Floating on the Long White Cloud
I chose a wife that is as straight up as they come. You never have to guess what she’s thinking- she’ll let you know. And I love that about her. Strange then that I would choose a mistress who likes to play games. You think she’s’ telling you one thing but can never be completely sure. She always keeps you guessing. Sometimes I hate that about her, but if I’m honest it’s probably the thing that keeps me coming back to her again and again. I leave the comfort of my wife and family for what: to get my head played with by Mother Nature.
And she’s doing it to me again. I’m presently perched in a small hut surrounded by a sea of ice. Another Sea, the Tasman, is clearly visible in the distance 2400 metres below. Matt Taggart and Hugh Pinfold from Ozone are along on a mission to snowkite this vast sheet of snow and ice surrounded by New Zealand’s highest peaks. The neve opens out to the prevailing westerly and it seems a no brainer that this would be epic snowkiting territory. Matt and Hugh are snoring away in harmony. After spending a few days with them at close quarters I imagine they are somehow communicating their sleeping dreams as effectively as they do their day dreams. These are dangerous men. Their ideas lead people to do things others thought impossible. They might not be the first to actually push the physical limits of the sport, but for others to get there; someone has to make the gear which makes it all possible. Someone has to dream it before anyone can do it.
The wind has picked up overnight and we could be looking at the most epic day of snowkiting of our lives…or not. Only Mother Nature, or Papatuanuku as she’s know to the indigenous Maori, knows for sure and she aint telling.
I’ve been dreaming of this mission for a couple years now but the time, weather, and crew convergence has never happened until now. Spring is a funny time and I had already switched into summer mode and was filling up my schedule with various projects when I thought I’d give one last email to rally the troupes. Matt’s wife Rebecca had just given birth to their second child ‘Milla’ and Matt had been through a different kind of labour in getting out the new range of Ozone snowkites for 2009. I half expected the usual too busy, too broke, kids are sick, etc. excuses. Emersed in a long list of daily errands myself, Matt’s phone call caught me off guard. “Is Centennial still on?” Instantly my mind was racing to work out what all needed doing to put everything else on hold and organize this mission. It was Wednesday October 8th. If we were going to do this it had to be now. The weather window was opening up tomorrow and Matt and Hugh would have to fly down to Queenstown from Auckland and then there’s a 4 hour drive to the West Coast Glaciers. We wanted to get the first available heli flight up to Centennial Hut and stay until the weather threatened to pack in which was looking like Monday the 13th.
Hugh went to work organizing their flights and I started on the lists of gear we would need. There’s the usual stuff for any backcountry expedition: avalanche transceiver, probes and shovel. But glaciers present the additional risk of falling into a crevasse, which requires everyone to wear a climbing harness, with carabiners and prussiks and for at least one person to pack a rope. Crampons and Ice axe are also necessary as well as split boards, poles and skins.
Matt and Hugh arrived at noon on the 9th and we raced around Queenstown gathering all our bits and pieces and fired off towards the West Coast. A more beautiful drive in the world there is not. It was a pity to be in such a hurry. We arrived into Fox Glacier just too late to fly into the mountains and rescheduled for first thing next morning. Hurry up and wait. That’s the heli game. As a heliboard guide I’m used to playing it, but it’s no less frustrating.
Next morning while tourist helicopters buzzed all around we organized our carload of “necessities” on the landing zone. Boxes of food, clothes and sleeping bags spilled out of the back of the car along with 9 kites doing their best to explode the seams of a massive Ozone paraglider bag. As the minutes clicked by it was obvious the sightseeing flights took precedence over locating mountaineering parties. The word from the pilots came through that there was too much wind and not enough viz to land at the hut. Disappointed, we repacked the car and headed to neighbouring Franz Joseph Glacier figuring our chances for an afternoon flight from there could be better. And still we waited. No flight that arvo. Next morning again denied. Our frustration was now peaking and we needed some sort of physical release, so hiked up to the glacier terminal and onto the ice to practice crevasse rescue techniques. An occasional tease of sun poked through the clouds causing us to hang onto hope. Arriving back in the village the tops of the mountains were now showing. It was getting late. Hurry, hurry, hurry! I had to drag the staff of the first helicopter company outside to show them the holes opening up in the sky to get them to phone a pilot. 5 minutes passed and none of their pilots were keen to fly this late in the day. Aaaargh! Meanwhile Matt was working on the crew at The Helicopter Line down the road. Pilot Justin Cloag would drive up the valley to a vantage point to see if he had clear access to Centennial hut. More waiting. The minutes ticked by as we watched the sun sink lower in the sky and our chances of getting up slowly evaporating with every passing moment…then, it was suddenly game on. Hurry up! We rushed to the heli pad and we were off.
As slow and monotonous as the last 2 days had been, now the pace was almost too much. Frustration turned to joy, anxiety to relief. Minutes ago we could have killed each other with little provocation now we were hooting, laughing and slapping high fives like we’d just won the world cup.
