'Oh my God,' I whispered audibly as the white and bleak grey morning were the only two colors hitting my eyes. It was just like the morning I had woken up in Amarillo, Texas, seeing the entire city, every branch of every tree, every fallen leaf, every untouched car, railing, and stone covered with soft, fresh snow. In a hurry I flew out to the kitchen to begin my breakfast and sped to get ready to head up the mountain. Powder day!!!
They say it only snows about 2-3 times per winter season in Queenstown – I think this is a good sign. On the 23rd of June we had accumulated at least an inch or two between 7-8am. The roads were full of a slushy mess and footprints filled the sidewalk and roadway going down into town. I had to take some video of the soft snow falling gently over the city, serene and slowly waking up to the day. I walked down to the Snow Center with my skis on my pack on my back and my camcorder in my ski jacket pocket. I was on a mission. Snow! In Queenstown!
The bus just before 9am was hardly crowded, but eventually filled up enough to brave our way up the roads, chain-equipped, towards our powdery fresh tracks. I decided to head up to Coronet, knowing that the true powder hounds would head to Remarks, and I would be left with the tourists and run after run of fresh tracks and comfortable high-speed lift rides.
It only took slightly longer to get to the base of Coronet in the snow than it normally does; they told us the difficult part of the trek was up to Arthur's Point, most likely because it was paved road and curvy with lots of banked hills. It's neigh impossible to drive slower up the gritted road to Coronet than they do on a regular basis, so that part of the trip didn't take any longer. I saw that one of the buses was stuck in a ditch on our side of the road and was quite glad I had nothing to do with that bus ride!
The mountain itself was very quiet and I headed up the Coronet Express at about 10am. More eager to document a powder day in the southern hemisphere than to take a powder run (no one was going to steal my line anyway, even if I had one), I took some video and then headed down the left hand side. For only an hour it looked like most of the employees and locals had already taken the best lines, and the area was so wind-blown it was difficult to see what was on the other side of some of the drifts, and in the mini half pipe crevices you couldn't see if you were going to fall into a hole! I sped up one drift and landed on the grass! I still need to get a sense of where the powder accumulates and where it gets wind-blown before I go all-out.
I skied over to the T-bar area, where I actually got the best runs of the day. The run on the near side of the T-bar where I see people doing race training was relatively untracked and very smooth; it had obviously been groomed the night before and the fresh snow had fallen evenly on it. The meadow behind the rock on the far side of the T-bar, as well as the groomed trail there were also spectacular. I got some nice, smooth powder turns on the off-piste section, and coasted through the white velvet carpet of snow on top of the groomed run. The best part about the groomed run on the far side is that near the bottom where it seems to flatten out it actually has several contours and rollers. Again it's a little tough to see the other side of the contours, so a sound knowledge of the mountain would definitely help avoid some nasty obstacles!
I headed over to Greengates and enjoyed the powder through some of the chutes and natural halfpipe areas. The far off-piste area by the boundary was almost untouched, as was a small area between cat tracks. I tried to take some video of people enjoying the powder but couldn't quite get a good shot, and even after trying to set up the tri-pod no one was coming past and the tri-pod wasn't very stable.
When I had first arrived at 10am the sun was shining and there were only a few clouds in the sky. By late morning the winds had picked up; I had hardly noticed until I was standing out there with my video camera waiting for people to come by through the chutes and my hand was absolutely freezing. I spent more time on Greengates then went inside for a while. By the time I went out for another run at 1pm the winds had picked up quite a bit more and the sun was struggling to show itself through a wall of grey. The Greengates was running slow when I hopped on it, and ironically enough sped up just as I was getting off. Still, a good day of skiing was about to come to an end and I took some video from the base before heading off back to town.
In high spirits I got back to the hostel to find that some of my friends had made a snowman with glasses and a carrot nose! On my way down the mountain I had texted Di to let her know that I wanted to take the room I had seen the night before, and was waiting to hear back, hoping it wouldn't take days to find out whether I was being considered or not. The day before had been another full day of house-hunting, just like the Tuesday before. Our exhausting search was finally coming to a much-welcomed end.
