From Queenstown, NZ to San Gil, Colombia: What they don't tell you about adventure towns

They're advertised as hotspots for adrenaline junkies. Such towns are gifted with the kind of cliffs that are perfect for jumping off, skies with a view worth falling into, or the kind of river you can't not raft through.

Skydiving had always been on my list of 'to do' things since I was 16. A friend suggested waiting till I was older (i.e. richer) and do it in Queenstown, NZ - because apparently it was THE place in the world to skydive. I figured that if I was only ever going to do it once in my life, I may as well go all out.

Eight years later a travel buddy suggested our next stop be South Island, New Zealand. One of the cities we'd be passing through was Queenstown, adventure capital of NZ.

My time had come.

I had never been happier to part ways with so much money, nor more enthused to sign a death disclosure form. They drove us about half an hour out of town to a small airport, where a plane was waiting to whisk us 15, 000 metres above ground… so we could fall most of the way back down.

Just as they were about to fit us into gear, I was delivered one of the biggest blows in my life.

Despite perfect conditions that morning, the wind had suddenly picked up just enough to hit danger level.

My dream was postponed till the next day.

Except the next day, it was raining.

The day after that, our tour was moving on to another city. So my dream was pretty much cancelled on me. As a constant reminder of my pain, I spent weeks afterward trying to get my money back.

I was disheartened, to say the least. Majority of the reason for my going to NZ (apart from intentions of visiting a friend who also conveniently bailed), was to skydive. My hard earned, long awaited adventure holiday suddenly lost its purpose.

What the brochures don't tell you is that for every skydive that goes ahead - there are a handful of broken hearts that don't get to go.

I numbed the pain with other activities like glacier hiking, white water rafting, speed boating, and swimming with the dolphins.

Perhaps the greatest risk in travelling especially for adventure sport is that it may not even go ahead. I've since learned to balance anticipation and excitement with a healthy level of expectation and acceptance of unfavourable conditions.

Putting this into practice a second time around came a lot sooner than I thought.

Just this week my South America tour stopped by San Gil - adventure capital of Colombia, for 2 days. On the first day  I had booked myself in for repelling 200m down a waterfall, until the unrelenting rain said 'no.' The following day I decided to paraglide for 15 minutes through Chicamocha Canyon. Speaking too soon thinking it was finally my lucky day, the wind died down after just 5 minutes; which was 5 minutes more than the multitude of people still left in line behind me, whose plans of paragliding at all that day were shattered.

Where you can help it, I'd recommend spending at least a week in any adventure capital to allow for the rescheduling of cancelled activities due to poor weather. With that said however, during peak periods this may not be so easy if every slot for the next few days is already full to the brim with other hopefuls.

Take these things with a smile, and always look for a silver lining. It may force you to consider other activities you would have otherwise never intended doing, or if you really need to scrape for a morsel of comfort - at least you didn't die. Even dare devils have a safety limit.

Sometimes it just isn't meant to be, it just happens to be a lot more than any fancy website or glossy brochure will care to admit.

Love, Noeline

xox

The time I finally got to skydive, at North Wollongong.