Only a few short hours after I returned from my epic road trip up North, I was packing again for my departure to Mt. Ruapehu in the opposite direction.I quickly went food shopping to tied me over for the next 4 days and then went out to get some extremely last minute gear that I needed to go hike up a mountain, like a coat, and you know, those things they call pants.After dishing out far too much money for them I made it back to my flat in time to collapse into bed.

The next morning I woke up early to attempt to clean the flat, there is something nice about coming home to a nice clean room and a bed that is made.I got about as far as making my bed, and then called it a day and finished packing.Now...I know absolutely nothing about mountaineering and climbing mountains or snow.I grew up in New England so I know how to drive in snow, shovel snow, make snowmen, and throw a good snowball, but I don't really have that much experience with climbing through it, so I did not know what was in store for me.I signed up for this trip on a whim, thinking it would be a once in a life time experience to follow in the footsteps of the New Zealand national hero, Sir Edmund Hillary, the first man to climb Everest. He is even on their 5 dollar bill and when he died earlier this year it was a national upset.I wanted to be part of a least a sliver of what he was about, and aside from the fact that he was a big Tolkien fan, he climbed pretty much every peak in New Zealand while preparing to summit Everest, so I figured I should at least try to climb one.

After a 4 hour drive down to the mountain I was feeling very apprehensive about the whole thing, seeing as I have never done anything like this.Trek through an African desert? Sure. Canoe down rapids? Sure. Go on an archaeological dig? Sure.But climb up a majestic looking snow topped mountain? No. Way.The driver of the car I was in, Audsley, was a bit more inexperienced than I was though and had never in her life seen snow.Having grown up in Auckland her whole life and only ever venturing as far as the South Island of New Zealand, Audsley was as apprehensive as I was, if not a million times more. We arrived at the little visitors centre we were not supposed to sleep, but did anyway, cause we are the tramping club.(Because I am the thrifty little packer that I am, I neglected to bring my bed roll from the States so I slept on a hard floor that night, and my mother somewhere was doing an "I told you so" dance).

We woke the next morning, strapped on our gear, fitted our crampons, picked up our ice axes and began to learn some techniques for climbing in snow and ice. Ruapehu gets a lot of moisture in the snow so it was more like wading through it than walking.I would put my foot down and it would sink three feet down, I would lurch it out only to have my other foot sink.After we practiced a bit we continued up the mountain.About halfway up, when the full pack, thinner oxygen levels, and the fact that I was basically on a stairmaster that never ended started to get to me I thought to myself "what the hell am I doing climbing a mountain?".I kept thinking of Sir Hillary and how I was attempting to connect myself to something bigger and grander.But it was as hard as.....well, as hard as climbing a freaking mountain.I kept on trudging up with virtually 0 visibility not knowing where I was being led by our 3 guides and after what seemed like years of climbing, we reached a hut about ¾ of the way up the mountain where we would be staying. We peeled off our boots and sat down for some lunch before the real work began.

After we had just enough time to dry off and get comfortable again we went back out into the snow to practice self arresting. Before we began we were instructed on the three rules of climbing: 1. Don't fall. 2. Don't Fall. 3. Remember the first two rules.So, what did we learn first? What to do when you fall, also known as self arresting.

At first "self arresting" sounded to me like a term for a heart attack, and I started to think about CPR and AEDs, but then our instructors threw themselves down a steep slope and stopped themselves with their ice axes....which is the real meaning of self arresting.So for the remainder of the afternoon we threw ourselves feet first on our stomachs down the side of the mountain and were charged with the task of stopping with our ice axes.It is as hard as it sounds.First, you must keep your feet up, which is entirely counter intuitive, to avoid snagging the ice with your crampons (which we didn't wear when practicing for safety reasons) and snapping your ankles, you have to dig the pick of the axe into the ice, drag yourself up onto it and put all your weight into stopping.When we did stop we had to then climb all the way back up and do it again, and again, and again, and again.The worst part about this was that by the third or fourth time, my knees started to protest.Because my feet were up for most of the falling, my knees got most of the brunt of the ice chunks and abrasive scrapping against the side of a mountain.

Finally, we stopped for the day and went in to have dinner and play some AUTC (Auckland University Tramping Club) classic games, such as table traversing (climb under a table without falling), and phonebook (stand on a stack of phonebooks with someone and you must touch the ground with your hand without falling).

The next morning we practiced crampon work, basically climbing on steep ice trying to "trust the crampons".Going straight down a steep slope with nothing but a few pointy pieces of metal is a bit nerve racking, but in the end we all got it.And thankfully the weather started to clear up and we were able to see the magnificent mountain we were on.Unfortunately, the weather changes as fast as you can think and before long the clouds rolled in again, and we started doing more self arrests.

If I thought my knees were sore before, it was nothing to putting them through it all over again, when they were all ready bruised.And now we had an added difficulty, going down on our backs feet first, on our front head first and feet first, and the worst, going down on our backs head first.At one point I thought I was going to die as I plummeted down the side of Mt Ruapehu on my back, head first knowing that the only way I was going to stop picking up speed was to jam my ice axe down at my side, flip myself over and pull up on the handle with all the strength I had....which I did...and then went up again to have another shot at it.

Finally, after learning the skills and practicing with crampons we started on another ascent up the mountain, and that night phonebook was a bit tougher to play, seeing as we were all doubly sore.But, it was all worth it because after getting some information about avalanches, weather and climbing conditions we got to glissade down.Which is a nice fancy, technical term for "slide down on your ass with a full pack on while using your ice axe to steer".It was in one word: Awesome.By the time we had returned the gear, and settled ourselves into the cars and were driving back, it was late on Friday afternoon and the sun on Mt. Ruapehu and Mt. Ngaruahoe (also known as Mt. Doom, and was one of the highlights of the trip—I kind of wanted to act out a scene from Lord of the Rings, something like "I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you!" and then proceed to carry Audsley up the mountain...but I don't think anyone else really wanted that to happen as much as me).For a few hours up on the mountain we had clear blue skies and the views were amazing and you just had to stand there and be amazed at how white the snow was and how calm the sky looked against the peaks.I had thousands of moments where I thought to myself "I cannot believe that places like this actually exist!" because before they always seemed like they were part of a dream, but now, snow topped mountains against clear blue sky are part of my reality.