Last Ski Blast - Monday 20th

Oh dear, we are both feeling even more poorly this morning but there is so much snow and a nice dose of sunshine to go with it.  A day off is probably what the doctor would prescribe but it is not an option when there is great skiing to be had.  We join the gondola queue around 9am. It's a Long line but in no time we are in the little cabin and on our way. There is no wind and conditions look great. We head right up to our little one-person chair and enjoy a great first run of our last day. Hoardes of people are off through the gate and the line of people trekking to the very top is ridiculously long. Brett looks longingly but I don't think his lungs, in their current state, would cope. Rather them than me I say, and we stick to our run, a steep black called Dynamic. Sure gets the legs working - and sore throat forgotten about.

We ski over to Hanazono area where there is constant sunshine today. I love the Long  steep wide runs over here, with no one on them.  Being able to see them unfold in front of you is a bonus. That's the one thing about skiing in Niseko - the visibility is often marginal, coming and going in waves. However, the snow is good enough to just trust what's underfoot and go with the flow. As I've mentioned, I still struggle with limited viz and think I always will. I really have no idea how blind skiers do it but they do; I've known, guided and skied with skiers with no sight whatsoever. They trust, I respect!

So here I am skiing this perfect run which is aptly called Stairway to Heaven. Friend Helen's mum died overnight and I said I would do a ski run for her mum - how perfect that I should end up skiing this awesome run virtually all morning. And mostly with no one else on it.  I had no need to seek a better run when this one took me all the way to ski heaven, over and over.

Brett goes off through the trees and we meet at the bottom and go again.  His cough is appalling; you can hear it all over the mountain!  I question his obsession with tackling tree runs that are chopped up and hard work but he has powder skis and they don't go so well on the pistes. I tried a few patches through trees and returned quickly to Stairway to Heaven.

We stop for a well earned coffee. It is only 10.30 and I feel like I've done a days skiing already. I'm feeling decidedly average and Brett is looking like death and feeling nauseous .... yet when we put skis back on he wants to go and do a double black diamond off-piste run through trees with snow that looks completely chopped up as we go over it in the chair.  The absolute silence and lack of blow-by-blow report after the run told me everything I needed to know ... it was not quite the fun he was hoping for.

Despite enduring the sorest throat I have ever had, I was having lots of fun on my heavenly slope.  By midday I thought I would do a few more cruisy runs and then I would just about be done for the day. For the week, actually. Today is our last ski day. Brett wanted to go back over Hirafu side so we agreed to meet at 2pm at our fave Bo-yo-so cafe.

The skiing here is challenging enough when you're feeling in tip top shape, let alone feeling as dire as we do and a few more runs was all I needed. I was satisfied with all the skiing I had done and didn't want to risk anything - having just seen the first ski patrol rescue of a girl who had fallen on the steep face I had skied all morning was enough for me to go back into the warm and welcoming Hanazono cafe and just chill and people watch for a bit. What a smooth operation the place is.

I skied over to Bo-yo-so at the appointed time and there is Brett in a right state, feverish and nauseous. He declares he needs a doctor. Says he fainted.  Good grief, we hotfoot it out of there back to the hotel pronto. This is not good and not the ideal way to bring our ski week to a close!

We discover there are no English speaking Doctors in town - only at the hospital in the nearby town of Kutchen. It's about 15 mins drive. The hotel has a shuttle that goes there but he is having none of traipsing to another town to wait around in A&E. I say I'd be quite keen on medical treatment too, my throat still aching like nothing I've ever known, the lozenges pointless candy. The trek may seem onerous but could be worth it.

Next minute he's throwing up. Then he's in his onsen gear and says he's off to the onsen ... are you crazy, I ask. He looks at me as if I am crazy and is gone. I hope to god he doesn't offload his bugs to other poor unsuspecting onsen-goers and wonder if perhaps marriage has pushed him towards utter madness.  I think I would pass out if I went near the onsen, my head feels so bunged up.

I sigh and pour myself a glass of Hare and Tortoise and wait for him to return, in anticipation of trip to Kutchen hospital where I would have been happy to wait all night to see a doctor who could fix this throat that seems resistant to the various forms of medication I've  tried. The most relief has come from salt water gargles but it's still not doing much to help my swollen uvula! Brett returns, lies down and is asleep within moments. So much for seeing a doctor!

I shake my head and watch ice dancing on tv.  It is around 4pm. I top up the Tortoise and settle in, sprawled across the couch. The ice dancing is beautiful and the snowy scene outside is too.

My skiing is done and dusted for the week and I feel quite replete with the variety and amount I've done. And pleased to be injury-free and without mishap. We've sampled all sorts of weather and snow conditions, skied all over the four ski areas, tried plenty of mountain cafes and bars, got to know our way around, discovered our Favourite runs, got lost and found, whooped for joy, struggled in parts and had an all-round fabulous ski experience.  This place does deliver ski magic and I suspect the more you come, and the better you know the mountain, the more it delivers.  Had we felt better we would have hired a guide today but we weren't really up to it, shame.

View from our room - fresh snow for our last day!

When Brett comes to, around 6pm, we go into town and get some more meds. I swear we have spent more on pills and potions this trip than anything else! There are more packets of painkillers and sprays and lozenges strewn across the bench than empty wine bottles. The Tortoise is only one-third drained.  What is going on here...!?!?

Our plan was to eat at the hotel restaurant for our final night here, so we stuck to the plan - Brett felt he needed food and I wanted to try their offerings. We are there early, around 6.45. There are quite a few other diners. I order a glass of wine, Brett sticks to water.  We order, Brett picks at his food, looking miserable. I'm feeling far from flash but I eat hungrily - delicious oyster, vege tempura, miso, edamame ... Brett has to leave half way through, food was not a good idea, and he makes it to the room just in time.  I finish my meal alone. Alas I have no room for the yummy sounding Snowball dessert on the menu - plum marshmallow encased in cheesecake.

Time for our final sleep in this wonderful hotel; pity about our illnesses but Ki Niseko has been a most excellent place to relax and recover in!  I am rather worried about how we'll cope with a long day of travel tomorrow but we'll deal with that in the morning.

OBSERVATION OF THE DAY: what a diverse and international resort this is - Annapuri reminds me of skiing in the USA; Hanazono reminds me of Europe; Hirafu has a hint of NZ on a best day. Niseko Village, the area we skied least, is a combination of all.  There are throngs of Australians and English holidaying here. Not so many Kiwis. A diverse range of Europeans. People from all over Asia. And of course plenty of Japanese.
Lift staff are excellent - bowing and greeting and smiling and thanking you as they assist you on and off the lifts. All operations are seamless. It makes for a very positive ski experience indeed.