Tag 68: Frost on the Bald Head

05/09/2016

Morning exercise has gold in its mouth, or was it something like that? Today, as proud patriots, we have to leave our all too familiar home/campground of a thousand bad memories at sunrise. What does patriotism have to do with two heroes who are at the other end of the world? Quite simply, in our eyes, it is the duty of an Austrian citizen to spread our national sport of skiing to the wide world.

With tears of joy in our eyes at the thought of being able to do such a favor to our homeland, we organized transport to an area where it apparently snows regularly. We want to introduce the Maori to gliding on angel's tears.

As experienced mountaineers, we have already gathered information in the town of Wanaka and managed to arrange warm clothing. Ready to perform heroic deeds and fulfill the country with pride, we are waiting at the bus station. The feeling that not much happens during such events was familiar to us from our time in Asia, so after waiting for a while and the unshakable belief that we would soon see snow, we are surprised to learn that the mountain is closed due to a little rain.

Heartbroken and feeling relieved of our mission, at first we don't know what to do, but after a short period of disorientation, we decide to head south. The waves there are said to be more than powerful, and Michi and two of his friends are also on their way there. So what was planned to be a day of fun skiing and joy on the slopes turns into just a slope - but less joy. The highway slope calls, this time a relatively long stretch, which fills me with less joy.

About two hours before sunset, we arrive in icy Waikawa, almost at the same time as the DACH vehicles (only Michi is Austrian, Jochen is German, Theo is Swiss - so we have the whole Alpine region represented). Full of hope and equipped with a healthy dose of optimism, I set out to find a surfboard rental. Quickly, I realize that I should lower my expectations and aim to find people at all. And even that is almost impossible. After forty-five minutes of empty houses, I finally manage to meet an old lady who informs me that my second worst fears are true. The absolute worst concern during my search for evidence of human life was that there had been a tsunami warning and the entire town had been evacuated. This would also explain why I found myself in some living rooms but never encountered any people. Nevertheless, I have to scale back my ambitions to ride waves, just as Gudi has to scale back her hope of doing the same with horses on the beach.

The other three, proud owners of the highly acclaimed foam boards, are having a blast in the roaring waves, while I slowly resign myself to being the odd one out (I saved this phrase especially for New Zealand - the sheep state par excellence).

After some time, the kind-hearted and slightly blue-faced Theo emerges from the water and offers me his equipment. I think I have rarely been so happy, which makes my aversion to putting on cold, wet, and unfamiliar wetsuits in this situation more than marginal.

Thanks to this generous act of Theo, I find myself in the 8.9° cold water shortly after. Already when wetting my feet, which are not protected by the wetsuit, I can't help but scream, curse, and call out for Mama. But at that moment, there is nothing in my life that I regret more than shaving off my hair. Plunging my baby-soft scalp into the icy waters causes me pain reminiscent of giving birth (or worse).

The surf session is rather short and not very successful, mainly because my powerful arms are turning into stiff, blue-decorated bodies with each passing second.

When I stagger back to our mobile living room, driven by a few remaining erythrocytes that have made their way to the center of my corpus, I find the rest of the group sitting comfortably together. Together, we decide that the original idea of all five of us sleeping in the car could be a problem, so we have no choice but to return to one of the previously "visited" houses, a hostel. Now, however, the doors are locked, and I can already imagine myself trapped between arms and legs, freezing in the icy cold. But then Theo simply climbs the balcony and seconds later, with a mischievous grin, opens the door for us.

In the hostel, we even find a number to call to announce our presence. Being sincere people - except for the balcony action, of course - we let them know that we have chosen room four. Only Gudi and I are freeloaders and decide to stay in the camper, but we are still relieved to be able to thaw our magnificent bodies a little in the anonymity of the deserted guesthouse - and later to have our anonymity in the camper.

Gudi's glorious laws:

Anyone who skis in Austria must also want to ski in other countries.

At first, I resist, as I am of the opinion that little mountain and no equipment are rather poor prerequisites for a successful day. But little by little, I am reassured by enchanting stories of mountain panoramas, so in the end, we both agree that we want to go skiing at least once.