2011 June WWCC Newsletter

WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
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WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
Newsletter
PO BOX 4476 CHRISTCHURCH
www.whitewater.org.nz
June 2011
Contents
PRESIDENT ’ S REPORT
LAST REPORT FROM ROBIN IN THE
PRESIDENT ’ S CHAIR
CLARENCE RIVER TRIP LABOUR
WEEKEND 2010
FRIENDS EXPLORE A WILDERNESS
RIVER AND GET SLIGHTLY SPOOKED
BY HUNTERS
ARAHURA RIVER
THERE ARE LEGENDS AMONGST US
A JOURNEY BACK A FEW DECADES
-
HAWARDEN GAP TRIP
A FEW HARDY SOULS TOUGH IT OUT
AS NUMBERS DIMINISH
FRENCHMEN ON TOUR
THE NEXT GREAT ADVENTURE
PLUS A FEW OTHER TIDBITS !
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6
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WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
White Water Canoe Club Inc.
2010 – 2011 Committee
Position
Officer
Phone
Email
President
Ian Fox
027 479 4059
president@whitewater.org.nz
Vice President
Ian Mann
027 496 5009
vicepresident@whitewater.org.nz
Treasurer
John Hunter
021 624 724
treasurer@whitewater.org.nz
Secretary
Heidi Whiteside
021 065 2647
secretary@whitewater.org.nz
Instruction &
Safety Officer
Ian Mann
027 496 5009
instructor@whitewater.org.nz
safety@whitewater.org.nz
Conservation
Graeme Wilson
027 480 2405
conservation@whitewater.org.nz
Gear Hire
Bill Parks
(03) 389 6999
gearhire@whitewater.org.nz
Brass Monkey
Robin Rutter-Baumann
027 209 6101
brassmonkey@whitewater.org.nz
Committee
Robin Rutter-Baumann
Susan Cornah
027 209 6101
027 332 5252
committee@whitewater.org.nz
Off-Committee Portfolios
Webmaster
Forums
Dave Boughton
(03) 339 9150
webmaster@whitewater.org.nz
forums@whitewater.org.nz
Membership &
Communications
Bob Morton
(03) 322 7433
membership@whitewater.org.nz
communication@whitewater.org.nz
Trip list Coordinators
Barry Boyd
George Field
021 556 004
021 224 0119
triplist@whitewater.org.nz
Newsletter Publisher
Debbie Bloxham
027 459 9118
newsletter@whitewater.org.nz
Social
David Binstead
Rachel
021 0220 7822
021 624 724
social@whitewater.org.nz
Slalom
Colin Robinson
(03) 389 5614
slalom@whitewater.org.nz
Gear Hire (off committee) Ingrid Skerten
gearhire@whitewater.org.nz
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WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
President’s report
This can‟t really be the “President‟s Blurb” because I am not the
President any more, so think of this more as “The News
according to Robin”.
At the AGM, myself, Graeme and Bruce had to stand down from
our positions as officers though Graeme and I got “recycled” as
„committee members‟ (like so many have before us). It will be
odd being on the committee without the familiar faces of CheeChang, Becs, Dave and Bruce, each of whom have given a lot to
their committee positions these last years - yet have said they
will continue to support our work.
The new committee consists of Ian Fox as President, Ian Mann
as Vice-president and Instruction officer, John Hunter as
Treasurer, Heidi Whiteside as Secretary, with Susan Cornah,
Graeme Wilson, Bill Parks and myself as Committee members.
Bob has volunteered to continue handling email
communications and has indicated he'll be the contact person
for new members. George and Barry have offered to oversee the
trip list. Dave has volunteered to continue to manage the
website whilst Debbie is looking for someone to replace her
position in editing the newsletter. Meanwhile Rachel assured the
AGM that she and David will continue to organise social events
despite a call for her to become club Crochet Officer.
Germany won the „Beginner of the Year‟ trophy. The committee
was unable to separate Carsten, Andre and Daggi, each of
whom showed the enthusiasm and determination that inevitably
results in an enjoyable time on the water and a rapid
progression in skill.
The „Broken Paddle‟ Award for feats over and above that of
normal reason was also jointly awarded. Jesse and Susan F had
tough competition from Arthur. However, their exploits on a
flooded Glenroy and five hour grovel to safety down the left bank
outdid the efforts of “Captain Periscope” whose inordinately
large protuberance is alleged to have been the cause of a range
of swims over the season.
