Is Queenstown really worth the hype? I took my kids to find out.

BY Quentin Long

Last updated . 15 April 2025

Travellers flock to Queenstown in winter for its epic ski fields. But even if you don’t hit the slopes, you’ll discover this alpine playground delivers on adventure, nature and more on a family holiday.

Queenstown belongs to a rare category of destinations: it exceeds its prodigious reputation. And it begins before you even land, with one of the greatest destination arrivals in the world. Sure, Sydney Harbour and maybe New York City are incredible to see from the sky, but Queenstown is hard to beat for its sheer and monumental natural beauty.

It may be beautiful, but does Queenstown live up to expectations?

The picturesque Lake Wakatipu in Queensland

The picturesque Lake Wakatipu. (Image: Quentin Long)

Flying into Queenstown Airport is part necessary transportation and part scenic flight. Lake Wakatipu stretches out like an emerald-blue welcome mat. Mountains flank the lake like noble sentries, replete with snow-white bearskin coats. “It is just so beautiful,” my wife whispers, as we lean into the windows like bobbleheads.

To state that Queenstown exceeds its reputation begs the question: What is its reputation in the first place? Queenstown is known as a natural paradise, a skiing and mountain-biking haven, a nirvana for adrenaline junkies and young people looking to work and party for a season, a wine region of global renown with a culinary offering to match, and a bolthole for the mega-rich.

That’s a lot packed into a relatively small town with a population of 30,000 on a lake in the deep south of New Zealand. The foundation of this reputation is thanks to the pioneers, entrepreneurs and inventors of the region, who just decided they could.

The bungy was invented right here in Queenstown by AJ Hackett. The jetboat that spawned the Shotover Jet was created by a local South Islander, Sir Charles Hamilton. Before jetboats, he also invented NZ’s favourite ski tow, the ‘nutcracker’, which was used on the country’s first ski field, just 15 minutes from the heart of Queenstown at Coronet Peak. This town just does the unthinkable, and it always has. So, yes, considerable hype exceeded.

Reputation vs. reality: testing out Queenstown’s hottest offerings

There is a small tragedy in this story though. My son, who semi-politely but repetitively asked (bugged me into submission) to go skiing for the first time, broke his leg six weeks before departure.

I can no longer ski, and I now had a child to mind while my eldest son and his mother enjoyed Queenstown’s most famous winter activity. And, right on cue, 50 centimetres of snow arrived the same evening we did.

Skiing at The Remarkables

The Rees Hotel offers a sophisticated stay. (Image: Quentin Long)

Our pre-ordered ski gear appeared at our two-bedroom lakeside apartment at The Rees Hotel for a novice mum (who hadn’t been skiing in 20 years) and a 13-year-old who had never snowboarded. In 20 minutes, they were both fitted and ready to carve.

At The Remarkables, large feathery snowflakes float down from the grey clouds that are gathered around the jagged peaks like campers around a fire. The magnificent scenery is lost in the welcome flurry of white.

The 13-year-old was understandably frustrated at a day of mostly falling and little snowboarding. To his credit, though, he returned the next day to a beaming Coronet Peak and was carving by the end of day two. My heart soared. These are the holidays we dream of giving our kids. Action-packed, challenging, eyes looking up at nature, fun and healthy – all great for the mind and body.

Meanwhile, Mum reintroduced some forgotten muscles to the joy of skiing. She managed the aches and pains with some “time to enjoy the most picturesque skiing of my life”. ‘Broken-Leg’ found comfort in pounding me with snowballs for 90 minutes at both destinations.

To his absolute credit, he handled both the disappointment and doing ‘Dad things’ well. I was aided though, by every parent’s most effective tool – excessive bribery. He quickly discovered the array of flavours at Mrs Ferg Gelateria and without Mum around, Dad was quite partial to a morning scoop or two.

Hiking up Queenstown Hill

Views from Queenstown Hill. (Image: Quentin Long)

Justin Chisolm is a wise man: “Photos only capture where you have been but tell you nothing about what you have experienced.” It wasn’t a dig at me busily clicking away atop Queenstown Hill. Known as Te Tapu-nui in Māori, it is used for quad biking and 4WD training, and just happens to have the mightiest, yet relatively secret, views of Queenstown and Lake Wakatipu.

