I suck at skiing

Date: September 2017

Position: 39°17′27″S 175°33′44″E

Weather: Snowing

Best laid plans

This is going to be the longest story about one hour and fifteen minutes of my life! The year before this incident, I had been skiing on the south island. First time in over ten years and I remembered how much fun it was. I had gotten inspired and decided that this year because I had no overseas trips planned, I might as well utilise the winter amenities on my doorstep. I got a ski pass. Then, I happened to by a brand new pair of boots (considering previous pairs have been purchased off Trademe for $20 bucks this was a massive step up. I justified it to myself by the old _well; these will last forever for me – you know, that old chestnut for when you have spent way too much money! Then of course, had to buy skis – got those thanks to Tradme, poles, goggles etc. It is way more involved than 20 years ago!

Lack of ability

Now to say I am a skier is a massive stretch of the imagination. I only ever was able to pootle around the green and most blue slopes on Whakapapa. I managed to get by on the fact that when you are younger, you are more fearless. Now, I am old and crusty, and everything hurts. I overthought everything and ended up snow plowing my way around the place like a womble. This year was going to be different! I was going to get lessons, I had my funky new boots, cool second-hand skis, and most importantly, I could still fit my old ski pants from 10 years ago. A big bonus!

Holidays

With three weeks of annual leave, I was planning to hit up all the tourist activities I could in my region. With a comprehensive schedule planned, I was looking forward to – zip lining, rafting, skydiving, mountain climbing, trips away to museums, aquariums, geothermal parks – you name it, it was on the dial. Most importantly, was Ladies Development week up Mt Ruapehu. Four days of skiing with instruction, a group of women and most importantly, lots of wine. I was staying with friends who own a Backpackers down in National Park, the weather was looking great – there had been a massive dump of snow over the weekend, the Barina was loaded up with the necessities of life (wine), and I was off.

Snowy Roads

The drive up was interesting; the snow was right down on Mount Pihanga and along the Kimanawa Ranges. Highway 47 from Tokanu to National Park was covered with a fresh dump of snow – the Barina did a sterling job of coping in conditions for which it was not designed. The Chateau Tongariro looked great as I pulled up in front of it to catch the shuttle up to the ski field (the road needed chains) so I dumped the car in what looked like a snow drift and set off for a big week of fun and learning. Another friend was driving the shuttle, so arrangements where made to catch up one an evening for beer and wine. All in all, this was going to be great.

The ladies group

Met the team I was to be hanging with for the week over scones and hot chocolate at the Bruce. They were a choice bunch of chicks women from all walks of life. We all chatted about our ski experience, life, and general stuff. I was the least experienced, but as I said, I am good drinking wine and talking shite – apres ski is my speciality! Also, I don’t expect everyone to hang back because of me – I am quite happy pootling around by myself as well. It was going to be fun having a group to try and keep up with!

The Rock Garden

We set off for a spin around the rock garden – a green slope that when there isn’t much snow is appropriately named. Amazing what a difference show makes – had been up four days before this and it looked entirely different with an extra 2.5 meters of snow. It was pretty obvious where the split in the group was – me and then the others. Luckily, one woman was a snowboarder, and this was her first time skiing, so she was quite happy to muck around with me and an instructor while the others headed off for more challenging runs. Score – a private coach for the next couple of days! We did another couple of runs and decided to head up the mountain, for a blue run.

Valley T

We caught the waterfall express up to the Knoll Ridge Cafe, traversed to the Hutt Valley T-bar. It was about 10.30 am. What a difference five minutes makes to your life. It was snowing by the time we got to the top of the T-bar. I made an arse of myself and fell over getting off the T-bar. I was quite pleased with that because that meant I had gotten over my fear of falling over without any drama – apart from hurt pride.

A quick team meeting, we deiced that we would head back over to another run the instructor was more familiar with that had fewer bumps to catch us out in the flat light. That meant we had to stop halfway down and take another short trail that requires some commitment to get back up to the Knoll Ridge cafe. Sweet, we will meet before that trail, make a plan and go from there.

