An annual pilgrimage deep into the heart of New Zealand’s Southern Alps. This time, the mountains welcomed us with a gift — fresh snowfall the night before touchdown, and a five-day window of bluebird skies. No wind. No rush. Just time, stretched thin across the peaks. High in the alpine, a little red hut waits. No roads. No reception. Only reachable by helicopter. And inside — six friends, an untouched mountain, and a shared hunger for something real.
Five days of untouched powder, ridge-line hikes, and descent after descent through dream terrain. Laughter echoing through valleys. Turns carved in silence. Moments suspended in alpine air. No screens. No signals. No noise. Just the crackle of snow beneath boots, the hum of stoke, and the wild rhythm of the Southern Alps.
This is the New Zealand dream. A complete disconnect from the world below — and a total immersion in the one above.
Photographs by Cam Batten