Night Skiing in New Zealand

This is a special one-off blog from a visiting Aspen Ski Instructor, sampling the delights of night skiing in New Zealand. Take it away Kevin...

Being a ski instructor from the states, I’ve had my share of night skiing from California to Pennsylvania and a dozen states in between, but nothing could prepare me for a night on Broken River ski area in New Zealand.

Problem: ski area is 1000 meters out of reach in remote and steep terrain.

American solution: Tax the populace, spend years studying and weighing options, years to construct bridges, roads, guard rails and 2000 pages of regulations.

Kiwi solution: Take a day off, jump in your 4x4 all terrain vehicle and drive up the bloody hill.

I’m not kidding you! This is what happened! We were 5 deep in Jason’s 4x4 flying over boulders, blasting thru raging rivers and loving it! That’s right....my short 5 day trip to New Zealand to ski was more than just a ski trip -it was an amazing adventure! This was just the beginning. We park in what I can only describe as a clearing in woods and post-hole through the meter deep snow to a plywood make-shift mechanical device that uses old skis as brakes. Of course there is no supervision around; its ride at your own risk and did I mention that it’s getting dark? The plywood box only takes us a short distance to where  you have to hike another couple of hundred meters (with skis slung across shoulder) up steep, narrow and icy stairs to the ski area.

Alright so we are here, but where? Where are we?! Where is the ski slope and where are the lights? Jase says, “There it is mate.” pointing straight ahead to a 70's style rope-tow with 3,4 no more than 6 light bulbs strung overhead to guide your way up the mountain. Are you kidding me?! What about the slopes? Aren’t they going to light the slopes? Jason replies, “Oh no mate. That’s it.”

At this point the tow rope is blasting skiers up the hill, but I sense something is different. Something is askew. This is not your daddy’s tow rope. This is tow rope 101 Kiwi style. To make it more challenging, you must wear a harness with a metal hook attached called a nutcracker. With the skills and timing of a professional boxer delivering a one two knock-out punch, you are expected to 1) grab the rope with one hand and 2) at the right time flip this nutcracker up and around the rope with the other. This must be done quickly or the rope will pull your fingers through crushing pulleys and possibly severe one or two fingers along the way. Needless to say I watched a few others before I tried my hand at it and after two failed attempts, I was successfully screaming up the mountain into the dark of night.

The nutcracker only works as long as you are applying pressure to keep it closed, so you can imagine how tired and strained your arms and hands get just trying to survive the way up. To add more adventure to your ride, the Kiwis have put in a midway station where skiers and boarders are jumping off the tow and more adventurously jumping on. One can not see this area of carnage until one is upon it. So there I am shooting up the mountain in the dark with achy arms. I can’t see anything, but I can hear a volunteer director of traffic shouting commands, “Ok jump in there mate....no too late jump off! Ok ready? GO...GO....GO!” by this time I’m coming over the ridge and it’s too late. I decide to give my best Kiwi impersonation by throwing an elbow to the ribs of the on-coming boarder and yelling, “Get out the way mate!”

Alas I make it to the summit and immediately lock eyes with a Kiwi that gives me the biggest smile as if to say that I’m a part of the few that made it. He gives a wink and plunges into the abbess of darkness. After standing there for a few minutes, my eyes adjust to the dim lit slope and a whole world comes into focus. It is beautiful. The slope is steep and deep and skiers and boarders alike are shredding down the hill in a dance like rhythm. I turn my skis downhill and proceed to whoop and yell in ecstasy at every turn.

We skied a good two hours into the night, enjoying the next run more than the last. I found myself in conversation with various skiers that night expressing to them that this could never happen in America. Then it dawned on me that this had happened in America, albeit 70 years ago. I’m from Aspen where conveyance is a given and pampering is expected and I often wonder what it was like in those early years of Aspen when things where simpler and die hard conditions ruled the town. Thanks to my Kiwi friends, now I know. I’m not saying that New Zealand is destined to turn into an Aspen, but if you drive up the mountain and you see a valet parking sign, then you know that you’ve missed the ADVENTURE!


Kevin McDonald
Aspen ski instructor

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