I began my day on Tuesday helping Ruth and Sam move from Last Resort backpackers up to Deco. I spent the morning on the internet and started to make more beetroot soup after we arrived back at the hostel. Ruth looked at me despondently from across the table; I wished I could say, “smile!” or “cheer up!” without seeming cheesy. I showed her the video I had taken at Coronet and Remarks and on our hike up to the gondola, which lightened the mood. It was a quiet morning at the hostel, and they were waiting for the couple to move out of their room. Fortunately it didn't take long and they were able to get about their day.
Just before 2pm I put my things away and started my brisk walk up to Fernhill. The sun was still warming the town and I decided not to worry about the forecasted rain for the moment. I arrived at Aspen Grove only 20 minutes after I left the hostel and saw a man who worked for Steve, who owned the house. He showed me around and I was disappointed to see two double beds and two closets in the large room that was available. I was also disappointed to see the mirror room was just the same. Well, four girls sharing one bathroom, but at least there was a toilet downstairs. The room, no matter the number of people, was going for $200, plus a small amount per week for electricity. It was a bit more than I wanted to pay for having to share a bathroom with two other people and having to get down the hill into town. The room was decent, but the walls were unfinished and looked like it was still being worked on. The best feature of the entire place, however, was that it was one of the very few houses in Fernhill that actually got sunlight, and the window was facing north and got a burst of sun mid-day, and would be quite lovely in the morning. The two girls in the other room were British and were working up at the mountain in the cafe or somewhere, Steve couldn't remember. I'm sure it would have been a lovely place to live, especially if I had gotten along with the girls, but I thanked Steve and thought to myself it probably wasn't the place for me.
The next leg of my journey consisted of walking up to the dairy on Fernhill Rd, after which I decided this was definitely not the home for me. What seemed like the most direct route was quite a long ways around and up, and unfortunately the Vknow wine bar, which I was certain from the website was to open at 3pm was posted that it didn't open until 4pm. I suppose it wasn't a total waste of time, and I was trying to judge distances. I got bored, and hating walking downhill, I jogged most of the way back into town and didn't stop jogging until I got to the start of the hotel row past the roundabout. It only took me about ten minutes to jog down the hill, but I wouldn't really be able to jog if I were in work clothes, or carrying skis. Then it was another five minutes or so to downtown.
I passed through downtown, ignoring the gathering clouds above, and headed down Robins Rd to QAST. The building is right next to the Bella Vista hotel. I stepped inside and asked for Grant, who wasn't there at the time, but I spoke with the coordinator, Patrice, who told me that Kevin was in charge of hiring new coaches and took down my information. She seemed very sweet, and I was confident in the fact that ski coaching is maybe the one job that a thousand backpackers passing through can't compete with me for.
I made it to Fresh Choice and back just before the downpour. I sat in my nice warm bed and finished my book and relaxed for a bit. At 5pm I drove up to Edinburgh Dr to meet with Di, the owner of a beautiful home in Queenstown Hills. Again a bit expensive, but I was hoping if it was as perfect as the one on Panorama Terrace, I would probably take it. The only thing running through my head was that the walk from Queenstown Hill to town was the same as the walk down from Fernhill, but steeper, and there would be no bus to take just in case. The difference, as I would find out later, is that Queenstown Hill is not a ghetto.
Before I talk about my experience on Edinburgh Dr, let me continue with the tale of this arduous journey. My next viewing was in Goldfield Heights, and when I looked at the map online it looked like there was a way to walk down from the house to Frankton Rd without too much difficulty. Unfortunately, driving out there had been a waste of time because there was a construction site blocking the easy way down, and the walk would have been absolutely ridiculous, and the room wasn't available until 3 July anyway.
My excursion had a quick intermission for dinner, and then resumed just before 7:30pm when I walked out to the car to drive up to Fernhill. Just as I was getting to the car Ben returned my call. Ben is the young man who took the 3 bedroom house on Frankton Rd that I had wanted to show Ruth and Sam. He had finally messaged me that morning asking if I was still looking for a place, and when I called back immediately and left a voicemail he hadn't responded. It was quite a task driving while on the phone, but we made arrangements for the three of us to see the place the following night at 8pm. Ben doesn't have a car, works at both mountains, and hardly has a clue how to make the transportation work in his favor, but it was worth looking at the place again.