„Club Member of the Year‟ was awarded to Doug. Doug's been
an avid supporter of the club‟s conservation efforts. Toiling away
behind the scenes he has ensured the club‟s submissions on
conservation matters are of the highest quality. His willingness
to give his time so freely should be, and is, an inspiration to the
rest of us.
The „Chocolate Fish‟ Award for best swim of the year went to
Geoff. Geoff's nomination was supported by a cunning short
movie put together by Hugh and the AGM could see little option
but to vote unanimously for Geoff.
Chee-Chang and Barry were elected as „Members for Life‟. Both
have given so much to the club over so many years that I can‟t
do justice to their efforts here. Suffice it to say that the members
of the AGM were unanimous in electing them and applauding
their contribution to running trips, taking up committee
positions, supporting new members and always being willing to
do what needs doing without any outward desire for recognition.
It says a lot that Barry spent his 60th birthday at the AGM and
that the night concluded with Chee-Chang bringing out the cake
for us all to celebrate.
The weekend before the AGM I was away with a group of 15. On
Saturday we had a run down the Kakapotahi in preparation for a
chopper trip the next day. The Hokitika was in medium to high
flow resulting in a solid Grade IV experience. I was worried for
much of the time that someone would be pushed that little bit
too far but the group did an awesome job looking after each
other as many tested their limits. I was truly impressed by the
caring support and guidance offered. Though the paddling was
great, the highlight was getting off the river and hearing that
Kayo and Brendon's son Benjamin was born while we were on it.
Congratulations both of you.
Robin
BRASS MONKEY
VOLUNTEERS NEEDED
“Ask not what your
club can do you – ask
what you can do for
your club.”
The WWCC needs each member to give something back in
order to make the club work. The level of volunteering and
unselfish contributing is what makes the WWCC great. The
Brass Monkey is a wonderful way for those who cannot
organise a trip or assist in club administration to give just
half a day of their time to raising funds and contributing to
the enjoyment of others.
The Brass Monkey is the next thing on Robins „to-do‟ list.
Robin has the job of co-ordinating the Brass Monkey
volunteers again this year.
Any club member is capable of being a BM volunteer.
To be a safety person what you need is the ability to paddle
Grade II without endangering yourself or a willingness to
stand on the bank with a throw rope and follow
instructions. We also need people to help with race
registrations, toilet towing and timekeeping.
Brass Monkey race days are:
Sunday 19 June, Sunday 3 July, Sunday 17 July,
Sunday 31 July, Sunday 14 August
Please, if you can spare just one Sunday morning get in
touch via: rr-b@xtra.co.nz or ph (03) 3122238.
It will save Robin a lot of time phoning his way through the
membership list.
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WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
Clarence River Trip Labour Weekend
This is another trip report which almost didn‟t make it, but as it
was written up at the end of each day‟s paddling it would be a
shame to see all 15 pages go to waste! I‟ll try and condense it,
perhaps first if you put the newsletter down, and make a cup of
Milo, pour a Merlot, or
uncap a 3 Boys Oyster
Stout, then come back
and sit in a comfy
chair (you‟ll need
one!), I will then start
you on the journey.
was to hit the second buffer wave just below its crest and move
hard left, the flow would then shunt us right, but we would miss
the hole on the true right. If any of you reading this are
wondering about the rock outcrop usually in the centre of the
river, well let me say
this; it was completely
under water! The raft
had already executed
the move and now
Bruce was standing with
a throw bag in hand.
Steve went very quickly,
No, my name is not
damn! I didn‟t get a
John Mitchell, but yes
good look at what he
it was a journey...
did! I managed to break
Saturday 23 October,
out just as Shane and
day 1 + night 2; After
Jane in the Topo glided
waking,
p a ck i n g ,
by, and was very close
breakfasting, etc, we
as they did the same
left our camp at
move as Steve. I was
9:15am, our put-in
determined not to
was at the Acheron
watch the boat in front
Bridge at the start of
of me, but concentrate
the Molesworth Road.
