August 3rd and 4th - Fresh Powder on Mount Doom

Continuing my plan to hit as many places I missed on my first go round as possible we headed northwest from Napier towards Lake Taupo. The lake is picturesque by itself but when combined with Mt. Ruapehu at its southern tip it makes for quite a sight. It was a little windy that afternoon so we decided to forego something on the water in favour of indulging our inner tourist at some specialty shops. One notable stop was a massive store dedicated to honey and honey related accessories where we got more than our daily dose of sugar at their free tastings and capped off the experience with some ‘fig honey’ ice cream. I had a hankering for some rock climbing 45 minutes south in Turangi to wear off my sugar high but to maximize our time on the slopes of Mount Doom the next day we decided to push back to my old haunt of Ohakune, the base for my river journey back in June. The Jasper-esque town is more happening now that ski season is in full swing so we actually got to go out and watch some rugby that evening rather than be confined to the cramped quarters of our Spaceship. We’d gotten conflicting reports from locals as to which of the two ski hills to choose but it was ultimately decided by the emphatic persuasion of the adrenaline junkies working at the rental shop that we go to Whakapapa over Turoa to catch the most rays. I got laughed at a little bit by these gentlemen as, being used to skiing in bitterly cold Canada, I was bundled up in an unsanitary number of layers to the point where my boots wouldn’t do up. Suffice it to say that the guys at the rental shop were right about Whakapapa getting more sun; my face got burnt to a crisp. It took only one run for me to remove all but two of my layers but after that I was in alpine heaven. New Zealand skiing is drastically different than say Marmot Basin. Firstly, there are no trees, secondly there are lots more rocks and ice and lastly, you get to ski up in the clouds. The day was a lovely slice of nostalgia, the only downfall being me not heeding the warnings for sunscreen and the overpriced muffin I purchased during a break. The Aussie woman working the concession told me I had a southern accent (think Texas, not Invercargill) which came out of left field. Despite the differences the core components of alpine skiing here are the same as in Canada; the lifties all have those catchphrases that only people really relaxed in a job they love have (‘sweet as’ and ‘cheers bro’ come to mind), you see kids who couldn’t be a day older than 4 that are carving down the hill at breakneck speed but amazingly in perfect control, and you even have the forced, awkward conversation with strangers on the chairlifts (though with kiwis it’s really easy to have a laugh). All the chairlifts had jokes written on their safety bars whose punch lines were all snow and ice puns, it made it easy to…break the ice…with any strangers you rode with (see what I did there?). We got a solid 7 hours in and no one could argue we didn’t get our money’s worth. We celebrated with an Ohakune après-ski staple; the Mountain Kebab. We’d gotten them after our river journey too, basically a well prepared flatbread full of beef, veggies, cheese, and any combination of sauces you could dream of. We were so ravenous from that full day of skiing that we weren’t satisfied with just the kebab; we did a late night supermarket run and got a random assortment of items to make the day complete. I had the strangest cravings at that time which saw my 2nd dinner consist of Cluster Crisp cereal, coleslaw, and pretzels but whatever, it was glorious and I felt more satisfied than I had in quite some time. Today I drove us north to the Waitomo Caves and am having myself a much deserved day of rest in a hostel I have all to myself while Jaclyn goes exploring in the caves amidst the glow worms. I’m surprising her with a dinner of bruschetta, salad, and ribs with a vanilla custard dessert because I am just that awesome. After all this rest, a gourmet meal in my belly and a solid 10 hours in the rack I think my face will have healed sufficiently that I won’t have to amputate it for a new one and we can tackle a couple epic walks up Mount Taranaki. One last thought…that day of skiing Mount Doom was my 100th day in New Zealand and it feels like only a blink. The saying that time flies when you are having fun has never been more apt. Regardless, I’ll see you all in 3 and a half weeks and the fun times shall continue.