Embracing Ellie: Chapter 14

Daniel’s last words—the ones before she left with Hemi…? He goes, “Watch out, Hemi. Ellie’s a real horn-dog on the slopes.” And Hemi goes, “Ya mean hot dog?” And Danny says, “Is it hot dog here? We say horn-dog in California.” Danny was in so much trouble, and he didn’t even understand it yet. 

Waking her up before sunrise? That damn alarm? Pushing her out the door while she was still groggy and into Hemi’s truck? Abandoning her? Danny was pushing this too far.

But while she harbored such dire thoughts, the man driving the pickup was all positive talk and hype; Hemi pumped her up for fun, the big man bright and energetic before the sun came up. All the agitation Danny’s alarm and antics delivered this morning faded to fuzz the further they drove from the chalet, Hemi behind the wheel.

“Here, this’ll fix yah,” he said, eyes on the road, but reaching behind him between the seats, looking for something in the back. He smelled clean and soapy, and the more he moved, the more she caught the pleasant smell of his deodorant. He produced a thermos and presented it to her with one huge hand holding it upright from the base.

“Coffee and cream? Great start for a morning like this.”

And it was. “Thanks, Hemi,” she said, taking hold of the thermos and twisting off the cap. Hemi told her the cap was clean, and she poured coffee into it and took a sip. It was hot, and it was good.

“Ah, that’s great,” she muttered, along with a huge sigh of relief. “Why do we have to leave so early? It’s dark and cold…”

“It’s all about the timing, Ellie. We want to be at the right spot when the sun comes up.”

She grunted an affirmative sound, nodding, sipping strong, creamy coffee. It made sense and she couldn’t argue. She began to brighten as the horizon did the same, that blue dawn growing on the dark horizon. She rubbed her eyes and came more awake, sitting upright in Hemi’s passenger seat and taking in the view. It was too early for any Queenstown bustle and they passed through it like it was abandoned but with the power left on.

“Shame about Danny. He’ll catch up with us at lunch.”

She nodded again, parsing out what the day might look like. Early morning skiing with Hemi, then meeting up with Danny for… for what? She asked Hemi and Hemi said, “Danny’s full of surprises.”

“That’s not an answer,” she said.

“I’m under strict orders, Ellie.”

“What kind of orders?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy,” he said, and she left-faced him to see his smiling profile.

“That’s not very fair,” she said, chiding him.

“Danny’s arranged a day for ya, love. It’s all fun. Corner to corner. No bungee jumping, yeah?”

“Yeah, I warned him about that,” she said.

“Anything you jump off today, there’s gonna be no string pulling you back.”

#

“You have to be joking—this is insane!”

Though thrilled, her voice on the comms sounded panicky and squealing. Seven-fifteen in the morning now, the sky the color of over-dyed denim, she wore rental boots and a windbreaker, and a headset so she could hear Hemi and the helicopter pilot. There were six people in the back of what the pilot had called “The Squirrel,” a sleek and colorful helicopter run out of Hemi’s friend’s business, Alpine Summit HeliCo. It had big bubble windows, but they were fogged with all the hot breath in the cabin right now. What she’d described in her screech as insane was the drop-away feeling in her guts when the copter lifted off the tarmac and into the sky, banking away from Queenstown and off toward the mountains.

The other four passengers with them were skiers as well, headed up with them to drop off on the mountain and ski down. When she’d first seen the setup when they’d arrived at the heliport, she balked and wanted to get back in the truck. Hemi had held her shoulders and assured her all would go well. “I’ve got you, Ellie,” he’d said, and convinced her with his deep blue eyes that he indeed “would have her.” The other skiers were some serious hotshots with no rental equipment needed. Or horn dogs, as Danny said they were called in California. Hemi told her she and Hemi weren’t getting off at the same stop on the mountain as the horn-dogs. They were setting down at a much safer spot. She believed him. Danny might do that to her with the best of intentions, but Hemi treated her with kid gloves. So she got on the copter with him.

They rose now through a thinning mist, the big blades thrumming like a heartbeat against the early morning hush. And as they climbed higher, the glass cleared in seconds, revealing the Southern Alps in all their rugged, snow-washed glory. Lake Wakatipu stretched out below them like a sheet of dark glass, reflecting the last indigo streaks of night. The mountain peaks loomed high and jagged, icy caps catching the first hints of golden daylight. Snowfields gleamed, the mountain’s world caught between night’s shadow and day’s first glow.

Somewhere back on Wakatipu’s shore, Danny was in their chalet, probably back under the blankets, enjoying the warmth and some more sleep. But that wasn’t fair. Danny was missing all of this, and Danny would love to be here with her.

The sun sparked from behind a serrated ridge, then a slow, liquid rise that set the horizon aflame. Light poured over the mountains, spilling down like molten gold, igniting the glaciers and casting sharp, blue-edged shadows across the crags.

Hemi leaned over, voice a low rumble in the headset: “You’re looking at the Remarkables. That knife-edge ridge slicing through the sky there…? They call it Double Cone—highest point out here. Don’t worry, we’re not goin’ there.” He lifted a gloved hand, pointing toward a steep drop-off just east of the peak. “See that basin? That’s where we’re headed. Used to be a glacier, but now it’s a snow-catcher. Some of the best early season powder you’ll find.”

The helicopter’s shadow swept over the mountains, a dark specter. As they banked to the left, a wide alpine bowl bloomed, unmarked and pristine, the snow smooth as silk except for spindrift the wind kicked up into spiraling plumes.

Hemi, soft and reverent, said, “This time of day, it’s just us and the snow. Untouched. Quiet. All that light hitting nothing but rock and sky. Makes you feel like the last people on earth. … This is the only way to get here.”

