A quiet day in Queenstown turned into something a bit more exciting than planned – a quick trip up Bob’s Peak, a last-minute jetboat ride, and a good dose of fresh air (and cold spray) that we didn’t know we needed.
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This post is a little out of the ordinary – and no, it’s not some half-hearted filler dredged up from the archive. The truth is, I’d completely forgotten it happened. Only recently, while scrolling through the photo library I keep specifically for this blog, I stumbled across a few pictures – and one video – that brought it all back.
Our trip to New Zealand several years ago didn’t unfold quite as planned. The idea had been to explore and discover – but then we picked up some sort of virus, and for a few days our focus shifted from scenery to searching for doctors and chemists.
By the time we reached Queenstown – often described as the adventure capital of the world – we still weren’t feeling our best. You arrive in this global hub of outdoor thrills, and you haven’t got the energy to enjoy any of it. Queenstown offers everything: bungee jumping, paragliding, rafting, canyoning, climbing, heli-skiing, mountain biking, off-road tours, skydiving, and jetboating – not to mention more relaxed pleasures like lake cruises, vineyard visits, alpine trails, and scenic helicopter flights.
That day, a few from our group opted for a quiet one: resting on benches, sipping coffee, just trying to feel better again. But two others still in relatively good shape had different plans. How about a jetboat ride through a canyon? It sounded intense. I wasn’t sure I was quite up to it, but I also didn’t want to spend yet another day watching life happen from the sidelines. So I said yes. We headed to one of the outdoor adventure centres in town and bought tickets. The selection of experiences was enormous – all well-organised, with many running on short notice. We were told to meet back in two hours, at which point a bus would take us to the jetboat launch site.
With time to kill, we decided to ride the Skyline Queenstown gondola up to Bob’s Peak. Technically, the summit is called Brecon Street Hill, but everyone – locals and tourists alike – calls it Bob’s Peak. It was named after a 19th-century settler or shepherd, possibly a logger, known simply as Bob, who lived and worked in the hills around Queenstown. At the top, it was bustling – especially near the viewing platform – so I didn’t take any photos there. But stepping just a little aside, I managed to capture the kind of views that make you pause. The mountains surrounding Queenstown looked almost otherworldly – jagged, pale, and strange, as if borrowed from a lunar surface.
Photos taken from Bob’s Peak, plus one shot captured a bit earlier from a viewing platform several kilometres before reaching Queenstown.
From the gondola, and again at the summit, we spotted people bungee jumping – flinging themselves off a platform built right into the hillside. What I didn’t realise at the time is that bungee jumping was actually invented here in Queenstown. The first commercial jump took place in 1988, from the Kawarau Bridge, not far from town. It was AJ Hackett, whose company still runs jumps from that bridge – and also from the Ledge Bungy, the one we saw at the top of Bob’s Peak. Unlike the classic arc of the bridge jump, this version offers a straight vertical drop over the rooftops of Queenstown itself. Watching it from the calm interior of the gondola felt oddly surreal – a strange contrast between gentle sightseeing and pure, free-fall adrenaline. There were mountain bikers, too – lots of them. The slope is criss-crossed with purpose-built downhill trails, and the infrastructure is clearly made for it. Between the jumpers, the cyclists, and the hikers, the whole peak had a certain brilliant restlessness to it – the sense that something is always in motion.
We returned to town in time for the bus, which took us out to the Shotover River canyon – the starting point for our jetboat ride. The jetboat ride we took was operated by Shotover Jet. The company has been running since 1965 and is the only operator licensed to navigate the narrow Shotover River canyons, thanks to a special government act passed in 1987. Today, it’s owned by Ngāi Tahu Tourism, representing the local Māori iwi who have a deep ancestral connection to the river, known traditionally as Kimiākau.
Photos I took just before we boarded the jetboat – shots of the river ahead and of the group that set off before us.
Everything was handled with efficiency: a quick safety briefing, clear instructions (Hold on tight, no filming during the ride), lockers for personal items, life jackets, waterproof spray jackets – and then we were off. The engines roared to life and suddenly we were flying through a narrow gorge at terrifying speed – skimming past rocks, whipping around corners, doing 360-degree spins that made us shout and laugh. The ride lasted about 25 minutes, but the rush of it stayed with me much longer. It was sharp, loud, cold, and absolutely brilliant – the sort of experience that jolts you fully back into the present, especially when you’ve been feeling a bit foggy. We couldn’t film during the ride, but cameras were mounted on the boat, and I ended up with a video, the one I rediscovered recently (watch below). You can see us grinning, laughing and clearly having the time of our lives.
A short video made by the jetboat organisers – the one in the hood is me.
Looking back, it was the perfect reminder that travel isn’t just about ticking off sights – it’s also about saying yes to the spontaneous, the strange, and the serendipitous. Even on a day that began with low energy and no real plan, we wound up doing something utterly unforgettable. That blast of icy air, the slap of water on our faces, the way my stomach dropped and rose again – it was exactly what I didn’t know I needed.
