NEVER NEVER LAND

One third of the way there - Eugene taking a picture of me... taking a picture of him... taking a picture of me... taking a picture of him...

We finally reached the final outreaches of skiing inbounds - almost out of bounds...

Looking up at Brooke coming down...

Looking down at George, Jan, Eugene and Brooke looking up...

After unloading from the final lift at the summit, a twenty-minute boot-pack along the narrow, rocky rim of Taynton Bowl brought us to the most distant run off the peak - Never Never Land.

On the scramble in, the rugged landscape fell away hundreds of metres on both sides, leaving only a scant rutted track along which to balance, as we ascended higher and higher - done mostly with our skis slung over our shoulders...
This climb always brings butterflies to my stomach and a trickle of sweat down my back, as nervousness and exertion mingle to race through my veins in the form of adrenaline.
I found my hands trembling every time I fumbled to snap a shot with my camera!

All was forgotten as I dropped into the steep snowy bowl and, once engaged in my first several turns, I focused exclusively upon keeping my feet below and my shoulders above.
One wrong move, and that would be it - I would have emerged in a frost-bound heap at the bottom of the pitch, and the tackling of that particular descent would have been all for naught...

From there, we continued over a series of undulating rolls, down steep rocky inclines, around trees, and across traverses knee-deep in powder.
As we descended through the bumps and the trees, the slope gradually diminished, and we ultimately arrived at the bottom of Taynton Bowl.
We then continued our final swoop, via the two-kilometre cattrack, to the base of the mountain.

Granted, it's a lengthly round trip, but it's well worth the cold ride to the summit, as well as the arduous hike into the back bowl, for the opportunity to ski that seemingly endless vertical.

Indeed, if I had my way - I'd never, never land...