Soho Basin: Bubbles and Backcountry

At first, I’m completely unnerved by the mountain’s unusual silence. 

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There’s no hum of a chairlift engine, no clashing of skis while waiting in line, or even the scratching of edges on ice that I’ve become so accustomed to when visiting other resorts. Today, all I hear is the whoosh of my board pushing through thick powder snow and the distant ‘whoop whoop’ from a fellow rider as she disappears in my periphery down a fast chute.

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As an intermediate snowboarder, this is definitely not my usual mountain experience. Now, standing at the top of a wide, open and untracked run – the snow glistening in front of me like thousands of diamonds under a warming morning sun – I realise I’m doomed to be disappointed wherever I snowboard for the rest of my life.

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Having taken to this sport later in life, it’s always been a mission of mine to eventually progress to a level where I would strap in at the top of a mountain and, without another soul in sight, take off unabated, only to emerge a few minutes later with my face covered in snow.

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I’ve always dreamed of finishing a run that’s the perfect combination of steep and deep and where there’s not a single line of ‘fresh corduroy’ in sight. Yet I’ve always had a natural uneasiness about the whole ‘backcountry’ experience.

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I thought of heliskiing as being too expensive (upwards of $1,700 for just five runs), noisy and beyond my capabilities. Then there’s the avalanche beacon you have to wear. When fitted tightly to the torso, it’s enough to make even the most hardened outdoorsman question their mortality.

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But then I discovered New Zealand’s premier private cat skiing resort, Soho Basin. It’s an exclusive, luxury backcountry experience unmarred by the screams of helicopter blades, the extreme waves of adrenaline, and the disappointing experience of munching on a sandwich in the cold snow.

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“After a day at Soho, you feel like you’ve been rewarded,” owner and founder John Darby tells me. “You realised you’ve progressed, and there’s an extreme sense of achievement when you walk away from here.”

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I arrive at Soho on a crisp, clear morning. It’s tucked neatly at the back of Cardrona Ski Resort on the South Island, about a 40-minute drive from Wanaka.

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In the cosy hut where we start our day, I down my second latte and chocolate croissant while talking about the weather with one of our guides. Brenda, with her wide creased smile, has the calming Kiwi demeanour I need as she straps the rescue beacon below my chest and tests its range with her own.

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She then bundles me and seven others into a bright red snowcat and we crawl up the back of Mount Cardrona, watching as on-piste skiers glance over their shoulders at us from the nearby inbound areas of Cardrona Ski Resort. They look at us with a steady mix of intrigue and jealousy as our guides unload our gear. We watch the cats disappear down the mountain, and soon, we’re off in hot pursuit.

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A day at Soho involves a minimum of nine to 10 runs, more for the advanced group members. Your dedicated guides help assess your skills – and progress you – across the unofficial graduation process of Little Willow Basin, then Big Willow Basin, and eventually the grand Soho Basin.

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Camaraderie in the Cats

When Darby first opened Soho back in 2015, he admits something unexpected happened. While the snowcats were always going to be part of his transportation plan to get skiers up the mountain, he never expected the residual camaraderie that would form among guests between each run.

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“Helicopters are brilliant for getting to where you want to ski but there’s the noise and hopping out and bundling everyone down as it takes off,” Darby says. “This happens right throughout the day, and there’s this rhythm of just being dropped into nowhere. People get continuously apprehensive and worked up.”

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My experience was the complete opposite at Soho where, after each run, the cats became melting pots of guests sharing stories, laughs, tips and tales of tumbles from the previous trip.

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All the Trimmings

But the true magic of Soho unleashes itself at lunchtime in the resort’s Alpine Hut which sits like the button on a suit jacket, elevated on a wraparound timber deck at the bottom of Soho Basin.

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Our group sits down to a five-course degustation paired with wines, bubbly and glasses that glisten on our perfect bluebird day – all supplied by Darby’s other thriving business, Amisfield Winery.

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According to Darby, the smell of the roaring lunchtime fire, roasted marshmallows and mulled wine has always outweighed the sort of experience you get from a day of heliskiing.

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“[With heliskiing] you have your lunch when you’re cold and still in the snow, you’re gobbling down your food while standing, and I always thought it would be nice to be able to get off the snow, use a real toilet and just enjoy a lunch more like you would experience in Europe.”

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The Future

As one of the country’s most prolific entrepreneurs, Darby is not one to sit by idly and wait for his next venture. There are big plans thanks to a new long-awaited integration with next-door neighbour Cardrona to create New Zealand’s largest alpine resort.

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Construction is set to begin on a six-seater, high-speed chairlift that will open up Soho Basin to more skiers and snowboarders by winter 2025. This expansion will significantly increase the skiable terrain, making Cardrona and Soho Basin combined the largest commercial ski area in New Zealand.

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The new lift, named the Soho Basin Express, will increase Cardrona's lift-accessed skiable terrain by 24 per cent, from 465 hectares to 615 hectares.

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While this will certainly change Soho's current exclusivity, with parts of the terrain accessible via the new chairlift, significant sections will remain private and only accessible via the Soho Snowcats. 

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For at least another year, though, it remains one of the last true exclusive resorts in the southern hemisphere. Thankfully, my final run for the day was the steepest and fastest of my life. As I pull up at the Alpine Hut for the last time, my new mates are cheering after watching me drop down an untracked face as late as 3 pm in the afternoon. 

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I’m smiling from ear to ear, but they can’t tell because my entire face is now covered in snow. Mission backcountry accomplished.

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