Finally. Feather...

There were car and communication issues leading up to Saturday. Although I could see them coming a mile away, Friday still ended up with me driving to the Prom in my old car before spitting the dummy and continuing up via Omeo for a 1200km round trip in a car even older than me.

My juvenile dummy spit also resulted in me forgetting all my food. I had to raid our emergency food stash at Dinner Plain late Friday night. For dinner I had Nasi Goreng noodles which were about a hundred years old and which gave me a shocking case of MSG poisoning and precious little sleep. For breaky and the Razorback I found several sachets of baby food.

Dawn and sunrise were very special. I left the car at Diamantina just after five, and was on the summit of Feather just before seven after a few stops for photos and apple mush.

My entire gear list: skis, boots, poles, pack, EPIRB, camera, phone, 600ml water and baby food.

Apart from the back of Molly the trail was snow-free all the way which made for good running. From High Knob it was good to see several passable lines, although everything had iced up overnight.

The main SE gully looked particularly inviting.

I mucked around on the summit for a bit, and ate another apple mush. It was windy and quite cold. At eight o'clock I skied down the main SE ridge to get to the direct East Face. The ridge was a mix of rocks and ice, but once I hit the face it proved good skiing. I climbed up and had another down the same face, continuing as far down as was possible.

By this time the sun had hit the main SE gully and I was comfortable to give it a shot. It was great: a little cornice, then the steep upper aspects, mellowing out into a bowl and gully. The bottom was a little sun cupped and still a bit icy, with a bit of debri from a few wet slides - however I was keen to find water and so followed it down as far as possible. It ended in impassable terrain, with no water. 

I started eating manky snow and swilled my final baby mush. Climbing out of the SE gully was a challenge, with a bit of rock climbing and holding on to blades of grass on occasions for balance. The next gully further south (above) also looked good, so I had one down that too. 

At this point I was plum out of water and mush. It was about ten, and although it felt too early, I'd already had well over a thousand metres of skiing vertical. And so, after chowing down on a bit more manky snow, I started the slow jog back to the car, arriving just before midday. The Diamantina spring was pure diamond. Water never tasted so good.

Main SE gully in the middle, southern to looker's left, and main eastern face to looker's right.

Fire plus snow = interesting colours.

I don't know if it was the baby mush or the exercise happy hormones still swirling, but the drive back was splendid. I've never seen the Tambo Valley looking so verdant or pretty. The engine was humming along in overdrive at 3000 rpm, and my windows were down by virtue of being unable to turn off the heating.

I got back in time to grab a beer, throw some salmon on the BBQ and watch the sunset with the kids.

The Prom, September 2014

We had a great WE down at the Prom for what felt like the first day of summer - in September!

The kids arrived from Dinner Plain with Anne and Dom on Thursday, and the frog and I got down late for dinner. On Saturday I mowed, gardened and cleaned the house in the morning before settling down in front of the Granny which was all over by half time - so I went for a run to meet the others at the Whale's Graveyard. Charlotte and Lucie ran back with me, and we did some kangaroo mustering and bush bashing along the way. Lucie's longest run yet.

A glorious sunset over the water before lighting the bonfire and popping some champagne. Anne cooked her world famous roast chicken.

The next day was hot and windy and we decided on Squeaky. Charlotte was keen to try her first half marathon with me to Darby River, however we weren't really organised enough - and she's probably not up to it yet... and so we had a great trail run on the Lilly Pilly Mt Bishop circuit instead, about 7km. It was the first time I had seen the Lilly Pilly landslide. Incredible.

The water is still winter temperature, so it was hard to get in for more than a few minutes without a wetsuit. The kids and I did lots of bouldering before heading back home to drop off the yabby nets (they ended up catching a pair of ferocious eels!). Marie-Laure and I decided to relax and have a couple of reds then drive back to work early Monday morning.

Feathern can Wait...

Feathertop has looked magnificent all winter. Every time I have glanced her way this season, I have spied a new line, face or couloir. And even with the heavy melt now upon us, she is still looking awesome. But every time I have tried to get out to her over the last few weeks, my way has been blocked by some means or other.

With the frog-in-laws arriving to wombat-sit over the school holidays, I had made good with car and restaurant bookings - and spent a very solid two days with the kids en piste, mostly spent supervising Balti who has progressed in leaps and bounds. I can't really remember what I was skiing when I was four years old, but I am pretty certain it wasn't double blacks. He will grow up believing that a black diamond run is bog-standard beginner. And he goes pretty much flat knacker all day.

It was amazing how few people were on the mountain over the weekend, with HV pretty much all to ourselves. With brilliant sunshine and soft (albeit desperately patchy) snow, it felt like our own private ski hill, and a perfect opportunity for the kids to lift their speeds and skill-sets.

I was all packed for an alpine-start Sunday assault on Feather, but when my alarm went off at 5, all I could think about was the look on Balti's face when he awoke to find daddy long gone - and with an attack of the guilts I pressed the sleep-in button. And in the context of running and skiing a vertical marathon, there was also the small hang-over to consider from a fantastic meal the night before with Anne and Dom who were fresh off the plane. 

In fact there was a huge coincidental French contingent on the hill, with several families of the girls' school friends. There was a lot of French in the lift-lines such that were it not for the mud, gum-trees and small flat mountains, we could almost have been in Courchevel. Charlotte also skied over an echidna, which is a little different to a marmot.

It took several bowls of Weetbix, a wife and three wombats to get grand-pere's boots on, but eventually we were up the hill in the sun and slush.

We took lots of family photos, partly because we don't often ski with Anne and Dom in Oz, but mostly because it is a virtual impossibility to get my kids to smile simultaneously, and without looks on their faces suggestive of some heinous torture.  

In years to come the children will either love or loathe me for indoctrinating them with a sport and pastime far more addictive than crack. Whilst this will depend a little on whether it still ever snows in Australia, at least they will always have a love for the mountains. 

Crazy crazy wombat patrol.

The best thing in the world, even better than a day's ski-touring out on Feather, is a day spent skiing with my beautiful wife.

And maybe not quite the next best thing (yet), but coming close, is skiing with my most recent new ski buddy. It'll get even better, I'm sure, once he can get dressed and put his boots on all by himself.

Oh yeah, JP was also up on the hill and finding fabulous pitches of untracked corn, with small pockets of fresh in Dargo Bowl from last weeks' small snow event. The bastard. He was also supposed to accompany me out to Feathertop on Sunday, but had pulled a last minute "patella tendonitis". He texted me the above photo taken on Saturday which demonstrates, quite clearly, this nasty condition. 

A great weekend's skiing, en famille.