Hearing the alarm clock and stretching my arms, I forgot how low the ceiling above my sleeping shelf was and chunks of ice came tumbling down.
I had just tasted Blair Whitaker's reality of the past month.
Mr Whitaker had been living in a self-built snow cave on the edge of the Remarkables car park to raise both awareness and funds for avalanche search dogs.
I arrived for my one-night stay on Sunday night during the great winter revival which began late last week, giving Southern Lakes skifields a much-needed blanket of snow.
After an army-style crawl to get in the front door, I was amazed how homely the snow cave had become: it had built-in shelves in the walls, a hallway and separate bedrooms.
Although thin and narrow, the cave was roughly the size of an average bedroom, which had been sectioned off into smaller rooms.
The cave had a castle-like feeling, with candles flickering away down the hall casting shadows and the walls resembling stone.
Mr Whitaker informed us the candles played an important role - they proved there was oxygen in the cave.
As all good hosts would, Mr Whitaker endeavoured to make his guests comfortable, chiselling out seats and arranging candles on carved ledges.
Creating an area where we could play cards involved laborious shovelling and disposing of snow.
Everyday tasks were no longer simple - such as getting into bed. Mr Whitaker warned getting on to a sleeping shelf without letting clothes or skin touch the snow would take time.
After removing my snowboard boots and exposing my stockinged feet, I somehow managed to swing them into my sleeping bag while putting the majority of my weight on my shoulders.
The snow above proved an effective insulator during the raging storm outside and in the morning I was so warm I could feel heat radiating off my body.
However, I'm still not sure whether I got any sleep.
I didn't know the temperature in the cave, but NZski's website said yesterday it was a chilly -4degC on the field at 10am.
After pulling on my snow pants and jacket, I packed up my gear and headed out - only to find the exit was blocked by snow. I assured Mr Whitaker I could dig out the tunnel, thinking the snow thin.
I dug, I kicked and I dug again before the sky suddenly became visible through a small hole.
I dove forwards and found myself stuck fast - my head was free, my middle was trapped in snow and my legs were in the cave, kicking frantically.
Despite knowing Mr Whitaker and the others were just a few metres away, I could not help but panic slightly as both my elbows were stuck in the snow and my hands were struggling to dig them out.
After a short while, I freed my elbows, channelled my inner python and emerged looking like a yeti.
Walking to the car, I managed to smile at the dump of new snow - over 20cm during the night - at the Remarkables which had caused my morning workout as I tried to check out of my mountain hotel.
