Onward and Eastward

In a season which was not a summer, I’ve skied in a place with no trees, slept in a house with no insulation, worked for a company with no old people, missed one of my best friend’s weddings, and celebrated the Jewish New Year alone by the side of a lake on the other side of the world. That’s all on the surface. Dig deeper and consider that I’ve shared my favorite thing with guests in a dream-like mountain environment, gained a deep understanding of a culture which is alike my own but only at first glance, worked with young and enthusiastic people from around the world, was reminded of how blessed I am to have many great friends in many places, and celebrated the Jewish new year in one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. Plus, I’ve gotten to experience spring, with all its joys, twice.

As much as I do love to watch the arrival of spring, I think that there is something lost in not being able to experience the changing of the seasons all the way around. I don’t consider departing Auckland in spring and arriving in New York the same day but in autumn, to be a particularly healthy 180. And no, I don’t think a long layover in Las Angeles makes it any better. It’s particularly funny to celebrate Rosh Hashanah in Wanaka with the leaves budding and Yom Kippur in the Berkshires with the leaves turning. In the abstract, given the subject matter and theme of renewal, spring is probably a more appropriate season for the Days of Awe. Then again, our days on the Jewish calendar start at night, so go figure.

With all of these oddities, all of the difficulties in getting here, living here and working here, I’ve really loved it. I hope to return for another season at Treble Cone and in Wanaka and find more things different, interesting, wonderful, and beautiful to share with my family and friends. Most importantly, I hope to return to some of the people I’ve met here and again enjoy the privilege of their company. If I get to ski again at Treble Cone, all the better.

I'm headed home tomorrow morning. From the time I walk out of my front door in Wanaka and into my home in the US, it'll be about 34 hours when it's all said and done. Phileas Fogg would be proud of the amount of ground covered in that time but I can't help feeling that it's a bit of a formality. It's been a great season here in Wanaka, but it's time to go.

Spring, Definitely

A few days ago I made the trip with a couple of friends from Wanaka to Haast Beach, on the West coast of the South Island. The trip took us along Lake Hawea, which runs parallel to Lake Wanaka to our East, through the Haast Pass and along the Haast River to the coast. One of the things that made the trip so interesting was how quickly the climate changes once one leaves the very arid alpine area around Hawea and Wanaka and enters the narrow and very damp climate of the Haast Pass and Haast River. The change is immediate and very dramatic.

The Haast Pass is the lowest elevation crossing from the lakes region on the East side of the Aspiring Range, the Mount Aspiring National Park and the Southern Alps generally. The valleys are quite narrow, so the runoff of water from the high elevations and the way the weather comes in from the coast makes for a heavily forested and incredibly wet area. The drive over the pass is punctuated continuously by stunning waterfalls cascading through lush vegetation. The water retains the vivid aquamarine color of glacial runoff, however, so it's really quite striking. In places, such as the Gates of Haast, the runoff streams bear great likeness to the Pemigewasset River in New Hampshire, with its numerous falls, rapids and exposed rock. Having spent a winter in Wanaka and Treble Cone, walking through dense green forest of old-growth deciduous trees and enormous ferns provided a welcome change.

On the West side of the pass is Haast Village, basically a glorified rest area with some lodges in it. At first it seems odd as one would assume that it'd be the perfect place for vacation hideaways, with good fishing and such a great set of beaches nearby. The lack of development is explained in part by the sand flies, which apparently are so voracious that they often leave bite-lines along your swim trunks that look like sunburns.

Finally, there's Haast Beach. The grazing pastures run right up to the large dunes which are sprinkled with a wide variety of colorfully flowering plants. The beach is wide and long, with no development whatsoever. It's punctuated by a large amount of driftwood, evidence of the severity of the storms that hit the Tasman and the strength of the runoff from the Southern Alps. Needless to say, my friends performed a ritual baptismal in the frigid sea - one is from the East Coast of Scotland and is oddly in love with cold sea water, and the other is from Australia and is not to be outdone. I, being from New England, sat and watched, enjoying instead the sun and the warm sand between my toes.

Summer, Almost

A funny crash in seriously deep snow plus ...

... some TLC at the TC Clinic after a ride with patrol plus ...

... some warm, sunny weather and some frozen vegetables equals a strange way to get a little bit of summer while here in Wanaka. I'm continuing to make the best of it here, but in order to focus my attention on the upcoming ski season at home, speed is of the essence and the NZ system is thorough but not exactly quick. I'm leaving New Zealand for home on September 18th, about a month earlier than originally planned, in order to get the medical attention I need with a little haste. At least the flip-flops are getting to spend some time outside!

I fully expect to be back at 100% in time for Thanksgiving - fit for skiing, cycling, and for carousing with my niece, nephew and cousins on a full stomach.

