Catch Up And Powder Hounds

August 8^th-13^th

I was walking along the road in a light drizzle toward a spot that would be ideal for hitching. As usual, I had my 75-litre pack on my back, 22-litre hanging from my front. I put my thumb out and turned to face the cars as they went by, never missing an opportunity. About 2 minutes into the walk a towering tractor-trailer truck whizzed by, and the driver must have had an abrupt change of mind since he swerved to the left, slamming on his brakes. A truck that was hot on his heels did a quick maneuver to the right to avoid a rear-end accident and continued on his way.

The truck driver hoped out of the cab and came around to open a side door to the back to throw my large pack in. “You heading to Taupo?” I asked.

“Yip, hop on in.”

In the cab, I chit chatted with the man. Nice guy though I wouldn’t envy his life. Apparently he has spent the last two years of his life driving the same 8 hour round trip loop 5 days a week. “I enjoy it. Roads are different every time. Yeah know, snow, wind, sleet…” Hmm exciting. Beats his last job of dairy farming, I guess…maybe. He at least thought so.

As we got near Taupo, he hopped on his radio and began to banter with the driver that had been behind him before and who was now in the lead. The conversation went quickly to the moment of picking me up.

            “Ah yeah bro, talk about split second decision. I nearly hit you.”

            “Yeah, it was split second decision, but it wasn’t close.”

            “Ah bro, it was my good driving that saved us. I reacted so quick…”

            “Ok it was close, but not that close. Ahh, I thought you were complaining about wanting a new truck. If you hit me, at least you’d have one then.”

            So went the last 10 minutes of the drive.

He dropped me off at a parking lot next to the lovely lake of Taupo. 20 minutes later Shinee, my hostess and friend of a friend, picked me up. While I waited, I meandered into the liquor store to buy some red wine for mulling. Couldn’t come to a stranger’s home empty handed. Later we learned, to our surprise, she wasn’t much of a stranger after all. When we arrived at her house after grocery shopping, I had a moment of de je vu when I walked into her living room.

            “Wait, did you live in Wanaka in 2011?”

            “Yes.”

            “Did you have Emily and some other folks over for the rugby world cup?”

            “Ah yes, I think so.”

            “Ha, no way. I was there.”

Small world. Funny neither of us recognized the other at first.

Shinee cooked up dinner. She told me to relax and make myself at home. So I supervised with a cuppa (cup of tea) in hand. Her husband Carl and their friend Victor returned just into time to join us. Carl is mechanical engineer and was fixing up Victor’s helicopter to get Victor back to work. Though Victor was not actually interested in going back to spray fertilizers on hundreds of kilometers of farmland. He was more keen to join us for a weekend of climbing. Sadly, he had to return the next day since there was a weather window. My good friend Emily and her partner Hanza (from the Czec Republic) arrived late that night however and spent the weekend dedicated to climbing, hanging with friends, and delicious meals.

It was an amazing weekend. Carl and Shinee were exceptionally hospitable folks, feeding me and allowing me to stay Sunday night while I waited for news on my car. The climbing in Whanganui Bay was great. The area was down a washed out dirt road that ended right on lake Taupo. Stunning views, sharp painful pockets, friction and yet sometimes mossy climbs with bolts that were a bit spaced. Generally falls were still safe as long as you clipped the first bolt. Chit chatting with Emily felt like 2.5 years hadn’t passed since I last saw her. I almost forgot how much I enjoy climbing with her. Laughs, problem solving, and trip planning.

Come Monday morning I went with Victor (who returned Sunday night) to pick up my car in Turangi. From Turangi, we carpooled down in my car to Tukino, a small club ski field on Southeast side of Ruapehu. Got to test my car on rough dirt roads for the first time. It handled it well, minus a soft suspension. The dirt carried by the high winds probably took away that last waxing coating the previous owners put on it.

Victor with the view we enjoyed on our hike

There was supposed to be some ice climbing very close to the ski field that we hoped to get on. Upon arriving to the road’s end, parking my car behind a giant rock (in the hopes of preventing rocks from flying up and shattering a window), and exiting the car from one door because the wind kept the others shut, we adapted our plans. We enjoyed a yawn with the people huddled in the club building, a cup of tea, and lunch before hitting the road again.  We looped back to Turangi, taking the long way round and stopping at lookouts. We snuck in a 3-hour hike in the freezing rain where we enjoyed the view of mist and tussock within a 100m of us. Upon finishing we went straight to the hot pools and enjoyed them for an hour or so before returning to Turangi.

