Christmas was once again spent away from family this year, but this year would at least be exciting. One of my friends and I decided to head west from Glasgow to Oban with some stops along the way. When I moved back to Glasgow from Australia a year ago, a friend of one of my friends was looking at a wall map of the British Isles in my flat, pointed to an area south of Oban, and said, "You must go here, to Kilmartin Glen." He said that Kilmartin Glen is one of the most overlooked destinations for anyone interested in Scottish history and neolithic sites. So, after a day of recovering form boxing day laziness, we headed out from Glasgow.
Driving along the A83 between Loch Lomond and Inverary
Winter is an absolutely beautiful time to visit Scotland. Sure, the days are incredibly short, but the snow on the hills makes it unlike anywhere else. Once away from the main cities, the roads get narrow and windy, which makes for getting anywhere quickly quite tricky! It took us a while to get out to Kilmartin Glen, via a coffee stop in Inverary, but a little after noon we pulled into our first stop, Dunadd, which was the first site of the first kings of Scotland, having been in use since the Iron Age. On the little hill above the glen is a rock with some footprints carved into them, possibly where the kings looked out - I imagine much like Mufasa and Simba from Pride Rock :)
A little bit further down the road are a series of standing stones dating back 5,000 years. We missed the winter solstice only by a few days, but it's pretty amazing how these stones would have lined up with the setting sun, even after 5,000 years! I'm often really amazed by how after thousands of years, and with all of our modern technology and knowledge, we still have no real idea what these stones or circles were used for! And while not as grand as the Ring of Brodgar in Orkney or as circular as the Drombeg Stone Circle in southwest Ireland, the stones are just as enigmatic, and there are a lot of them, including one site where five stones make an X figure in a field, apparently a very unusual arrangement. Starving, we stopped in at the Kilmartin Hotel and had a tasty pub supper before exploring the curchyard across the street with brilliant scenery looking down the Glen.
There were still a few things we wanted to see before it got dark and before we got to Oban, and even though it was only 3 o'clock in the afternoon, we were running short on daylight, so we hit the road again, winding around the coast, to the Bridge over the Atlantic. To be fair, this is a very nice looking stone bridge, arching high over a small tidal waterway, technically part of the Atlantic Ocean, separating the Scottish mainland from the small Isle of Seil. Apparently nowhere else (maybe in Scotland) is there a bridge over the Atlantic, so it is only here you can say you've "driven across the Atlantic Ocean." Not really much to see, we kept on to the small town on Seil of Ellenabeich, an old slate mining town that now consists of three rows of whitewash cottages. A beautifully small town that I would have liked to have stayed in a bit longer. Would have been a great place to write up my PhD thesis! While in Ellenabeich, the sun went down and we didn't want to be stuck on unlit country roads for too long, so we headed in to Oban, checked into our hotel, and met up with one of my Uni friends who was home visiting family for the holidays.
Snow-capped mountains on the Isle of Mull with Duart Castle in the foreground from the ferry from Oban to Mull.
We got up early the next morning, a brilliantly clear but chilly morning, to catch the ferry from Oban out to the Isle of Mull, a rugged island about an hour offshore from Oban. The views from the ferry back to the mainland of snow capped mountains were amazing, not to mention the snow capped peaks of Ben More, the only Munro on Mull. A little note for visiting Mull in the winter: Don't plan on relying on public transportation, especially on a Sunday! We were lucky to have a Range Rover, so the small single-track roads and ruts of Mull were a piece of cake, but be careful if you have a smaller car not to go off the edge of the road or you will get stuck! We headed immediately out to the westernmost point of Mull, a town called, Fionnphort, where we waited for the quick ferry out to the small Isle of Iona. Again, visiting in the winter and on a Sunday, you run the risk of either the ferry not running, or only making one trip out to Iona, but not back, so it's suggested you call the portmaster on Mull the day before to make sure the ferries are running!
