Fox Peak, New Zealand Report: Full Moon Ski Foxy (Yes, You Read That Right)

Words & Photos: P.M. ‘Paulie’ Fadden

Nutcracker grips. Skis slither. And slowly, an ascent of Fox Peak begins. 

It’s by much-needed roadie that our troops arrive to little ol’ Fox Peak Ski Area. But to be clear, this is no powder party. In fact, today is a clearing after two days of rain. Still, it’s a chance to get wierd in a place we’ve never skied plus there’s promise of something called a Full Moon Fever Party, so we’ll be ‘getting foxy’—though we don’t yet know what that implies.

A revered fixture among New Zealand’s famed club fields, Fox Peak quietly perches atop the picturesque wilds of Two Thumbs range. The ski area keeps to a classic format of New Zealand alpine recreation, which then feeds naturally into its modern reputation as a mecca for ski or snowboard touring.

Two Thumbs Range, where Fox Peak abides, is accessed from just north of Fairlie, a historic mountainside town with the undeniable style of a Carnegie Library as well as one of the most-lauded—and loudest–bakehouses in the whole of New Zealand.

A quiet side lane transitions to striking unsealed farm track across private land. A rushing gorge is reached and crossed by skinny ‘bridge’ which really is two long planks laid just wide enough apart for a standard vehicle to roll along them.

Immediately upon arriving in the carpark, it’s clear what’s been found is a youthful freespace longed for as adults because it blasts us back to carefree childhood. Here, most of the minutiae which can be lived without is; no Inbox nor Deadlines in the Fox carpark. That alone is worth the trip.

Adjacent to carpark is the rustic perfection of a ski club lounge, shanty “office”; half-dozen hut-style accommodation options, and three well-loved snow groomers parked at rest to one side like so many beloved family pets. Beyond that Fox is mostly big old mountain in its natural state.

Fox Peak is described as a legacy of kiwi ski heritage. That sentiment wraps around us like a cozy sleep sack as we settle into our stay. Bunkrooms are shared, kitchen is jammed, and drying racks abound. Whiskey, laughter, and chilly loos fill the gaps–which is exactly how everbody wants it.

A cracker-of-nuts is an iconic lift system lent validation thanks to passage of time. The whole apparatus swings from a ruff-and-ready harness worn at the waist. The ‘cracker’ itself is a long metal clamp which rests within a holster similar to that of a gunfighter. As far as contraptions go, this one is weighty, decidedly medieval, and undeniably badass.

Post-rain event, available terrain (or snow coverage atop it) could be viewed either as an issue or a much-welcomed invitation to creativity. In truth, our troop chose creativity even before hitting the carpark. And Fox Peak would repay our conviction tenfold.

Ascending above lower-mountain meant tight-roping a thin tongue of snow thru tussock. Quickly, snow coverage grew while tussock thinned. A drop-off point at mid-mountain already accessed wide, long sloping faces to either side with ample snow to allow a few hundred meters of fun turns. But Fox held still more in-store. A final upper-most nutcracker enabled access to spacious False Summit. It’s immediately apparent, Fox Peak is a big league arena for the serious player.

From here, we have two options: A)bootpack/mountaineer to access two enormous ridge walls which spread like wings above the release point of Fox’s highest nutcracker or B)ski the immediate higher elevation terrain is well-coated with snow like slip-n-slide soft icing and return ski directly into the mid-mountain faces…as well as the tussock-y final turns back to Fox base.

Late morning languidly tilts to sun-soaked afternoon; gorgeous dusk bleeds into BBQ hour. Friends gradually accrue at Fox base area with the feeling of a house party warming-up. Last laps are enjoyed. Laughter builds to rival the birdsong.

To be here the troop has marched a long way. Naturally we’re in it for the whole chi-bang.

The following five hours are a workshop during which we finally learn how to properly ‘get foxy’ A standalone story could easily be composed about the genuinely lovely, mischievous tom-foolery which goes into a mountainside party by light of full moon. But some flavors are best experience in person. Here, in writing we’ll simply raise a heartfelt to cheer for highlights to include: facepainting from hawkeyed micro-groms, zealous grill mastery, a limbo contest; glittery prizes, gallons of Gluhwein, a slopeside musical jamboree–and a descent stock of rather heavy ordinance coyly labeled “fireworks”. 

When tales of this shred trip are later retold, they will sound even to us like more daydream than reality, yet we lived it and already look forward to the next.

For our humble troop, Fox Peak provided a point of reference gained simply by turning up where most don’t bother to go. 

Good humor was a bonus, of course. Brazen optimism was a must; but a hallmark of a tried and true New Zealand ski trip is the effort the experiences requires—we went to Fox Peak Ski Area because we knew it would be wild good fun. And that made all the difference.