Weekend Magazine
Back on a board for the first time in 20 years, Barnaby Sharp reignites his love of snowsports during his first visit to Rainbow Ski Area.
Powder to the people – back on the board and enjoying Rainbow Ski Area for the first time
My knee was throbbing, my eyes were twitching, and my left leg had felt like it had gone 10 rounds with a kickboxer.
And I couldn’t have been happier.
I had just finished my first session at Rainbow Ski Area, a picturesque spot nestled in Nelson Lakes National Park, a short 30-minute drive from the alpine village of St Arnaud.
It had been 20 years since I had last stepped on a snowboard, and I was very much a 40-year-old virgin – of powder, that is. But that was all about to change.
Technically, I’m 42, but the years vanished like the clouds above me as I stood atop what must be one of the country’s coolest little skifields.
Let’s get the technical stuff out of the way first. Rainbow sits at an elevation of 1760 metres and is a little under two hours from both Nelson and Blenheim. It’s what’s known as a club field, and caters to all ages and abilities, with a terrain park, a main T-bar, and rope and handle tows. It has wide, gentle runs and back country trails good enough to satisfy everyone.
It was established in the 1980s and soon became a thriving club field. However, after some lean seasons, it closed and the slopes were stripped, with only two handle lifts remaining. People power soon took over, and Rainbow was reopened in 2004.
I had been invited up there on the proviso that I write an article. This wasn’t going to be a gush piece. If it was bad, I would be honest about it.
So, after several days of nervous weather watching, we were on. I left Nelson bang on 7am, making my way south with nothing but my thoughts and Spotify to fill the void.
Like a Grandmaster in chess, I was visualising my moves, carving wide arcs in fresh snow and ready to channel my inner Terje Hakonsen, the Norwegian widely considered to have transformed snowboarding into the global phenomenon that it is today.
The drive itself was perfect. The first song I played on random referenced a rainbow – who would have thought Wu-Tang Clan could be so chilled? I was suitably prepared and knew I was going to be in for a treat.
Minor fretting over rain and praying to Mother Nature soon gave way to butterflies as snow started falling on the drive up to the lower car park.
I had organised to be taken up in the shuttle the field provides. For those of us who don’t have chains or a 4WD, this is the way to do it. It was safe, warm, bumpy bliss.
Hushed chatter soon gave way to silence as we drove past trees laden with fresh snow, looking like giant clumps of icing sugar ready to slide off on top of anyone foolish enough to walk underneath.
If you are a snow bunny or surf, you’ll know what I’m talking about when I say the anticipation of what lay ahead was palpable.
After 20 minutes, we were there. The dozen of us on the bus hopped off and immediately scattered like cockroaches.
I was met by Philippa Shelling, Rainbow’s events and marketing co-ordinator. We had swapped emails a couple of times but as soon as we met, she gave me one of the most comprehensive rundowns of the field, introducing me to everyone she bumped into.
It was starting to feel like a bit of a family up here, like the sitcom Cheers; where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came.
I was asked if I wanted a lesson. It would have probably been wise, but I was too amped to consider my own limitations. No thanks, just get me up there and let me at it. So off I trotted to be fitted with some gear and a board, and I was away.
My first run was straight down Harry’s Way, a nice intermediate trail that was pure thrills and not one spill. It was a 50-50 mixture of adrenalin and hanging on for dear life. But I made it and, like an addict, I was ready for another line of powder.
So back into a small queue at the bottom of the main T-bar with a wait of no more than one pop song, and I was off again. This was too easy.
Next, I was off to the West Bowl access, with Barry’s Trail in mind. But I was already sucking in the oxygen, so decided this time I’d go through The Planets, an advanced run that took a lot of energy to navigate. But it was worth every ounce I had.
There were giant slabs of fresh, untouched powder and a few nice little ledges to launch yourself off.
The old adage of time flies when you’re having fun is so true. I’d already carved up a few hours, but there was no time for resting, so a quick bite at the cafe and I was back in business.
I’d been reliably informed that the children from Lake Rotoiti School in St Arnaud would be up there getting the first of their weekly lessons – and sure enough, there were 26 little people getting a
‘‘One of the coolest things I experienced that day was listening to the laughter of the people on the T-bar. And it was constant.’’
final word before being broken up into smaller, more manageable groups.
It turns out this was the entire school. Principal Sue Ford and a number of teachers as well as parents were there to ostensibly ‘‘supervise’’.
I would have loved to have had this at my school – and, as Ford said, the experience ‘‘provides the kids an opportunity that a lot of New Zealand schools don’t’’.
The benefits were numerous, she said.
The pupils were more aware of their own environment and the alpine environment. They used a buddy system, and this strengthened the concept of a tuakana-teina relationship between
the children and older people in terms of teaching and learning.
Ford herself isn’t a skier or boarder, but she summed it up perfectly when she said the field has a feeling of intimacy.
‘‘It feels like a safe and secure environment. The lift operators are very understanding and supportive, and everyone is very tight.’’
To cement this relationship, the skifield picks the children up from school and drops them back at the end of the day. It has also given two of them scholarships to improve their skills.
One of the parents, Karen Diefenbach, had picked up an injury so wasn’t able to ski. But that didn’t stop her from strapping on snowshoes and traversing the slopes for about 20km. Just for fun, as you do.
One of the coolest things I experienced that day was listening to the laughter of the people on the T-bar. And it was constant.
Anyone who’s been up a mountain can attest to the fact that lifts or T-bars will always stop. It might be for just a couple of minutes or, as Diefenbach told me of one field down south, it could be for a staggering 50 minutes.
Nothing like that happened on my day. In fact, nothing happened at all. And that is the sign of a smooth operation.
I didn’t see anything stop, there were no crying children, no-one crashed into anyone else, and the sun shone all day. Oh, and the snow was perfect.
General manager of Rainbow, James Lazor, is in his first season here after being the former alpine director for Snow Sports NZ. The genial American is well travelled and knows his stuff, having led operations across North America before coming to Godzone 12 years ago. And, like the Fred Dagg song, I think this is one guy who knows how lucky we are.
‘‘This is an amazing family field, and I always want it to be that,’’ he said. ‘‘The West Bowl is untapped, and there is a quaintness and comfort about it that you don’t get with commercial fields.
‘‘There is a lot of opportunity during the week to expose people to Rainbow. We want to create packages for groups to come up.
‘‘It could be an office group doing team building. We also want to open it up to more schools in the region, including Wellington.
‘‘There is so much unused terrain up here.’’
Rainbow and its staff know the secret to their success. The snow is one thing, and while they have a degree of control over how much they have to play with, the real reason is much more tangible.
He aha te mea nui o te ao: What is the most important thing in the world? He tangata, he tangata, he tangata: It is the people, it is the people, it is the people.
A quick scan of TripAdvisor comments confirmed that I was not alone in my praise of this tiny little field at the top of the south.
In fact, I’d bet a box of beers that anyone who has a passing interest in the snow would simply love this place. Actually, given that we’re in wine country, best we make that a case of sauvignon blanc.