our second netbook, and it kinda sounds a bit Maori). We thanked Malcolm for his time, paid the bill and managed to escape without any more of him droning on about conspiracy theories, how bad Apple were as a company and any number of IT-related tales from his past. We walked out of the door and rejoiced. Not because we had achieved our little side-mission, but because we could FINALLY get out of Rotorua! It felt like we had camped on sacred ground or something and that the spirits were unhappy with us and were trying to drain our life-force. Between Rotorua and Taupo felt like the Bermuda Triangle.

Malcolm.....what a guy!

Leaving Rotorua felt good and we had spotted a good campsite to go to in Taupo, as it was late and we didn’t fancy driving very far. In addition to that my body was crashing after the adrenaline-fuelled plummet that morning. I don’t even think I had a glass of wine from my second (a Cabernet Sauvignon Merlot this time, just to mix it up a bit) wine box that night before I was dozing away on the couch whilst James tapped away furiously on LAPPY 2.