On 16th March the day looked perfect for paragliding, with barely a cloud in the sky. After a hostel breakfast I headed down to the lake for a photo and then went to the travel office that had sold me the paragliding trip. There I found Michelle, the friendly travel agent, who insisted on hearing about South America while I waited for the paragliding people to turn up.
Eventually the paragliding folk appeared and at 9:30 were were ready – it seemed a little disorganised at first, but soon enough we were at a training location on the north side of Mount Iron (the hill I had walked up the evening before). There was rather more in the way of instruction than at the Queenstown paragliding – I felt I was doing a training course rather than just a “come and try it” flight. Nevertheless I had a rather bad landing the first time I took to the air. We all then tried twice more from higher up the hillside, and my landings were a lot better.
After heading back to Wanaka for some lunch, we were taken to a ski resort called Treble Cone. A zig-zag road took us 500 metres (1650 feet) above the valley floor to the chosen launch point, which was just above the steepest part of the side of the valley. We were each kitted with a radio headset that would allow the instructor to talk to us as we flew down.
There was an easterly wind blowing, providing some lift on the east facing hillside. I was able to do 2 flights which, due to this rising air, each lasted about 3 minutes. This gave plenty of time to make some turns and enjoy the view. At the end of the afternoon the wind dropped, and the second half of the group had less time aloft on their final flight.
Back in Wanaka I went for a wander down to the lake to relax after the day’s aeronautical thrills, and then headed back to the hostel.
After cooking some food in the common kitchen, I got chatting to another German girl, who is a farmer (she is the second farmer I’ve met in under a week!). We later headed to the pub where we had a long and entertaining discussion on the relative merits of reading books versus travelling, as means of gaining knowledge and wisdom about the world.
Sunday 17th March I had to force myself to get up early, to get my bus to Christchurch. I headed to the travel office only to find that the clocks had gone back (end of summer time) meaning that I could have had an extra hour in bed! That meant time for an extra coffee and bringing my diary up to date. A minibus then took me to the main Queensland to Christchurch road, where I boarded a big bus. I found myself sitting next to a sewing instructor from Hong Kong, who provided some interesting conversation, and by mid afternoon I was in Christchurch, checking into Charlie Brown’s hostel once more.
Since 17th March is St Patrick’s Day, I later decided that the Irish Pub – The Coachman – would be a good place to go. It was, of course, very full, and a band was playing Irish folk music. Needless to say, the drinks flowed… and flowed. Though everyone clearly considered him or herself to be Irish on this day, I did get talking to some genuine Irishmen during the evening, who seemed to have done the exact same things as me in the Queenstown area, but exactly 1 day earlier.