The first day skiing in NZ

Every dollar and every minute spent traveling cannot be weighed against the experience that I beheld within my first 24 hours in Queenstown. Before 11am I was once again in my element, in my ski pants and on top of my skis. Looking out at the scenery I knew immediately this was the most beautiful scene my eyes have ever been witness to while skiing, and I have seen a lot of scenery. At the top of Killington Peak the vast and rolling mountains and trails from ski resorts all over southern Vermont can be seen; from Park City and other Utah resorts the snow-crested Timpanogos, the Jordanelle, and the shops and bustling crowds of Main St can be viewed; from the top of Vail's ski slopes the menacing and imposing mountains of Colorado span the 360 degree horizons. However impressed I have been with these sights they pale in comparison to the view from Coronet Peak.

It's as if New Zealand were a country made for people who love the outdoors. The varying topography of the landscape is what astounds me with every glance. The surface of the snow is so smooth and pure, and the snow line so defined, the mountains comprising Coronet Peak and the immediate area are like a heaping scoop of vanilla ice cream on top of a sugar cone. Below the snow line the landscape is a yellow-green or brown, fading as the elevation rapidly decreases, and meters below levels out into a valley filled with lush farm land. In this valley is a town, right up against a steep rise where there is a shelf of flat land which greets the snow line. Right above this shelf is another ice cream cone mountain. Towards Lake Wakatipu is the steep rocky mountain range that we descended next to as our plane was landing. The lake shines in the morning sun, a bright green-blue, and Queenstown can be seen off in the far distance along with the treacherously winding road up to the ski field.

The pristine white of the snow, the shining waters of the lake and the crisp air make my body feel invigorated, almost emancipated, from the pollution and impurities of America's highly populated cities and suburbs. This purity makes me feel liberated and at peace. This land is truly paradise.

Even though it has been less than two months since I have sailed through the snow it takes a few runs for it to feel natural, and my boots feel more loose than normal. I joke in my mind that losing 5lbs from my fever made it so my boots didn't fit anymore, and also curse the fact that the length of my toenails are now better suited for wearing flip flops than ski boots.

After enduring through the frustration of feeling off balance for the morning I am starting to explore more of the mountain as two more chairlifts open up. I'm surprised by the fact that all of the off-piste areas between trails are open though it appears as though no more than 20-30cm of snow lies upon the area. I'm quite certain most American resorts would have these areas roped off; perhaps New Zealand doesn't care to import so much caution rope because other than a few fences and the occasional sign, the entire area was skiable and open. I would compare most of the off-piste sections, however, to how the consistency of the snow must be at Snowbird right now – uneven and completely unpredictable. It was not the type of snow that is suitable for a first day!

Just off the top of one of the lifts was an off-piste area that I thought must be closed. It was entirely covered with snow, aside from the occasional bit of grass poking out, though as I looked over the ridge from the groomed run I did see a fair number of tracks running through it. I saw three people head down into the area via a more consistent patch of snow that was banked almost like a mini natural half pipe. I could make a fair number of turns down this area, and then the snow became inconsistent and very difficult to predict where weight should be shifted to successfully turn both skis at the same time. The snow must have fallen within the last day or two, and though not terribly heavy, there were parts that were much softer and untouched, and it was impossible to know the firmness before skiing right through it. Needless to say, a lot of traversing and survival skiing went into this section.

The experience of skiing this area of the mountain was about the epitome of the sense of freedom the mountain had given me today. The mountain bares itself to you; though there is some rock and of course grass underneath, the surface of the snow is smooth and entirely without trees. The contours of the land and the way the drifts of snow are blown is entirely untouched and natural, save for the tracks of skiers and snowboarders seeking to enjoy the landscape in all its danger and beauty. It felt not as if I were inside a ski resort, but out in nature, as it was meant to be, as if you were to strap on skis and go out in the backyard. I couldn't help but sit in a patch of fresh snow towards the bottom and look out onto the landscape again.

Coronet Peak and Queenstown gave me a very heart-felt welcome. The weather is mild and dry, and the snow is soft, and though there were few groomed runs and a fair number of people, at no time did I feel that 'skied-off' hard pack snow or icy sensation as is common with Eastern US and early season skiing. There were firm and rough and thin patches along the groomed, but somehow it all felt pleasant. There is no price tag or value that can be placed on what I experienced today, and this is just the beginning.