Queenstown

Animals at cattery – tick, gold fish at neighbour’s – tick, gloves, hats and jackets packed – tick – we were on our way! Queenstown we were bound and it was the kids’ first flight. 

After a slight delay, due to fog and going through the wrong gate, we boarded the plane and took off.

Up in ‘cotton candy land’, as one of the boys dubbed it, the ultra-friendly Air New Zealand hostess Sara stopped and chatted before asking if any of the kids were twins.

“Yeah and we’re selling the girl,” quipped her brother.

Sara must’ve taken a shine to a shy Miss Eight and decided to rescue her from her mean siblings; inviting her to hand out lollies to the 100-plus passengers on board before giving her a cupful of sweets and kindly emailing me the photos.

Soon, things began to get exciting out the window as we spotted snow-peaked mountains – our backdrop for the next five days.

“This isn’t Queenstown – it’s the dessert!” exclaimed one of the boys, peering outside at the expanse before us.

“No, we’ve landed in China,” said another.

Before disembarking, they were invited to the cockpit.

“Have you got something to say to the pilots?” I coaxed them.

“Thank you for not letting us die,” wise-cracked Master Eight before disembarking and shivering as the cold slapped us Northlanders in the face.

“What was that you were saying about your shorts?” I reminded him, referring to his chastising me all the way there for not packing his usual standard attire of shorts, shirt and bare feet.

He turned his pinched face toward me and tried unsuccessfully to suppress another shiver.

The shuttle was awaiting and, as we headed closer to Queenstown, we were rendered silent by the sheer breath-taking beauty of the scenery out the windows.

I was aware of the drastic difference in landscape and climate but wasn’t prepared for the beauty and vibrancy of the township itself. The town was amass of twinkling fairy lights, delicious smells and teems of different nationalities filling the pavements.

We quickly ditched our bags at the accommodation to get in amongst it.

The next day we went up the gondola where Lake Wakatipu snaked out below us and we were above the surrounding snow-peaked mountains with their ever-present wrap-around wisp of cloud. Then it was straight to the luge to race down the mountain-side on repeat. Both my boys whipped past me but I made up for it when I shot past one broken down and then crashed into the other at the bottom.

Like the Rotorua luge, there is a jellybean shop at the top where the kids spin the wheel and have to eat either a yummy jellybean or a dud. The nearby bin came in handy as the dog food, booga, stinky socks and vomit flavours didn’t go down so well. 

The Zero Below Ice Bar was next on the agenda, where we dressed as eskimos and had a game of air hockey (made of ice) and drunk cocktails and mocktails at the bar (also made of ice).

The next day we hired a car bound for Wanaka, stopping in the quaint and picturesque Arrowtown to pan for gold. Us rookies only managed to scoop a panful of silt and debris, along with a ‘greenstone’ (slimy rock) so opted instead to purchase a capsule of gold flecks (which looked suspiciously like glitter).

Because the icy cold water had frozen our fingers numb, we wrapped them around a lovely hot chocolate in a cosy café before heading to the legendary Cardrona Hotel for an extraordinary lunch of blue cod and chips. There is a lot more than meets the eye from the roadside view of this ancient pub and the kids had a ball frolicking and exploring out the back. 

At Wanaka we were welcomed by the golden hues of autumn reflecting upon a mirrored lake and it was onto Puzzling World, where we undertook the baffling maze and optical illusions rooms. The sloping floor made one extremely dizzy and we were all staggering around like a bunch of drunks.

Back in Queenstown – aka puffer jacket central - we finally got to try the famous Fergburger by going at a random time (the queues at this place are extreme) and were entertained by a friendly elderly local busking, interspersed with howling from his large shaggy dog during the chorus.

Before we knew it, it was time to return, with the oldest getting frisked at the airport due to the fidget spinner in his pocket setting off the beeper, much to the others’ entertainment. 

We emerged at a positively tropical Auckland airport where Master Eight promptly stripped to his tee shirt, rolled up his pants and whipped off his shoes.

Goodbye beautiful Queenstown.