Travels with Skis

Powder days

The last week or so has been quite eventful. On Tuesday of last week it started snowing. It was the start of a series of warm/cold front cycles which were to hit the south island for about 5 days straight. The warm fronts bring wet heavy snow, and the cold fronts bring very cold dry snow. When the temperature drops as the cold front arrives, it can also dry out the wet snow which was droped by the preceeding warm front, but to what extent is governed by the temperature. In short, there was a lot of very dry powdery snow knocking around. On a powder day it seems that the whole of the surrounding area shuts down as everyone heads for the mountain. The number of people up there seems to double. Most businesses have a 'powder day' clause in their employment contracts. If the snow is this good then it is just given that NONE of the employees will show up for work. I don't suppose it matters too much because all of their customers will be up the mountain too.
Wednesday morning on the mountain was glorious. We started early with a car load of people from the camp site (everyone is up early on a powder day), and were at the bottom of the lift waiting expectantly for it to open. I don't know how they manage to time these things, but the lift broke just as they were about to open. These kiwis are far too relaxed to worry about trivial stuff like maintenance - they definitely work on the principal of 'if it aint broke, don't fix it, and if it is broke, just patch it up so it will last until tomorrow when it will be someone elses problem'. Anyway, by 10am they had it running again - the crowd goes wild. For 2 hours every run was fresh tracks. There is nothing like cruising down in a foot of powder, and then being able to look back at your lines. My teeth started to hurt - I was smiling so much that all the cold air was rushing in the wide open mouth. By lunchtime the whole mountain is skiied out, and only the runs where you have to hike to get to them remained with untracked snow. P and I met up with another few guys from 'The Do' (Glendhu Bay Motor Camp, the home of the splendid caravan) at the top of the chairlift and decided to hike along a ridgeline to get the last of the snow. A 20 minute trudge commences - the wind had picked up and was trying its hardest to blow us from the ridge - the next weather front was on its way in... I didn't have the heart to tell P that the her right hand cheek was covered in a thin layer of ice, after all it couldn't have been bothering her too much given the size of the grin. We finally made it to the selected drop off point from the ridge. With the heavy snow and the strong winds from a constant direction, over the last couple of days a big cornice had formed (for those of you who aren't familiar with what a cornice is, imagine a wave just before it is about to break - replace the water with snow. The cornice is the bit that curls over, and has nothing but air beneath it). It looked, from the top at least, to be about 2-3 meters in width with snow piled up on the lee slope. Trying to be sensible I thought it best to try to get it to colapse - I reasoned that if it was going to break that it would be best for only one of us to be on it. It didn't seem all that big, and I guessed that if it did go there would only be a small tumble resulting in me looking less than cool. Nothing gave even when I jumped up and down. P slid forward along side me - everything felt solid - we were picking our route down when one of the snowboards jumped onto the run. Snowboarders as a general rule don't do too many things by halves. This perticular one thought it best to pick a spot on the rigde where there was about a 3m drop off before he hit the slope. As he landed I heard a huge crack - a fracture line appeared right under my boots, and along the cornice for a good 15 meters, and another one about 5 meters down the slope. This one of the few times I have ever felt like I was destined for leading role in an avalanche story, but the slope just stopped. There was about an inch of shear plane exposed, but it just stopped in its tracks. Admittedly, if it had gone, P and I were in a perfect position - right on top of it, and it would be seriously unlikely for either of us to be in any trouble. The run down was a little tentative, but *jeeze* the snow was good.
As a result of the incomming front, Thursday was a bit of a white out, but Friday was a whole different ball game. The sky cleared again, and with a fresh snow covering, the mountain was primed. Same story as Tuesday. I will spare you the details, other than to say we did not have the same experience with the cornice. After the ridge hike, the run down, and the hitch back to the bottom of the lift (the ridge hike run leaves you half way down the access road to the mountain), a fair bit of time had passed. We got a lift, and made it back to the base of the mountain. It was only then when we heard the news. There had been a big avalanche. Not off piste where one would expect, but right down over the main route down from the top of the chair lift. The mountain instantly closed. Everyone who was carrying a travsceiver/probe/shouvel was requested to go up the mountain and search for casualties. A fun day on the mountain suddenly changed to a somber affair. The sky instanly filled with helicopters, and the parking lot with ambulances. There is quite a big community from The Do on the mountain, and instantly people grouped together trying to account for everyone. Thankfully no one was caught - many close calls - but given that it swept over one of the most busy points of the mountain it was a miracle that no one was seriously hurt. I think there were 3 partial berials, but given its size, I cannot believe that it was not more serious. The cause? Snow Patrol triggered it with a bomb, and assumed it would not be so big, or slide so far. They have been bombing the same slope for 10 years but this had never happened before. It just goes to show just how little control you have over the snow.

posted by snow_gibbon @ 10:18 am