Before traveling to New Zealand, I never, not in a million years, would have dreamed of going bungee jumping. In fact, it was something I always vowed not to do. Sky diving? No problem. You’re strapped safely to a professional and have a back-up parachute, just in case. Bungee jumping, though, you’re on your own. And if the cord is worn, or not quite the right one for your weight, or just a dud, your neck will snap faster than white on rice when you hit the ground. Not to be morbid, but seriously.
Which is why everyone was surprised, myself included, when I started researching the best places to bungee jump in New Zealand, the founding country of this adrenaline-packed, masochistic activity. I am not sure what I am trying to prove or to whom, but I have a thing about needing to partake in what countries are known for when I am visiting. I forced myself to eat fermented tofu in Taipei even though it made me feel ill for days, I went to a pub by myself in Galway just to have a pint of Guinness and listen to traditional Irish music, and I got uncomfortably naked for a Turkish bath in Istanbul. I feel like a failed traveler if I haven’t tried it all. Which is how I found myself in my bunk bed in Queenstown, New Zealand, booking my chance at the world’s first ever commercial bungee jump.
Background
Bungee jumping originated in Vanuatu, an island in the South Pacific, then called “land diving,” and was performed by jumping off tall towers attached at the feet by only a few vines. In the 1970s, AJ Hackett and Henry van Asch, both Kiwis, started developing bungee cords of their own, with a vision of commercializing this ancient ritual. To test the cords, Hackett climbed the Eiffel Tower in the middle of the night and flung himself off the top the next morning. After a brief run-in with the Parisian authorities, he and van Asch began making plans to get more people jumping.
In 1988, the world’s first commercial bungee jump opened at Kawarau Bridge, about 20 minutes east of Queenstown. 28 people paid $75 each to jump from the bridge, and by 1994, 100,000 jumps had been completed. To this day, people flock from all around the globe just to say that they completed the original 43 meter bungee jump.
Getting Ready to Jump
I ended up booking my jump pretty last minute, around 9 pm from my hostel bed. My jump was scheduled for 10:40 am the next morning; the Kawarau Bridge jumps are offered every 80 minutes, starting at 9:20 and continuing until 2:40 daily. As much as I tried to convince my sister Meredith to join me in this once in a lifetime experience, she insisted that she’d have just as much fun standing on the bridge and watching. Whatever, loser. I guess not everyone can be as interesting and adventurous as I am.
When booking, you’re given the option of either driving yourself to the bridge or taking the shuttle bus. The shuttle bus is no additional charge, and it is also free for spectators, so Meredith and I quickly ditched our original idea of renting a car and signed up for the very convenient Bungy Bus.
The next morning, after stopping for a balanced breakfast of giant chocolate muffins and toasties at a Kiwi-style McDonald’s (or Macca’s, as we quickly learned to affectionately call it), we headed to the Station Building, which is located right in downtown Queenstown, for check-in and weigh-ins. The weigh-in was important, because it eventually helps determine which size cord to use at the bridge. They marked my weight in huge, colorful numbers on the back of my hand for everyone and his mother to see, so that was fun, especially after 3 weeks of traveling through Australia and eating and drinking to our hearts’ content.
They also marked which jump we were planning on doing, since the company offers several different locations of varying heights, but I opted for the OG bungee jump for my first ever bungee. The price was 205 NZD per adult, and I paid an extra 80 NZD for a video and photos.
For more information about AJ Hackett’s jumps and to book, visit their website.
The Jump
Meredith and I boarded the Bungy Bus and took a seat, noticing how palpable the nerves and excitement of the other passengers were. I felt them myself, but I still had not quite come to terms with what I had gotten myself into. We had been distracted all morning by the fact that Virgin Australia had lost Meredith’s bag on our flight from Sydney the night before, and I hadn’t had much time to consider that I was about to do the one feat I always vowed never to do.
When we arrived, we entered the building that was positioned beside the bridge, were briefed (very briefly), and then the young blonde Kiwi in charge of us waved her hand towards the bridge carelessly and said, “Okay, go whenever you’re ready.”
I froze. THAT’S IT? That’s all we get? When I went skydiving, we were prepared for the jump for over an hour, and had to wait even longer for the instructors to be ready for us. The completely unconcerned attitude, the total nonchalance in the face of this ridiculously monumental thing, was jarring. I ran to the bathroom and took some deep breaths, asking myself why I would ever even consider doing something so completely psychotic. My sister, who confirmed that my decision to jump off a bridge was indeed psychotic, wasn’t helping.
