Winters in Wanaka

BY PETER MEECHAM

Driving to Treble Cone, along the road past Glendhu Bay, I find myself questioning how I could have left this beautiful and peaceful place. With snowy jagged peaks dwarfing us as we are afforded stunning views of a sparkling Lake Wanaka, I wonder whether choices made for career and financial reasons can ever make up for what I left behind in Central Otago years ago.

Wanaka is home to me and, appropriately, the first ski area we visit is the mighty slopes of Treble Cone where, as young nippers in the late 1970s, my brother and I learned the skiing basics on rope tows under the patient eyes of mum and gran.

The rental 4-W-D made short work of the access road which is like a freeway compared to the torturous one-lane goat track that mum had to wrestle the HR Holden up all those years ago.

The base area is also barely recognisable, with a larger learners' area and a cafe which serves fantastic food and has what must be the most spectacular view of any ski area in New Zealand.

Fresh snow has fallen in the night and skiers and boarders are making fresh tracks all around us as we reach the top of the high-speed, six-seater detachable chairlift which has replaced the old T-bars we used to do battle with as kids.

The one thing that hasn't changed about Treble Cone is the awesome terrain. Options for experts are endless. The saddle area provides steep and deep skiing which complements old favourites such as the gunbarrel natural halfpipe and the aptly named Powder Bowl.

The highest lift-serviced point of 1860m offers 550ha of great runs through steep natural chutes strewn with rocks and bumps to reasonably smooth open bowls which collect great snow.

If you want to be sure of untracked snow you can climb an extra 228m to the summit and get even more great runs for advanced skiers and riders.

Treble Cone is a challenge for anyone, no matter how experienced. I recall being scared witless as a teenager by race coach Mike Shenkel and Noel Williams as they skied the hard core slopes with pace and precision. Treble is a place that can still scare me, but that's its appeal. So it was with a fair sense of achievement that I rested my weary body at the Edgewater Resort at the end of the day after trying to tame the mountain my family has had shares in since its inception.

The shares have now changed their name to Tourism Holdings and, like the mountain, have changed into something a little different from the original.

After an excellent meal at the Edgewater Resort (which, might I add, is far preferable to a burger from the local pie cart which we endured when we were growing up so we could afford new skis) I hit the sack early to be woken by a magnificent sunrise over the lake shining through the window of my hotel room.

The crisp morning air cleared our heads as we made our way up the Cardrona Valley to the Cardrona Alpine Resort where I have skied every year since 1983. In all that time Cardrona has never really had a bad year for snow and has offered some of the most reliable skiing in the country.

This year is no exception so I charged straight up the lifts to carve long GS turns on the open, well-groomed slopes that make Cardrona such a fantastic area for skiers and boarders wishing to improve. MacDougall's quad chair in particular offers beginners of all ages a great place to pick up skills on the snow.

In the late 80s my brother Mark tossed away his skis and joined the growing numbers of people turning to snowboards. Cardrona, more than any other ski resort, made the riders feel welcome by providing halfpipes and terrain parks for the new breed of snow sliders.

Now it boasts four competition halfpipes, a gravity cross track and a huge purpose-built terrain trail which won it the NZ Snowboard Association Resort of the Year award last year.

As well as the large amount of beginner and intermediate runs, the mountain also offers plenty of challenging spots, such as the Arcadia Chutes, Eagle Rock, Tulips and the Last Shot Bowl.

After a top meal in the Mez Cafe, part of the large base building area, I hooked up with multi-time New Zealand Women's Extreme Ski Champ, Bridget Rayward, who heads the excellent ski school. She showed me her immaculate skiing style in the terrain which forces her return to Cardrona year after year.

I met my parents, who drove from Clyde, in the cool half-light of the valley at the historic Cardrona Hotel where we reminisced about days spent enjoying the natural attractions of the region.

Dad related stories from his parents, who lived in the Cardrona Valley at the turn of last century, about how the trip to Pembroke Township, as Wanaka was called then, took the best part of a day. Now, the Crown Range is completely sealed and it takes only an hour to get from Queenstown to Wanaka.

At the Edgewater I said goodbye to the folks and headed into town for a drink. Wanaka's social scene has expanded tremendously in the past few years, and the Kingsway is a great example. It was formerly the local tearooms but now is converted to a bar with great DJ sounds and pool tables.

The next morning I chose to forgo the many other options available to visitors, including fly fishing, mountainbiking, tramping, lake cruises, visiting wineries etc, and headed up to Cardrona to try snowboarding.

After a few bruises I managed to get going pretty well, the wide open learners' areas aiding my progression no end. The last couple of hours were great fun as I revelled in the learning experience and caught up with Matt Enright, a great mate whose family also came from the Cardrona Valley.

It seemed quite appropriate to be sliding down the mountain enjoying the company of an old friend whose grandfather was mates with mine almost 100 years ago when they lived in the valley below.

No matter where I travel and ski in the world I always compare the area I'm visiting to Wanaka, and rarely does it seem as cool as the place in which I was so fortunate to grow up. The more time I spend away from Central Otago the more I feel drawn back to it.

As the plane lifts over the Southern Alps, bathed in the yellow late afternoon sun and casting long, blue shadows across the land, I feel a sadness and yearning for the place, people and memories I'm leaving behind.

I wonder how long it will be before I'm unable to resist that yearning and will choose to return to my home.