on what I was doing, I
Dylan, the bus driver
hit the wave perfectly
stayed right until we
and as I dropped in to
were moving on the
the rapid I braced and
river. This man is a
made the eddy on the
true gentleman and
river left. Bruce said I
The Clarence Day 1 - Clockwise, from front: Bruce, John H, Shane and Jane.
was worth the money
was a bit too left, while
we collectively spent to
Steve was a bit too
get the bus and trailer.
right. I had made it
We had met Dylan of
through and that was all
Clarence Rafts at Bruce‟s house on Friday evening. I had
that really mattered. The Chute rapid at this higher flow
arrived with a Pyranha Burn and a Necky plastic sea kayak.
shouldn‟t be taken lightly it has the potential to roll you, if you
Bruce took one look at the sea kayak and said No!! I‟d taken a
don‟t get the line right.
similar boat down the river in 1995, but that trip was a quick
The next few rapids were just as intimidating, and again Steve
3.5 day Waimanui express trip, non-raft supported and made
and I were left wondering. As we started to head out of the
up solely of sea kayaks, Dancers and Olympias. This trip on the
gorge, the frequency and grade of rapids diminished, although
other hand was raft supported thanks to Bruce and was limited
now and then we got the odd surprise which required
in numbers. There were six of us in all with Bruce and Tanz on
concentration (and I noticed) nose plugs, right until our
the raft, Steve Walker in an RPM, me in the Burn and Shane
intended camp sight; Palmer Hut. We could see the hut in the
and Jane in their Topo Duo.
distance, and as we got closer, we could make out a lone figure
Back to Saturday; the river doubled in size soon after leaving
camp as we met the confluence of the Acheron, we started to
pick up pace and were soon gliding along on the current. The
day was warm and looked promising, but the water was still
snow-melt cool, and everyone but Bruce were either in dry tops
or dry suits (team Topo). Soon we were in the first gorge and as
the walls closed in a number of large rapids presented
themselves. Both Steve and I exchanged nervous glances we‟d both been here before but did not recognise these rapids.
The river was much larger than I could remember. The initial
rapids had large defined tongues with a lot of boily, frothing
white water building at the sides. We kept well clear and
followed the line. The party eddied out above The Chute, and
climbed a bluff to inspect the line. It was hard to see in the
glare of the sun. I just took Bruce‟s advice and shut out the
banter coming from the RPM. Steve and I pushed off first and
made it to the eddy on the river right above the chute. The plan
standing on the front deck looking in our direction. We had no
idea what was hanging from the veranda until we got much
closer; dead Canadian geese, strung up by their neck. The lone
figure, a hunter, wasn‟t just looking at us, he was glaring. Oh
dear. We stopped just after the hut. Bruce was buggered, but a
quick group chat followed and a unanimous decision was made
to look for another camp further downstream. A couple of km‟s
downstream we found a suitable spot on the left bank, just
behind a bluff amongst bracken on a sandy base. A few of us
went for walks in different directions, but there wasn‟t a lot to
see. Our camp was well dispersed, with the couples pitching at
opposite ends, leaving Steve and I in the middle.
Sunday; Morning mist gave way to sunlight and another brilliant
day was about to begin. I was last up I‟d slept well, but was still
tired. We were all ready to leave by 8:30am and Steve asked if
I‟d like to do a seal launch, it wasn‟t such a great idea despite
the gradient both kayaks were still heavily laden, needless to
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WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
say we didn‟t get very far! The river was now quite wide and
seemingly slow and within an hour of leaving camp we were
entering the second gorge. I remembered this section for the
few and featureless rapids. This was true for most of the
journey through this gorge, but as we drifted by a small rapid
and around a left turn it became apparent a surging rapid was
very near! The river became tight and dropped down and
poured up against a bluff creating a large and very unpleasant
looking buffer, to the right was a deep pool and a re-circulating
eddy. The raft rode the current well and Bruce‟s steerage had
the raft clear of the bluff in seconds. Steve paddled centre right
of the current, while I opted to go at bit too right and hit the
eddy, I spun around and back into the flow, as Shane and Jane
also turned in to the eddy, due to the Topo‟s length, I glanced
off them (thanks!) and continued on downstream. Soon we
were nearing the end of the second gorge without anymore
excitement. A short morning tea break and we were on our way
again. As we left the gorge Seymour Hut came in to view on the
right, again this was clearly occupied by a hunting party with
similar signs (need I say it) to Palmer Hut. A bit further
downstream the river opened up and a number of free-standing
pressure waves offered surfing to the two white water boats.
