As winter is fast approaching in the Northern-Hemi I feel a tale of my backcountry adventure in the South is appropriate to satiate one's need for snow. Like the other few times I went for a shred we left Melbourne on a chilly 16 degree morning. We had a big drive ahead. Taking in many a wonderful sight of the Australian countryside, from Victoria to NSW, Melbs to Jindabyne. It was a long drive smoothly executed and expertly co-piloted, respectively, by Andy and myself. We busted through gumtree lined forests, open fields of grassland, past many dead wombats (never saw one alive), coastal wonders and into the mountains, where I saw a kangaroo in the snow. While the great expanse of the higher altitudes of Australia are double the altitude of Scotlands, they lack that looming presence you feel in places like Glencoe. But that is hither tither when what you want is snow, which this year Oz had seen an abundance of.
Our plans were loose. We had our gear, food, splitboards, maps, whisky and a 'poop tube'. We had an area in mind we wanted to recce and the weather on the drive up and on our intial day was promising. Neither Andy nor I are really experts at our newly found sport of splitboarding. We can definately hold our own when the unit is together and we're shredding lines, having both been riding for over a decade. But split the board in two and turn it, essentially, into a set of skis, things get a little sloppy. Then put 30kg of gear on our backs and everything begins to creak ominously, boards and bones! However, we endured the slog, as our some what stubborn personalities, love for exploration and the ever enticing chase of some powder was at the fore front of our minds. As we pushed on through snowy lines of gumtress and out into the expanse of white hills ahead I began to appreciate the vastness of the area we were in.
Day one was all about getting in and setting up. Having a decent base allowing us to go find the steeps and a comfortable refuse to return to. I use the word comfort in a manner that some can appreciate and others will misconceive. When you tell most people that you are going to camp in the snow for 5 days and go snowboarding, you get the all to common response of 'Why?'. It's a good honest question that, unfortunately, if you have to ask you'll never quite understand the answer. Going on these adventures you strip a lot back from what you would normally appreciate as comfortable living. For me comfort becomes about being warm, having something to eat and good company. When in the backcountry, if I have all those three things then I will always be comfortable.
As we pressed on, up to higher elevations, it became apparent the wind was going to be a factor. She was burly on that first day and had whipped away the snow leaving large patches of sheet ice, which were treacherous to pass over, especially if your new gear wasn't up to the conditions. (Luckily I'm not talking about mine!) Onward we pressed in a slippy-slidy ballet of balance and brotherhood. Camp set up, food in our belly the intial days exertions behind us we now had 4 days of snow exploration ahead or so we thought.
We awoke on the second morning to an epic sunrise. The wind had created a little discomfort during the night so a couple of pictures were taken and then it was back to sleep. At our actual rise the wind was still with us. We went out into the fercious howling domain and limbered up to make breakfast. Not able to hear each other unless standing side by side we were in the thick of an adventure. After warming coffee and museli we set out to try and shred some of the wintery landscape. As we moved it became ever apparent that the wind was going to be our mistress for the duration of the day, a fickle one at that too. When you enter the outdoors you are ever aware that you succumb to the mercy of the elements. No matter how good your planning or your gear you can be quickly schooled as to who is boss.
Apart from the wind playing havoc with the snow conditions, the other elements were on our side. Eventually we got up to one of our planned points. I went for a look see to try and get a line in for the camera. The first point I stopped I thought I saw a track leading into an entry point but being exceptionally icy and steep after that point I wanted to have a look from a safe spot before committing. Lucky I did, my 'track' was not so, it was a crack where an enormous cornice was just waiting for that external trigger to send it hurtling downward. It always pays to err on the side of caution in unknown and potentially hazardous conditions. So having cancelled that first drop point I went to the easier one. Skirting over the icy plateau with my blustery mistress whipping me from behind I found a safer spot to hit. Rolling in, the snow was good, a little further and one turn later it was gone! Back to skimming over ice trying to catch an edge to slow myself. As the gradient decreased and the ice gave way to snow again I came to a very ungracious halt. Definately was not one of my best lines but I was down. I started to head back out but first bootpacked (hiked to the non-snow people) up another steep pitch with a good snowpack to get a few turns. I hiked till it got too steep for comfort, strapped in, put in five turns on really nice snow and gave a little whoop as you do when you're happy. Man I love the snow.
