Good Times, Bad Times

Well our time in Chch has finally come to an end. And in the end, it was a mixed bag. Not as much work at Three Boys as I would’ve hoped, and the accommodations left a bit to be desired, but we did some fun things in Chch and made a couple bucks, which made us feel better about not just spending heaps of money this year.

One highlight was getting to Mt. Hutt to get a good day of skiing in. As opposed to the club field at Lyford, Mt. Hutt is a proper ski resort in the style we’re used to, complete with a quad and a six-seat chairlift. On the day we went it was a gorgeous, sunny day with little wind, near perfect conditions for a day on the slopes. We met a bunch of people who said it was probably the busiest day of the year, though it didn’t seem more than an average weekend day in Vermont. The snow was pretty good that day, with a little bit of powder to enjoy, and with the lifts we probably got more skiing in in an hour there than we did in four hours at Lyford. Our only misstep on the day was to miss a moderate blue square trail for an icy, rocky, and really steep double black diamond run, which took us forever to get down. I looked really cool sliding down a couple hundred meters on my butt.

From the mountains to the sea, a typical view from Mt. Hutt

Even though Mt. Hutt is a more polished (and definitely more expensive) resort, you still have to drive about 14km up an unpaved, potholed road that winds along a mostly-unguardrailed road on the mountain. We found out later that a number of cars have been blown off the road in really windy weather. Great. Luckily for us, there was no snow on the road, meaning we didn’t have to use our chains.

Andrew takes a break between practicing his 360 jumps

One quick drama to relate about our landlord/flight attendant, Phil. By the time our last night in Chch rolled around, we’d grown rather annoyed at him, mostly due to his refusal to provide heat for the common areas, and his reneging on our agreement to lower the rent when he brought on another roommate. As expected and as he detailed in his memo, he had the balls to approach us on our last evening and attempt to pocket two nights of rent from us for one extra night’s stay. I’d just like to know where he buys his sporting equipment.

At this point we were tired of feeling taken advantage of, so we let him know that on principle, there was no way we’d pay him for two nights. He wouldn’t back off, however, and acted all indignant like we were the ones trying to screw him, so we packed up all of our things and left as he sat at the kitchen table, pretending to read his orientation manual for his new job in customs. He looked a bit shocked that we had our stuff largely ready to go and that we would just leave; the look on his face was pretty satisfying. We left that evening and found a hostel for the night, and though it cost us a couple extra dollars to stay there as opposed to Phil’s, not giving him the money felt good to us; if a couple bucks was the price of satisfaction for us there, so be it. With a good night of sleep and I guess what we’re calling a moral (if somewhat pyrrhic) victory over our nemesis Phil, we were ready to welcome Becky’s mom and Don to NZ!

A kea at the ski field... at least he's not eating our boots!