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Sit, grip a And slide

Having never got to grips with the popular, yet exp this year Pamela Wade embraces a couple of i Pensive and more difficult, Kiwi winter pastime of skiing, ingenious and easy ways to have fun on the slopes.

The writer was hosted by Destination Queenstown.

It’s only 90 minutes from Christchurch to Mt Hutt, but that skifield was in another world from mine growing up: one where the rich people played. So I never learnt to ski and, in a kind of reverse snobbery, never went to Queenstown in winter.

For me, it was a place to tramp in the sunshine, paddle in the lake, and ride horses and bikes through summery scenery.

This winter, though, I’ve seen the light. Flying there over dazzling snowy mountains was the first thrill of many to do with the white stuff.

Unexpectedly, temperatures hovering just above freezing seem to have a warming effect on people’s general sociability: everyone seemed much friendlier than in summer.

The cold was the enemy we had in common, but fun in the snow was our compensation. And I was delighted to find you don’t have to commit to skis or a snowboard to make the most of it.

A century ago, children in France used the wooden ‘‘paret’’ to slide on the snow, so it felt appropriate that it was a Tahitian who taught me how to use its 21st-century incarnation, the Yooner. This is a low, sprung seat on a short, single ski, with a gripping handle and, well, that’s all.

And that is the joy of it. It’s simple, light, easy to learn to use, great fun and, at less than 20 centimetres off the ground, is a carefree experience.

Meeting at Coronet Peak with Tuki Huck of Yooner NZ, we hired my kit of gloves, boots, jacket, pants, and helmet, then clomped up to the nursery slopes, where, insultingly, small children were sliding nonchalantly down on skis.

Huck was full of infectious enthusiasm and encouragement as we rode the magic carpet up to the top of the gentle slope, and I set off for my first slide on snow with more confidence than I would have thought possible.

It was entirely justified. The ride was stable, easily controllable and, most importantly, a lot of fun.

In no time, I left those feeble beginners behind on the nursery slopes, and graduated to taking the ski lift more than 100 metres higher, to tackle the Little and Big Easy runs. Feet up, leaning back, trailing my fingers in the snow to curve around and through the standing sliders, I whizzed down with a huge grin on my face, already eager to go back to the top.

‘‘You’re amazing,’’ Huck exclaimed, giving me a high five. But, really, it was so easy.

It’s also addictive: after more than 50 years of skiing, Huck’s father has given up standing as it’s too much like hard work, and is committed to the Yooner, which is allowed on the fast runs and can,

in experienced hands, outpace most skiers.

Scoring envious looks from everyone else on the slopes is just the icing on the cake.

Less flamboyant, but still quietly satisfying, another way to enjoy the slopes is to head off with Basecamp Adventures on a guided snowshoe tour from The Remarkables skifield.

Snowshoes have also come a long way since their tennis racket-type origins. They are efficient and streamlined, hinged like a ski fitting, and securely spiked underneath. There’s little to learn about using them, once you have the hang of not standing on yourself.

After warning of the dangers of out-of-control skiers and snowboarders, experienced mountain guide Chris Prudden led us up the slope, under the ski lift.

Stamping our feet down on the packed snow of the runs for easy grip, we soon left the bustle behind and, heading off-piste, were into the delights of virgin powder snow.

Our goal was Lake Alta, 200m higher, tucked into the cirque below Double Cone. The highest point of The Remarkables, towering above us at 2319m, these twin peaks dominated a spectacular landscape of mountains and rocky ridges, all coated in snow.

The gradient was very manageable, and helped by information stops when Prudden explained geology, history, nature and more while we gazed around at that magical scenery stretching in all directions.

Being overtaken by a group of ski tourers heading up towards Double Cone for an overnight camp, made our own expedition feel much more achievable.

Carefully treading in Prudden’s footprints – though still managing to have several fun tumbles in the deep, dry powder snow – we climbed up to the frozen lake, hidden under a cold, white blanket.

From there, we watched more intrepid skiers and snow boarders sliding down from the ridge above, along what Prudden identified as potential avalanche chutes.

Following hare tracks, we climbed to a lookout point where we had a grandstand view over windsculpted drifts of snow to a stunning mountain landscape dropping away beneath us.

We could see the ski runs, busy with people on skis and boards, challenging themselves and having fun, and now I knew how that felt.

Queenstown in summer is definitely a glorious place to visit, but its winter incarnation is fabulous too – and now there are less conventional ways to enjoy it.

Opinion

en-nz

2021-07-25T07:00:00.0000000Z

2021-07-25T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://fairfaxmedia.pressreader.com/article/282385517541858

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