Assisted by Chris and fellow guide Reese, we are about to scale the Southern Hemisphere's only Via Ferrata: an Italian climbing system comprising a series of fixed steel rungs, pegs and cables.
Looking up at the weathered slab of rock dotted with shining rungs and topped with a Mohawk of pine trees, I'm thinking Chris has got to be wrong: surely arriving at the top is everything?
We set off on a gentle walking track that quickly becomes steeper; we hoist ourselves up the track with ropes, put in place to assist walkers. We climb hand-made schist steps and pass black, white and brown goats bleating from within the forest that surrounds us.
Soon we reach a clearing and the first steel rungs jutting out at us from the stern monolith that is Queenstown Hill. A thick steel cable runs parallel with the rungs, evenly segmented every 2-3 metres by a twisting bolt, or 'stanchion', poking out from the rock like a pig's curly tail.
Clad in helmets and harnesses, decked out with karabiners and lanyards we begin to climb. "Always make sure you have two points of contact with the mountain," instructs Chris, during his safety talk. By unclipping entirely, he says, we can fall.Following his lead we clip two of our three karabiners into the cable, on which they slide along as we move. The other karabiner stays attached to our harness until we come to a pig's tail stanchion. Here, as we prepare to unclip and move from one stretch of cable to the next, Chris's advice reverberates around my head: "...two points of contact..."
I unclip my idle karabiner and hook it into a climbing rung. One at a time ("...two points of contact..."), I take the cable karabiners, pass them over the stanchion, clip them in to the next section of cable then ("...two points of contact...") unclip my third karabiner from the rung before climbing onwards.
To begin with, I'm all thumbs and clanking karabiners. At times I almost unclip entirely; at others I try to climb whilst still clipped into a rung. But before long, we all slip into a steady rhythm - each climber waiting a respectable distance behind the other before clipping in, unclipping, reclipping, unclipping then continuing quietly up.
I'm engrossed in the methodical clipping and the intricate lined pattern of the schist rock, centimetres from my face when the climber above me stops. "Oh, wow!" she exclaims. Following her gaze, I turn to look behind us. Far below is the sprawling, sparkling cobalt-blue Lake Wakatipu, encircled by steep, snowy peaks. Minuscule boats zoom about on the water like high-speed aquatic insects. Queenstown itself has become a series of dots, interspersed with faint grey lines specked with infinitesimal cars and trucks.
This is precisely why Via Ferrata (which translates from Italian as 'Iron Way') is so popular around the world. Without any previous climbing experience, participants can experience the thrill and the views that climbers have traditionally had all to themselves. Although Climbing Queenstown, established in 2003, offers the only Via Ferrata in the Southern Hemisphere, there are hundreds of Via Ferrata routes scattered about Europe.The best-known and oldest Vie Ferrate (plural of Via Ferrata), are positioned amongst the Dolomites - a section of The Alps that runs through north-east Italy. These routes were established with ladders and fixed ropes during the First World War enabling feuding Italian and Austrian troops to navigate the inhospitable terrain of the Dolomites. Trenches, dugouts and other war relics are said to still be visible alongside many of Italy's Vie Ferrate.
Here on quiet Queenstown Hill, we couldn't be further from the Via Ferrata's origins. This five-year-old series of routes took around a year to build and features over 1,000 rungs and 500m of cable. As well as the four hour Via Ferrata excursions that depart here twice daily, Climbing Queenstown offers abseiling, rock climbing and mountaineering trips in the area.
With goats bleating and birds twittering, we amble upwards, chatting and stopping for photos. At times, the route eases into a flat stroll; at others we face a sheer vertical climb. At one memorable point, it dips into a tricky rock overhang with a mid-way karabiner change.
But before long I notice the terrain changing altogether. There's less rock, more trees and the cable is now running alongside a dirt path. Rounding a corner I find my climbing buddies sitting, smiling and exerted at the top of Queenstown Hill.
As much as I'm thrilled to be here, with the spectacular views and the steep climb behind me, I have to say that Chris was right all along: when it comes to Via Ferrata, the journey really is everything.
Amelia experienced Queenstown's Via Ferrata courtesy of Climbing Queenstown, Destination Queenstown and www.fourcorners.co.nz.
