AOL File Library: 4,401 to 4,500/aol-file-protocol-4400-4401-to-4500.zip/AOLDLs/Winter Sports Library/(ANY) New Zealand Ski Trip/NZSKI93

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Ki Ora! The pack mule is back from skiing in New Zealand.  I salute
God and Country ... one made the earth round and tilted it (always
winter somewhere) and the other fostered Capitalism (cheap
airfares)!  Imagine taking the state of California, breaking it off from
the rest of the continental US, then moving it like a barge south and
east of Australia.  Then soak (flood) the place like you would a dog
with fleas, dry it off, and import 10% Polynesians, 80% U.K. farmer
types, and another 10% of everyone else from everywhere else ...
and you sort of have New Zealand.  Year before this they had some
of the largest snows in better than two decades, this year they've
had very little precipitation ... fortunately for me it all fell while I was
there!

First a geography lesson.  New Zealand is a state sized country
tucked in an out of the way place south and east of Australia.  It
consists of two equally sized islands oriented longitudinally.  The North
Island is the warmest of the two.  At the extreme north end it would
be like living in San Diego.  The South Island is the closest large land
mass to Antarctica.  Most of the snow is on the mountains in the
south island and most of that on the southern mountains ranges.
Much of the country, maybe all, was created through volcanic
activity ... and there is still some today.  We even had an earthquake
while I was there ... made all of the California tourists feel right at
home.

This trip was a direct result of the communication nets which now
span most of our globe.  A relative had visited NZ almost a decade
ago and raved that it was paradise.  Since this guy was a Kansas
farmer, any place would have seemed like Paradise so I tended to
discount his rantings.  A few years later, when NZ became hooked
into the CompuServe system, I took the opportunity to meet a few
Kiwis electronically.  Over the course of the next three years I learned
that by and large the Kansas farmer was right ... if only about this
one thing.

Since I'd always heard Paradise was a place worth seeing I decided
to go.  I also decided to leave my wife children and at home for
purely selfish reasons, which is another whole story in its self.  Being
just a small town boy from the hills of Arkansas I thought it would be
in my best interests if I stayed with "folks".  In Zealand "folks" are of the

B&B variety, and if you ever wanted to really get a "feel" for what this
country is about, I can recommend no better type of
accommodation.  I also decided to use the NZ public transport
system, simply because I would have killed myself had I rented a car
in a country that has right hand drive vehicles on the left hand side
of the road.  With computer ordered airline tickets, accommodation
reservations, and passport in hand I was ready to head for our
airport (NO, it's not a grass strip ... although we do cut hay off the
perimeter of the field from time to time).

For the untraveled, international rules allow two checked bags at 20
kilos each (about 84 lbs) plus two "small" carry on bags.  Obviously,
"small" is open to interpretation.  The overheads on a 747, used to
hold "small" luggage, are large enough to store whatever you are
strong enough to lift over your head and place in them.  I guess I
could have taken my youngest daughter after all.   I opted for the
largest backpack I could find and a large expandable bag with
wheels.  To the amazement of all, I also attached a snowboard and
ski boots to the backpack.  While I was able to lift it all, I couldn't
always get through a doorway or hall without hitting something or
someone.  The baggage handlers groaned when they saw me
coming to check in for the flights.  I also was to learn that "oversized"
(stuff too big for the carousels) bags are placed in special areas
when unloaded.

I checked in with just a few minutes before the flight was to board ...
with a ticket from an international airline (AIR NEW ZEALAND) that
was unfamiliar to the agent for the domestic carrier (AMERICAN) to
a place she had never heard of (this is ARKANSAS after all ... you
know, where BILL (the President) Clinton hails from) with baggage
bigger than her dad.  Since she was about to go into a state of
shock, I told her to short check the bags to LAX where AIR NEW
ZEALAND could figure out if the bags were in compliance.  At LAX I
just got in line with a bunch of other snow boarders headed for
Paradise and the snow.  Since we were "tourists" and a valuable
source of income to the NZ economy, the male agent hefted it all
onto the conveyor belt and handed me a receipt for two BIG bags
with a smile.  Since it was a pack, I was able to strap all kinds of
things to it to make it just one bag under the rules.  Play the game.
Thirteen hours later I was in NZ at sunrise.