Iona Abbey
The sky was crystal clear, and though it wasn't windy, it was really cold! But while waiting for the ferry we did get to see a small fishing boat loading up for the day, and it must be quite a regular occasion because there was a seal who sidled right up to the boat begging for a bit of breakfast! The ferry finally arrived and we walked on, making sure to ensure it would come back from Iona! Now, Iona is a beautiful little island and I wish we had more time to spend there, but with the two hours we did, we made sure to walk over to the famed Iona Abbey, the former Catholic monastery where the Book of Kells was written. The Abbey survived Viking raids as well as the Protestant Reformation, and is now part of the Church of Scotland. So many tourists come out to Iona in the summer, it was nice to experience the island in winter when even the hostels were closed for the season! BUT, if you go on the weekend, you don't have to pay to get in to the grounds! We took a little walk up to the highest point on Iona, Dun I, for some breathtaking views to Mull and so many other Inner Hebridean islands.
Running short on time, we headed back to the ferry and crossed back over to Fionnphort, accompanied by dolphins jumping out of the water and playing in the wake of the ferry! Back in the car, we decided to take the small winding road around the rest of Mull. Now, I thought the road from the Mull ferry to Fionnphort was small, but it was nothing compared to the B8035, which was tucked right along the coast with rocky cliffs on one side, but provided amazing scenery, especially during sunset on such a clear day! The B8035 turns onto the B8073 and the road climbs up some very steep hills that any small car would have some trouble getting up! If you're in a small car, you definitely want to take the B8073 counterclockwise from Tobermory where it will be easier to go down these roads than up. Daylight was nearly gone as we arrived to Calgary Beach in the small locality of Calgary, the same that the Canadian metropolis is named after! But we couldn't stay long since the sun had now set and we still had about 30 minutes to drive to Tobermory for a quick fish dinner (not many places open on a winter Sunday), very quick because we had to get back down to the ferry docks to catch the last ferry back to the mainland.
Gylen Castle on the southern end of Kerrera
The following morning was yet again a clear day on the western Scottish coast, though much colder! Not wanting to waste time, we grabbed some breakfast and went to the small local ferry from Oban out to the small island, Kerrera. A privately-owned ferry, you signal the owner that you want a ride by sliding a big panel open on the mainland, revealing a big black square, and upon seeing it, the ferryman comes over to pick you up for the 5 minute crossing. We decided to do the 3.5 hour loop down to Gylen Castle at the southern end of the Island and back. Though not a strenuous walk, it felt long because it was so cold, especially in the shade, but the destination was amazing - a square castle with a small footprint exposed on a tall rocky knob over the coast. The castle was besieged and burned in 1647, though recently the Clan MacDougall began restorations. It's surely not much of a castle, but its position in the grassy hills along the coast sure makes it a great place that we had to ourselves! The rest of the circuit along the west side of the island isn't as scenic, and was a bit mushy underfoot, but there were a few brilliant moments in the setting sunlight over to Mull. Back in time for the ferry back to the mainland, we hopped back into the car and headed back up to Oban to pick up my friend who was coming with us back to Glasgow, and with that we were off back home.
Though I think we lucked out, weather-wise, the weekend was a great and most welcome break from city life in Glasgow, and so easy for a few days! Enjoy the photos:
Right, so continuing on this trend of finally writing backed-up blog posts, this one's a monster simply because of the photos I had to reorganise to get here! Last December, though, I had the great pleasure of being able to tag along and help teach a glacial geology and geomorphology field trip to the central region of New Zealand's South Island. Having been to the North Island and having experienced the northern- and western-most points of the North Island and explored the watery wonderland of the Bay of Islands, I was totally pumped to get to some of the more staggering New Zealand scenery we all know from Lord of the Rings!
After three hours of one of the most turbulent flights I'd been on in a while (and I'd just return to Sydney from a trip to Denver and Vermont), we landed in Queenstown, the adventure capital of New Zealand. The flight in over the Southern Alps was beautiful. Being early December, New Zealand was just emerging from winter and all of the mountains still had substantial snow on them! We wasted no time in picking up our three passenger buses and trailer, and with 24 student in tow, set right off out of Queenstown to the Kawarau Bridge, famous for being the original bungee jump in New Zealand. Of course, we were there to learn about New Zealand's past glacial geology, climate, and geomorphology - or how the landscapes develop and change through time. Along the first few days the students would be presenting small mini-reports on different aspects of these topics and we weren't letting any second go to waste!
