White magic

Treble Cone. Photo / Supplied

He's a rare breed is Ralph Markby; more than 60 years of skiing and nothing more painful than a sprained big toe to show for it. If it wasn't for the pictures of him smiling from the pages of Snow Business, you'd doubt he'd done half of what he claims. Half memoir, half history, his book is one man's story of how New Zealand turned its pristine mountains into money-making playgrounds.

"I guess I've always had a natural attraction to the snow. I just like the look of it. But then I grew up near the mountains and saw a lot of it. It's still a magic sight," Markby says.

He'd had to have loved it deeply, considering the lengths he had to go to reach the stuff. In the 40s there were no ski lifts, T-bars, booze bars or even half-decent roads leading to the slopes. There had been a minor ski boom here during the 30s, but World War Two put it on hold.

"When it got going again everything was very rudimentary," says the 81-year-old. "Nobody could ski. They could barely stand up, let alone do a decent turn."

But that didn't deter Markby and his friends from trudging for hours to have a crack, particularly if he spotted a friend heading off to work of a Friday morning with skis slung over a shoulder. He'd rug up in his waterproof parka, jersey and gabardine trousers and off he'd go as well.

"By 1946, we'd built a basic hut in the Rock and Pillars [a Maniototo range]. It had an oil-burning heater, so it was comfortable enough. We'd climb up to the top on Friday night, that took about three hours using torchlight to guide us, we also had a line of poles set in the slope so we wouldn't lose our way in the dark. Then we'd spend the weekend skiing. You'd ski all the way down, then climb all the way back up again, which was pretty crazy when you look back at it now, but it was healthy outdoor exercise with great people. We didn't even get into the booze. If you wanted it, you had to carry it all the way to the top."

Now, more than 60 years later, Markby has lived and worked through every change the ski industry has seen, including a stint as a director and founder of the Treble Cone skifield.

"I was intending to write my memoirs of those early days, but when I started digging I found some great stories of how the resorts came about. Like Mt Hutt, that's been bought and sold so many times you wouldn't believe, the poor buggers there had a terrible time, but it's made for a great story.

"I guess I can say I witnessed the whole thing, from homemade skis, to snow boards and twin tips, and not too many people have a clue about most of it, so if I don't tell the story, it's like it never happened."