A valid (non-expiring during the visit) US passport gets you into the
country as a visitor for up to 9 months as long as you have a return
airline ticket.  Customs was a snap, I was obviously a tourist just going
skiing.  No bags opened ... just a g'day mate ... and off to the
nearest counter to exchange currency.  The NZ dollar was running
about .55 to the US dollar.  The fare to the train station on the Super
Shuttle was about $8 dollars US for the 30 minute trip.  A quick check
in at the train station and we were off on a train out of Auckland for
Wellington, about 12 hours.  I purchased a country-wide travel pass
that let me ride train, ferry, or bus (coach) for any 15 days during a
21 day period for about $490 NZ.  I was now sitting in a seat next to a
grandmotherly type person and she was sitting next to a travel worn
American who needed a change of clothes and some sleep,
neither of which I was to get for the next 6 hours.  In the South, its
easy to get to know people in small towns.  Everyone is as curious
about you as you are about them.  NZ is just like one large small
town.  By the time I sat down on the train I had been away from
home for about 22 hours and had met about half a dozen Kiwis,
three of whom gave me their phone numbers and addresses without
asking.  My wife says I have a face that frightens small children ... so
it was all the more amazing.  We had tea and biscuits numerous
times during the course of my trip to National Park.  Iced tea, the
beverage of choice in the South, after beer, does not exist in NZ.  By
the end of the trip I had grown quite fond of hot tea w/ cream.

National Park, a best a wide spot in the road, has an old depot
within site of New Zealand's northernmost ski areas, Whakapapa.  I
splurged and stayed at a place called the Chateau for the evening,
about $100 US.  They picked me up from the train at no charge and
would deliver me back the next day to catch this same train south to
Wellington.  The accommodations were newly restored in a Victorian
tradition ... my wife will love this place.  Being an architect by
training, I'm tuned to looking at structures and the like.  The Chateau
is not yet completely restored, but is quite a grand place to spend
an evening and enjoy elegant dining nevertheless.  I only had half a
day to ski before continuing on to Wellington, but spent it well up the
mountain.  Kiwi ski fields are in general less technically developed
than their US counterparts.  I had never used a T bar with a
snowboard before that morning.  Actually, the Ts are used most
commonly on the upper parts of the mountains, with high speed
quads used as the major body movers.  One of the Chateau's
employees had put a knife like  edge on my snowboard that saved
my tail a couple of times that day.  Usually it was packed powder,
but not always on the steep wind-blown grades. The cost from the
hotel to the ski field was $5 US.  Adult lift tickets at most NZ ski fields
ranged from $25 - $30 US per day.  That morning was the first time I
had skied in months and the half day lift ticket proved to be just right
for a warm up.  I arrived at the depot to catch the train as it passed
National Park on its way south that afternoon.  By now I had met a
few more Kiwis and had a few more phone numbers.

What happened next made me feel like I was back home in the hills
of Arkansas.  As I stood waiting for the train to arrive I noticed directly
across the tracks were   SQUEEEL
pigs in the bush.  Big pigs, with ridges, sort of like our beloved POP!
POP! football mascot.  But unlike our mascot, they shoot their pigs,
which is what someone had just done!  A pig hunt at the train
station.  We're havin' fun now!  The pig had been dropped in the
bush so I didn't get a good look at it until I saw four big Bubba types,
one on each leg, carrying the critter towards me.  Sorry boys, but
I've got all I can carry as it is.  Just as they crossed the tracks they
turned and headed toward the end of the station.  Over the course
of the next few minutes I was re-acquainted with how folks on the
farm scald, gut, and hang a swine carcass ... and all at the end of
the train station at National Park.

The train terminated in Wellington and I spent the evening at the
home of a delightful retired couple, transported me from the train
station to the ferry, fed me 4 star meals, and shared something
about their lives on that island nation.  I also began to understand
that Kiwis keep their homes cooler in the winter than most
Americans.  Americans in the South and Central US don't tend to
wear heavy garments in the house during the winter months.  Our
tendency is to simply keep the house as warm as is needed to be
comfortable in shirt sleeves.  Kiwis, on the other hand, always wear
heavier clothing in the winter while keeping their homes on the very
cool side.  Rooms aren't heated, beds are.  Getting up in the
mornings is an invigorating experience during the winter.  A garment
I wore almost constantly in NZ was a Patagonia polyester pullover
that had a comfort range of high 30's to mid 60's.  It was perfect
when just sitting around the cool homes.  My Wellington hosts saw
me off to the ferry terminal and the trip to the South Island had
begun.

