The Start of the Season

I’m definitely a child of summer. When the sun is shining I feel better - healthier and everything seems more positive. The world and I come alive. However, there is one aspect of winter that gives me all that goodness in a form so potent that it might as well be intravenously injected. Sure, the dark evenings, wet and gray days, and cold wind take the joy out of most normal activities, but winter also means a divine blessing of the white stuff on the mountains. Then it’s time to wax the snowboard, pack the car, and get beaten up by nature whilst having the time of your life. The benefit of New Zealand being such a small country is that the hallowed hills rest only four and half hours drive-time from city stress. There was absolutely no reason not to purchase a season pass as soon as they went on sale.

The weather forecast became the top internet search topic for the next 4 months, and I’d start every day by checking Mt. Ruapehu’s website for updates on snow depth and lift status. Once there was a sufficient base for at least some of the mountain to open, we committed to the first weekend away of the season. And seeing as it was the first, we took Friday off work, so as to make the drive down there more casual than the normal post-work Friday night toil.

Even with a late start, and a slow drive, we made it to our accommodation by early afternoon and were up the mountain for about 3pm. When we opened the doors to the car, and the wind slammed them back, and we suspected it may not have been the perfect afternoon. It wasn’t worth Lucie spending any money to hire a board for what little time remained of the day, and in such horrible conditions, but as I had everything there, there seemed no reason not to have a little go. Yeah, little being a bit of an understatement here. I managed 2 runs on the beginners slope before they called ‘last lift’ due to the high winds, and my first outing for the season was over. Never mind, it was better than nothing.

That evening, our flat mates Erik and Minerva joined us, and we all hit the slopes the next day. It was raining at town level and unfortunately even worse on the mountain. But, we hadn’t come to the mountains to not snowboard so everyone that needed one, hired a board, and we made the best of it. Only one proper run was open for the majority of the day, and as everyone else had the same resilient attitude as us, the lift lines were far longer and slower moving than such whether should dictate.

Never-the-less, the snowboarding gods rewarded our dedication and the rain ceased for a good few hours in the afternoon. There were even a few blue patches to the sky, although none passed directly overhead.

A beautiful blazing fire waited for us at our accommodation when we returned cold and wet. The owners had asked us in the morning if we’d like them to light the fire later for us. We knew it would be a nice idea regardless, but after that day’s weather, it was very, very, appreciated.
The next day saw no relief from the rain so we only lasted a few hours before deciding to start on the return journey back to Auckland. It definitely wasn’t the best snowboarding trip I’ve been on. Hell, I probably enjoyed the snowboarding more at Milton Keynes, and it rained so much I would have been better off taking a surfboard, but it did teach us one major thing - how easy it was to get down to the mountain for a weekend. This lesson would not be forgotten easily.