Queenstown and Glenorchy, New Zealand

It’s Matt’s birthday!!! We woke up in Cromwell to a meal of yogurt, more cherries, bread, and tea provided by our gracious BNB host. After saying goodbye at 8am, we left Cromwell and headed west to Queenstown, otherwise known as the adventure capital of the world.

Matt turned 26 while we were in Cromwell, and he spent most of his birthday doing an activity that he hates—horseback riding!! For those who don’t know me, I am “that horse girl,” so when I heard from a friend that there’s a fabulous company that does Lord of the Rings-themed horseback tours, I flipped and booked two tickets without even giving Matt an option. Luckily, he’s extremely selfless, and although he wasn’t thrilled about having to get on a horse, he was a great sport about it.

Queenstown rests on the shores of Lake Wakatipu, a glacial lake surrounded by mountain ranges with fabulous names: The Remarkables, Bob’s Peak, and Ben Lomond. The town is well-known for being the birthplace of bungy jumping, though Matt and I chose not to participate this time. Queenstown prides itself on being known for adventure tourism, and while we walked around the city, we noticed advertisements for everything you could image: paragliding, sky diving, whitewater rafting, skiing, jet boating, tramping, horseback riding, parasailing, scenic flights, and fly fishing.

As we drove into Queenstown, we were stunned by the beauty of the lake against snow-capped mountains and bright blue sky. The town itself was extremely charming: little shops, boutiques, waterfront restaurants, and parks lent themselves to a leisurely day.

In the morning, we headed quickly to the Skyline Gondola to get a view of the city at several hundred feet. The Gondola ascends Bob’s Peak on the Ben Lomond mountain, traveling 450 metres up. On our steep incline up the mountain, we passed over the tiptops of hundreds of Douglas Fir trees. At the very top of the gondola, we exited and were met with stunning 360-views of Queenstown and Lake Wakatipu. In the distance, we could see Coronet Peak, Walter and Cecil Peak, and the Remarkables.

It wasn’t long into our breakfast at the top of the mountain that we soon discovered that Bob’s Peak is a popular place for paragliding and bungy jumping. For others who weren’t quite up for those activities, the Skyline Gondola also maintains a luge ramp that twists and turns down the mountain, and we had great fun watching people zoom by us, racing down in their little luge carts. We watched tons of people make grand exits off the mountain before taking the peaceful gondola ride back down.

This was truly one of the first leisurely mornings of the trip—we had nothing planned, so we just decided to walk around the town and enjoy the outdoor markets and musicians, while seeing jet boats race across the lake and skydivers hover over our heads. The city was full of activity as we settled in for lunch at a lakeside restaurant and watched as sailboats and yachts and kayaks and jet boats pull in and out of the water.

Once we’d eaten, Matt and I headed to the bus station to catch the bus from Queenstown to Glenorchy, a town about an hour west of the city. Glenorchy is home to High Country Horses, the tour group we had booked for our horse-riding experience.

Of all the activities I did in New Zealand (helicoptering onto a glacier, swimming in the open ocean with wild dolphins, hiking up a volcano, driving on the left side of the road, flying in a prop plane, climbing through an ice cave), this bus ride was easily the most dangerous activity. For one whole hour, I sat in pure terror as our bus careened and swerved its way to Glenorchy on a mountainous, two-lane highway overlooking the lake. The ride was perilous, which puts it nicely. I couldn’t even think about how beautiful the views were because I was so scared that we were about to drive right off the mountain or crash into another car. By the time I got off the bus, I literally had sweat through my shirt.

But then I saw the horses and the ranch, and I forgot about everything else. We stepped out of the bus onto the most beautiful piece of property I’d ever seen—several paddocks full of horses of every color and size, lush green grass rising up before us, lupins scattered among the trees, a dense forest rising before us, and enormous mountains encapsulating the whole scene.

I raced inside to don my boots and helmet, while Matt opted to wear one of the ranch’s fancy trench coats.

It took me less than five minutes to convince the staff that I was ready to meet my horse. They were kind enough to give me a small precious chestnut with a white blaze down his face and a snarky little name: Smuggler.

Smuggler and I were instant friends. He was a bit of a handful at first, since he was just getting used to me, and kept tugging on the reins and trying to turn towards the barn. Once I showed him the water trough, however, he decided we could be buddies and gave me a real show: he slurped up that water for about five minutes like he was slurping chicken noodle soup. His goofiness immediately had me laughing, and I knew we’d be good together.

Matt, on the other hand, had just mounted up, and was not enjoying the ride as much as I was. His horse, Prickle, was a beautiful, tall brown gelding, much bigger than lil Smugs.

Prickle was not a fan of other horses, so even before we’d left the stables, he had decided to nip and kick at anyone who got too close. This made it difficult for Matt and I to spend time together on the ride, since Prickle really wanted to lead the pack of horses, and Smuggler, being Smuggler, was content to mosey along in the back of the pack, nipping at lupins and grazing at any patches of grass he could get.

The most trouble I had on my ride, in fact, was getting Smuggler to stop eating! For such a small guy, he sure did like to snack.

Our horseback ride took us out into “high country,” along the banks of the beautiful blue Rees River, to the base of the mountains, and into green, purple, pink, and white fields of lupins so high they touched my calves. About half an hour into our trip, the trail guide asked if any of the more experienced riders would like to go for a run.

Smuggler and I were up for this challenge. We and two other riders broke away from the group so as not to excite the other horses. Once we’d reached a flat patch of trail winding its way through a field of lupins, we set off. It only took a few clicks of my tongue to encourage Smuggler into a canter, and we blazed down the trail after the other horses, wind whipping in our faces and hooves pounding up sand and dirt beneath us. I kid you not (and this will attest to my lack of familiarity with Smuggler), we came to a dead stop because Smuggler had decided he wanted a nip at one of the white lupins!! I lurched forward in my saddle and kicked him back up to a canter so we could catch up with the other riders. He behaved after that, despite a few indignant tosses of his head.

After our run, we were still a bit excited, so we trotted back to the group and joined up. Just soon after, we came to a river crossing. I’ve crossed rivers on horses before, and usually, the animals are not so eager to step into the swirling abyss below; Smuggler, however, was down with it, and he plunged into the water without giving me any trouble. We had a few river crossings that day, and on our final trip, the water came all the way up to my ankles! Had it been a bit deeper, we would’ve had to swim across!

While I was having the actual time of my life, Matt was suffering. When we stopped in front of the mountains used to film scenes from Isengard in LOTR, Matt couldn’t really take it all in because his horse kept trying to kick mine. Eventually, though, Matt got used to the nonsense and was able to relax and enjoy the scenery.

Our trail ride lasted almost three hours, during which we did some more running, Matt got to trot, and I learned a lot about the film industry. Glenorchy, wouldn’t you know, is an extremely popular area for film crews, and as it turns out, my fiendish animal friend Smuggler has been featured in Mission Impossible 6! (Although the trail guide told me that Smuggler had been a bit naughty during the filming and caused some trouble for the crew because he was desperate for attention. No surprises there!)

Suffice it to say, Matt was relieved to dismount, but I only did so reluctantly. After giving Smuggler a thousand kisses, we hopped back on the Bus of Doom and practically flew back to Queenstown, where we grabbed a pizza dinner and then hit the road, driving two hours east to Ranfurly, a tiny town whose main draw was that it was the only available room within 100 miles of Queenstown.