After learning about New Zealand's loess deposits, accumulations of wind-blown dust that were deposited under colder dryer conditions during the last glacial period, we headed off the main highway, taking the Crown Range Road to Wanaka where we'd spend the first night. We stayed at a small hostel/motor park near the shores of Lake Wanaka, which fills one of the many glacially-sculpted valleys east of the Southern Alps, including Lakes Wakatipu, Ohau, Pukaki, and Tekapo. Early the next morning, I got up early for a short walk along the lake, looking out across to the beautiful Mt. Alta rising across the shores. Our destination by the end of the day was Mt. Cook Village in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park, but we had plenty of stops to make before calling it a day.
Purple lupin growing at the Clay Cliffs near Omarama
We took Lindi's Pass toward Omarama before doubling back across the Ahuriri River to the Clay Cliffs, a geological formation of very soft rocks exposed along the active Osler Fault. The cliffs are a deeply dissected feature that is the site of an ongoing battle between the uplifting tectonic fault and erosion. We stayed here for a short while and had lunch along the Ahuriri River, a beautiful place to dip your feet in the refreshing water and have a bite to eat. We made one more stop to the former river outlet of Lake Pukaki before it was dammed and diverted but also had time to stop at the southern end of Lake Pukaki to get a sense of what we were in for for the next few days.
Aoraki/Mt. Cook (3,724 m/12,218 ft) looming over Lake Pukaki
The weather was bright and sunny and fairly few clouds against a blue sky, and from here, far off in the distance, was the brilliantly majestic peak of Aoraki (or Mt. Cook), the highest point in New Zealand at 3,724 meters (12,218 ft) above sea level! We had to stop here because the view was simply breathtaking, and because Aoraki is apparently often shrouded in clouds, we thought this might be our only chance to see its entire height! And I should mention Lake Pukaki because it was amazing in its own way. There is so much powdered rock, crushed by glacial erosion that gets washed into the lake that it takes on a very milky appearance which reflects the sky on a sunny day, turning it a turquoise colour that is really only best matched by a Crayola crayon of the same colour!
It was windy, so we got back into the vans and started the fairly long drive down the Mt. Cook Road toward Mt. Cook Village, the views along which were absolutely stunning. I'm jealous of the students in my van because they got to stare out the windows the entire time, while I had to keep my eyes on the road. But if you want a fun road to drive along, this is one of them. It just rolls and wraps its way long the lake and the ever-impressive Southern Alps just keep looming in the distance! Well, if the drive wasn't thrilling enough, once you're past the head of the lake, you begin driving through the wide and flat river valley that drains the Mueller, Tasman, and Hooker Lakes which are all fed by glaciers. And while you can't see the glaciers, as they are hidden by huge glacial moraines and tucked away around the mountains, you do see the incredible wall of ICE that is known as the Huddleston Glacier, which frankly, I thought was one of the most impressive things I've ever seen! It's just this massive, steep wall of ice that you just couldn't stop looking at!
Looking down to the Mt. Cook Village from the Red Tarns. The Huddleston Glacier is the big wall of ice plastered
on the side of the Southern Alps in the distance. Mueller Lake and its end moraine seen in the bottom of the valley.
Aoraki (the Maori name for Mt. Cook) features prominently in Maori history. The Maori people believed the South Island to be a canoe that Aoraki and his brothers were using to voyage the world. It tipped and the brothers climbed onto the top of the overturned canoe and turned to stone. Geologically, Mt. Cook is positioned in the Southern Alps which are the result of convergence along the Alpine Fault which is the boundary between the Indo-Australian tectonic plate and the Pacific plate. The fault is mostly a dexteral strike-slip fault, but there is oblique convergence which has uplifted the mountains on the South Island. It is the Alpine Fault that causes most of the earthquakes in New Zealand, and also as it cuts across the north part of the South Island it goes offshore east of the North Island where subduction of the Pacific plate under the Indo-Australian plate results in the volcanism the North Island is famed for!