The world below looked vast and empty, a white expanse holding its breath, waiting for them to carve the first tracks into its surface. Excitement tingled on her scalp.

#

The helicopter hovered over a wide, pristine bowl of snow, rotors chopping the thin mountain air. Below, the basin stretched out like a vast, untouched canvas.

“Alright, Hemi, this is it,” the pilot said, voice crackling through the headset. “Stay seated until I give the all-clear.”

Hemi squeezed her upper arm and gave her a nod, face unreadable behind the mirrored goggles he wore. She only saw her wild eyes staring back at herself.

Outside, the wind swirled in frenzied currents, rattling the chopper. Through the glass, the world looked like a white and blue kaleidoscope; glacial snowfields, rocky outcrops, and endless sky.

The helicopter dipped lower, hovering just above a snow shelf, wide enough for a safe drop, but not much more. The pilot kept the bird steady, the landing skids just inches above the snow. Looking down made her woozy—yet she was charged with adrenalin, blood pumping through her system, fully primed for action.

Hemi’s voice now. “Ya ready, Ellie? Stay low, head down, and don’t lose the poles. Follow me, I’ll go first, and you can follow.”

The cabin door slid open, and a blast of icy wind hit them like a fist. The alpine air smelled like cold metal, pine, and ozone. The roar of the rotors drowned out everything else. She turned back to the other skiers and gave them a thumbs-up, and they returned it, mouthing words of encouragement.

Hemi crouched low skis and pack on his back, poles in his hand. He stepped down into the snow, making it look easy. He turned and encouraged her to follow, extending a helpful hand if she needed it. But this was nothing compared to the bungee jump, and she had no problem stepping out to the snow shelf, setting down into the light and dry powder. Hemi showed his pilot friend a thumbs-up now, and the chopper began to lift.

A cloud of snow rose with it, a white-out burst that filled the air with glittering ice. Then, with a final thunderous beat, the helicopter arced away, shrinking to a black speck against the cobalt sky.

A sacred silence closed in. She breathed deep the cold air, smiling ear to ear, ears ringing and the copter’s thudding still leaving her arms and chest shuddering. Back home in San Diego, the horizon was always crowded—ocean waves, packed beaches, freeways pulsing with headlights. The air smelled of salt and gasoline, and there was that constant hum of life vibrating against her skin. But here, standing on this snow ledge with nothing but the sky overhead, it could be the edge of the world. She closed her eyes for a moment against the excessive bright, chest rising and falling beneath layers of fleece and Gore-Tex Danny had packed in the duffel bag. The silence was vast. Hemi let her have the moment, saying nothing to disturb her.

When she opened her eyes again, they fell on a colorful bird circling overhead, a flash of green and scarlet darting through the air. Her gaze followed its path, then tracing the jagged ridge line, the rocky teeth spearing the sky. The peaks loomed above them, and for a moment, she felt like an insignificant warm speck amidst the cold. Her eyes followed the bird again.

Hemi said it was a kea. “Smartest damn bird in the southern sky. A parrot, if you’d believe it.”

The parrot was watching them while it circled.

She said, “How’re they smart?”

“Found one in my tent one time, going through my pack and eating my trail mix.”

“That’s pretty smart,” she said, laughing.

“Ellie,” he said, smiling and nudging her arm. “I’d zipped the tent closed. I’d zipped the pack closed.”

She side-eyed Hemi, trying to figure if he was joshing her, but Hemi was serious, shaking his head now, recalling the baffling moment and laughing to himself. She felt a strange pang of endearment, like a profound closeness to him. It swelled her heart in a strange surge that felt good, but guilt gushed in its wake. It was an intimate feeling.

Hemi asked her if she was ready, voice softer now, as if sensing the shift.

The wind tugged at the loose strands of hair that escaped her hood. Both of them wore goggles and couldn’t read each other’s eyes. She squared her shoulders, fingers tightening around the poles. “This is a Blue Trail?”

“Just your speed.”

“Yeah,” she said, steadier than expected. “I’m ready.”

A vast alpine bowl stretched before them, a sweeping basin encircled by jagged peaks that rose like towering fortress walls. This was the New Zealand she came to see. The snow was untouched, a perfect white sea, glittering beneath the still-rising sun.

Hemi waved to the left, saying, “That’s Double Cone, almost two thousand meters up. You can just make out the wind pushing through the saddle—it’s why this basin stays sheltered. Snow holds better here.”

The basin curved gently downward, cradling soft, rolling pillows of snow, the contours unbroken except for the occasional dark outcrop of rock. Clumps of subalpine scrub poked through in places, frost-laden branches bent under the weight of the snow.

“We ski that line, cut through the trees, and meet up by the rock shelf. Keep it tight, stay close, and remember—first tracks are yours.”

“Me? Me go first? no way.”

“We drop in here, follow the fall line, and keep to the right. Natural halfpipe through those trees—it’s gentle, rolls into the valley floor. … You want to follow me?”

“Most definitely,” she said.

Hemi pushed up his goggles and regarded her. A little higher on the slope and already taller, she looked up at him like he was some statue on a mountain, the endless aching blue sky huge above him. He said, “I’m gonna take good care of ya on the mountain, Ellie. Danny’s got a great day planned for ya, and I’m happy to lead you through it. I got a fondness for ya now.”

“You do?”

“How couldn’t I?” He lowered his goggles and detached the helmet from his pack. She did the same.

When they were ready, he checked her gear, tugging on her straps and touching her arms and legs. She liked the touch, even though he was so strong, his touch was rough. Then he bumped his helmet brim to hers.

“Welcome to your playground,” he said, close and quiet. He’d shaved this morning. “You ready?”

She said, “Show me what you’ve got.”