Ski Touring

The original plan for this past weekend was to embark on a three day ski tour traversing the Southern Alps from the head of Lake Tekapo to the Fox Glacier. Unfortunately the weather did not cooperate for such an undertaking, so we had to revise the plan into a two day hut trip. Under clear blue skies on Sunday morning Andrew and I began hiking up the main trail in Mount Cook National Park, with skis strapped to our packs and a good supply of food and whiskey. The scenery surrounding us was absolutely stunning. Massive behemoths of rock and ice scrape the sky, separated by enormous glaciers and murky moraine lakes. After about two hours of hiking we reached the snow and strapped on our AT skis with skins underneath. This was the first time I have ever tried skinning, which might not sound like a big deal to most outdoorsy people, but whatever! I was excited! It really isn't difficult, you basically just walk forwards without lifting your toes off the ground, and the skins provide excellent traction up the snow. We cruised along at a good pace, steadily gaining elevation, and after about three hours of climbing we reached Mueller hut. The views were jaw-dropping pretty much the whole time. In case you're wondering, the big flattish peak above my head in the top photo is Mount Cook. We dropped our packs at the hut and continued up to the top of the nearby peak for some recreational skiing. The snow was deep and heavy and my ski skills are lacking, so I took some spetacular diggers (like double-ejection face-plants), but it was still a fun time. The evening was filled with reading, whiskey, deep conversations and freeze-dried dinners (in that order). I remember waking up several times that night to the sounds of raging wind and the sensation that the hut was shaking. Not good. Sure enough, it was basically a blizzard outside as Monday dawned. Getting down the mountain was very, very difficult. It almost seemed like a joke, like there was no way the wind could possibly be blowing that hard, but it was. One particularly powerful gust threw me up the hill and flat onto my back; Andrew estimated its speed to be about 120 km/h. It also didn't help that I don't really know how to ski. We persevered, though, and eventually made it back to the snow line safely. Below that it was pouring rain, but we skipped down the trail to the car in good time and cruised back to Andrew's house in Lake Tekapo, then lit a roaring fire to dry out our soggy garments. Great Success!