The Fox and Franz Joseph Glaciers are twins: two white fingers of ice extending from the highest peaks in the Southern Alps and carving deep into the West coast rainforest. These freaks of nature are still advancing, seemingly unaware of global warming and the fact that glaciers around the world are rapidly retreating. When Captain Cook first sailed along the West Coast he reported “a strange cloud filling the valleys” unaware that there were actually glaciers extending beneath the cloud that often conceals the peaks. For the first Polynesians arriving in a new land and unaccustomed to seeing snow capped mountains, New Zealand became “the Land of the Long White Cloud.”
Upon landing at the hut we spent two hours clearing the snow and ice from the last storm to get the door open and settle into our mountain home. While Centennial hut only has the basic necessities, there’s no denying this is valuable real estate. As the adage says– position, position, position. Centennial’s position is beyond extravagant and verging on obscene. Thanks to Kiwi tradition, no amount of money could buy this place. Rich and poor are equals here. The best things in life really are free and this is the mother load. The majesty of the view is almost an assault on the senses and you realize it will take days to even begin to absorb it.
The next morning saw light winds from the southwest and the arrival of first a party of 2 climbers at the hut. More helicopters arrived and suddenly the hut was buzzing with 4 other parties totalling 15 people all gearing up for various missions. The snow was hard from the night’s freeze and we needed the sun to soften things up before venturing out. We decided to head upwind towards a small peak called West Hoe with 2 passes either side. We figured the wind would be strongest in the passes which opened out to the southwest breeze. One thing I’ve learned about mountains: it’s a rare day when there is no wind anywhere. There’s always something – the trick is finding it.
Dropping onto the ridge below the hut we were greeted by more than enough wind to get the kites in the air. Hugh put up an 8m Access and found a good circuit blazing down along the ridge and then kite looping straight back up the fall line toward the hut. I had my trusty 10m Manta 2 and Matt opted for the 11m Frenzy. The snow along the ridge had been wind hammered and was hard and bumpy. Of course this area coincided with the maximum velocity of the wind. The combination made for tricky riding as it was difficult to keep an edge. Once you dropped over into the bowl though there was an immediate transformation to smooth, freshly loosened spring snow. Ego snow they call it and for good reason: As much as we all love powder, good spring conditions are hard to beat. As the apparent wind kicked in on one of my circuits I could point nearly straight upwind and down the fall line. Suddenly the force of the wind was coming through the lines of the kite and up my arms, through my body and straight onto the edge of my board. That locked in feeling-Aaaahhhhhh! At the bottom of the circuit the wind dropped away quickly so I timed my turn high up the slope. As my kite reached its zenith it pulled me off the slope momentarily, and then as I looped it back the other way brought me safely back to earth.
Snowkiting in the mountains takes the dynamics of kitesurfing and literally stands it on it’s head by adding a new dimension. While the flats of Norway may be great for technical freestyle, it’s really not much different from riding on the water. Same sport, different medium. But when you move into sloping terrain 2 things happen: The wind changes speed and direction as it finds it’s way over and around the features of the landscape and the kiter can create apparent wind by riding down slope.
We could have stayed there kiting all day but we didn’t come all this way to remain within 200 meters of the hut. So we started packing up for the long trek to West Hoe. This was the first of many mode changes where your selection of gear and familiarity with it’s use can mean the difference between a quick change and wasted time fluffing about. Over the course of the day 5 minutes extra time wasted during each change over can mean the difference between achieving an objective and missing out. Hugh showed me how the Ozone kites can be packed up on the slope without unclipping from my bindings. The wind died down on the flats so we straight lined to get as far as we could across them and then broke down the split-boards into touring skiis to cross the vast neve between us and West Hoe. A short time later and we were on the pass enjoying the view into the Fox Neve, a whole other basin similar in size and aspect just waiting to be explored. The wind did increase in strength through the pass but did all sorts of crazy things on the edges. We put up the big kites this time for the down winder home. Hugh on the 11m Frenzy this time and Matt choosing the 12m Manta 2. Someone had to carry the rope also so I just had the one kite, which suited me fine. The ride home proved that foils are the only choice when it comes to serious backcountry kiting. We passed through long spells of 2 knots or even less to no wind and the lightweight foils just kept us moving. The strategy was simple: when the wind is there use it to get as high as possible and then when there’s a hole ride down the slope to create apparent wind and keep the kite flying. Back on the home ridge we again encountered some decent wind and enjoyed another great session just below the hut.
As I’ve been writing this Matt and Hugh have now stopped their snoring and are moving around the hut getting ready for the day. We’re heading downwind this time towards a saddle on the flank of Drummond Peak that we figure has to be getting wind. It’s been howling all night but the forecast is light and variable again. I’m hoping the forecast is wrong and we’ll have some serious power but as yesterday’s events revealed, it’s a rare day that there is no wind at all in the high mountains. The worst case is we’ll end up doing what all these other people have come up here to do – a bit of touring. It’s all up to Mother nature. And we wouldn’t change her if we could.
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To organize a trip with a snowkiting mountain guide and for information on snowkiting in New Zealand contact us. We run snowkite camps in New Zealand each year for beginners through to advanced riders.
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