Well, while all of the students were excited to get out of the vans and start eating and drinking for the night, I had picked up a wee trail map and having heard that weather is rarely clear in the park, I thought I'd take advantage of it by doing a short hike up to the Red Tarns, some small ponds perched high up the mountains above Mt. Cook Village. Luckily summer in the Southern Hemisphere means plenty of light late into the evening, so I didn't have much to worry about - other than breaking my ankle with no one around! Well, the hike up was unrelentlessly steep, but I eventually made it to the tarns, which in and of themselves aren't that impressive, but you don't make that kind of hike to look at a pond, but for the view of the rest of the valley. Up here, you're so high up above the valley that you can see up and over Mt. Wakefield to Mt. Cook as well as up the Tasman River valley to The Armchair and Malcher Peak. The weather was holding up, so I decided to climb even higher to the shoulder of Sebastopol, the lowest peak in the National Park. Catching my breath, I decided my hunger would win over my want to reach the summit, so I raced down a big scree slope and headed back to dinner at the Mt. Cook Village.
The Huddleston Glacier and Mt. Sefton (left), Aoraki/Mt. Cook (right), and the Mueller
Glacier's end massive end-moraine (centre-bottom)
Weather was clear the next morning again, blue skies and few clouds, so I walked up toward The Hermitage - the famously fancy resort hotel in the National Park that looks directly over to Mt. Cook - for a few morning photos before joining back up with the students. We drove up to the Mueller Glacier overlook for a few more student talks. During one of the talks, we all of a sudden heard this huge crack that sounded like thunder, followed by a cascade of booms and crashes. It was so startling that everyone turned their heads to the glaciers behind us. Though we couldn't see anything, it was pretty obvious we'd just heard a massive block of ice break off the Huddleston Glacier, falling down onto the Mueller Glacier below. Coincidentally, the student giving his report was just talking about ice falls. Talk about timing!
Icebergs from the Hooker Glacier floating in Hooker Lake
Once the student talks were done, we started the long hike up to Hooker Lake and the Hooker Glacier that sits right at the base of Mt. Cook. We continued to hear booms of breaking ice behind us during the hour-long walk up to Hooker Lake, which was cool, but the weather turned, which was not. We could see the clouds rising up from the west and flowing over the mountain tops to our left as the wind picked up and threatened to rain us in. But, being geologists, we go out in anything and this certainly didn't stop us and the last few students presented their mini-reports. You couldn't really see the mountain peaks by this point, but you could still get great views over Hooker Lake which was just chockers full of icebergs in various stages of melting, all shapes and sizes! By the time we left Hooker Lake, the weather had cleared up once again, permitting us to drive around to the next valley over to the Tasman Glacier and Lake.
Lake Tasman is a recent feature to the landscape, having only formed in the last 40 years after the Tasman Glacier (left)
retreated to its current position!
Lake Tasman is impressive, if not for its size (7 kilometres long!), for the fact that 40 years ago, it was not there! Forty years ago the Tasman Glacier's terminus was at the lookout most visitors take the short walk up to from the car park. Now, however, Tasman Glacier ends in the lake and icebergs calve off its front. Though the retreat is impressive and offers the opportunity to take speed boat tours around the lake, it just means our changing climate is killing off these magnificent glaciers!
We headed back out of Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park toward the town of Twizel where we'd be based for the remainder of the trip. Over the next 5-6 days, the students would be working on small group projects in the area, and we, the trip leaders, would drive them wherever they needed to go. But first, we had another stop to get to up beyond Lake Ohau on the other side of Twizel. By the time we got beyond the shores of Lake Ohau, the weather came back with a vengeance.
The next day was fairly uneventful. The rough weather had cleared up and the students used the day to plan their projects. Twizel itself is a pretty dull town. It was founded as a working camp during the construction of the dams that were built on Lake Ohau, but remained a popular stopover point for travelers going to Mt. Cook (not to mention cheaper than staying in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park. While there are some nice coffee shops and cafes in the main shopping area, there isn't much to speak of - especially of the locals. While eating dinner at the Power Station Bistro I noticed one man down his beer outside and promptly walk to a short brick wall and urinate on it! Welcome to Twizel, indeed!