Tuesday I meandered back to National Park, staying at Kaj’s place again to do yet another average ski tour at Whakapapa. This time the wind was too bad to go above the top of the first lift, so I did short runs practicing my transitions about 5 times over. With no luck in being able to shadow patrol, I decided it was time to move on. Upon finishing my laps I headed south to see if I’d have better luck at Turoa Ski Field.

The River from the train Bridge

On the way, I had stopped to enjoy a view of a river and train bridge. Sure enough, 10 minutes after stopping, I go to start the car…rrrutdadadadadada. The next half hour I intermittently let the car rest, ate (mainly spoonfuls of Nutella), tried to admire the views a bit more, and then repeatedly tried to get it to start. Two German men came over to check on me. One was a mechanic but had no idea what the problem could be and he had no tools. They waited around with me until the car reluctantly started. I booked it down the road a mere 10ish km and pulled off at Horopito Vintage Vehicles and Museum to have a mechanic check the car and to explore their enormous collection of cars (supposedly 2^nd largest antique car collection in the world). A friendly mechanic came out to check out the car. 10 times in a row he attempts to start the car and of course, it starts perfectly every time. He examined the engine and the parts that make it run, gave me some guesses as to what it might be. I strolled through the museum to give my car a chance to fail again. 20 minutes later, it starts with no problems. Damn.

 

Giving up on my car failing for the mechanic I drove on to Ohakanie, the town before Turoa ski field. I walked into a ski repair shop to be greeted by a man about my age with dread locks maybe a foot shorter than I am tall (ok, may 1.5 feet shorter). I asked about finding ski touring partners.

“Ah, not until Sunday.”

“Sunday? I thought the weather was supposed to start clearing Friday and be lovely until Monday?”

“Yeah, but I’m only off on Sunday.”

“Ah right. Sweet then. Where can I find a partner for Friday and Saturday then?”

He (Callum) tells me to find a gentleman named Nick. When I wandered into another ski shop, they immediately said the exact same name and even gave me directions to his business.

I knock on the office door of Ruapehu’s Cabins, and a middle-aged man with a slightly weathered face opens the door. I tell him I’m looking for Nick and turns out he is the man I’m looking for. When I told him I’m looking for ski touring partners for Friday, Saturday, and Monday, he became giddy with excitement. For the next hour or so, I listened and watched as he started looking up the weather, pulling out maps to show areas he was excited to checkout, talking about ski conditions, and skiing powder in Japan and NZ. Find a local who knows the mountain and keen for touring: Check.

‘Average’ Touring

I was driving out of Auckland by 10:30 AM on Tuesday August 5^th (after a minor detour where I went in a complete circle and arrived back at Wilma’s house).  The drive to Ruapeho was supposed to take about four to five hours. That is, if you drive the speed limit. However, due to wanting to maximize my fuel economy and being terrified to drive 100 km/hr on the narrow windy roads I was the old granny driver, much to the frustration of the drivers behind me probably.

I did make a couple of stops on the way down to take a second to enjoy the scenery and for petrol. Beyond that, I was just keen to make it to the mountain.

I arrived at National Park (a town 20 minutes before the Whakapapa Ski Field) about 4:30 in the afternoon. The snowcapped, conical volcano of Mt Ngauruhoe[1] towered above the golden and green landscape. It was struggling with gaining its winter coat with lots of rocky ridges lining the half filled gulleys. It was little more welcoming than the mountain portrayed in Lord of the Rings, but probably not very skiable at the moment. Just to the Southwest, there was the taller, more sprawling volcano of Mount Ruapeho, which boasted of a nicer, while still patchy, winter coat. It had been a lovely clear day on the mountains; I wished I arrived a bit earlier to sneak in some touring. I decided to spend the night in National Park to find a place to sleep and eat before dark.

Ngauruhoe when the weather cleared
the evening after my first tour at Whakapapa

Ruapeho my first night in National Park

After filling up on a few liters of petrol, I stopped to talk to a young woman who looked like a resort worker. Sure enough, she was a ski instructor, but unfortunately not into touring. She did mention that folks into ski touring may be found at the pub that night for the locals’ quiz and she directed me to a safe place sleep in my car. I set up for sleeping, cooked up a quick dinner, and then headed to the pub for the evening to attempt networking. A DOC[2] guy told me the next day actually that socializing at the pub is probably the best way to find a temporary job in NZ, even government jobs (good thing I didn’t search too hard on the internet before). While I enjoyed conversations with a Frenchman turned Kiwi, a local, and some other transient Kiwis, I wasn’t very successful in finding touring partners.

