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