I played chauffer for students heading up back into Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park over the next three days to collect data for their projects. Depending on which group was where, and when they needed to get to their next stops, I often had anywhere from an hour to a few hours by myself before I had to meet any of the students and move them. This was nice because it gave me time to do a few shorter walks and explore the park a bit more. One of the days I walked up the Mueller Glacier trail to see the head of the glacier which had retreated around the corner of its valley, out of sight from the main view point. Right at the bottom of the Huddleston Glacier. No one else was up this far and I enjoy sitting in the sun in the middle of this amazing landscape. I felt so fortunate to be able to experience it in all its sun-shiny glory!
Suspension footbridge over the Hooker River. Aoraki/Mt. Cook shrouded in clouds
I also joined a few student groups on their quests to collect field data. This varied from walking up along the crest of the lateral moraine along the edge of Tasman Lake looking for students who had gotten well-ahead of me, helping students measure boulder dimensions in streams coming down from creeks draining the steep valleys to the west of Mt. Cook Village, and taking one more walk up to the iceberg choked Hooker Lake.
I had no plans to see any more of the South Island on this trip, and though I was a bit let down about not being able to do that before arriving, I don't think I could have asked for a more amazing experience that just being able to wander and explore the Hooker and Tasman Valleys in Aoraki/Mt. Cook National Park. It really must be one of the most spectacular landscapes I've been to. It's drastic, but accessible; staggeringly expansive, but easy to get around; busy with tourists, but big enough that you don't have to go far to get away from them!
Pianist playing his own music during a beautiful Queenstown sunset
over Lake Wakatipu
The students had a final day in Twizel to write up and hand in their reports, so the last day near the mountains wasn't all that exciting. Finally, we were ready to leave Twizel and made the long drive back to Queenstown for our last night in New Zealand. We arrived early afternoon and many of us had previously signed up to go whitewater rafting to celebrate the end of a long week. We dropped our things off at the hostel and met down in the town at Queenstown Rafting where we were fitted up with wetsuits and packed into large vans with a trailer packed with rafts in tow behind us. This is no big deal, except to get to the launch site, we had to drive down Skippers Road, a long, very tightly-winding road that is cut into the side of mountains with very steep slopes! To put it in perspective, if you sat next to the window, you couldn't see the edge of the road and it looked like there was nothing beneath the van! In fact in one or two places, there almost wasn't anything beneath the van... One tight turn has been so abused that the edge of the road has eroded to the point that side of the van on the inside of the road gets scratched by the rocks sticking out of the slope! At another point on Skippers Road, the road appears to be intact, but when you look back up at it from the river, you see that a big chunk of rock, that would otherwise support the road, has simply fallen away! If you're afraid of this kind of driving, there's no hope for you because no matter which side of the van you sit on, you're going to be exposed to one of these hazards!!!
But the rafting itself was awesome! I've only been whitewater rafting once before on the New River in West Virginia where the water levels that year were low enough that the big rapids had diminished many of the rapids, so I wasn't sure what to expect. Well, the Shotover River is pretty much a narrow, narrow canyon with rocky cliffs on either side and in most places the river is as wide as the raft! I've got to give it to the raft guides because they have some of the hardest jobs in the world in keeping us all safe! While we didn't flip, like we did on the New River, there were so many times I thought we were goners! Two girls did fall out at one point, but we safely got them back on the raft just before they were pinned between the rocks and raft! The trip culminates a tunnel that was blasted into the mountianside to funnel water for gold mining in the mid-1800s, the final rapid is shooting down the mill run right where every raft in front of us was waiting and watching, hoping someone would flip. We didn't, but had a great time and it was an awesomely adventurous way to end a week in New Zealand!
