Bungy jumping together hits differently because the nerves, adrenaline, and encouragement become a shared memory you’ll talk about long after the jump is over. Whether you go with your partner, mates, or family, facing the challenge together can strengthen connections and make the experience even more meaningful.
“Two is better than one.” “The more, the merrier.” “Partners in crime.” “Strength in numbers.”
There’s a reason so many sayings celebrate doing things together. Some experiences stay with you because of what you did. Others stay with you because of who was beside you when you did it.
Bungy has a funny way of becoming the latter.
Sure, you’ll remember the edge. You’ll remember your stomach dropping when you looked down. You’ll definitely remember those final few seconds before the crew yelled the countdown.
But years later, you might remember something else even more clearly.
Your best mate absolutely losing it while pretending they weren’t nervous, your partner squeezing your hand, or your dad shouting encouragement from the sidelines.
Because while taking the leap is intensely personal, doing it with someone you love turns it into something shared.
And shared adventures just hit differently. Here are a few stories from customers who, to throw in one more catchphrase, discovered that some adventures really are better together.
“Just Don’t Let Go of My Hand”
The Kawarau Swing was his idea… I feel that’s important to establish.
We’d been in Queenstown for a week and had reached that inevitable point in any holiday where too much time together in one small hotel room was starting to test our patience. We were getting a little irritable, a little snappy, and probably needed to shake things up.
Somewhere between breakfast and our second coffee on the seventh morning, he casually suggested we do something “a little adventurous.”
I agreed. What I hadn’t realised was that his definition of a little adventurous involved being strapped together and dropped towards the Kawarau River.
For most of the morning, we’d been teasing each other. Neither of us wanted to be the first to admit we were scared. Every time my nerves surfaced, he’d make me laugh. Every time he went quiet, I’d remind him this had been entirely his idea.
Then we were strapped in.
Suddenly, neither of us was laughing quite as much.
The river stretched beneath us, brilliant blue against the rugged cliffs. I’d seen photos before we came, but they hadn’t captured the scale of it.
Or the drop. Definitely not the drop.
I reached for his hand. “Just don’t let go,” I whispered.
“I won’t.” He squeezed mine.
It was a small exchange. We’ve probably said versions of those words a hundred times during our relationship without thinking about them.
But standing there, suspended above the Kawarau together, they suddenly meant something more.
The crew were talking to us, but my senses seemed to narrow until I was aware of only three things: His hand in mine, my heart hammering, and the enormous amount of empty space beneath my feet.
I peeked at him. He winked at me. And we both started laughing.
Not because anything was particularly funny. It was that slightly hysterical laughter that happens when your body has run out of sensible ways to process what’s happening.
Then we dropped.
There isn’t really enough time to think.
One moment, he’s beside me, smiling.
Next, my stomach is somewhere above my head and we’re falling together.
I screamed. He screamed. Although he would later claim his was “more of a yell.”
Then the Swing caught us and suddenly we were flying through the canyon.
Fear became exhilaration almost instantly. We were still holding hands.
I remember looking over at him and seeing this enormous grin spread across his face. Then I realised I was grinning too.
We swung out over the river, laughing so hard I could barely catch my breath.
All the nerves we’d carried onto the platform disappeared. So did the irritation we’d been feeling towards each other over all those stupid little things. In its place was this extraordinary feeling of being completely, ridiculously alive. Together.
Something shifted between us that day. We spent the rest of the holiday lighter, more open, and somehow more connected than we’d been when we arrived.
That’s what surprised me most.
I’d expected the adrenaline and the fear. I’d expected to scream. I hadn’t expected it to feel romantic.
Not romantic in the candlelight-and-roses sense. The kind of romantic where you’ve just seen each other terrified and slightly ridiculous, and somehow you love each other a little more because of it.
Years from now, I probably won’t remember what we had for dinner that night.
But I’ll remember standing above that river with my heart pounding and his hand wrapped tightly around mine.
I’ll remember saying, “Don’t let go.” And I’ll remember that he didn’t.
“If I’m Doing This, You’re Coming With Me”
Certain sentences that should immediately make you suspicious on a stag do.
“We’ve organised a surprise” is one of them.
I’d been expecting go-karts, maybe paintball. Worst-case scenario, an embarrassing costume and several hours wandering around Queenstown dressed as something inflatable.
Instead, the boys drove me into the middle of nowhere and pronounced that I was doing the Nevis Swing.
I stared at them. “You absolute bastards.” They knew I was scared of heights.
