Ski-lift technician Ayden Brownhill knows that life could be easier, more comfortable and definitely warmer, if he just gives up his dream.

But where would the fun be in doing that?

So when the Sydneysider graduated from his medical physics degree at the University of Wollongong four years ago he came up with a plan.

Mr Brownhill, now 26, followed in the ankle-deep tracks of hundreds of young Australians, and international visitors, and found a job working at a ski resort at Jindabyne in the Snowy Mountains.

Now, as the Australian snow season comes to an early end, Mr Brownhill reveals what working in a snow resort is really like and why he keeps coming back.

He said that when he first relocated for the winter, the reality was tougher than he'd anticipated.

"I sort of knew the pay wouldn't be great … but I knew there'd be a lot of snowboarding," he said.

Mr Brownhill was earning minimum wage, employed as a casual, with most of his income being spent on petrol and a shared bedroom in what he described as a "not so nice place".

He quickly realised not every day on the snowfields comes with bright blue skies and fresh white powder.

"It's definitely not for everyone," he said.

"If you're a lifty, you're sitting in the rain and snow. It's cold. It sucks.

"It's hard up there in the mountains. Rain, snow, ice — all that."

Charity feeds hundreds as need grows

Mr Brownhill is one of more than 250 young people living in Jindabyne who regularly attend a free weekly community dinner run by the Jindabyne Uniting Church.

Every Monday night of winter, there's a queue of people stretching out through the church's courtyard, all eager to get inside the warm hall and enjoy a bowl of soup and dessert donated by local churches and businesses.

It's a busy time, too, for the church's op-shop, which sells warm clothes for just a few dollars, and its community pantry, where donated food items are sold more cheaply than in supermarkets.

Former council mayor and church member Peter Beer said the community kitchen served 70 litres of soup every week and was, for some patrons, the only healthy meal they might eat all week.

"It's been getting bigger and bigger and bigger, especially this season, where money is tight," he said.

Mr Beer said Mr Brownhill's experience was common among the young people filing through the kitchen each week.

"It's sometimes not as consistent as normal employment.

"If there's not much snow, there's not many visitors and [ski businesses] don't need many workers."

If the snowfield workers' job arrangements don't include a season ski pass, many of the young people passing through Mr Beer's kitchen wouldn't be able to afford a daily lift ticket, which costs about $200.

Instructors are contractually prevented from running private lessons at the resort and are reliant on casual rostering.

When the ski fields closed early in 2023, some workers were stuck in rental agreements with no prospects for local work to help them pay, and the disappointment of not being able to ski each day.

"But people find it an adventure to come up and go through it, rather than being up here to make money."

'Snowboarding, partying, making friends'

Despite the meagre pay, the seemingly endless meals of two-minute noodles, and the less-than-ideal living conditions, Mr Brownhill remains hooked on the mountain lifestyle.

"For me, the good days so far outweigh the bad days," he said, of his 'gap year' that has now stretched out to four years.

He now follows the snow around the world, working on ski fields in Canada or Japan during Australia's summer, and travelling with international friends he met while working on the Australian ski fields.

"Everyone comes here together because we all love the same things. We want to go snowboarding and meet new people," he said.

"I've always loved the mountains."

'Best thing I ever did' 

At times he's wondered about whether he should be pursuing a more conventional lifestyle.

"Should I be saving for a house, getting married, progressing in my field?" he said.

"It's scary to go against the grain."

However, he has progressed from lift operator to lift technician,  and now finally feels able to call his work a career and be confident about the direction of his life.

"There's a reason we keep coming back year on year," he said.