As promised, here a 'little' journal report of the backcountry ski course we did 2 weeks after arriving in New Zealand (that's already a little while ago...but hey, better late then never! ;) ). It was something we'd been looking forward to for ages, and also something we invested quite a lot in, in terms of both money and time.
Mark and I have been skiing since we were very young kids, I exchanged my ski's for a snowboard at age 13 (a decision I still don't regret, even though Mark will never understand :P ). That might sound like a long time, but I have to honestly admit that it was mostly for 1 or 2 weeks a year. The last couple of years we spent longer times in the mountains though (see my blog about the cabin tours), so all in all I think we can still humbly say that we have some experience. On the slópes, that is. Besides hitting the fresh powder next to the slopes and a little sidecountry adventure here and there, our experience has been limited to the groomed, controlled ski area so far. Which is fun (especially when you have 1200 km of prepared slopes like in the Dolomites!) and safe (not unimportant), but we were ready to take the next step.
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Mark & me 2 years ago in the Dolomites...probably discussing who to throw
the snowball at ;)
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I'm kinda glad that Mark loves skiing as much as I love snowboarding. It's something I never get enough of. Snowboarding is one of the very few things that make me forget all my worries, slows down my thinking and brings me right into the very moment (and believe me, not many things can do that!). The physical activity, the adventure, the speed, the mountains, the cold...we share a deep passion for these things. So that next step actually came quite natural for both of us; Mark was just as ready to dive into the backcountry as I was. Goodbye long lift queues, goodbye beginner classes zigzagging over the full width of the slope, hello big white powdery wonderland!
Lots of gear necessary for our new quest turned out to be way cheaper in Europe than in New Zealand. Even when you take the extra luggage costs into account, it was still less expensive...so we decided to get most our stuff back at home. You might wonder why we didn't stick with renting all the stuff at first, but we weren't too afraid we would not like backcountry touring after all and end up with lots of useless stuff. Besides, many of the things are kinda 'multi-purpose' when you also like rock climbing, tramping and generally just going on adventures. However, this is not a cheap hobby. We definitely had to make a plan how to divide our saved up funds between the gear, the flight and living in New Zealand. We spent hours and hours online to find the best possibility of each item that would still fit into our budget, track down a Dutch store that had it in stock so we could try it on and find the right size, and then even more hours to find the cheapest online deal for it somewhere in Europe (yeah...not really nice only trying things on in the stores, and then looking up the cheapest place to get it online. But we did buy some stuff in the Dutch stores, so they still made money on us!). Seriously, we got packages from Germany, France, Spain, Austria, the UK..positive thing was, that this took all place during late spring/early summer: best time for big deals, since the winter season is practically over!
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| Receiving stuff and gear back at home...of course it needed to be tried out. |
Anyway, the luggage got checked through all the way to Queenstown (even though we were flying with different airlines and had several stopovers; thank you for the excellent service Air India!), so for the rest of the trip we didn't have to worry about it anymore.
The first two weeks in New Zealand were spent recovering from a big jetlag. Even though Mark didn't seem to suffer from it as much as I did, it was still good that we didn't book that backcountry course any day earlier, we needed all energy we regained for it! But more about that later :)
As soon as we arrived in Wanaka (a week after landing in New Zealand), we paid a visit to Adventure Consultant's head office, the company we booked our course with. Here we met Danielle (the office's client liaison) for the first time in real life, after having had lots of email contact with her over the past couple of months. We learned some more details about our course, went over some gear specifics and talked about the weather, which would have a big influence on the way we would spend our course. Being used the European winters and assuming there would be plenty of snow on the glaciers anyway (where the course usually takes place), we thought everything would be alright. Oh, how little did we know yet about the New Zealand weather...