Unbeknown to Steve and I, we were playing directly opposite
another hunting party clad in camo gear and sheltering from
the sun under a tree. Creepy! Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding
(banjo). Around the next corner we stopped at Quail Flat for
lunch. Bruce, Tania, Shane, Jane and Steve went to have a look
around the historic Quail Flat homestead and buildings. I opted
to look after the boats and soak up the sun (and sand flies). At
least I managed to completely dry my gear. The others soon
came back and Steve told me there were signs advising
“motorists” distances to huts. Ah sign of the times! Quail Flat
was being used this weekend as a base for a Department of
Conservation sponsored hunt for non-indigenous habitat. It
would be handy to note that this is an annual event, should
other kayakers be interested in doing the Clarence again over
Labour Weekend. Leaving Quail Flat we decided camp should
be a further 10km downstream. We saw two women on horses
and they asked Steve, Shane and Jane if it was possible to
cross the river. Where we were the river was quite wide and
appeared to be a metre deep, a brief attempt was made, but
was soon given up. Farewell girls! Good luck! The river now
started plunging in to a series of Grade II roller coaster rapids
with very large waves and a number of holes which were easily
avoided. Bruce would often stand on the raft, hands on Tania‟s
shoulders for support and yell out our lines, other times he
would park the raft at the top of a rapid so we couldn‟t see a
The Chute - John H pictured.
thing, then turn around and grin like a Cheshire cat! The banks
of the river were lined with poplars and willows, this was indeed
very pretty country. We spotted a number of possible camp
sites, and Bruce and Shane often got out, and made an
inspection but that‟s all. At last we decided a flat area just
upstream of the Muzzle Flat airstrip would be ideal. It provided
easy access for the raft and it was sheltered and had a camp
fire. This time the couples camped next door to each other,
while Steve and I chose to camp out in a field. This was a great
spot to camp. After setting up, a few of us went for swims then
Bruce demonstrated how to paddle the Burn (without the beer
rolling around inside) on some rapids near the camp – very
impressive Mr Leslie! Just before dinner I climbed the road up
to the airstrip. This was quite an affair with two large hangers
and hard standing, plus a very wide and long grass runway. The
view was quite exceptional, and as the sun began to set I
reflected on another great day on the river. Dinner was
excellent – thank you Shane, then to top it off we toasted
marsh mellows. That night I think we were made to regret
putting our tents where we did. Cows from a nearby paddock
came a little too close to the tents, can‟t say I got much sleep.
The next morning Shane herded the cattle back to whence they
came. Apparently Steve Walker is afraid of cows (then why is he
the man of steel?), he didn‟t sleep well either. If the length of
the river from Acheron is 160 km‟s, then we had only 70 km‟s
left to do in three days. Bruce wanted to be off the river by
1:00pm on Wednesday, and this was looking very likely.
Consulting the guidebook within 30km of the camp was
Jawbreaker rapid, but prior to this at the confluence of Muzzle
Stream was a rapid noted to be the hardest on this section.
According to the book, the river passes through a series of
large boulders and rock gardens. Bruce suggested I put all my
excess gear which was being carried in the Burn on the raft.
Excellent! This day‟s section had the best rapids. The river was
more of the same from the previous afternoon with braided
chutes giving way to wave trains galore. Sometimes we‟d have
to avoid bluffs with buffers, other times re-circulating eddies or
semi submerged rocks, but certainly no large boulders or rock
gardens, perhaps they were all under water. We came across a
group of smelly Canadian and American students paddling
several Canadian Canoes; they had been at Muzzle Station and
were on a 20 day trip. No wonder they were smelly. Looking at
my notes I have written six pages for the Monday (Day 3) alone,
so you will get the condensed version from now on.
Continued on page 15
Bruce's Burn Demo - Day 2.
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WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
Arahura River
To pre-European Maori pounamu was highly valued - the name
is synonymous with treasure, not only for its hardness and
durability, but also because of its spiritual qualities. The West
Coast of the South Island is called Te Tai Poutini (the Poutini
coast), and the South Island itself is called Te Wai Pounamu,
the place of greenstone.
Poutini and pounamu loom large in Ngai Tahu culture.
