There is this little mountain in Victoria...

There is this little mountain in Victoria that is the home a serious shreds. Because it is amazing I'm not going to tell you the name directly as although I love bragging about my trips there I don't want you all to come along. Leave the snow to me please!

The splitboard's second outing was slightly more legitimate than a tramp around the Mt. Buller resort. I picked up two of my intrepid touring partners, Watkin and Joe, looking rather follorn late on Sunday night sitting in the mud outside of the Euroa Milk bar. We then went down the Hume (who hates the Hume???? It is the pits driving in the dark down the Hume and I seem to do it more than is fair. Why make a road so straight? So dull??) to meet Jock outside of my Telluride friend's house in Bright. The first challenge of the tour was packing Jock's car.

Jock is kind of like a real life Bear Grylls. His car demonstrates this. It is full of gear. From ice axes, ropes of all kinds, telemark skis, touring gear, crampons, first aid kits, extra sleeping gear, ridiculous amounts of Deb instant potatoes, just few bottles of port/whisky/cider and anything to fix anything the available space is filled before the four of us even try to get into the car. We did manage to fit eventually and set off on the Towonga Gap Rd to the back of beyond. After a bit of dirt road excitement we were finally at the trail head. I would tell you the time but my Mum hates the idea that we set off hiking at night, so I'll just leave it that the full moon was making it a gorgeous night for hiking up to the hut and the skiing base.

Off we set. With skis and boots on the outside of your pack it is a challenge to duck under and over the logs that litter these high country spurs. Joe was pleased that his lack of vertical height was finally an advantage over the tall man Watkin. There were a few moments, especially whilst bush-bashing that the wisdom of setting off to arrive in the middle of the night may have seemed a little ridiculous. However, once snuggled into tents with snow all around it was apparent that the morning would prove the late night exertion all worth it!

Nothing better for the head than to wake up in places like this. Life is good.

Monday and Tuesday weekends are the best. I'm not sure more words are necessary. Check out these happy snaps courtesy of Jock Gunn - master amateur photographer...!

Watkin shreds. I watch the show from the top right corner.

Skin tracks.

Lunch break with some pumped back country skiers we met in the bowl. They loved seeing us "young folk" enjoying the mountains. These blokes are who I would like to be in the future. There happiness is the simple joy of skiing down  a slope and spending time outside is inspirational. Furthermore, that they were excited about us joining them in this communal adventure is such a joy as we young folk, especially the dirty snowboarder type, can feel like real mountain men regard us with rather a certain level of scorn. Luckily we had some delicious oranges to give back some of that love...

Life is good at the top of Victoria. With great friends, amazing chalky Aussie snow and so much mountain to explore we ran off the hill planning the next trip up.

However, there was one little thorn in the side. As the boys put it "Bloody Splitboarders". Although I'm fit enough to show them all up hiking and even skinning at the end of the day, my skin-sition (the change from the mode to walk up the hill to ride down the hill) was still at times difficult.

Getting frustrated as Watkin tries to help me! 

Perhaps more concerning was the difficulties I was having traversing on hard pack. A self-made splitboard doesn't have an edge on the straight side. There is significant lateral movement in both the boots and the bindings. Thus it is near impossible to get enough grip to traverse on hard pack. Due to these difficulties it is necessary to "unstrap" at such times, which leaves you rather exposed. Although soft boots may seem comfortable when sitting at the pub it is impossible to "kick in" to the snow as you can in ski boots. This resulted in me having a fall that nearly wiped out Watkin, Jock and most of our ski gear. In addition, I had a very "female" moment (though Joe, perhaps more feminist than I said it was a "snowboard" moment) where I was needed Jock to carry up my board so that I could just deal with getting up the little stretch of steep in slippery snowboard boots & crampons. All rather scary and unsafe.

Furthermore, the sketchy tight tree skiing required on the way back to the hut of an evening emphasised the lack of responsiveness of the splitboard. Given the number of trees I ran into and sit downs I had to have, anyone watching would have had a hard time guessing I can actually snowboard and have in fact raced at a fairly high level. The amount of play that comes from soft boots and soft board makes it virtually impossible to ride smoothly through these tight sections.

After a delicious pub dinner on the way back to Melbourne I woke up on Wednesday morning and decided to go visit my Great Aunt in Elsternwick. On the way I saw Bumps, a ski shop, and thought they might have a binding piece I was looking for. Fatefully, I walked in and met Byron, a "can-do" kind of Canadian, who after a brief chat pushed me further along the tracks to get hard boots.

So the train kept rolling on.