Then it was back to getting out. My exit was a slow and comical escapade. Mostly with me trying to figure out the best kick turn strategem that would stop me falling back down what I'd just made it up. Then it was back across the icy, wind-swept nothing and down to camp. Then something really interesting happened: our mistress left us. Abondoned to the calm and stillness of a beautiful winters eve. That was a good time, a decent meal, some warming whisky chai and hearty banter about the trials of the day and the potential for tomorrow. How foolish we were to think she'd left for good. That night our mistress returned but this time she brought some latex clad dominatrix gusts and a vengence. Over night the space in the tent became smaller; Andy and I more like one symbiotic sleeping bag rather than two. The days break was a welcome of sorts. Andy ventured out for his ablutions and informed me the kitchen was gone. Overnight the wind had deposited about a foot and a half of lovely snow upon us. It had creeped up the sides of the tent, which explained the shrinkage. Our cooking area and food was buried, all was white.
So before breakfast we had an hour of digging to rediscover our goods. The viciousness of the wind and the soupy cloud we were in made it clear there would be no snowboarding today. Today would become a day of perseverance and poise. I'm not going to say much about the poop tube my Australian friend insisted was a necessity for back country travel in the National Parks. All I'm saying is that trying to poop into a plastic bag, with 80km an hour arctic gusts, blasting a brutal slap to your nether regions, was one experience I wouldn't wish upon many. After breakfast and digging we returned to our tent to listen to our dominatrix exert her authority. The tent billowed in and out like a minature set of lungs, the orange hue cast by the tent fabric giving our womb a warm glow, which wasn't matched by the outdoor chill. Not much you can do in the conditions but sit, then lie, then turn around, then doze, then sit. After 3 hours it was time to go and see what was going on outside.
More snow was the order of the day. Just to pass the time we built a wall that would have made the Chinese jealous, sort of. It kept us warm and away from the orange cocoon. Higher, bigger, larger was the best plan. Anything to try and deflect the winds harsh barbs. She gave us a run for our money but, like kids having constructed a monumental sand-castle, we were proud of our efforts. Eventually we had no other option but to return to our cell for the next installment of being a prisoner of the wind. One might wonder how we felt at this point. I'll tell you we were in good spirits. Something about testing ones resolve will do that. For most people they'd be miserable and I can empathise with them. It's really not the life for everyone. However, for me, it was a pleasure. I love the snow, the outdoors, being away from it all, being reminded of how insignificant you are in mother natures eyes, it's all part of the fun.
For that whole day the wind was relentless. She strung us up, twisted our minds, chained us to one spot, lashed our being and we were grinning through it all. Even cooking our evening meal, while a challenge, was a victory against her brutality. However, it was clear we were beat. Our fuel was burning through much faster than expected and without it we had no way of making water. The weather gave no indication of breaking so we made the decision to pull out a day early. That night we slept furitively or not at all. I am proud of that tent standing up to one of the gnarliest nights I have ever spent under canvass. The following morning was to show little light. The wind had dumped more snow on us and before we could even pack up again we had to dig everything out. That was a cold and evil morning. That morning I was not comfortable. It was not the company nor hunger but the lack of warmth. My fingers groaning painfully under the damp gloves and an unrelenting battering wind. I packed mirthlessly, the small joy knowing that it was all downhill from there. Albeit, an icy, cloudy, windy, pack laden one at that. I did ride down with snow over a foot deep billowing under my board. The weight of my pack and the inability to see the icy patches making me dubious of putting in any serious turns.
Once down and out of the wind a sense of normality returned. We still had a solid skin out but that bitch was gone for the best part. Three days later I saw some photos of people riding lovely powder where we had been. Little wind and great sunshine was to host their weekend. Jealous? Not really. Okay, it may have been fun to get the conditions spot on and drop some stellar lines. But, that would hardly be the adventure we had just come through and this blog would be even more dull! We can also return to that spot. Having endured a kicking from mother nature, perhaps, next time she'll open her welcoming arms and treat us to some of her sweet spoils. But that's the beauty of the outdoor life, you never can tell what she's going to give. Would I be horribly upset to go through that again? Not at all. It was a great learning experience and I will take away some important lessons from it. Chiefly, poop tubes are a cumbersome unneccessary burden and pooping in arctic blasts is not fun! So as many of my friends head into winters arms and hope for her to be kind, remember, it may not go that way. Just enjoy the experience whatever it may hold.