At Easter 26 years ago, three members of WWCC ran the upper
Taipo, and the next day the Arahura, both first descents.
Paddling Dancers and an Olympia, impossibly long boats by
today‟s standards, suffering pins, and unknown horizon lines,
these three were amongst the first to explore the West Coast
alpine runs.
Hugh has scanned his original story, first published in the
WWCC Newsletter about 1985. (written on a typewriter) Edited
for modern readers. There are still references to ancient
artifacts like railcars, Dancers, Olympias, and other historic
items. Ask your Gran to explain. There are no references to dry
tops, steep creeking or boofing because they were yet to be
invented.
Hugh says he would be a liability on this river today, as indeed
he says he was then too!
ARAHURA RIVER 1985
Of all the multitude of rivers in New Zealand there are a few
which hold a special place in our history, like the Arahura - the
river that is the symbolic source of 'pounamu', or greenstone.
The discovery of pounamu by the early Maori was a quantum
leap in technology, as here was a material that held an edge
better than any other material, enabling canoes to be hewn
faster, and to make weapons of great durability and strength.
This valuable material thus became the principal medium of
exchange, and treasured artefacts were fashioned by the
artisans and artists of these early communities. Journeys
involving incredible hardship were undertaken, and ultimately
inter-tribal wars were fought in the quest for this lustrous green
stone. At the centre of much of this activity over a period of
almost 1000 years, was the Arahura River.
I needed to relate the stories of the Arahura River to try to
explain why I became fascinated by the notion of kayaking the
upper reaches of the valley This fascination was slow in
maturing as the Arahura was just another river to cross on my
way to a job in South Westland in 1965 while the Haast Pass
road was being built. The Arahura bridge is only one lane and is
shared by the railway, and while forced to pause by the railcar,
I looked up the clear river to its source somewhere in the
distant brooding mountains. I resolved at that moment to
explore this valley someday and see where this river originated.
A few years later I tramped over the Three Pass route and was
turned back at the top of the Browning's Pass, near the source
of the Arahura, by a rapidly gathering westerly. For a few
seconds there was a glimpse of a long valley leading north then
west, and then all hell broke loose as we scampered for our
lives back into the Wilberforce. This pass was one of the trails,
or 'ara' of Maori on trading trips to obtain or export pounamu.
Many parties were never heard of again, due to either the
notorious weather, for the pass is 1416m above sea level, or to
the ferocity with which the pounamu was defended against
those with unworthy intentions. There are stories of hundreds
being trapped in a cave by a snowstorm.
I could find little information about the Arahura and concluded
that if anyone had paddled it, they were not particularly
communicative or literate. It is significant that most of the
recorded information on the valley itself was written over 100
years ago. Trampers avoid the Arahura, preferring the easier
Styx River to the South. Local paddlers regularly paddle the
lower, or First Gorge as a beginner‟s trip, but the top section
beyond the road was unknown. There was only one thing for it
– have a go, and find out for myself.
Just before Easter 1985. Edgar Reese, having just finished his
second season as a raft guide in Queenstown had a week to
spare before flying to Washington State for the northern
summer. I phoned Ron Beardsley, a good companion on such
expeditions, and suddenly it was a reality.
Ron and Edgar at the entrance to what is now called Cesspit.
For a trial run we decided to run the un-paddled upper Taipo
River on the Sunday and the Arahura on Monday. The Taipo
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WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
flows from a common mountain source, Kaniere, to the Arahura
and was quite an appropriate choice for both the physical and
mental atonement to the task ahead. The Taipo starts with
some difficult drops, and then eases off. Just as well.
The Taipo trip went well, considering it was my first time in a
helicopter, and the next day we were at our get out at 1 pm on
a grey cloudy day with the river clear and low. At the start to the
track we met two men with a substantial trailer who eyed us
with what seemed to be unreasonable suspicion. Illogical too
considering the brightly coloured kayaks, paddles, wet- suits,
and other paraphernalia peculiar to canoeists.
"You aren't up here for the greenstone are you?" the taller of
the two enquired as he worked on the lock to the gate, which
was made out of railway tracks welded into a monolithic
rectangular frame straight out of 'Mad Max 2'.
“Where the f**k do you think we could fit a ***ing rock in one
of these?" retorted Ron, displaying a fluent grasp of the local
dialect.
