by Chantelle Heroux
October 1, 2008 - Sometimes you just have to trust yourself.
If I hadn’t, I would’ve missed out on one of my greatest experiences in New Zealand.
Going with what your heart says isn’t always easy. In fact, most of the time it’s illogical in every sense. But there is a saying that goes, “it’s better to regret something you’ve done, than regret something you didn’t do.” With that in mind, it’s easier to let loose and start an adventure - and that is exactly what I did.
First, I had to convince myself I made the right decision to rent a car that had over 200,000 kilometers on it and a funny rattle that you could hear over the ‘Hit’s of 1997′ mixtape included with the vehicle (I know what you’re thinking – 1997 - there were no hits in 1997. Actually, there was a whole tape full of them - think Hanson!).
Amazingly enough, I made it to where I needed to go. It only took an hour to find out the emergency brake was on (may or may not have contributed to the funny rattle), about seven hours to figure out how to drive on the opposite side of the road, and a couple of wombats’ lives (were they wombats?!). Needless to say, I made it. Gratefully.
Arriving at the bottom of an access road in the heart of New Zealand’s Southern Alps, it was recommended that all two wheel drive vehicles and camper-vans park and drivers-passengers hitchhike up the mountain. So that’s what I did. I was glad to get in a car with a group of friendly skiers. I buckled my seatbelt, only to have the driver look at me in shock and say “Umm, you won’t want your seatbelt on. If I say bail, you’ll want to bail!”
Minutes later, I understood what the driver meant: the access road to the ski field was nothing like I’ve ever seen before. Not only was it narrow (there’s no way a car, or even a bike could fit on this road at some places), not to mention steep, but there were also 100 ft cliffs bordering the car tracks on one side, a rock ledge mere feet away on the other side, and fresh snow on the road (just enough so you slide around a bit for a good scare).
Nonetheless, we all arrived in one piece. And to arrive was to welcome yourself to another world. The majestic quietness of the forest and the full parking lot of 10 cars is what makes a mountain like Craigieburn unique. Being drawn to the ski lodge by the smell of the crackling fireplace, I entered the cozy place and got comfortable. The only art on the walls was the wood the lodge was made of and the windows glazed with melting snowflakes. I could hear clumps of snow falling from branches and feel the energy of the people surrounding me.
Realizing I was the only person in the ski lodge outfitted in ski gear without a harness, I immediately asked if I supposed to have one. “You’ve never been on a nutcracker?” an old man asked me. When I answered no, he quickly laughed and walked away, leaving me in search of answers. I found out that you don’t just sit on a chairlift at Craigieburn. Instead they have a nutcracker rope tow pully system to drag you up the mountain.
Trudging in my ski gear through the woods to get to the ‘nutcracker’, I immediately saw why everyone was laughing. The tow rope was steep and the trail wasn’t groomed. The nutcracker went through a series of pully systems that, I felt, could chop my hand off (they didn’t, but I imagine it would hurt A LOT if your hand went through them instead of the nutcracker). You had to grab on the rope to get to speed, and then clamp your nutcracker closed and hold it that way until you were where you wanted to be - or where you couldn’t hold on any longer. There were younger kids doing this with ease, and some adults had ropes off their harness to provide a lower rope for their children to hold on to. I was blown away. This resort claimed it had NO beginner terrain, and wow, was that the truth!
Fighting and struggling with the rope all day - I never came off the tow sweat and stress free - my muscles were achey and I was ready for a break. The lodge on the mountain was the perfect place to rest. The fireplace was roaring and benches were filled with leather-faced men cooking their grilled cheese sandwiches on top of the flames. I felt like I was experiencing something special hearing the tales of their great grandfathers skiing Craigieburn and I laughed with them at the memories of their first visits.
It snowed all day, and although the visibility wasn’t very good, everyone was thrilled. Returning to the bottom of the hill at the end of the day, I was exhausted. I’m not sure whether it was the powder the area received, or the grilled cheese that cooked on the fireplace, the stories I heard, or the amazing terrain and rawness of this New Zealand mountain, but as we all gathered in the main lodge for a family style dinner that night, there was a deep connection. It was a connection filled with energy and disbelief, exhaustion and exhilaration.
There was another day of skiing ahead and as the lights went out we all retreated to our bunks. The only sound we heard was the snowflakes gathering on the ground. I fell asleep dreaming of the mountain and when I awoke to fresh snow in the morning, I started laughing. I felt like I was experiencing the most raw form of skiing that exists today. I felt like I was at one of the last of the original ski slopes and I was grateful I followed my heart and decided to come to Craigieburn.
(Editors Note: Chantelle, who is part of the PT Team, loves to push limits. She travels the world in search of great powder and great skiing adventures.)
Loading ...
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.