The trip from Wellington to Picton may take several hours.  The
weather the day I went was sunny and mild.  The ferry, while well-
used, had been maintained and was more than comfortable.  There
were decks for sitting, eating, and strolling.  There were movies and
dining options, places to let the kids play, and even a place to
catch up on some business work.  Dolphins would surface and ride
the waves created by the passage of the ferry from time to time.
The gulls were ever present on the trip and always ready for a hand
out.  A multitude of small inlets make up much of the area around
the Picton terminal.  The water was like glass when we passed
through these protected inlets.  Small fishing boats would bob at
anchor as we passed ... and always one's wave of the hand would
be returned in like fashion.  The train from Picton left for Christchurch
within an hour of our arrival.  I checked to make sure that my pack
had made the transfer from ferry to train ... the baggage handler
clearly remembered it.  The trip to Christchurch followed the eastern
shoreline.  The sight of waves rolling in hour after hour out the
window is almost guaranteed to produce a car full of sleeping
passengers.  When the train pulled into the terminal that evening I
was greeted by my hosts (new skiers class).  This was one of the
families I had corresponded with for a few years.  While they had
never skied, they were anxious to give it a go.  So off to the Mt. Hutt
ski field near Methven for a couple of days.

As I was to learn, though well equipped and staffed, Mt. Hutt has a
problem that no amount of technology can overcome - wind.
Characteristic of New Zealand ski fields, there are no trees, just like A-
Basin in Colorado.  The roads up to the ski field are susceptible to it
as well.  It is not uncommon for the field to close because the winds
on the road up are too gusty to allow traffic to move safely.  On our
first day we had to wait about an hour before it was determined that
the winds were calm enough to allow traffic to proceed and the
field to open.  Upon arrival my host family of four when off to their
"never ever skied" lesson on the flats.  The wind down at the lodge
was what I would kindly call "brisk".  Brisk doesn't blow you over.  I
found a part of the mountain that looked like it would be a good
warm up.  I never did, warm up that is.  It was another one of those T
bars, only twice as long as the one at Whakapapa on the North
Island.  The quad wasn't running because the wind was too "brisk".
So up the mountain I'm towed to a drop off point where the wind is
"really brisk".  "Really brisk" is where a 200 lb man still isn't blown over.

I look down the mountain for my host family on the flats, wondering
how "brisk" the wind is down there.  After a half a dozen runs in winds
somewhere between "brisk" and "really brisk" I decide check up on
my "never ever skied" family.  I noticed the small boy doesn't have
his skis on and appears to be looking at something in the sky.  About
this time the question of whether the wind is "brisk" or "really brisk"
becomes mute.  I've been in 85-100 mph gusts before and this was
definitely in that range.  The gusts rolled in like invisible waves over
the skiers, leaving no one standing.  A single gust and its interval only
lasted for 15 to 30 seconds, which is about how long it takes a skier
to get up.  So skiers were getting up, only to be knocked down
about 30 seconds later.  I guess it took about 15 minutes for
everyone to get down off the hill.   Some of them looked like they
had actually been blown down the hill.  My host family sort of looked
like that.  They had taken a break to get out of the wind and get
something hot to drink when we heard the mountain was being
closed due to an increase in the wind.  I found that the wind had
scared the boy.  He was afraid of being carried away like Toto.  He
took off his skis and proceeded to curse at the wind.  Think that must
have been about the time it hit 85 mph.  We ate an early dinner at a
place called the Last Post Cafe and Bar in Methven run by Jude and
Jeff Holzer.  Its an American West theme with corresponding menu.
Skip the BBQ, the Kiwis don't have a clue.  Oddly, the Mexican was
decent.  The Guacamole needs some work, however, and no sour
cream chicken enchiladas.  Steaks pass muster, as does the
seafood.  The next day the winds are too strong to open the ski filed,
so my host family of "never ever skiers" never ever really did.  On a
clear windless day Mt. Hutt would be every bit as much fun as
A Basin.  About a week later they got a huge dump of snow with no
winds.
My next destination was at a place called Wanaka.  I traveled there
by bus on Mt. Cook Lines.  I'm not going to tell you who my hosts
were, but they were one of the trip's highlights.  There are other
perfectly wonderful B&Bs that I know of in the area that would be
great places at which to stay.  Actually, this family was pinch hitting
for the family that I was originally scheduled to stay.  They had never
had a B&B guest before.  It was like family.  I was a son.  Mom really
knows how to cook.  Go find your own family.  I skied a Cadrona,
which is about half way between Queenstown and Wanaka.
Definitely a family destination, greens and blues.  Real chair lifts, no
Ts.  Lots of Japanese snow boarders and skiers.  Snowboarding has
become THE THING to do this winter in New Zealand.  The shuttle to
the mountain was about $12 US and took the better part of an hour,
much of which was uphill on a dirt road.  It had snowed the night
before so the runs were in good shape.  Wind was not a factor, still
no trees.  Food is expensive, even by US standards, at the Lodge.
Pack a lunch and liquids with you.  Oh, this reminds me, don't ask
me how.  Phones in NZ are NOT coin operated.  They are card
operated.  You buy a phone card, usually in $5 denominations, that
is inserted into the phone when you make a call.  At the completion
of the call the card is debited the amount of the call.  You use the
card until it nets out to zero.  The cards can be purchased ALL over
the country.  But pick one up at the airport after you've cleared
customs and exchanged money ... you'll be glad you did.  Treble
Cone ski field is closer to Wanaka and more for you blue and black
skiers.  Unless you take a car, call early for seats on these shuttles.
There are fewer shuttles going to Treble Cone than there are
Cadrona.  When the Treble Cone shuttles fill up, you go to Cadrona
or hitch to Treble Cone.  Wanaka is where the Kiwis go on holiday.
Treble Cone is where Kiwis ski.  Cadrona is reached by Queenstown
as well and has more than a few tourists.  If you go to Wanaka, do
not tell anyone else about it.  If you ski Treble Cone, tell everyone
else to go to Cadrona.  Oddly, the merchants in Wanaka would like
more tourists dollars.  Take extra dollars with you, and tell the
Wanaka merchants you'll give them money to keep their mouths
shut.