These two explained that they had a claim high in the
mountains and were on their way to bring out some of the fruits
of their efforts. Some pounamu occurs in nephrite lenses in the
original strata and can be 'mined'. The conventional search for
pounamu is of the needle in a haystack variety, looking in a
creek-bed of stones for one in a million which looks just like the
others but which is vastly different on the inside. The deep
green of the polished stone is obtained by cutting and polishing
the natural stone. In the wild, pounamu is covered with a 'rind'
of weathered stone which is a whitish to a rusty colour. It looks
different when wet and Maori say that this is because Poutini is
a fish. Well, of course.
The presence of the pounamu men was of benefit to us as they
had hired the same helicopter as us and we received the bonus
of not having to pay for the positioning time.
“How does $30 each sound?”
Loading kayaks with rocks to stop them swirling about on the
sling under the chopper, we ascended slowly and moved up the
valley at about 30kph. The irony of carrying rocks up this valley
did not escape us. The gradient of the valley is more apparent
from the air than from the ground and the view up the valley
from the cockpit was of a steep valley with a ceiling of cloud
giving the impression of flying into an ever diminishing tunnel.
We had a good view of the river and the sight was not
encouraging. The bed of the Arahura is littered with large
boulders up to three metres across and everywhere there were
white streaks indicating rapids. Our pilot, who did not actually
come right out and say that we were crazy, had said that there
was a gorge longer than the Second Gorge before the Third
Gorge. A fourth unknown gorge! The revenge of Poutini on those
who would dare to violate his resting place.
The decision of how far up the river to take the chopper was
made for us by the low river level and the fact of the late start
due to the chopper not being available earlier. We landed near
the bottom of this gorge that starts near Olderog Creek, the
mountain source of Arahura pounamu. With the sound of the
helicopter fading away down the valley we were left on a small
area beside the river. We were mindful of the fate of other water
-bound travellers in the past including Tane-tiki, the head chief
who drowned in Lake Mahinapua when his canoe was
overturned by a taniwha as a punishment for neglecting to say
a karakia before setting out. Knowing neither if there was still a
taniwha nor the correct form karakia, we nevertheless offered
Yes, I’m in a Dancer alright.
two green branches and a bunch of berries to the river and then
busied ourselves squeezing into our kayaks.
From a paddling point of view, this was not one of those
carefree trips down a familiar stretch of river where rapids have
quirky esoteric names and you paddle back up the eddies to
repeat a certain piece of water. From the moment we launched
into the current it was a matter of one horizon line after
another, and a continuous maze of large boulders falling away
in front of you like a staircase. Often you could see a short flat
section of water a hundred and fifty meters away with the
intervening river disappearing into a jumble of rocks. The water
was very cold and within a few meters I was pulled around by a
hidden rock and tipped over. A slow roll was followed by the
excruciating pain of an ice-cream headache without the benefit
of its prior consumption.
In the gorge below Smolder Creek the river drops in a confined
boulder-strewn bed at 100 feet in half a mile then eases to 100
feet in 1.5 miles. Just above Jill's Creek on the right bank there
is a large slow moving pool which ends as the river turns left
and falls through a steep mass of boulders. Ron portaged this
section when he ran out of water on the right. Edgar and I ran
the left against a cliff and managed to thread our way down the
multiplicity of small twisting drops between the boulders.
One of those rapids today. Now called "Billiards", presumably because
you need three balls to play the game.
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I got pinned in the first drop.
“Edgar – I'm pinned!”
“So am I”, came the faint reply.
This process was repeated three times in this one rapid.
One day someone will design something a bit shorter and
blunter than a Dancer, so that we can negotiate these rivers in
a little more mental comfort. Every quarter of an hour or so the
helicopter would appear carrying a sling with a bundle of rocks
on the end. Each time it flew overhead I thought ”Another
twenty thousand tikis" and then concentrated on the video
game of rocks and water ahead. The river was still dropping at
100 feet per mile, still a respectable gradient, causing us to
break out into the surging eddies behind the boulders to try
and scout the water ahead. We did not have enough daylight
left to inspect everything so generally we took it as it came.
Edgar runs down to the Cesspool. He still owns that Olympia, all 3.6m
of it. And that BMX helmet.
"You must be the three jokers that canoed the Arahura then."