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| Please ignore the silly face (as usual...). |
In the week before the course I tried to study as much as possible in our WePowder Academy books about avalanche stuff, decision making in the backcountry, weather in the mountains, first aid, etc., so I'd have a sufficient theoretical framework. We got an email from Adventure Consultants telling us who our guide for the course would be: Andy Cole. Some info on him:
Andy started mountaineering while in the Air Force and has worked as Training Officer of SAR in the Air Force. He has worked for the Army Adventure Training Centre running skiing, rock climbing and mountaineering courses in NZ and Survival and Avalanche instruction for Afghanistan deployment training. He has been a Field Trainer for Antartica NZ, a member of the joint US and NZ Antartica SAR team and has assisted with science events in Antartica, one trip as a seal and penguin wrangler!
Now that sounds kinda impressive, doesn't it?! We surely felt safe under the supervision of someone so experienced, but that wasn't all we would need. During the week it slowly dawned on us that the weather might actually really be a problem during our course week; we started checking avalanche.net.nz daily and worried about the stormy, unpredictable forecasts. Our worries turned out to be true, unfortunately.
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| Van loaded with gear...ready to go! |
Early Monday morning, when we arrived at the AC's head office, totally prepared, heavy packed and ready to go, Andy -after shaking hands and introducing ourselves - told us that going to the glaciers (i.e. Mt Cook National Park or Westland National Park) would not be a good idea. There surely would be a weather window that specific Monday in which we could fly in, but the troubles would start after that: according to the forecasts the weather would be so bad that we would probably spend the rest of the week sheltering in the hut, unable to go out, waiting for another weather window for the helicopter or plane to come pick us up again. Not a very attractive prospect...and we probably should've prepared ourselves better for the chance that this might happen, but we were still quite disappointed. Going to the glaciers would be the very one thing we would never undertake ourselves without first getting some experience under the supervision of a guide. On the other hand, it was also the very one thing we really wanted to learn, because it broadens your backcountry possibilities in New Zealand significantly (especially in a bad winter like this year...regardless of other important circumstances, at least there's almost always enough snow on the glaciers!). Knowing we would still have to pay the full amount for the expensive course, without achieving our most important goal, the main reason we choose to do the course, took quite some effort to come to terms with that Monday morning.
The new plan was to go to the Pisa Range, a lower mountain range nearby Wanaka, with Mount Pisa (1963m) as its highest point. The weather prospect for this area looked a lot better. We would fly in by helicopter, spend 2 or 3 nights there, skin out via Snowfarm on the other side of the Range, and then - depending on the weather - practice some more things in Cardrona, Treblecone (the commercial ski fields) or down in town (if the weather was really bad). Not exactly what we had had in mind...but there was nothing to be done about it anymore. Being able to make wise (and sometimes disappointing!) decisions is a very important part of backcountry safety, so we'd better get accustomed to that as soon as possible ;) We knew Andy had done his very best to come up with a good alternative to still teach us as much as possible, and nobody can control the weather. And I must admit, the awesome helicopter flight definitely helped us to turn the page and start our week with a renewed positive mindset. We both never flew a helicopter before...and it's definitely different from flying in a plane. There's the noise, the feeling of having less of a 'shell' around you and a greater maneuverability compared to an airplane, bigger windows to enjoy the views...and let's not forget the silly conversations between the pilot and our guide over the headsets.
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| These are the kind of windows you need in a flying machine...way better sized than the tiny airplane peepholes! |
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| Sprinkled cake?! |
Flying in on the east side of the range felt like hovering over delicious brown cakes, sprinkled with white sugar. I wanted to dive into them! The flight, taking only 15 minutes, could have taken much longer if it was up to me...but soon the hills became higher and whiter, and we approached the Kirtle Burn hut. Only a small dot at first (and not that much bigger when we stood near), this would be our accommodation for the next 2 or 3 nights.