Queenstown is just a short few hours by coach from Wanaka by
InterCity or Mt. Cook Lines.  The scenery is extraordinary.
Queenstown is beautiful, really, no false trails being laid here.  It is
oriented to servicing tourists.  It does it efficiently and effectively.
You will have fun there, it will cost you ... most things do.  I'd rather
hear an NZ bell bird's call in the morning, off a garden, in Wanaka,
next to the lake, reflecting the mountains, in which swim 10 POUND
LAKE TROUT !!!!  Shhhh.  You didn't hear that.  Go to Queenstown,
take the jet boat rides, ride the Earnslaw, take the Gondola, bungy
jump, drink the local wine, get drunk, forget about Wanaka.  The
Remarkables near Queenstown is the last commercial skifield before
you go off the end of the country and into the ocean.  The skifield
had just gotten quite a bit of new snow.  Nevertheless, as a
snowboarder, it was the least impressive of the fields.  The lifts were
fine, the facilities were fine,  the trails just didn't work though.  Blues
running into flat greens falling into tough blues.  Maybe I was just
tired, but I eventually gave up fighting the flats.  If I had been on skis
it would have been a different story.  The lines at the Remarkables
were almost non-existent.  I heard the queues over at Coronet Peak
were 45 minutes.  I can't account for the discrepancy, although
Coronet tends to have fewer clouds and more hours of sunshine
than the Remarkables.  The restaurant at the top of the Gondola is
nice and the food is fair (tastewise), service is excellent, presentation
is superb.  Nice evening for two.  The Cow in town is a pizza place
worth going to if you get there at 5 PM sharp.  If you get there later
you WILL wait.  Unless there are four of you, you will be asked if you
wouldn't mind having others join you at your table.  Nice way to
meet people.  Its BYOL, so bring the wine with you.  NZ has some fine
white wines worth sampling if you are on foot.  The other food worth
mentioning is a Kiwi hamburger.  McDonald's sells a poor imitation.
Some places call it COP THE LOT (Omarama), some WHATABURGER
(Lake Tekapo) ... it consists of - 2 beef patties, pineapple ring, slice of
tomato, a fried egg, lettuce, mayo, bacon, cheese, sweet beet
(optional).  These are the best hamburgers I have ever TRIED to eat.
Skip breakfast, eat one at an early lunch and plan on a light dinner.
These are AWESOME sandwiches.

From Queenstown I took the bus back to Christchurch, hopped a
plane to Auckland, then to LAX, DFW, and home.  There is lots of
non-skiing stuff I didn't relate, but that is for another forum.  I actually
spent a week roaming around Christchurch and the surrounding
area.  I skied about half of the fields I wanted, but since the snows
weren't all that hot this year I kept to the areas that could make
snow, or received new snow around the time of my arrival.  Next
time I'll bring the mob along and we'll do the other fields ... any
takers?