It was not a question but a statement. In the gloomy interior we
drank a single glass and headed back to Christchurch,
contemplating the miraculous efficiency of communications on
the Coast.
It's changed since 1985.
Eventually we arrived at the forbidding entrance to the Second
Gorge and got out to inspect our prospects. This was a genuine
Grade V rapid, with the crux a three to four metre drop onto
foaming water with maybe some rocks; maybe not, followed by
an undercut wall. To get to this drop we had to negotiate two
sharp drops of one metre without getting swept over the wrong
spot, or getting broached against the snaggle-toothed
guardians at the top of the main fall. Beyond this obstacle a
boulder about 5 metres across divided the flow, creating a
diagonal stopper of the 'taniwha' variety, to coin a phrase.
Furiously justifying our actions to one another we carried our
boats up the track over the spur to the bottom of this short but
severe gorge, which drops 100 feet in less than one third of a
mile.
When some three hours later we were almost home I said that I
had seen a large pounamu boulder in the middle of one of the
rapids. I had crashed through a series of drops and spun into a
thrashing eddy behind a rock over which the water surged,
alternately covering then exposing a deep smooth green
boulder. The colour is unmistakable once you have seen it.
Where the river covers the pounamu and where the surface
covering was ground away by the ceaseless transport of silt
down the river you would expect to see the true colour. While I
had bobbed about trying to stay upright, more and more of this
green monster was revealed. This was a truly massive piece of
pounamu! Finally relenting to the insistence of the river to have
me move on, I had cut back into the current and was whisked
away over more drops and around a bend in the river, to gather
my thoughts in a calmer spot.
The section below the Second Gorge is a sweeping right-hand
bend about a kilometre long. This open stretch culminates in
the 'Cesspool'.
An hour of easier rapids followed until we arrived at our car,
standing like a sentinel in the Westland landscape at the road
end. Thirty minutes later, just as the glow of satisfaction was
starting to be accompanied by the glow of warm fingers we
stopped for a quick beer at the little pub in the middle of
nowhere at the Arahura river mouth. We parked at the back
and wandered into the bar. Leaning on the bar were two
customers and the barman. There was an awkward silence.
This scary move is still there. Some parties seal launch off this bussized rock to avoid the initial drop.
9
WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
This had been the driest summer in living memory and the
Arahura would never have been so low. No one except a
canoeist could have got to such a position in the river and we
were presumably the first. After informing Ron and Edgar of this
discovery, I was told by each in turn that they too had seen a
really large piece of the deep green stone in a rough stretch of
river. A piece that size could have remained undiscovered
through the centuries, given its location in mid-stream in the
extremely fast cold water. There was no more discussion on the
subject for we knew that at least one of Waitaiki‟s children was
safe. Perhaps future explorers with a better use for this gift and
a heightened awareness of the spiritual significance of
pounamu will uncover this hidden treasure and used to create
articles of lasting value, to be handed down from generation to
generation, not scattered to every country on earth in tiny
forlorn souvenirs, to be hidden away in drawers away from the
rush of the Arahura.
Arahura can literally be translated as 'pathway of discovery' (ara
= pathway; hura = hidden) but the name is said to have come
from ancient Hawaiiki and means 'pathway to the sun'. The
lower river flows west and late in the day when the sun
transforms the water into a golden pathway fringed with toetoe
all framed by towering rimu and matai, it is easy to imagine
other travellers on their' mokihi and waka many centuries
before us. For me this journey down the Arahura was certainly
a journey of discovery, a physical and mental challenge, but
also in retrospect it linked me more closely with this land and
connected me to our shared past.
Footnote Hugh Canard, Easter 2011.
The second descent was around five or six
years later, and then Mick Hopkinson and
others went further up river and ran the
„impossible‟ upper gorge. The Arahura became,
in Graham Charles‟s words, the “test piece for
aspiring West Coast paddlers”.
I have a simple desire now. That this river will
remain wild and free for all time, and that
succeeding generations will value it and defend
it against anyone who thinks otherwise.
Hugh Canard 1985
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10
WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
Mark running the Gap.
Daggi choosing the best line.
11
WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
John trying to make the wave.
Hawarden
Gap Trip
Sunday May 1st
Had it not been for an envious long boater who missed the trip because he was
painting his toe nails I wouldn‟t have written a trip report for „the Gap‟ which five of
us did at the start of May.