When I drove around and around Fernhill by accident I had texted Chloe, the girl showing the room, and didn't get any reply. I finally found her street, but the driveway had about 3 or 4 houses at the end of it and I couldn't see the house numbers. She didn't answer her phone when I called, which frustrated me, and I knocked on a nearby... sliding glass door? I couldn't even find the front door of any of these places! Anyway, the gentleman who answered the door pointed me in the right direction and I eventually found the house. I immediately ruled it out when I found out there were four bedrooms and one bathroom, but played along anyway as she showed me the two rat holes on the lower level that were letting for $110pw. No internet. No way.
On to the next place, I arrived a minute or two after 8pm, though that set of units on Sainsbury Rd wasn't labeled either. Hey, at least it's not as difficult to find an address as it is in Tokyo! I parked in front of what I guessed to be unit 4, walked around confused for a while after ringing the bell and not getting an answer, and eventually was greeted by a woman who arrived in the car and needed me to move mine out of the way. I can't win.
Lindsay showed me her home; it was quite nice and wonderfully decorated with a southeast Asian theme. It was almost spotless, and the bathroom that I would be sharing with a Coronet Peak ski instructor was almost worth taking the place for. It was a large bathroom with a nice bathtub and a heater, and a window. Unfortunately it would be the only light of day I would see in the morning. The bedroom was a converted garage, which looked a bit dingy and more like the type of room I may have looked at when I was in Troy. I thought that maybe for the price and convenience I could get around the fact that the washing machine was in my bedroom... and the fact that it had two single beds in it. We went upstairs to the rest of the house. After our lengthy discussion I felt it might be a good spot for me, living with a ski instructor, and her being willing to get a wireless router for the internet, and her not being home much.
I looked at the room again after our bright discussion and tried out the mattresses. My spirits lowered again, and my love for the bathroom and desire to live with another instructor just could not overshadow the fact that... my room didn't have a window. Somehow I was convinced by the end of this visit that this room was still a possibility. I mean, it was only $185 all inclusive, with a gym in the hotel across the street. That's pretty good, right? I must have been smoking something.
Again fully stressed out I returned to the sanctity of my hostel and my New Zealand family. I talked with one of the girls about the room I had just seen and she had looked at the same room as well. Her disgust for it definitely fueled my own change in sentiment, and though apprehensive, I somehow knew in my heart that Edinburgh Dr was right for me... I think the name of the street may have been a sign, or maybe I'm just being silly again.
That night and the next morning I thought about each place I had seen, the place on Aspen Grove in Fernhill, the other two ghetto rooms in Fernhill, the ridiculous hike up Goldfield Heights, the nicer place in Goldfield Heights which was still a bit of a mission, and the place in Queenstown Hills. Perfect. It was absolutely perfect for me, except for the fact that it wouldn't be available until 5th July, and I would still be homeless until then, and the price was a bit up there, as was the walk in possibly icy conditions. I couldn't help but think about trying to get up that hill in the freezing cold at night, or walking down with my skis and ski boots on.
I texted Di while I was on the bus returning from Coronet and told her I would take it. I pretty much expected her to tell me she had given it to someone else, or that she was showing it to a few more people, or not even get a reply back.
“That would be great. I just need you to pay the bond to secure the room. Di.”
3:57pm 23/6/10
We have a winner. But, why was I so nervous? Maybe being a wayward traveler would be best, securing the full time job and then deciding, not having to commit to that icy walk, or being stranded up the hill when I needed groceries. Or maybe, just maybe... The breath-taking view from my window, en-suite bathroom, large comfortable bed, wireless internet, lovely kitchen and living room and darling roommates might be enough. The searching, the stop to the endless searching.
I stopped by the house later last night after seeing the place on Frankton Rd with Ruth and Sam and the moment I stepped in the door I realized that yes, it was the place for me. Di's smiling face was comforting, and the conversation she made was genuine and warm. Floyd, my new housemate, is from Australia and is working at Winnie's and Ballarat, and a few other jobs during Winter Fest, as security. He's a fun-loving guy that I took a few snowboarding runs with today. Finally, finally my search is over! Yes!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.