But then my best mate stepped forward, “Don’t worry. I’m doing it with you.”
Relief coursed through me, until I saw the canyon.
We’d been mates for nearly twenty years. We’d survived school together. Terrible haircuts. First girlfriends. Break-ups. Questionable flats. Even more questionable nights out. He’d been there through most of the important moments of my life.
Now, apparently, he was going to be there while I was dropped into a canyon too.
The closer we got, the quieter we both became.
Naturally, the rest of the party found this hilarious.
I think our conversation went something like this:
“You’ve gone pale.”
“So have you.”
“I’m naturally pale.”
“You look dead.”
Then we shuffled towards the edge. That’s when it became real. Very real.
I looked out into the Nevis Valley and my stomach tightened.
Suddenly, I wasn’t thinking about the wedding, I wasn’t thinking about the boys watching, and I wasn’t thinking about the beers waiting for us later.
I was thinking: There is absolutely no reason I need to do this.
I turned to my mate. “We could back out.”
“Mate, there are twelve people watching us.”
Then… We dropped.
Every ounce of dignity disappeared and we screamed.
Two grown men hurtling through the Nevis Valley making noises neither of us knew we were physically capable of producing.
Then the Swing swept us out across the canyon. And suddenly the terror became something else. Pure exhilaration.
The mountains rushed past us. The valley opened up beneath our feet. Adrenaline surged through every part of my body.
I looked across at him. He was grinning like an idiot. So was I.
For a few seconds, we weren’t men approaching another major milestone in life; we were teenagers again. Two mates doing something ridiculous purely because we could.
Stag dos are supposed to celebrate the end of one chapter. But swinging above the Nevis with one of my oldest mates didn’t feel like an ending. It reminded me how many chapters we’d already been through together.
Now I was getting married.
Life had become busier and more serious without either of us really noticing. Yet there we were, suspended above a canyon, laughing exactly like we had twenty years earlier.
Fear Has a Funny Way of Bringing People Together
One of the beautiful things about adventure is that it strips away the everyday stuff. Nobody cares about emails, and nobody’s checking what needs to be done tomorrow.
You’re suddenly incredibly present, and so is everyone around you.
There’s a reason experiences like bungy seem to bring people closer.
For a few minutes, everything becomes very simple. You’re nervous. They’re nervous. You encourage each other. You feel the fear, but you both choose to do it anyway, together.
In a world where we’re increasingly distracted, moments of complete presence have become surprisingly rare.
Here’s the important bit: a shared adventure doesn’t mean everyone has to have the same appetite for adrenaline.
One person might be desperate to bungy, another might prefer a swing. Someone else might be perfectly happy remaining on solid ground and providing enthusiastic moral support. That’s okay.
At AJ Hackett Bungy NZ locations, different experiences mean families and groups can build an adventure day around their own comfort levels.
At Kawarau, for example, you might have one family member taking on the iconic bungy while others cheer from the viewing deck or tackle the Zipride.
At Nevis, your group can choose between the Bungy, Swing and Catapult depending on exactly how you’d prefer to encounter gravity that day.
The adventure doesn’t have to look the same for everyone to belong to everyone.
Adventure Is Better Together
Want to have an AJ Hackett adventure together? Whether it’s your partner, best mate, family, or the whole crew, there are plenty of ways to share the adrenaline.
Tandem Swing
Why scream alone when you can take someone with you? Swing side-by-side and experience the nerves, the drop, and the inevitable laughter together at the Nevis or Kawarau Swings.
Group Bookings
Bringing the whole gang? From family trips and birthdays to stag and hen dos, group bookings make it easy to turn your adventure into a shared experience.
Because long after the adrenaline wears off, you’ll still be able to look at each other and say:
“We did that together.”
Ready to make it a group story? Book your AJ Hackett adventure together.
FAQs:
Can two people experience the drop together, or do we have to jump separately?
You can take on the thrill side-by-side. AJ Hackett offers tandem options like the Kawarau Swing and the Nevis Swing, where you and a partner or friend are strapped in together to share the countdown, drop, and canyon swing. Group bookings are also available if you are visiting with a larger crew, stag do, or family.
What if members of our group have different comfort levels or don’t want to jump?
You don’t all need to do the same activity to share the day. Sites like Kawarau and Nevis offer a range of options (including Bungy, Swings, Ziprides, and the Catapult) so everyone can choose their preferred thrill level. Group members who prefer to stay on solid ground can watch, cheer, and take photos from dedicated viewing decks.
