A Summit Of A Different Sort

August 14^th-18^th

On Thursday, the mountain was still engulfed in a whirlwind of N.Z. winter weather. The Turoa Ski Field was still closed due to high winds and the access road was closed because of snow (go figure). Meanwhile town was soaked in rain; sometimes it was a downpour. So a day dedicated to catching up on life and training. Spending lots of time in the library, trail running, and using the climbing gym during their $10 special. I hadn’t expected much from the gym since it looked like a tourist trap with the brightly colored walls, one with circles cut out for holds, another with small sections of rope sticking out, a rope ladder, and a so called “dry tooling" wall. However, it did have self-belay devices and I didn’t having anything better to do with my time that evening. I went in for a pump fest (burning out the forearm muscles) and actually enjoyed myself.

I walked out the gym to find the depressing rain had turned to revitalizing, soft quiet snow. With new excitement for the next few days, I headed to Callum’s house. I had spent about an hour in his shop earlier that day having a yawn with him and his boss. Before I had left Callum invited me to escape the rain and stay in one of the spare bedrooms at his place.

Looking back at Nick and our turns in the petite bowl.

After a morning delayed by slow clearing weather and plow trucks, Nick and I headed to the mountain for a short tour down low to keep the blanket of clouds above us. We made a couple of runs in a petite bowl just a short ways from the resort. Despite the extreme winds over the last few days, Nick found the perfect snow (minus the few rocks just below the surface). As the clouds creped their way up the mountain we caught glimpses of longer more powdery runs. We set off to investigate, only to have the clouds sweep back down around us again, so that beyond 50 meters around us was only whiteness. We had a brief lunch waiting for a clearing and then decided to head back. With the weather clearing, I camped in my car that night.

  

Saturday morning turned into a bit of a mess with some miscommunication between Nick and I. He ended up missing me and heading up to the mountain while I wondered what happened. He doesn’t care for phones very much and had actually just bought his first cell phone, but hadn’t bothered to figure out how to work it yet. I guess you can say he’s a man of action and doesn’t always take the time to double check details. I hitched just after 10 in the morning and waited about an hour and 45 minutes to arrive at the ski field, a mere 16 km down the road. We were lost in clouds almost the whole time, until we approached the bottom of the resort when we broke clear above the clouds and saw the dazzling view of a snow covered volcano towering above us.

I threw on my skis and started uphill, taking care to stick to the very edge of the groomed trail or going off track completely so I wouldn’t have an oblivious novas skier hit me head on (they were everywhere). I stopped briefly in the patrol shack to talk to them about avalanche conditions and then continued to skin up to the field above the lifts. I turned around about 200 meters shy of the saddle since I needed to switch to crampons. I was feeling my legs and I needed them to work for 2 more full days of touring. I was solo as a marched up the slope with no other tracks to be seen. As I flew down the open face enjoying large turns you rarely get in the Rockies, I saw people who'd hopped off the top lift start to make their way up the face, their interest triggered now they saw someone else test the waters for them. Keen to avoid the crowds, I headed down and hitched a ride back to town.

I stayed at Callum’s place again, along with a German turned kiwi and a Swedish couple, all of whom Callum’s roommate had just met at the bar that night. I talked with the German woman, Kath who is a keen climber. We spoke of possible climbing trips we could do in the future. Turns out, she’s planning a trip to Tasmania, a place I had actually hopped to visit while I was Down Under. Fingers crossed I get my finances straight for that trip.

Sunday morning I carpooled with Kath and Callum’s roommate to Turoa Ski Field. I looked into get a pass that would allow me to ride the lifts once to the top (to save energy for doing laps in the crater). They said I couldn’t take my skis with me on the lift, because they don’t check passes on the upper lifts so they can’t guarantee I wouldn’t keep riding them. I was tempted to say “Well I could pay you the $30 for the one ride and you can take my word that I won’t ride them again, or I can not pay anything, tour up to an upper lift and ride it anyways.” I bit my tongue.

Once again I started my tour from the bottom of the resort with 1100ish meters of vertical gain a head of me just to make it to the crater. This time however, I had Callum riding the lifts. I used my resources wisely and had him come by and grab my pack to carry it up via the lifts (allowing me to move faster and save energy). My legs felt like led as I started up the slope, making me fear I wouldn’t make it all the way. I discovered my touring technique becomes exponentially better in this state since I don't have the energy to lift my skis off the ground. As I got into a groove of motion, my stride became increasingly long and strong, my fatigue melted away. I was thankful I didn't buy a pass when I strode on by the long queues of people waiting to get on lifts.

An hour and 15 minutes later, I arrived at the top of the highest lift just three minutes behind Callum. He decided there must be an energizer bunny tucked away inside of me. Flattering except he says this as he rolls a cigarette to smoke before starting the hike up the last couple hundred meters.

I arrived about 15 minutes ahead of him. I snacked while I waited, admiring the crater bowl with steep walls, cliffs, a steaming lake, and untouched snow. I strolled back and forth on the rim, inspecting the snow and analyzing what line I should take.  When Callum arrived, step-by-step behind me, he worked to catch his breath and regain his strength, and I talked away about my thoughts, concerns, and where I thought I should go if I do drop in. He had the whatever, it’s all good attitude. The snow is solid.

Some other folks arrived just behind us, debating if they would go as well. I decided to break the ice and went for it. Without knowing what to expect, I stomped the edge to see if the snow would crack then dropped a meter down to ski cut across, testing the snow. Nothing. I took a deep breath and turned my skis down hill. Long carving turns over perfect soft styrofoam snow. Without trees or rocks as indicators, I lost sensation of how fast I was going, fumbling on a turn or two. Despite the imperfect turns, I was elated.

After Callum caught up at the base, we both turned to see a crowd of folks building up on the rim and one after another, people dropped in. The smell of sulfur caught my attention, reminding me of Nick’s warning that the volcano could potentially erupt or burp at any point and that it was a sacred place to the Maori. I was keen to not linger. Callum and I made our way back to the ski field where I snuck in one more tour up to the café before skiing to the bottom. Hitched home tired but satisfied.

That evening I dropped my skis off at Callum’s shop for repairing, headed to his place and prepared to depart right after one more adventure on the mountain. I enjoyed watching Kath and the roommate fire-dance before heading to bed.

The goal for Monday was to climb Girdlestone Peak, the beautiful pyramid to the NorthEast of Ruapehu’s proper summit. However, upon setting out for a fourth time from the road’s end, I quickly realized how tired I was. I used the excuse of reading the landscape and tooling around on a waterfall to make frequent stops. I was ready to give up when I came out of a gully to realize Ruapehu’s summit wasn’t far. So step by dragging step, I made my way up, breaking for lunch on the ridge. At the summit I paused to admire the views one more time and take pictures before turning around to make my slow way down. Even with a new lightness to my step I couldn’t compare to a decent on skis.

Looking up at the Girdlestone, the peak to the right.

Hitched back to town, grabbed my skis from Callum, said my thanks and good byes, grabbed a proper coffee, and then hit the road to Wellington. My day was only dampened when at 7:15 PM I went to turn on my car at a gas station in the middle of nowhere, a mere hour from Wellington. RADADAdadadada. I spent the next 45 minutes attempting to start the car, eating a makeshift dinner, and getting fat on spoonfuls of Nutella as I ate away my frustration.

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.