That night was spent out in Queenstown watching a beautiful sunset over Lake Wakatipu and eventually some mechanical bull-riding in one of the town's innumerable options of Western/Cowboy-themed bars. Flights back to Sydney the next afternoon gave me a little bit of time to walk around the local Saturday markets along the lakeshore in what ended up being a very nice sunny relaxing way to end my last visit to New Zealand in a long time! Definitely not the last, but a long time at least!
A few weeks back, Glasgow experienced a rare weather phenomenon: we had eight days of beautifully sunny and warm weather! The first of these days, we'd been coming out of rainy doldrums and being Scotland we weren't sure how long the sun would stay, so even though it was a Tuesday, a friend of mine from the University and I decided we'd take advantage of the weather while it was still good, made plans, and drove out to Loch Lomond and the Trossachs National Park, taking a small one-lane windy road around the north shore of the famous lake to the foot of Ben Lomond - the southernmost of the Scottish Munros.
Scotland is famous for its brilliant hillwalking everywhere, but especially in the Highlands. Here, any peak that is over 3,000 feet above sea level is classified as a Munro - anything less is classified as either a Corbett (2,500-3,000 ft above sea level) or a Graham (2,000-2,500 ft asl). There are 282 Munros, and anyone who attempts to climb them all is called a Munro Bagger. Having never done any hillwalking in Scotland before (save maybe the walk to the Old Man of Hoy in the Orkney Islands), I figured what better way to claim my first peak than to hike up to the summit of the southernmost Munro as well as being the peak with the name of the National Park it is in!
The walk took us about six hours, round-trip, and while it was not a challenging hike, per se, it was a beautiful one, nonetheless. Ben Lomond is tall (974 meters, or 3,196 feet above sea level) and since you start very near sea level, the whole elevation is yours to climb. Well...climb is a bit of an overstatement. The walk up Ben Lomond is a pretty easy ramp along a well-marked trail. About three quarters of the way up, the ramp does steepen and the going gets a bit slower, but it's still not challenging if you take your time.
Beautiful views of Loch Lomond all the way up to the summit
My friend and I kept a good pace the entire way up to the top. We had to since even though the sun was out, the wind was a bit chilly, but the views from the walk of both the summit - which would be hidden by clouds for short periods of time - and the beautiful lake beneath us were stunning! There was still snow up at the top on the steep, north-facing slopes, and though we enjoyed it at first, we quickly steered away from it, realising that the possibility that any of the snow packs could collapse and avalanche down the mountain was pretty high!
By the time we got to the summit, the weather had cleared up enough for some good photos and the views of the Arrochar Alps across the lake and the Trossachs to the north were great! We had lunch up there shortly after 1:00 pm, but didn't stay long since we still had to descend. Rather than going down the same way we came up, we headed down a smaller ridge that ran parallel to the lakeshore, bringing us right back to the parking lot. Once down from the top, the wind died down a bit more and the clouds all but vanished. We stopped for a wee snack and watched a Royal Air Force jet fly through the lake valley below us for some sort of training mission. By the time we got to the car, it was nearly 4pm so we had one last little snack on the lakeshore before heading back into Glasgow.
(there's more below the Ben Lomond slideshow!)
Ben Vane
Date: 19 April 2014
Later on in the same week - again, the weather couldn't have been better - a larger group of my friends from the office and I carpooled out to the south side of Loch Lomond to climb Ben Vane, another Munro, 915 metres (3,002 feet) above sea level. While not as high as Ben Lomond, Ben Vane offered up some extra challenges. Mainly, we had to find our own path from the access road up to the path on the trail guide, and higher up the trail got quite steep and we zig-zagged our way up between large rock outcrops, scrambled over boulders and other rocks, and slipped our way over some small snow patches, all the while dodging sheep and trying to keep our feet dry while walking over purely soggy ground!
One of the many sheep that dotted the hillslopes on the way up Ben Vane - keeping a keen
eye on us as we summit the Munro. Ben Lomond in the background.