Andy jumped
out of the helicopter to drop part of our luggage at the hut. After he hopped
aboard again, the pilot took us to the top of Mount Pisa (1964 m). This saved us
from having to skin up there, ánd from having to drag around all of our baggage
(including food, sleeping bags, etc.) for the whole day, yay! The three of us
jumped on the snow and knelt down on our knees like Andy had instructed us
beforehand. Gear (especially snowboards) have a tendency to start flying around
in the wind caused by a helicopter’s rotors, something you absolutely do not
want to happen. Waving the pilot goodbye, we were now left to our own devices
for the next couple of days.
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| Kirtle Burn Hut, and its tiny toilet behind it. |
Andy started pointing out some highlights (like several mountains and areas) around us, to help Mark and me orientate ourselves a bit. Knowing where you are in the backcountry (and where North, East, South and West are) is extremely important. It will help you determine which slopes might be safe (or not) and where you are on the map; all things that can be lifesaving in some situations! But Andy took it easy, after all we were pretty much inexperienced when it comes to backcountry skiing ;) He started with showing us how to put skins on our skis/snowboard, and off we went: what a strange feeling to have our heels flipping up, and to go UPwards instead of down! My inexperience was showing off already pretty badly; after complaining about how little grip I had when skinning up, Andy started laughing and pointed out I had put my ‘skis’ (both halves of my split board) on wrong…sigh. When you split a splitboard, you have to switch both halves, so the left half is on your right foot, and the right half on the left foot. Well, little did I know!
With both
‘skis’ on the right foot now, we headed east on relatively flat terrain. The
east side of the Pisa Range descends in steeper slopes, where you can have some
pretty cool runs. The west side of the range flows down way more gradually
towards Cardrona Valley, skiing here is more of the ‘touring’ kind (and not
extremely suitable for splitboarders). Before dropping in and getting our first
taste of New Zealand powder, Andy first showed us some snowpack evaluation
techniques. We both dug our holes, searched for unstable layers and performed a
compression test. Everything looked safe and stable (good for the snowboarding
experience, maybe less for the teaching experience ;)), so we were good to go!
Andy explained some things on how to pick a safe line, gave instructions on how
and when to follow him, and off we went. I must honestly admit that this run
was the very best of the whole week. The snow was absolutely perfect, the slope
steep enough to be challenging and the weather just brilliant. Pure joy is what
runs through your veins on such a moment, really! It’s like you’re actually
floating over soft waves of snow…and the amount of powder that we had during
the last 2 years in the Dolomites must have been paying off, because I don’t
think I ever carved down so smoothly before (or is it my new board?!).
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| Lunchtime! |
Once down far enough (according to Andy that is, because I could’ve gone on forever!), it was time to eat some lunch and gather energy for the climb back up. That’s where the problems started… As soon as we switched to skin-mode again and started our ascent, I began experiencing bowel cramps. Just vaguely at first, but pretty quickly they became so horrible that I could barely keep my head together. Lightheaded and a bit nauseous I struggled my way up behind Mark, slower and slower. Mark kept asking if I was all right, but all I could moan was “yes, just keep going”…because after all, that’s what had to be done anyway. And I knew from earlier times that the cramps would eventually go away again, the timing was just extremely inconvenient. This went on for about an hour, until I could barely move up anymore; the cramps sucking up all energy from my whole body, not leaving one bit for the climb up (and believe me: skinning is tiring). When I finally thought I couldn’t do this any longer, it happened.
I farted.
I mean, I farted BIG and LOUD.
Mark turned around in full surprise, half expecting an avalanche to start running down, caused by the deep rumbling sound that escaped from my body.
