The Whole Wide World

It’s spring here on the South Island of New Zealand, or rather it’s supposed to be. You wouldn’t know it from the amount of recent snowfall at Treble Cone and the quality of it. Rather than the usual spring-time corn snow which morphs into mashed potatoes by the end of the day, the cold temperatures are giving us snow that has remained dry, light and incredibly joyful since a series of storms dropped several feet of it on us over the past week-and-a-half. We’ve been kicking ourselves lately, and the number of people walking about the resort at the end of the day in a powder-induced daze with immense grins on their faces is a testament to the astonishingly good conditions. Looking briefly at the scoreboard, the stakes our ski patrol uses to measure the accumulated snow pack in the Saddle Basin (TC’s backside) had to be extended recently, several snow fences which normally protect some of our groomed runs from wind are now completely covered, and chutes and bowls that were closed a few weeks ago due to severe avalanche danger brought on by unusually mild spring weather are now fully open and providing the best skiing and riding of the season. Oh, and did I mention that we’re getting what seems like an additional ten minutes of daylight each day as we head into the last month of the season? For crying out loud, a week ago Treble Cone kept the lifts open until 4:30, a time that would have been nearly pitch dark a month before. All of this and TC in all of its glory makes for some pretty inspirational skiing, and I mean “inspirational” literally.

So, in a contemplative mode brought on by several days of continuous powder and a great deal of business for our Snow Sports School, I took advantage of a rare lull in the early morning grind to ride our “six-pack” chair lift solo this morning around 9:15.There were literally no clouds in the impossibly blue sky and I needed to find a place to sit and breathe in the day. Camera in hand, I headed towards a spot at TC called View Point. View Point sits at the top of the Matukituki Basin, which is the only section of our mountain facing north towards the heart of the Mount Aspiring National Park. To get there, one has to traverse a bit, round a sharp corner and go up briefly over a short rise before getting flattened by the view shown in the photos here. It’s shocking. Really.

The reality of my mornings at work is that I’m very busy, running from the moment I step out of the staff vans between 7:45 and 8:00 pretty much straight through until 11:00. I have a lot of ground to cover with my supervisory colleagues and a lot of guests and staff to look after, and frequently training clinics to run for our instructors. Rarely do I get the time to stop and really appreciate where I am and just how extraordinary it is. Thankfully, this morning I made sure to take the time to put it all into a clearer context, in the rarified light of the high alpine sunshine. My few moments sitting at View Point were well worthwhile, like a transfusion of clean air, quietude and a refreshed perspective. When working in this environment day in and day out, I’m busy enough that such moments are few, and I need to seek them out on occasion.

From View Point this morning, the whole of the Southern Alps seemed visible. In the photos here are great views of Mount Aspiring and its neighbors, Mount Earnslaw, several glaciers, and the whole of the Matukituki River valley. In the far distance I could see Mount Cook and it was so clear that I’m reasonably sure I could see the Eiffel Tower. Ok, maybe not Eiffel Tower but perhaps the Petronas Towers. The bright green valley floors, the vast and picture-perfect blue sky, the lake below, and the white snow-capped peaks are the stuff of childhood fantasy and, thanks to my good fortune, the stuff of my every day reality. I just need to stop and look every so often to be reminded.