Physics of the knee

About one minute later, we stopped. Visibility was about 10ft. We identified the trail, the other set off ahead of me. What I didn’t do was ski. What I did do was dig the tip of my left ski in and fall over. My skis stayed attached to me. The human knee is a fantastic thing, but it does not like twisting laterally. The next I knew, I was lying in the middle of a very narrow ski run, not wanting to move at all. I managed to get my skis off without throwing up (who knew a sprained knee could hurt so much) thinking what the hell am I going to do now? I thought I would wait a bit and see if the pain subsided then try to stand up. It didn’t, and I didn’t. Then I realised it would have been a good idea to get contact phone numbers for anyone in my group! As luck would have it, the rest of our group had decided to do that run – I ended up with everyone standing around me being very sympathetic.

The rescue

I could hear the Skidoo fire-up and relief was on the way. For about five seconds. They crashed into a snowdrift! “Great, my rescuers have died over a sprained knee,” I thought – my instructor and I looked at each other thinking “Oh Shit.” The last words heard from the Skidoo was “faarrrrkkk”. I drily commented “well, I can’t see a fireball so I’ll assume they’ll survive. How many rescue Skidoos do they have???”. Two seconds later it fired up again, and my rescue appeared – albeit dusting a whole pile of snow off themselves. A quick discussion ensued about my pathetic abilities, and with a poke of my knee that resulted in me just about throwing up, I was strapped onto the toboggan for the trip down the mountain.

I was told to pull the tarpaulin over my face – the fact that there was a tonne of new powder meant there would be a bit of snow thrown up behind her skis. She was not kidding! I thought yeah whatever – two seconds later an avalanche of snow blew across my face, I somewhat sheepishly pulled the tarp over my head and peeked out a one-inch gap for the rest of the trip. I was kind of thankful for this though, because if you ever see the toboggan go by you always look at it thinking “oh, some poor person has lunched themselves”. Today it happened to be me.

Planning the second rescue

After a rapid delivery to the clinic on the mountain – suspected torn medial ligament with possible meniscal tear diagnosed, panadol and ibuprofen administered, I had time to contemplate the rest of my day. It was suggested that I needed crutches. As I pointed out, I had to put my boots back on, catch the shuttle down to my car with skis and poles. The thought of doing this with crutches – as I pointed out, the chances of me returning in under two minutes were pretty high. I was duly dispatched with a brace on my knee and best wishes. What to do. I could not drive – even the thought of getting into my car made me feel slightly nauseous.

Mum and Dad

I rung Mum. Thank god for retired parents. Of course, they have nothing to do with their time apart from rescuing their idiot adult offspring. She answered the phone – the tone of her voice changed when I said hi (she has had these phone calls before). I asked, “what are you guys doing now.” “Having lunch” was the laconic reply. I could hear the question “why” in the tone of her voice. “Ummm, do you feel like coming for a drive down the mountain.” “No!” . “Well, its just that I’m in the medical clinic and I’ve stuffed my knee, and I can’t drive. Actually, I need you both to come down and get me so that my car can get back home!”

“Oh”. Need I say more – anyone who has screwed up a parents day knows that tone! “Okay, I don’t think your fathers’ doing anything. Hang on a minute (muffled conversation going along the lines of bloody hell, shes busted her knee and can’t drive and needs us to go and get her) Umm, yeah, okay, exactly where are you?” “bottom car park, by the chateau. My cars’ parked in what looks like a snow drift.” “Okay, we will see you in about an hour and a half”.

Waiting

Lucky for me, my friend was driving the return shuttle. She did ask why I was leaving so early, then saw the knee brace and said “bugger.” Understatement! She actually parked the bus right by my car, put my skis in it and then helped me take my boots off! So I now had over an hour to kill. My first thought was I’ve got enough wine in the back seat to solve all the worlds problems – then I had a lucid moment and thought that is probably not a good idea. It just so happened a Kiwi Experience bus pulled up right then and disgorged its load of customers to do the Taranaki Falls walk. So I spent a pleasant hour sitting on the bus chatting with the driver. She even turned the heater on for me! Timing is everything, they where just leaving, I was hobbling back to my car when my rescue squad turned up from home.