It was great, though. We started off at the Inveruglas parking lot on the shores of Loch Lomond and had to walk up a very long access road past a hydro power station. We couldn't find the trail from the access road up to the ridge we were supposed to follow to the summit so we just marched on up a big long slope, dotted with boulders and massive rock outcrops sticking up from the water-saturated muck beneath our feet. We had perfect views over Ben Lomond and Loch Lomond and with plenty of shaggy sheep running every which way, there were plenty of pure-Scotland moments!
Once we got to the top of the ridge, we followed its gradual path up to the base of the real mountain. Here, the path took steep hairpin turns with large steps up over rocks with a big outcrop every so often that offered a good place to take a break for a moment and steal some fantastic views of the surrounding Arrochar Alps!
The walk was a long and steep one - a bit more strenuous than Ben Lomond. It was one of those mountains that every time you think you reach the summit, there's more to go! The path eventually gives way to some scrambling up and around some rocks, down some rocks, and over some snow banks, but we finally reached the top and were rewarded with stunning views of Ben Lomond, Ben Ime, A'Chrois, the Cobbler, and Beinn Narnain. The schist rock that underlies the Arrochar Alps stuck out in many places at the summit, showing off its beautifully warped and metamorphosed structure, giving the whole summit an incredibly unique geologic feel!
The thing with Munro Bagging (at least from what I've experienced in the two hikes I've done), is that you don't linger at the summits for very long. We stayed up at the top for maybe fifteen minutes before turning right back around and heading down. But the whole walk was well worth it. We had a good group of people, a fantastically nimble dog, and stunning weather! And I can't wait to tick-off the other Munros of the Arrochar Alps off my list soon!
It was a Thursday before a weekend I was not planning on leaving Sydney, but I had some friends driving down that night for a long ski weekend in Australia's Snowy Mountains. An invitation was given kind of last minute as someone had dropped out and there was suddenly space in the car. While my bank account said, "No," my heart said, "Go!" And soon, I was off for my first International skiing experience!
Australians don't seem to realise just how cool their own backyard is, it seems! Everyone I spoke to about skiing in Australia just kind of scoffed at their resorts and in a seemingly ashamed way told me that, "Well, it's nothing like New Zealand, or Japan, or the Rockies, or the Alps." But growing up in Michigan, skiing anywhere that is more than a big hill is pretty exciting for me! But it wasn't just the quality of skiing Australians scoffed at. When I told people I wanted to climb Mt. Kosciuszko, Australia's tallest peak, which is in the Snowy Mountains (in Kosciuszko National Park), the typical response was, "Oh, don't waste your time. You don't really climb it but walk up to the top, anyway." So because of all of this, I wasn't really sure what to expect. The main resorts in New South Wales are near the town of Jindabyne, pinched between the New South Wales-Victoria border and the Australian Capital Territory. I'd been to Jindabyne the previous November while doing field work and saw all of the rental facilities, restaurants, repair shops, and hotels that were all closed for the season then, and I figured that surely the skiing must be good enough to support this much infrastructure.
The aptly named Snowy Mountains, Australia's highest mountain range
Needless to say, I was confused about the trip, but was excited to go. There were five guys that I knew going, both skiers and snowboarders of various levels of expertise and after a night spent in Cooma, we stopped in Jindabyne to pick up a few sets of rentals for my friends, and continued on the road up to Perisher where we were going to spend two days skiing.
Let me say this, and let me be clear about something: Australian mountains are nothing to be ashamed of! The granite mountains were tall with wonderfully deep valleys and the white snow that blanketed the tops of the mountains contrasted awesomely with the green valleys! Of course they aren't Alps or Rockies, and the ski resorts are few, but that area is beautiful!
I quickly hurried in to get my rentals from the resort and by mid-morning, we were all set to go! The sun was shining and we all set off as a group around Perisher. I've never skied anything like Perisher before! The granite mountain was nicely rounded and there were huge outcrops sticking up out of the snow which made the resort to be a veritable playground for a quality skier. Plenty of little jumps to hit and nice tree-less runs that you could build up huge speeds with enough space to race in and out of the outcrops.
