There’s something about the air in Queenstown – as the door to our plane is opened and we undo our seatbelts, it’s almost as if we get an instant shot of adrenaline. The four of us – a group of Auckland mums escaping our (collective) seven children for a long weekend – descend the stairs. Following close behind us are about 20 “stags” resplendent in retro suits and sporting unflattering moustaches.
one, who has rather hilariously split his pants on the plane, tells us he hasn’t brought an alternative pair of trousers. It’s going to be a very long weekend for him – the air temperature is a bracing 6°C. We have also packed light, intending to spend the weekend lolling around in dressing gowns, eating fabulous food and drinking the local plonk. We start as we intend to go on, checking in to one of Peppers Beacon’s palatial penthouse suites and immediately cracking open a bottle of pinot gris.
“What bliss,” we cackle indulgently as we drink in the views from our balcony, lending weight to my partner’s nickname for this particular group of four. He calls us “The Coven” and makes himself scarce whenever there’s a witching hour catch-up at our place.
We pledge to get all the complaining about sleepless nights, toddler tantrums and endlessly annoying partners out of the way right here on our balcony and lap up the luxury.
An hour later, stomachs rumbling, we each retire to our bedrooms to dress up and walk along the Steamer Wharf to the fine-dining restaurant Wai. Feeling adventurous, although not quite as much as the students beyond our window, who are leaping off the jetty into freezing waters wearing only their underwear, we order carpaccio of wahu, succulent oysters, Fiordland groper and tortellini with porcini mushrooms. Everything is delicious, and when we’ve cleaned our plates, we decide to try out a few of the local bars.
Sarah recommends Bardeaux from a previous visit, so off we trot, stilettos clattering along the cobbles, to enjoy a nightcap by the fire. Louise, in her usual effervescent form, befriends a fellow Auckland visitor at the bar. “Such interesting people in Queenstown!” she declares, before ordering another scotch.
Next morning, we throw on walking shoes and hit the track that winds around the perimeter of the glittering Lake Wakatipu. There are people drinking a pitcher of beer on the shore. It’s not even 9am. We shrug – we were tucked up in bed by midnight, but there are plenty of visitors still partying.
Briefly recalling that we’re all still mothers, we fumble for mobiles and make hurried phone calls to our darlings, big and small. Instructions are given – how to make the cereal just right, where the sunscreen is kept, whose birthday party it is and what the parents’ names are.
Then, Lou and I leave Katie and Sarah snoozing in the sun and drive to the acclaimed Amisfield Bistro. I have been before, and it’s my all-time favourite lunch spot, but Lou is new to the experience. We order zucchini bruschetta, whitebait and smokey aubergine. We are so overcome with joy, we stop speaking – a previously unheard-of occurrence. Lamenting the fact that two of our party have missed the experience, we book a table for the next afternoon.
Sunday morning dawns and we hit Heaven Day Spa. My therapist, Katrina, firmly believes she can correct any skin problem without the use of needles, Botox or lasers. I have the best facial of my life and emerge from the beautiful treatment room looking 25 again. Well, almost.
But I quickly age those 10 years just 10 minutes later, watching my brave pals Sarah and Katie heave themselves off the platform of the AJ Hackett ledge bungy jump, suspended above Queenstown. Shuddering as they sign their consent forms, I cross everything and hope for the best. Katie is thrilled – her hunky bungy instructor has complemented her on her “perfect” jump. Sarah is less elegant as she shuffles to the edge and plummets off, screaming wildly – but we’ve come to expect that from her.
oonday, as we enjoy our final breakfast at Peppers, Katie asks if we might just move into our Queenstown penthouse permanently. Good friends, good wine and a great time. What children?