We’re up here on what was meant to be a Lord of the Rings adventure. But being as intuitive as Gandalf, Justin abandons any focus on Frodo and Middle Earth when Broken-Leg and I don’t have an answer for our favourite character from the books. Instead, he drives us up through the Arrow River, 15 minutes north-east of Queenstown. We bounce, thrust and jolt along the river’s rocky bottom as the steep gorge walls sneak ever closer.

On our way, we pass a bearded gold panner trying his luck. It is not a fickle endeavour. “You could earn $60 an hour if you work your arse off,” Justin tells me in a small, relatively plain jewellery shop back in Arrowtown. He has just handed me a three-plus-ounce gold nugget found in the river just 10 years ago.

A guided tour of Arrowtown

Where you can cruise onboard the T.S.S. Earnslaw. (Image: Quentin Long)

The gold rush town has kept its heritage. We walk amid the restored and preserved wooden shopfronts with awnings that once would have slouched but now, with the influx of interest and money, stand prim and proper. The Remarkable Sweet Shop is a hit with Broken-Leg, who negotiates two bags of lollies: one for himself and one for his mum, which is delivered missing a few choice sweets.

I return to Arrowtown with both kids later in the week and explore the pocket-sized museum that focuses on gold rush heritage. They marvel at the size of the moa leg bone (an extinct group of flightless birds) and even participate in the curator’s game of ‘find the odd one out’. Each display has an artefact that doesn’t belong; the mannequin in the bush pub has ibuprofen in his hands, for example. A ‘lovely’ 40 minutes with kids in a museum. I know. Remarkable.

Back on the tour, Justin has more to keep Broken-Leg’s mind off the skiing he is missing. We traverse a small distance along Skippers Canyon track, reputedly one of the 10 most dangerous roads in the world. But the sheer drop off the edge of the unprotected road doesn’t concern us. We are distracted, instead, by the majesty of the canyon.

Its cliffs are covered in brown heath that looks like a newly shorn poodle. In the distance, the snow guns on Coronet Peak create an icing-sugar plume and the vista is mountains forever in every direction.

A scenic flight over Milford Sound

landscape of Milford Sound in Queensland

The dramatic landscape of Milford Sound, as seen on a scenic flight. (Image: Quentin Long)

Later that week, Broken-Leg and I get another view of the mountains on a scenic flight to Milford Sound, their serrated edges covered in varying shades and textures of snow. Some look dusted in icing sugar, others buried under fat dollops of meringue.

In the highest reaches of the mountains, the bulkier glaze of a doughnut or wispy dust particles. Piercing the whiteness, shaded lakes are a lifeless black or brooding indigo in the sunlight.

The desolate brown gorges suddenly disappear under dark-green beech tree forests as we approach Milford Sound. The mountains fall into watery sound and sea, where tiny boats are dwarfed by the cliff faces, hidden by subtropical rainforest, camouflage paint clinging to the rock surface.

Bungy jumping above the Kawarau River

Writer Quentin Long takes the leap off Kawarau Bridge. (Image: Quentin Long)

As I have told my boys over and over: “A life lived in fear is a life half lived.” Now I have to walk the walk. I’m at AJ Hackett Bungy Jump and was feeling cocky until 10 minutes ago, when the instructor bound my ankles and clipped my harness onto the bungy. Sensing my fear, his tone has changed from jovial to calming and softly spoken.

“Look over to the left and give them a wave.” The kids are giggling and nervously bobbing up and down. I am petrified. At any other time, I would be gazing into the turquoise Kawarau River below. But right now, I am in my own head, listening to the instructor. I give them a wave and know I must model the words I have preached: A life lived in fear is a life half lived. “I will count you down from three and then you dive.”

I only hear “one” and then I am soaring (falling, really). Now that I have let go, I am overwhelmed by the sense of freedom. Fifteen minutes later in the gift shop, adrenaline still pumping, I have to buy something that will remind me of wanting to embrace a life fully lived. The Live More, Fear Less hoodie sums it all up.

As we arrive at the airport, Broken-Leg continues to put on a brave face. “I am skiing, not snowboarding, when we come back next year,” he says. What’s this? Happy kids who want to come back? Let’s call that mission accomplished on a family holiday.