Next morning, when my alarm beeped I rolled over to look through the car windows, the view was distorted by raindrops, to see only clouds and no mountains. I hit the snooze button. Half-hour later, I decided I needed to get moving. Put on the skis regardless of weather so I can be fit and ready for the good weather windows.

Clouds sopped in Whakapapa ski field and the precipitation was pelting down in an unpleasantly wet and icy form. I meandered up to the Urgent Clinic to talk to patrol. The doctor there put me on the line with a lead patroller, Nick.

            “Hello Nick, this is Kat. I see you have some great coverage and fantastic weather to go along with it, eh.”

            “Ah yup, it is pretty nice isn’t it? Really exceptional conditions”

            Following a bit of banter, I proceeded to explain that I was keen on touring, was wondering about snow conditions, if he knew of anyone to tour with, and if the ski field had any policies on people touring uphill in bounds. Upon answering my questions, he finished with the classic kiwi line, “Stop in to join us for a cup of tea in the patrol office once you get up here. We’re just under the express lift.”

            “Sweet, I’ll be on my way up shortly.” I spent the next half-hour to 45 minutes trying to put all my gear on in the car while trying not to open my car doors too often to prevent everything from getting soaked (moments I wish I bought a van). First challenge of car camping in New Zealand: preventing your stuff from getting wet when it’s nonstop precipitation.

            Finally I was on my way up the hill. It was great to finally be on skis again and getting a bit of exercise, despite the sleet pecking my cheeks like thousands of needles. It only had been three months since my last ski tour and yet I was relearning my layering system once again, stopping 3 times on the way up to adjust.

            Just over an hour later I snapped out of my skis and stomped into the patrol room. I introduced myself to the first person in a patrol jacket, saying I was looking for a gentleman by the name of Nick. While I waited for him to come to the lounge, I started chatting with some patrollers, hoping to find an avid backcountry skier in the bunch. As I chatted with them, I tried to be real smooth with using my kiwi lingo so I’d blend in a little. “Ah yeah, I got a bit soft this summer. I mean with trying to remember all the gear I need for a tour and getting my layering system right...Sweet, I’m super keen to get out for a tour up the mountain…miles per hour, I mean kilometers in miles per hour…make that kilometers per hour.” Still the rambler who struggles to find my words in any lingo.

When Nick arrived, I chatted with him over a macchiato from the Nestlé machine. It was somewhat productive, learning about possible patrol jobs down south and avalanche danger. Then everyone began dispersing back to his or her duties.

After a long break inside, slowly I began switching out damp layers and adding warmer ones to prepare me for the ski down. I snagged the phone number of a patroller (Kaj) who was into touring before I left and snapped back into my skis.  The way down was slow with having to frequently scrape ice from my goggles. I did a second lap up just to be sure I could do a relatively quick turnover. There’s nothing like ‘average’ NZ weather to speed up the learning curve.

            Shortly after arriving in town I received a text from Kaj, saying the weather wasn’t good for a tour, but if I wanted, there was a couch at his place with my name on it. I arrived at the perfect time-dinner already made, folks already full, and leftover’s still warm. They insisted I take them. I enjoyed a warm evening by a wood stove, yawning[3] with the three patrollers who live in the home.

            Next day was a bit of a repeat of the day before. This time the precipitation wasn’t so biting. This time soft rain caressed my face as I moved up the hill and yet still blinded me on the way down. White out conditions remained. I didn’t last as long as the day before.

            After spending an afternoon in the warm house, I went for a run in the rain. I returned to find Kaj[4] had made mulled wine and a lentil dish for the household. Top that off with a hot shower and the evening was perfect.

Turangi

            Friday I left town early to have my car inspected in Turangi. I neglected to mention, on the drive down and in National Park, I was already starting to experience issues with the car. Burning rubber smell, difficulty starting the car occasionally. After some google searching, I feared my alternator was going. After dropping off the car at the auto shop, I explored the town a little before deciding to hitch to the town of Taupo. There I was to meet my old friend Emily and new friends Shinee and Carl for my weekend climbing adventures!

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[1] My mistake, this is the real Mount Doom. Apparently scenes of Frodo and Bilbo’s journey to Mountain Doom were filmed on Ruapeho.

[2] Department of Conservation-Kind of like our National Park and Forest Rangers.

[3] Yawn-Kiwi term for casual conversation.

[4] I would like to note, Kaj is originally from Australia and currently following winter between New Zealand and Norway. He’s also done quite a bit a traveling in-between, including to Park City, UT. Oh, and he’s convinced me I need to visit Norway.