But oh, the relief. Almost instantly! Andy was deeply impressed by my ‘rocket power’ (his words) as well, and reminded me of it for the rest of the week. If you were still imagining me as a ‘cool, adventurous outdoor girl’ after my skinning debacle, it’s probably completely ruined by now ;)
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| Skinning back to the hut. |
Back at the hut we stalled our skis and board, wiped the snow off our boots and went in to install ourselves for the night. New Zealand has an impressive hut system (over 900!), maintained by the Department of Conservation. Most of them are just very basic, not much more than a shelter with a toilet outside. There are bunk beds inside with matrasses, often a table and some chairs or a bench, and a steel countertop to cook your food on…but that’s pretty much it. If you’re lucky, there’s a fireplace, but that was not the case in our hut (Kirtle Burn Hut), meaning that it was more or less as cold inside as it was outside. Time to test out our brand new sleeping bags, designed to keep us warm at 0 to minus 15 degrees Celsius. While we changed ourselves into dry clothes and created a comfortable place to sleep, Andy set up his little cooker and made us a hot cup of coffee. What a treat to fold our hands around the steaming cups, curled up in our sleeping bags while our exhaled breaths formed little clouds in front of our mouths.
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| The interior of the Kirtle Burn Hut. |
Andy proved that cooking with limited supplies is no excuse to not serve an excellent and nutritious meal. In the meantime he gave us plenty of opportunity to ask questions about the day, evaluate decisions we made and explain more about backcountry skiing in general. It didn’t take long though before we slowly became more and more quiet, completely exhausted of all the physical activity. Making pillows of some dry clothes, we settled down into our sleeping bags, our voices lowering into whispers. We discussed the intriguing question if the advised temperature for a specific sleeping bag is tested with or without clothes (pajama’s) on…even Andy didn’t know the answer. We wouldn’t have to wait long before getting an answer to it though. Mark put on about three layers of clothes before crawling into his sleeping bag, but during the night – slowly, one by one – all clothes were thrown out of the bag with a big sigh and some mumbled complaining about how hot is was (in a zero degrees Celsius hut…can you imagine?!). Yep, you can sleep bare naked in our 0 to -15 bags and still stay warm :)
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| Orange mummies with burnt faces of a long day in the sun :) |
The next day brought some fresh snow and sun in the morning. Andy decided it would be a good day to skin towards Column Rocks, south of the Kirtle Burn Hut. Before heading off though, we’d need to get some fuel for the day: a high-calorie breakfast made of nuts, honey, sugar, cinnamon, whole oats and yoghurt. A big bowl full of it. I tell you what, my stomach is not AT ALL prepared for this amount of calories early in the morning. I struggled so much to even keep it in, but Andy was very strict and would not take back my bowl before it was empty. My goodness what a disaster (another thing Andy could tease me with), every bite/sip I took my stomach just wanted to throw right out again! It was a difficult start of another long and tough day that we enjoyed nonetheless. I slowly began to find a kind of skinning rhythm. By far not perfect yet, but I realized that if I wanted to keep up with the boys and make it through the whole day, I had to settle into my own, steady pace. Andy also kept emphasizing that today my goal was to ‘transition as fast as possible from skinning to snowboarding mode and back’. Yeah…imagine Andy saying this to me the moment I arrive to a ridge (at last!), just regaining my breath and beyond happy I can stand still for a moment…can you believe I could kick him in the butt on these moments? Haha! But I did my best and indeed became faster and more efficient, earning Andy’s compliments as a result. Hey, how’s that for rocket power?!
The weather
near Column Rocks became windy, the sun disappeared and when we sat at the
rocks to have lunch Andy commanded us to put on our down jackets immediately.
It felt so unnatural, sweating as we were from the long way up…but some lessons
are quickly learned. It didn’t take more than 2 minutes to be almost shivering
even in our down jackets. These are the little things in the backcountry that
can be dangerous, that you constantly have to be aware of. Danger can lurk just
around the corner, even if it seems to be something very small or unimportant.
You simply don’t have the luxury of permitting yourself to make stupid little
mistakes. This might seem exaggerated in a relatively safe terrain like the
Pisa Range…but it’s better teach yourself to be careful at all times and at all
places, because you never know.