Ramble on........................
Our plans were loose. We had our gear, food, splitboards, maps, whisky and a 'poop tube'. We had an area in mind we wanted to recce and the weather on the drive up and on our intial day was promising. Neither Andy nor I are really experts at our newly found sport of splitboarding. We can definately hold our own when the unit is together and we're shredding lines, having both been riding for over a decade. But split the board in two and turn it, essentially, into a set of skis, things get a little sloppy. Then put 30kg of gear on our backs and everything begins to creak ominously, boards and bones! However, we endured the slog, as our some what stubborn personalities, love for exploration and the ever enticing chase of some powder was at the fore front of our minds. As we pushed on through snowy lines of gumtress and out into the expanse of white hills ahead I began to appreciate the vastness of the area we were in.
Day one was all about getting in and setting up. Having a decent base allowing us to go find the steeps and a comfortable refuse to return to. I use the word comfort in a manner that some can appreciate and others will misconceive. When you tell most people that you are going to camp in the snow for 5 days and go snowboarding, you get the all to common response of 'Why?'. It's a good honest question that, unfortunately, if you have to ask you'll never quite understand the answer. Going on these adventures you strip a lot back from what you would normally appreciate as comfortable living. For me comfort becomes about being warm, having something to eat and good company. When in the backcountry, if I have all those three things then I will always be comfortable.
As we pressed on, up to higher elevations, it became apparent the wind was going to be a factor. She was burly on that first day and had whipped away the snow leaving large patches of sheet ice, which were treacherous to pass over, especially if your new gear wasn't up to the conditions. (Luckily I'm not talking about mine!) Onward we pressed in a slippy-slidy ballet of balance and brotherhood. Camp set up, food in our belly the intial days exertions behind us we now had 4 days of snow exploration ahead or so we thought.
We awoke on the second morning to an epic sunrise. The wind had created a little discomfort during the night so a couple of pictures were taken and then it was back to sleep. At our actual rise the wind was still with us. We went out into the fercious howling domain and limbered up to make breakfast. Not able to hear each other unless standing side by side we were in the thick of an adventure. After warming coffee and museli we set out to try and shred some of the wintery landscape. As we moved it became ever apparent that the wind was going to be our mistress for the duration of the day, a fickle one at that too. When you enter the outdoors you are ever aware that you succumb to the mercy of the elements. No matter how good your planning or your gear you can be quickly schooled as to who is boss.
Apart from the wind playing havoc with the snow conditions, the other elements were on our side. Eventually we got up to one of our planned points. I went for a look see to try and get a line in for the camera. The first point I stopped I thought I saw a track leading into an entry point but being exceptionally icy and steep after that point I wanted to have a look from a safe spot before committing. Lucky I did, my 'track' was not so, it was a crack where an enormous cornice was just waiting for that external trigger to send it hurtling downward. It always pays to err on the side of caution in unknown and potentially hazardous conditions. So having cancelled that first drop point I went to the easier one. Skirting over the icy plateau with my blustery mistress whipping me from behind I found a safer spot to hit. Rolling in, the snow was good, a little further and one turn later it was gone! Back to skimming over ice trying to catch an edge to slow myself. As the gradient decreased and the ice gave way to snow again I came to a very ungracious halt. Definately was not one of my best lines but I was down. I started to head back out but first bootpacked (hiked to the non-snow people) up another steep pitch with a good snowpack to get a few turns. I hiked till it got too steep for comfort, strapped in, put in five turns on really nice snow and gave a little whoop as you do when you're happy. Man I love the snow.
