Tactical Ninja - The Man Who Melted (and probably still is melting)

10:07 pm - The Man Who Melted (and probably still is melting)

So it all started with the gathering of a bunch of people in Christchurch on Saturday, with the aim of bombing Nitrate - which we duly did.


I've never been to an all ages rave before, and it's, well.. different, when 50% of the people there are under 18. Interesting how there managed to be so many drunk people at a party where no alcohol was available for sale. xhile played in the hardcore room, and managed the transition from happy hardcore to psytrance brilliantly, especially given the unforseen circumstance of some drunk git tripping over a cable and dragging his laptop onto the floor in the middle of his set. Nothing was broken, and the music kept going without a hitch, but WTF?

I think the rave scene in Christchurch needs a good kick up the arse. Not enough people dressed up, imo. And underagers are much ruder than the older crowd I normally hang out with. We all managed to enjoy ourselves and it was a good way to start a holiday. And naturally, we brought the shiny! I think Happy has photos of this but I was too busy enjoying myself to take any pics.

I did see this on the way to lunch the next day. Christchurch is emo city, apparently:



On Sunday afternoon xhile and I tootled off in the van, heading for Flock Hill. I had no idea that this was going to take me to country I'd been reading about all my life in the books of Peter Newton. When we passed the turnoff to Lake Coleridge I got a thrill in my realisation that this would be something I've wanted to do for 20 years.

Flock Hill is one of the original stations in the area. It used to encompass Craigieburn as well, and most of this high country was in long term lease from the crown. The leases have been coming up over the last 30 or 40 years, and most of the stations have either reverted to DOC or shrunk considerably. Flock Hill, however, is privately owned (those of you who remember Alpine Unity will have been there), and still almost the same as it was in the days of Peter Newton. They now run a backpackers too, and we'd hired a cottage for the few days, with 4 ski fields within 20km.

On the Monday I had the most perfect day. You know how sometimes everything just.. works? Monday was such a day for me.

We went to Porter Heights, as the largest and most likely to have snow of the ski fields. This year's been crap for snow in New Zealand, but they had enough for us to entertain ourselves for the day.

Everyone was ecstatic at the weather:



And there were many styley boarding skillz0rs:





The highlight for me was taking the T-bar to the very top of the field (t-bars + snowboards = pain btw), from where I could see across to Lake Coleridge and the country that I've read so much about for so many years. I can't begin to describe how it feels to look at this place that I've seen only in my imagination, and finally see it for real.



There was much faceplanting on the way back down, since up there they had real snow where edges actually count, instead of the spring slush that made up the lower slopes. But, by the end of the day I'd got back to my previous intermediate level and improved a little. And then we indulged in a little apres board coffee and stack stories:



And collected some snow, using the tools to hand, for our party later on:



Back at the lodge, some went to set up the sound system and the tent, using Suzey, the cutest little 4WD truck loaned to us by the station for the purpose. Others of us relaxed, ate, got food ready, and rounded up other guests of the lodge. At 8 o'clock we all traipsed up to the Knoll - the location of our event - and set up The Man. It was a group effort, and the finishing touch of LED and UV lighting from wildilocks made him really look the part.



The station had made it clear that we wouldn't be able to burn anything (photos demonstrate how dry it is up there), so our Melting Man would be a slow process. Man made, sound system jimmied together with some ingenuity and ferrouswheel's pocket knife, lights on, glowsticks handed out, and we partied!

We had intrepid djs!



We had men in green pants!



We had hooping backpacker snow bunnies!



We had people with really big mouths!



We had the fantastic rivet doing funky things with the psi hoop!



We had dancers!



We also had an amazing time, in an amazing location. The locals didn't quite know what to make of us, but they liked our music and our vibe and were keen for us to do it again the next night. And, just when I thought the day couldn't get any more perfect, someone gave me chocolate. It was that good. Moonlight on the mountains, Lake Pearson shining, our little Man of Snow gleaming in the UV light, Arthur's Pass in the distance, surrounded by people I love all having a good time, and eating chocolate. Colour me so so happy. ;-)

The next day we got a slow start and the weather was starting to close in, so we went to Mt Cheeseman. happyinmotion and Bruce managed to be all keen, but for me, after two failed attempts at the steepest T-bar in the world ever, and several faceplants on the beginner's slope, I realised that the previous day had rendered my body not my own, and that it was probably best that I didn't go to the top. 2 lattes later, it was off back to the lodge for some much needed RnR. There was a photo:



The thing that I find interesting about this photo is that if you look closely, you can see sheep tracks crossing the scree. This shows that sheep do indeed climb that high - they will go wherever there's vegetation. Merinos are a hardy breed.

Tuesday night was the lunar eclipse. I wrapped myself in my cloak and went to the Knoll to watch. I stayed until it was entirely eclipsed, then stumbled and groped my way back in the dark, having not taken a torch because of the bright moonlight when I left. Of all the magical places in the world to watch a lunar eclipse, you couldn't choose a better one than the Knoll on Flock Hill Station. I made a promise that night, a blood promise. I will go back there. I can't not.

On the last day, a group of us decided to go for a walk on the station:



I think the livestock thought we were all a little nuts. Especially when we started bushbashing since none of us had swotted up on the instructions for how to get where we were going. Ten foot tall matagouri for the win! More blood shed, but determined. It was an adventure! Yes!



A photo of the intrepid explorers. I was supposed to be in this photo but I messed up the self timer so just imagine I'm in there, mmk?



We walked up a dry creek bed made entirely of scree from the mountains, which come out at the bottom in huge fans from every gully. Eventually, mostly by pure blind luck, we reached our objective:



For me, the sight of the falls was very secondary to being, just being, on Flock Hill. I sat with my back to the falls and looked out over the station and imagined myself there permanently. And, you know, I can. I could live there. Possibly one of the harshest environments I've been in, but so, so beautiful, and so capable of perfection.

Anyway, colour me happy.



I chose not to go to Burning Man this year, partly for financial reasons and partly for personal ones. But now, Melting Man is looking to become an annual event, and you know, I think I'd rather be there, surrounded by people I love, in the country I've only dreamed about till now, doing the things I love to do.

Thank you to everyone who came and made this trip so perfect in so many ways. Thank you to Bruce and Kathy for opening your home to us, in the process creating the Christchurch International Burner Hostel. Thank you to all the new people, and the not so new ones as well.

What an awesome time.


I'm tired. We have Mum's dog here, and he's getting restless. I think I'll go to bed. You know, I didn't miss the internet at all. But I'm glad to be home.