I’m not an adrenaline junkie – in fact I’m a bit of a scaredy-cat about some things – like heights .
However, somehow the words on the brochure – ‘gentle lift-off and landing” – lulled me into ignoring the next sentence. It included these words – ‘New Zealand’s highest’!
The Flying Kiwi Parasail delivered on their promises:
- Breath-taking views – check!
- Gentle lift-off – check!
- No need to get wet – check!
- Gentle landing – check!
- Single, double or triple flights – check!
I was on a single flight and I’m not sure it that made it easier or scarier, I just knew when I did the ‘gentle and dry landing’ part I was really happy to be down and happy to have parasailed on NZ’s highest. I also knew I would never do it again! Maybe! (I’ve learn’t to never say never)
I was SOOOOOOOO high. Higher than Auckland’s Sky tower – not the level where adventurous people jump from – but the very top of lt. And, when you are up there, alone, and scared of heights it’s very, very high. My daughter would love it and no doubt most travellers, and other kiwi, would love to be able to say “I did New Zealand’s highest parasail”
So how high was I? About 365 metres, or 1200 feet! And, how high is the Sky Tower, a mere 328 metres – 1076.1 ft. No wonder I stopped taking photos – I needed to hang on, grasp the reins and worry.
Worry that the ropes were safe; worry that my canvas seat would take the weight of my body; worry so much I needed to talk to myself.
“Look around Heather. You will never see this view again. Look at the cruise ship and NZ Navy ship. Enjoy the view” my head was saying, “There’s Russell over there’ ‘That’s Paihia that way’; ‘I can see the Treaty Grounds.’
While this chatter was happening in my head, out of my non-religious mouth flowed words in a chant or prayer I’ve never said before.
“Holy, holy, holy.” “ Holy, holy, sh*t” “Holy, holy, f*ck”
Once I landed back on the boat I was elated: I’d done it.
However, back on land I was still shaking 30 mins later when I rang my daughter (who was having an adventure-filled weekend in Rotorua) and, just when I needed to talk it went straight to her answer phone.
My voice was still gone (missing in action for 3-days) and when she laughingly replayed the message back to me in the comfort of a Wellington café I too had to laugh at my shaking, croaking, drama queenwords:
“Ohmigod I’ve done it! As you can hear, my voice is still gone but by god, my body is full of adrenaline. It was so f’ing scary! But I did it! Single! By myself! All alone, way up there, above the sky tower height. Ok, talk to you later, bye.”
A drama queen indeed – she easily worked it out I was not twin or treble parasailing! Would I recommend the Flying Kiwi Parasail? – of course. (And, you don’t have to go as high as I did!)
As you see, I didn’t find my voice up among the clouds: I return to my rental car ready to continue my Northland trip – maybe it’s on The Rock where I’m sleeping tonight. ( I wonder, is this the only float Hostelling International hostel in the world? Let me know.