After watching several other people complete the jump and live to tell the tale (and after asking one guy what he thought of it, to which he replied that he thought it was awesome but looked at me like he was confused why I was speaking to him), I finally hiked my leggings up and climbed up onto the bridge. One of the employees made me talk into the camera, asking me what I was about to do (“uh…jump off a bridge?”) and how I felt (“um…nervous?”) and if there was anything I wanted to say to my friends and family before I went (“uh…I love you, Mom.”) My exceptional charisma was on full display as usual, and I was already dreading having to watch my pale, constipated face in the footage later.
There was a girl getting strapped into the harness and cord at the edge of the bridge, and two men waiting in line before me. I was thankful to have at least a few more minutes to get my bearings, watch three more successful jumps, and psych myself up.
HAHA, joke’s on me, because as soon as the girl jumped, the instructors waved me over and asked me to step in front of the two men already waiting. Apparently it was going to be easier to have me go first, as I was close to the girl’s weight, rather than switch the cord out for the men and then switch it back for me. It was a struggle not to explosively poop my pants right then and there.
The instructor wrapped a towel around my calves, followed by the cord, all the while discussing where I was from (Baltimore), and how I felt about the Ravens (they’re my team, of course, even if they’ve sucked ass for years). It was surprising how many Australians and Kiwis I encountered during our travels who were not only familiar with Baltimore, but also familiar with American football.
I had very little time to mull this over, however, because before I knew it, I was being asked to scoot on my butt out on the platform, then stand up and shuffle to the very edge. The boy holding onto my harness pointed out where I should look and smile for the camera, even though I was more in the mood to cry than to pose happily.
There is nothing, and I mean nothing, more terrifying than looking over the edge of a bridge, seeing nothing but a rushing river almost 50 meters below you, and being told to dive. NOTHING (at least, nothing self-inflicting). I got to the edge and paused, my hands over my face, fighting back tears. WHY WOULD ANYONE SUBJECT THEMSELVES TO SOMETHING SO ABSOLUTELY CRAZY AND DANGEROUS? WHY WHY WHY DO I ALWAYS HAVE TO PUSH MYSELF A BILLION MILES OUTSIDE MY COMFORT ZONE JUST TO SAY I DID SOMETHING COOL?? I finally understood what people mean when they say their stomach feels like it is going to fall out their ass. That’s how I felt, except it felt like it was going to take every other vital organ with it.
It felt like I was up on the edge of that platform for an eternity, but it was really only a couple of seconds. I counted to three, willed myself to stop overthinking it, and leaped. Actually, I thought that I leaped, but when I watched the video back, I realized I just fell off the platform head-first, like a glass tipping off a table. I let out the most blood-curdling scream anyone has ever heard or ever will hear, somehow creating a terrifyingly guttural sound from the bottomless depths of my body, plummeting towards the river.
And then, in only a few seconds, it was over. I felt the cord catch, and I flew back up, swinging and spinning in all directions. I was finally able to catch my breath, and I felt a huge grin spread across my face.
After I steadied a bit, a boat pulled in underneath my limp, hanging body, and they slowly lowered me onto my back. I was so bewildered that this was my face when they told me to smile for the camera:
The guys in the boat asked me how it was, and all I could think to say was, “I almost barfed.” The guy who was detaching me from the cord looked at me with a cocked eyebrow, asked, “who even says that?” and then helped me off the boat onto steady land. I sprinted up the steps three at a time and met up with Meredith, who had captured everything on camera, including the near mental breakdown directly preceding the jump/fall.
Afterwards
After the jump, Meredith and I headed back inside to the warmth, where I received a download code for my photos and video and a white AJ Hackett t-shirt that says “Kawarau Bridge Bungy Jumper” on it. We helped ourselves to hot coffee from the cafe and waited for our bus to arrive to take us back to Queenstown.
Overall, this bungee jump, though not originally in my plans for our trip to New Zealand’s south island, could not have gone better. The employees are kind, helpful, and fun, and the organization of the event, including the free shuttle bus for both participants and spectators, was perfect. If you’re looking for a smooth operation, I guess it makes sense to look to the very first bungee jump ever. I would do it again and again.
I have found myself, when I am bored at work, browsing other exciting bungee jumps to do around the world, including a 111 meter one at Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. Not sure who THE HECK I think I am.
I wouldn’t say I am an adrenaline junkie quite yet, but there is really nothing as adrenaline-fueling as stepping to the edge of a bridge, looking down, and leaping off headfirst, throwing all care to the winds (except maybe finishing a full marathon, but jumping off a bridge is so much less work).
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