(or Small Towns and Giant Sculptures redux)

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again that the best thing about being a teacher is the school holidays. Last week, my wife and I took the kids on a 500 kilometre journey to the central North Island plateau for a fun family adventure, where we spent a few days in the small town of Ohakune (it’s important to note that the ‘fun’ part of the adventure didn’t include the eight hours stuck in a car with three children).

In many ways, Ohakune is a typical small New Zealand town. It has the requisite giant sculpture, a carrot in this instance (apparently Ohakune is the carrot growing capital of New Zealand, evidenced by the fact that there were enormous bags of carrots for sale outside almost every other shopfront. I’m not sure who the target market for such quantities of carrots is — perhaps commercial rabbit breeders or people whose entire extended families suffer from carrot addictions). It also has the requisite grand town slogan: ‘Where Adventures Begin’.

While the very nature of small town slogans tends towards hyperbole, this seemed to me to be a potentially egregious example. After all, when I think of the word ‘adventure’, the picture that comes into my head is not that of a small town in the middle of nowhere. However, the particular middle of nowhere that Ohakune happens to be located in is the southern slopes of Mt Ruapehu, on the edge of the Tongariro National Park. In terms of adventures, there’s plenty on offer — biking, climbing, hiking, and in the winter, skiing — which was the main purpose of our trip. I’m still not sure what the relationship between ‘carrots’ and ‘adventure’ is, but perhaps I’m just not using my imagination.

On our second day in town we hit the slopes. Due to the uncertainty created by Covid-19, Turoa, the ski-field closest to Ohakune, was closed at the time of our visit, so we caught a bus to Whakapapa, the ski-field on the northern slopes of the mountain. It was the first time any of the kids had been to the mountains, the first time they’d ever worn thermal underwear, and for the entire bus ride they all complained about how hot and uncomfortable they were. This all changed when we got off the bus. Within seconds, all three kids were bawling and saying they wanted to go home because they were freezing. It was one of those moments that’s funny in retrospect but at the time, not so much. To be fair, the weather in the central North Island plateau is notoriously changeable and the conditions on the day were unpleasant, to say the least — snowing, icy cold and blowing a gale. 

They weren’t the only tears of the day. As well as the vagaries of the weather, those of you who have hired ski-gear before will likely know that there are few things in life more uncomfortable than a rented ski-boot. However, in between the tears and tantrums (and not just from the children), everyone gave it their best shot. Since my wife and children were complete skiing novices and only the beginner slopes of Whakapapa were open, I had decided not to ski. Instead, I spent the day running back and forth between them, pushing them up and pointing them down the slope and offering (mostly ignored) advice. After a couple of hours the kids had had enough and proceeded to entertain themselves by making snow angels, snowmen and snowballs, which they subsequently threw at me as payment for my coaching efforts. My wife persevered for a little longer but then she too called it quits. I don’t blame her — it’s amazing how much pain a snowflake can cause when its propelled into your face by a gusting 80 km/h wind.

Strangely enough, nobody wanted to repeat the experience the following day. So we spent it relaxing at our chalet — eating chocolate, reading books, watching TV, eating chocolate. It was late afternoon and I was lying on the couch with the curtains closed, reading a book and eating chocolate when my wife walks in the room and says “It’s snowing”. I thought she was kidding at first — Ohakune is only 600 metres above sea level and it’s not often that snow falls right down in town, but sure enough, when I opened the curtains the evidence was undeniable. It continued falling throughout the afternoon and into the night and when we woke up early on our final morning in town we were greeted with this.

It was magical stuff. A dusting of snow makes anything look like it’s come straight out of a fairy tale, let alone a giant carrot. The kids couldn’t wait to make snowballs and throw them at me and I finally discovered what all those carrots were for.

It was the perfect ending to our fun family adventure.

What’s your favourite location for fun family adventures? Let me know in the comments.

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