On the Life List

"The Life List". We all have one, a list of places we absolutely must see in person. The danger of making a list of anything like this is that we'll treat it like a check list - "Grand Canyon, check; Kathmandu, check; Zambezi River, check" - and not take the time to really experience the places for what they are and how they inspire.

Yesterday, I spent some time in the town of Glenorchy here on the South Island and decided that it's a mandatory addition to any mountain person's life list. Glenorchy is at the North end of Lake Wakatipu, the same lake with Queenstown (capital of adrenaline junkies, fur-wearing Aussie ski tourists more interested in shopping, and late-night Euro-club Red Bull and Vodka joints) on its South end. Queenstown ends abruptly as one drives North on Route 6A along the lake and in its place are some of the most incredible views of water and mountains I've ever seen. Glenorchy is a world away from Queenstown and is the kind of two-block water-side valley-floor village I imagine is in the remote upper reaches of Alaskan rivers. There's not much to the village - a welcome center, caravan park, numerous trailers, and a few trading posts and outdoor adventure centers. The Glenorchy Cafe resides in an old Victorian house and is a cozy spot with excellent food, a little funk in the way I like a little funk in my cafes, and an outside seating area with the best view of any restaurant this side of Kleine Scheidegg.

Sit, drink a glass of the region's wine, listen to the water flow by, and watch as the afternoon light and gentle breezes make the mountains come alive. It's difficult to convey just how beautiful it is in Glenorchy. So, as a consequence, the only thing I can do to overcome my inability to articulate the awe inspiring nature of the place is to post a few photos and insist that you put Glenorchy, New Zealand on your life list. Next weekend I may head to Milford Sound and again will likely struggle to describe it as my list gets longer.

The Kea

For some time now I've had it in mind to write a story about the Kea. My current status (read: not skiing) provided me the opportunity a few days ago to stalk the Kea with my camera. No I wasn't wearing khakis and a pith helmet poking through the tussock and pompas grass, I was strolling around the Treble Cone lodge and cafe.

The Kea is a large (up to 50 cm in length) parrot indigenous to the high alpine areas of the South Island. They are among the most intelligent birds in the world, generally unafraid of people, will and do eat anything, and have a particularly odd affection for all things rubber. They are well known for removing the windshield wipers and weather stripping from the cars parked at TC and are not bashful about eating any unattended food from the plate of a guest in the cafe, while the guest is still seated in front of it. Keas are a protected species here in NZ, so they pretty much have the run of the place at Treble Cone.

Among the photos below my favorite is of the Keas chowing down on the stinky bike shoes of one of the competitors in the recent Peak to Peak multisport race at Treble Cone. Enjoy.

Passing Time

The "batch" where I'm living here in Wanaka at times feels like it's located in any suburban subdivision. My backyard is surrounded by a high hedge, obscuring any views of Lake Wanaka and the surrounding mountains, leaving me with only the Crayola-colored blue sky, the now-green lawn and hedge, the unkempt gardens of the house and the tops of the surrounding houses to admire. A "batch" is a Kiwi vacation home, somewhere in between a cabin and a house, typically of simple design and small size in the way a good middle class family would aspire for a little piece of the country to call their own. In between cars passing on the roads surrounding the house, with Spring having arrived here in town I now can hear the dramatically increased number and variety of birds making their homes in the neighborhood. With the late day sun aiming its rays squarely on our back porch, it is at least a very nice slice of suburbia on the edge of the Southern Alps.

Some of the staff at Treble Cone have begun leaving for their lives overseas - some headed for university, some for better paying work to tide them over and recoup some money before the Northern winter. I prefer to stay and experience the gradual winding down of the season - without a full four seasons I'll take whatever ebb and flow I can. The resort continues to be busy enough, but at a much more humane pace, without any of the frenetic activity of high season. Of course, high season here just isn't that busy but the contrast is what's important. I like to watch the snow gradually give way to Spring, as the tussock grass continues to increase its presence even after the huge storm we had a few days ago.

Why so contemplative on a beautiful, sunny afternoon with terrific skiing up on the mountain? On Tuesday, towards the end of an incredible morning of skiing complete with my friends and I giggling like school girls while making turns in snow up to our waists, I may have pretty severely hurt my right knee. It's not yet clear just how bad the injury may be. It's taking some effort to navigate the New Zealand health care system and I do remain optimistic, but in all likelihood my ski season here is over. I am going to remain in Wanaka for at least another couple of weeks and will try to use the opportunity to see some of the area I've missed by working so much. I may even just have to come back in order to finish on my terms.

Deeeep!

Here are Hampton and Jeremy enjoying some incredible powder on Cloud Nine in the Saddle Basin yesterday. As for how the day ended for me, details to follow ...

Batten Down the Hatches

I took this photo of Treble Cone from Beacon Point on the shore of
Lake Wanaka yesterday.











I took this photo at approximately the same time and location today.
It's coming. It's definitely coming. And it's going to be big.