What a Zipline Tour Taught Me About Running Adventure Experiences

How do I keep ending up in situations that sensible people would probably avoid.

I once found myself standing on a platform high above the native forest in Rotorua, clipped into a steel cable and wondering, not for the first time in my life, how I keep ending up in situations that sensible people would probably avoid.

The guides from Rotorua Canopy Tours were calm, cheerful and clearly very used to dealing with people like me. People who are excited right up until the exact moment they’re asked to step off a platform into thin air.

And after years of operating trekking experiences in the Himalayas, I found myself less focused on the adrenaline and more interested in how the whole operation actually worked.

Because whether you’re guiding people through remote mountain villages in Nepal or sending them flying through native forest on a zipline in Rotorua, good adventure tourism is really about the same thing.

You’re managing human experience.

That brief moment where everyone’s smiling confidently while quietly questioning their life choices.

The activity itself matters, of course. The scenery matters. Safety matters enormously. But what separates an average experience from a memorable one is usually the way people are made to feel from the moment they arrive.

That’s something I’ve learnt over years of taking trekkers into the Himalayas. Most people don’t actually arrive worried about the mountains. They arrive worried about themselves.

• Will I cope?

• Am I fit enough?

• What if I slow everyone down?

• What if I panic?

You see exactly the same thing on a zipline tour, just condensed into a few hours instead of a few weeks. Some people bounce in full of confidence. Others are visibly terrified but trying not to show it and good guides know how to read that almost immediately.

The part guests remember as “fun and relaxed” is usually backed by a very good safety briefing and guides paying attention to absolutely everything.

Watching the guides on the canopy tour was fascinating because the really good ones are never just delivering information. They’re constantly managing energy, reassurance and group dynamics at the same time. They know when to joke, when to encourage, when to slow things down and when to quietly step in before someone becomes overwhelmed.

That’s experience and you can’t fake it.

I also noticed how much trust sits underneath adventure tourism as guests hand over an enormous amount of control. They trust the equipment, the systems, the weather calls, the judgement of the guides and the overall operation without really understanding the mechanics behind any of it.

The best operators make that trust feel effortless.

In Nepal, I always say that clients should never have to carry the stress of the logistics. If we’re doing our jobs properly, people can simply immerse themselves in the experience because someone competent is quietly holding everything together in the background. The same applied here, the operation felt smooth, calm and well rehearsed without feeling corporate or overly scripted.

That balance is harder to achieve than people realise.

What I particularly appreciated was that the forest itself remained the hero of the experience. The ziplines were exciting, absolutely, but what stayed with me afterwards was the native bush. Suspended high in the canopy, you notice details you’d completely miss walking on the ground. The guides spoke about conservation, regeneration and the history of the forest in a way that felt genuine rather than rehearsed for tourists.

Apparently a childhood spent crossing questionable swingbridges in Borneo was unexpectedly good preparation for this.

I think modern travellers are increasingly looking for that sort of connection. People still want adventure, but they also want meaning. They want experiences that feel rooted in place rather than something that could exist anywhere in the world.

New Zealand does this well when we lean into who we actually are.

We don’t need to manufacture artificial experiences when we already have extraordinary landscapes, fascinating history and people who genuinely care about the environments they work in.

It also reminded me how much operational leadership influences guest experience, even when guests never consciously notice it. A strong operations culture filters into everything. Staff confidence, timing, communication, safety systems, morale, flow. When operations are working well, guests simply feel relaxed enough to enjoy themselves.

When they’re not, people sense it immediately.

Adventure tourism can look effortless from the outside, but behind every smooth departure is an enormous amount of coordination.

Staffing, maintenance, risk management, transport logistics, customer communication, changing weather conditions and the unpredictable reality of human beings all need to somehow align every single day. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy this industry so much.

Done properly, it sits at the intersection of hospitality, leadership, logistics, storytelling and human connection. You’re not simply moving people through an activity, you’re helping create experiences they’ll talk about years later.

And sometimes, apparently, you’re also gently encouraging someone to step off platforms suspended high above the forest while pretending not to notice they’re trying to hide their nerves.

Handing over complete trust