Travels with Skis

Single point of failure

Most of the people reading this will be more than familiar with the concept of a single point of failure. We don't like single points of failure. We really don't like them. In a nut a shell a single point of failure describes a situation where there is something that should it break, it will ruin everything else. If the one vital element fails then everything else is pointless - you might as well pack up and go home. Treble Cone has a single point of failure. And a massive one at that. There is one chairlift that takes you from the base station up the mountain, and to all the other lifts (granted - there are only 2 of them), but should it break down, then the mountain is essentially closed for business. In the computer world we go to great pains to ensure that there are never any single points of failure - if something breaks it will be seamlessly replaced by something else - the user will never know the difference. Treble Cone doesn't seem to employ the same strategy. Today the chairlift died. I am not entirely sure that it was infact dead, or just pining for the fiords, but today it was definitely sleeping. So what to do? Well, if the similies with computers are to continue, then the answer would be, to simpily do nothing - go home, hang out, and wait for a fix. Oh no, not here. If you are not skiing, what better to do than to go and have a little wander around the local area? Just near our camp site is the start of a walk (!) to the top of Mt. Roye. So, a nice little miander to the top of a local mountain? I am not sure what circuit in my brain was shorting today, but whichever one it was, it neglecteted to notice that the mountain summit was at 1500m or there abouts. Not too high I hear you say. I didn't think so either. The walk starts at a lowly 300m, so there are 1200 vertical meters to go. Slightly less than 1/8 the size of Everest from sea level. Ignoring the fact that we actually have oxygen down here, it was quite a tall order. So P and I set off with jovial frame of mind, a rucksac each with our skiing lunch (cheese, ham, and branston sandwiches), and decidedly unsuitable atire. For some reason we thought that jeans and trainers were just the ticket. I will save you the pain of a blow by blow account, but suffice to say we might have got this one a bit wrong. After several hours, and about 1000ft below the summit, grass gives way to snow, and soon we are up to our knees in the white stuff. On reflection climbing big hills is probably not something that stubborn people should do. Especially in jeans. When you are equiped with the frame of mind that will just not let you turn around no matter what, then my advise would be to, at the very least, wear a jacket. Perhaps even long johns.
So, after about 3 hours, and with jeans that resemble cardboard tubes, we reach the summit. I think that there were pretty spectacular views. Given that everywhere you look in N.Z. the view is spectacular, it is a good bet. I am betting on this one because we really did not hang around to have much of a look. Starting late in the day, being ill prepared, being freezing and hungry, and being stubborn lead to only one conclusion - get to the top (pride intact), and then get the hell down before it gets dark, and you have to make the foolish phone call to someone with a helicopter.

posted by snow_gibbon @ 6:16 pm