Then it was back to getting out. My exit was a slow and comical escapade. Mostly with me trying to figure out the best kick turn strategem that would stop me falling back down what I'd just made it up. Then it was back across the icy, wind-swept nothing and down to camp. Then something really interesting happened: our mistress left us. Abondoned to the calm and stillness of a beautiful winters eve. That was a good time, a decent meal, some warming whisky chai and hearty banter about the trials of the day and the potential for tomorrow. How foolish we were to think she'd left for good. That night our mistress returned but this time she brought some latex clad dominatrix gusts and a vengence. Over night the space in the tent became smaller; Andy and I more like one symbiotic sleeping bag rather than two. The days break was a welcome of sorts. Andy ventured out for his ablutions and informed me the kitchen was gone. Overnight the wind had deposited about a foot and a half of lovely snow upon us. It had creeped up the sides of the tent, which explained the shrinkage. Our cooking area and food was buried, all was white.
So before breakfast we had an hour of digging to rediscover our goods. The viciousness of the wind and the soupy cloud we were in made it clear there would be no snowboarding today. Today would become a day of perseverance and poise. I'm not going to say much about the poop tube my Australian friend insisted was a necessity for back country travel in the National Parks. All I'm saying is that trying to poop into a plastic bag, with 80km an hour arctic gusts, blasting a brutal slap to your nether regions, was one experience I wouldn't wish upon many. After breakfast and digging we returned to our tent to listen to our dominatrix exert her authority. The tent billowed in and out like a minature set of lungs, the orange hue cast by the tent fabric giving our womb a warm glow, which wasn't matched by the outdoor chill. Not much you can do in the conditions but sit, then lie, then turn around, then doze, then sit. After 3 hours it was time to go and see what was going on outside.
More snow was the order of the day. Just to pass the time we built a wall that would have made the Chinese jealous, sort of. It kept us warm and away from the orange cocoon. Higher, bigger, larger was the best plan. Anything to try and deflect the winds harsh barbs. She gave us a run for our money but, like kids having constructed a monumental sand-castle, we were proud of our efforts. Eventually we had no other option but to return to our cell for the next installment of being a prisoner of the wind. One might wonder how we felt at this point. I'll tell you we were in good spirits. Something about testing ones resolve will do that. For most people they'd be miserable and I can empathise with them. It's really not the life for everyone. However, for me, it was a pleasure. I love the snow, the outdoors, being away from it all, being reminded of how insignificant you are in mother natures eyes, it's all part of the fun.
For that whole day the wind was relentless. She strung us up, twisted our minds, chained us to one spot, lashed our being and we were grinning through it all. Even cooking our evening meal, while a challenge, was a victory against her brutality. However, it was clear we were beat. Our fuel was burning through much faster than expected and without it we had no way of making water. The weather gave no indication of breaking so we made the decision to pull out a day early. That night we slept furitively or not at all. I am proud of that tent standing up to one of the gnarliest nights I have ever spent under canvass. The following morning was to show little light. The wind had dumped more snow on us and before we could even pack up again we had to dig everything out. That was a cold and evil morning. That morning I was not comfortable. It was not the company nor hunger but the lack of warmth. My fingers groaning painfully under the damp gloves and an unrelenting battering wind. I packed mirthlessly, the small joy knowing that it was all downhill from there. Albeit, an icy, cloudy, windy, pack laden one at that. I did ride down with snow over a foot deep billowing under my board. The weight of my pack and the inability to see the icy patches making me dubious of putting in any serious turns.
Once down and out of the wind a sense of normality returned. We still had a solid skin out but that bitch was gone for the best part. Three days later I saw some photos of people riding lovely powder where we had been. Little wind and great sunshine was to host their weekend. Jealous? Not really. Okay, it may have been fun to get the conditions spot on and drop some stellar lines. But, that would hardly be the adventure we had just come through and this blog would be even more dull! We can also return to that spot. Having endured a kicking from mother nature, perhaps, next time she'll open her welcoming arms and treat us to some of her sweet spoils. But that's the beauty of the outdoor life, you never can tell what she's going to give. Would I be horribly upset to go through that again? Not at all. It was a great learning experience and I will take away some important lessons from it. Chiefly, poop tubes are a cumbersome unneccessary burden and pooping in arctic blasts is not fun! So as many of my friends head into winters arms and hope for her to be kind, remember, it may not go that way. Just enjoy the experience whatever it may hold.
Ramble on........................
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