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| Time to put our down jackets on! |
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| Burning lots of calories means you need a high intake as well :) |
During the day Andy kept explaining things we were seeing in our surroundings, and what they meant for our decision making. Only having been in New Zealand for a couple of weeks, I still really had to get used to the Kiwi accent. But I did the best I could to keep up with him (both in skinning pace as in his explanations) and to remember as much as I could. On our way back from the Column Rocks we practiced some kick turns on a steeper slope. If you’ve ever skied, you might understand what a kick turn is: with both skis pointing forward (horizontally, towards one side of the slope), you rotate your uphill ski outwards, about 120-140 degrees. Out of this awkward position, you now also rotate your downhill ski, to get it next to the other one again. During this last maneuver, you kinda ‘kick’ with your foot to prevent the rear end of the ski from getting stuck in the snow during the movement. The reason for doing kick turns is that sometimes when skinning (which, if uphill, is pretty much always done in a zigzag way), the slope is too steep to be able to ‘skin’ a round (S) turn. Because, during such a turn, there will be a point where you’re going more or less straight uphill, and if the slope is very steep the skins under your skis won’t prevent you from starting to slide backwards. Kickturns are the solution then! They definitely need some practice though…old times were coming back to me, when I was still skiing as a little girl. There was still some vague muscle memory…with the emphasis on vague ;)
Once back
in the hut we were not the only ones anymore; another couple (from New Zealand)
had made themselves a comfy place to spend the night there with us. While we
tiredly crawled into our sleeping bags again, Andy first made coffee and then
started cooking dinner (seriously…is that man inexhaustible?). I’m really
impressed by the ability of guides to be teaching and guiding all day,
constantly having a heightened state of awareness and responsibility, and then
to still be able to cook a lovely meal, answer questions (probably the same
ones over and over again) and just be pleasant company in general. That last
thing couldn’t exactly be said of us :P Completely exhausted again and just
barely able to hold our coffee cups and dinner plates, we mainly listened
drowsily to the conversations Andy and the other couple had, while slowly
drifting off asleep.
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| Mark doing the dishes like a good boy. |
The third day started with the same challenge as the previous one: Andy cheerily served me the same ‘breakfast from hell’ and wished me good luck (I have to admit…he put a little bit less in my bowl this time). Combining every bit with a big sip of coffee this time, I managed to get it down a bit faster. I knew now that my body would thank me for it later. The plan for the morning was to return to the east slopes (from the first day) again, to see if we could make another nice run down there. Before actually heading out we first did an extensive beacon test, so we could experience in real life the maximum distance for the device to still pick up a signal. I really, REALLY hope I never have to use the thing…but if I do, I now at least know how to use it (more or less, I could still use a lot more practice!). The other couple had the same plans as we did, they just took off a bit earlier. This meant that we could follow their skin track (which makes skinning a little less tiring) in the eastern direction. The closer we came to the ridge though, the harder the winds began to blow. Once on the ridge (which is actually more of a plateau), we had to scream to hear each other and put on our balaclava’s to protect our face of the piercing blown up snow. With hunched-up shoulders we followed Andy, who inspected different gullies and slopes on possible lines. We saw some big cornices (overhanging snow edges) above the east facing terrain, a sign of possibly heavy wind loaded slopes (= more avalanche risk). We also saw a small avalanche that must have taken place not long before on one of the other slopes; one of the biggest signs that avalanche danger is present. Of course Andy made the final decision, but he guided us through the deciding process and made a very valuable lesson of this situation: no matter how far you’ve skinned up, no matter how much you were looking forward to ride the soft powder…always take signs of avalanche risks serious and act accordingly. In this case, this meant: return back to the hut. The other couple had come to the same conclusion, and about 1,5 hour later we met them again at the hut: in full sun, enjoying a nice lunch outside. Curious, how the weather can be so different over such short distances in the mountains!