White-out conditions on top of Perisher
It didn't take long for our rather large group to splinter and my friend Craig and I were soon off to explore more challenging terrain. The west end of the resort is where the highest slopes are and we slowly worked our way up to the lifts on the far side. As the afternoon carried on, the weather started to get nasty and an incredibly dense fog moved in, but only blanketing the top of the mountains. We kept taking the lifts up, though it was pretty scary skiing down a slope on ice where you can only see a few metres in front of you! Once we got about a third of the way down, though, it was still foggy but you could see much farther, and then at the bottom everything cleared up just fine. We did that a few more times but the fog got worse and soon I couldn't see where Craig was. I noticed some orange posts in front of me to my left and to my right with a gap between. Knowing that the posts indicated huge rocks I should try to avoid, I decided to go through the middle. Looking over my shoulder for Craig to show him which way I went was a mistake because as soon as I did, my skis dropped out from under me as I went off some sort of steep edge and my body slammed into a snow bank below. I thank God there wasn't a rock there and that I had my helmet on, because I hit the ground hard! Somehow or other, Craig saw me and came to my aid laughing at me all the while.
Perfect weather in a beautiful winter wonderland at Perisher
I was a little dazed, but got up quickly enough and we kept going until the lifts shut down for the night. The great thing about the bad weather that night was that it gave us a ton of awesome fresh powder for the next day, which weather-wise, was the best you could have. Clear and sunny, warm but skiable. Our group started off together, but again split up shortly into the day, meeting up every so often to do a few runs or get a coffee. One of the really weird (but cool) things about skiing in Australia is that you're skiing through gum trees which don't lose their leaves ever throughout the year. So while anywhere else in the world you ski through evergreens and leaf-less gray trees, in Australia, you ski through lush green vegetation. And the branches are high enough that there is plenty of room to maneuver through them like wide open glades. Like I said, Perisher was just a skiers playground! Plenty of great runs, fun terrain, and lots of variety!
The third day we switched it up a bit and headed to the nearby, and probably more popular resort of Thredbo. Thredbo occupies generally steeper terrain and the runs are your more typical alpine runs and lanes as opposed to Perisher's openness. Australia's highest lifted point is here, and it is well above the treeline so the winds just rip across the mountain top, blowing away much of the powder and leaving behind a thin sheen of ice that you really have to carve through to get your hold. It wasn't long before three of us headed up to the top (via a series of T-bar lifts, which I found really bizarre!). Here too, there were big granite outcrops and Rick, Craig and I started off toward the Golf Course Bowl (not sure why it's called that - I get the bowl part, but not the rest), but it was roped off so we had to navigate our way down a different way. There was a turnoff to go down an insanely steep chute called Cannonball and Rick and Craig just took off. Not wanting to get too far behind, but being less adventurous than them, I took my time. And holy hell!! It was pretty much a vertical drop covered with moguls with nothing but ice to try and grip into! Needless to say, it put my skills to the test, but I got through.
The highest lifted point in Australia! Top of the world!
A fun thing we all did throughout the weekend was track our runs using the Alpine Replay app for our phones. The app has trail maps from ski resorts around the world loaded in and uses your GPS position while you're on a chairlift to figure out exactly where you are. It then monitors your speed, records the total elevation you've skied, and tracks the runs you've taken with GPS. It also uses the accelerometer inside the phone to log how many jumps you've landed and how much air time you've had throughout the day. Without meaning to, I checked my speed at the bottom of one of the runs I bombed down and saw that I reached a top speed of 79.4 kph (50 mph)!! For the rest of the day, I tried breaking the 80 kph barrier before I realised it was a reckless endeavor and that I'd end up seriously injuring myself if I didn't stop!
The guys who ski!
Anyway, it was a great time with good friends and we had the most perfect weather for the weekend! By late afternoon of that third day, it was time to pack up and start the long six-hour drive back to Sydney. I may have learned to ski on little wee hills in Michigan, but I've skied the Green Mountains and the Appalachian Mountains in Maine, and I've got to hand it to Australia. Your resorts may be few, but they are fun and challenging and it was well worth taking some time out from my week to spend it in the Snowy Mountains with great friends!