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| Nothing beats hot coffee in the morning! |
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| Andy cooking his breakfast from hell, early in the morning. |
After having enjoyed our own lunches as well and saying goodbye to the Kiwi couple, it was now time to pack our full bags, this time including sleeping bags, leftover food and cooking gear. The afternoon would be spent skinning west towards Snow Farm (a Nordic Skiing resort), where we would be picked up with a car by one of Andy’s colleagues. This route is relatively flat and a bit boring (although the scenery remained beautiful as ever); a decent run wouldn’t be happening today for us. Skinning terrain without much height gain or loss isn’t particularly the most fun part of backcountry skiing. I was really tired, and having to transition from skinning to snowboarding mode (fast fast fast, don’t keep the boys waiting!) and back again for only very short distances at a time, while struggling with a big heavy backpack, took all the energy I still had left. The last part of the route was our first encounter with the so-called ‘tussock-skiing’. Tussock is a kind of New Zealand grass that grows on many mountains here. When you near the snow line (where snow disappears and vegetation starts showing), tussock appears everywhere and becomes impossible to evade. Luckily it’s quite smooth and won’t really slow you down…but seriously, I still found tussock pieces in my gear and clothes days later!
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| Tired but happy! |
I’d never been more happy to see a car waiting for us, but I was also proud I made it (which I seriously doubted at a couple of times for the past days :P). Normally the full 4 nights and 5 days of the course are spent in glacier terrain and the huts in that area before flying out again, but we would sleep at our home in Lake Hawea for the last 2 nights of the course. Not as adventurous probably, but this díd mean that I could take a long hot bath that night! My body didn’t know what was happening, my muscles thankful forever.
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| Goodbye Pisa Range... |
Andy happened to be living just a couple of streets away from us, so the next morning he picked us up with his car to practice some beacon searching on the beach (I wrote about this in my previous blogpost, remember?). It was raining like crazy though, and only really fun if you were the one sitting in the car with Andy, watching the other person running over the beach with his beacon low to the ground, frantically trying to pick up a signal while becoming wet to the bone :P So after Andy decided we practiced long enough, we drove back to his home to warm up with coffee and dry our clothes at his fireplace.
Mark and I were both jealous of Andy’s awesome place at first sight. He owns a perfectly sized little house with a decent amount of land around it (veggie garden included). A big, separate garage filled with climbing (and other) gear to the rim stands next to the house. The house’s interior definitely shows a woman’s (Andy’s girlfriend’s ;)) touch, nicely decorated in earthly tones with lots of wood, books, maps and artifacts from all over the world. What a wonderful place to live! Admiring all of this and sipping from our hot coffee, Andy showed us a map of the area where the backcountry course usually takes place (in the Mt. Cook/Westlands National Park). He suggested that, if we wanted to, we could still go to the glaciers on a later date, probably in October, when snow conditions are often still very good in that area and Andy had a free timeframe of about 10 days. If we practiced now already as much as possible (‘dry’, but still gaining the knowledge so we would only have to refresh and actually perform the practiced techniques in the glaciers) it would be possible to make a 2- or 3-day course of it, which would still possibly fit into our budget. It was already something Mark and I discussed the days before, and we decided to tell Andy we’d definitely like to go for that. Of course it would depend on the weather and on our own schedules by then (not knowing yet how things would work out with jobs and such), but with Andy’s 10-day timeframe it somehow definitely had to work.
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| Didn't take much pictures on the fourth day, with its bad weather...but here's
another couple from sunrise at the Pisa Range.
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During the afternoon, we drove up Cardrona Road (uphill towards the Cardrona Ski Resort) to the snow line and a bit beyond, to practice some more glacier skills that needed a bit of actual snow. We started with building a snow-anchor. When your partner fell into a crevasse and you want to pull him or her out, you won’t be doing that on just brute force (unless you’re Superman or the Hulk of course…but let's imagine for a moment you’re not). You need an anchor, something rock steady to build a leverage system on. One way to do this is to dig a long hole the size of your ski, parallel to the crevasse. By burying your ski in this hole and tying your rope onto it that you guide into the crevasse (square to the ski of course), you can basically build such an anchor point. Clever, huh? Andy continued teaching us some self-arrest techniques with our ice axe. Slipping and gliding on steep glacier terrain can result into life threatening situations, so you want to know how to put your scary slide to a halt, no matter the way you fell. So there we went, sliding down a little hill in every possible way (on our bellies, on our back, feet first, head first, etc.), with Andy instructing us how to roll, in which direction to slam our ice axe in the snow and also to put our butts higher in the air, lol :) All the while it was snowing heavily, so you can imagine that we ended up with snow pretty much everywhere, even in our underwear. Luckily the hot shower and warm bed were waiting for us again that night at home. Sometimes you just have to celebrate the positive sides of a situation ;)
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| Andy, explaining stuff. |
The last day of our course seemed to bring some better weather again, so we decided to go to Treble Cone (the other commercial ski resort in the area). We purchased a ‘backcountry ski pass’ (that gives you exactly the right amount of lift rides to get to the highest point of the resort, saving you from having to skin all the way up there or buying a full day’s pass without using 90% of it). The higher we got, the colder and windier it became, and the last lift ride left us freezing to our bones with little sight. Apparently the good weather was only below a certain level, and the weather above that was just plain terrible. We cóuld still exit the boundary and enter the backcountry…but it would mean having to skin through this horrible weather, without being certain if the slope we wanted to make our lines down on was sufficiently free of avalanche risk, especially in this weather. We might have to turn around again…but Andy was fine with whatever we’d choose (that man is indestructible, if I were a guide I would have strongly advised to NOT leave the boundary, just because I wouldn’t really be up to skin through that storm for nothing. I guess he’s used to worse :)). We decided not to do it, and take the slopes down instead. The backcountry pass gave us one more ride, so we made the most of it, staying inside the boundary, but leaving the groomed slopes here and there to still hit some powder. Our first time in Treble Cone, which is at least a bit bigger and steeper than Cardrona (or ‘Flatdrona’, as Andy called it) was fun nonetheless! Having bragged about being speedmonsters on the slopes, Andy felt the heavy pressure of going down as fast as possible (or so he told us ;)), and we all had a little blast. I think I like the combination of the backcountry and groomed slopes best. They both have a lot to offer and complement each other. Being able to make a long run (without having to skin all the way back up again) and go as fast as possible was definitely a delight after the tough week of skinning, transitioning and short runs. BUT, I wouldn’t want to have missed the adventure that comes with backcountry skiing, the scenery, the peace and quietness and the sense of achievement in which it results.
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| Speed devil... |
Having used up our backcountry pass, we drank some coffee at Treble Cone’s restaurant and said hi to Andy’s girlfriend who enjoyed her own day off. She’s another splitboarder by the way…to Andy’s delight, ahum. The boys certainly enjoyed complaining about the pain of going into the backcountry with a splitboarding girlfriend. They have such a hard life, we should all feel very sorry for them ;) At least Andy knew exactly where Mark had to go ahead in Treble Cone, keep an eye on me and pull me with his pole if I didn’t make it, which was very handy! We left the ski resort just past noon and drove back to Adventure Consultant’s head office. We sat down with more coffee in one of the side rooms, while Andy started up the computer and opened a Powerpoint Presentation on avalanche awareness and backcountry skiing. It was a nice way to end the week, going over everything we learned one more time, asking again the questions on which the answers got lost in the wind (or lost in a Kiwi accent :P ) and letting everything sink in. What a week we had! Quite different from what we hoped and expected…but we still learned só much. It wasn’t at all times easy, and there were moments when I seriously asked myself why the heck I thought this would be fun. But I also think that adventures like these build up your character and stamina. They make you value the little things in life more, like a hot cup of coffee or a warm bath. Andy certainly made the most of the possibilities we had, it was a pleasure to have him as our guide (thank you Andy!). And even though we won’t go to the glaciers on our own just yet, our backcountry opportunities have definitely grown…resulting in our first independent day in the big white wonderland (which you can read about in my previous blogpost, sorry one time again for the confusing order of my blogposts!).