So here it goes. I have lost many paddling friends this season for a whole host of
reasons; marriage, scuba diving, mountain biking, injury, gardening (marriage), or
they have just become more adventurous paddlers than me, but we won‟t go there.
Looking back I have organised a lot of club trips this as a result. I think my favourite
was the Maruia and Grey River trip mid February; you can‟t beat a weekend away
with paddling friends, great scenery, a lot of laughter, beer, good food and bad food
and fun rapids, even if the rivers are low. I‟d wanted to revisit the Maruia for some
time, and the only way I was going to do this was by planning a club trip.
The same could
be said for the
Hawarden Gap
trip, I hadn‟t
paddled
this
since 2009, so
it‟s
another
„once in a while
trip‟. I put an
email out via
Bob early in the
week and made
mention of the
long
shuttle,
and low-and-behold we suddenly had two incapacitated
paddlers in Colin and Kerry who were each happy to help
shuttle and catch up on some reading while waiting at the get
out. This was good, as the week went by we were up to about
15 paddlers, but as the weekend hit we went from 15 to 13 to
11 and within 30 minutes on Sunday morning another five
paddlers pulled out leaving just six of us! This is surely one of
the painful sides of trip organising. At the put in, we were soon
down to five, as Graeme had to pull out complaining of tennis
elbow. As I paddled away from Maori Gully I thought, „what the
hell am I doing!?‟ Oh well, here now, may as well enjoy yourself!
Those that know this trip will remember it starts off with pretty
average Grade II. I was keen to keep us moving as fast as
possible, the flow was mid 30-ish, the weather was fine, but
certainly not warm. We had a couple of stops for different
reasons and I was astounded to learn it wasn‟t until close to
mid-day that we arrived at the section around the Glenrae
confluence where the river started to ramp up to Grade II+. We
encountered many wave trains which gave plenty of opportunity
to surf, plus rock features with whirly eddies which Mark made
full use off to tail stand, and (Just for you Bruce), yes, the hole
above the gap was in action also. At the Gap a quick scout gave
Mark and Andre the lines they needed. Daggi and I stood downriver with throwbags ready. Mark‟s line was dead centre and he
made it look easy although his older model Dagger was mostly
under water. Andre on the other hand eddied out river left at
the top and then very skilfully and carefully made his was down
hard river left. It was a sight to see. I‟ve noticed Andre and
Dagmar have this uncanny ability to pick great lines which
make their paddling look effortless.
All good we reconvened just below the first drop, Mark then
scouted the second drop, I can‟t say he made that easy! Andre
and Daggi‟s followed and they both crashed in to each other.
What was I saying just before!? Young Jeremy in the RPM asked
nervously what he should do. Me being the seasoned cool
paddler that I am, said paddle hard and keep centre right of the
buffer wave and I will be right behind you. A Pyranha i3 is a bit
slower than an RPM, so I tried to keep up, although I thought
the advice was good I was also eyeing up an eddy on the left
next to the rapid. Getting closer I found it certainly wasn‟t an
eddy and before I knew it I hit the rapid centre right and came
smack down in the pool below with enough time to barrel roll a
flailing Jeremy, raft him up, grab his paddle and send him in to
the eddy directly below on the right. It is so easy to do
something which looks hard when you don‟t give it much
thought! After the Gap, the lower gorge provided us with more
fantastic rapids and two excellent wave trains. By the time we
got to the Mandamus I was buggered. What!? Another stop, yep
everyone wanted a stretch and to have lunch. But, um, we‟re
nearly there! It wasn‟t until after 4pm that we made the get out,
with Kerry looking bemused and Colin and Graeme wondering
why it had taken us so long. If you could take the section just
above the Hawarden Gap and the gorge which follows you‟d
have an excellent Grade II+/III trip with plenty of opportunity for
playing, surfing, rapid running etc. It‟s just the hour or two you
have to spend paddling to get there, and the hour you have to
paddle afterwards to get out. This is a great local once in a
while trip, mind you we better make full use of it while we can!
STORY
|
PHOTOS JOHN HUNTER
12
WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
Frenchman on Tour
<the next Great Adventure>
While in Nepal October last year I paddled with a bunch of
French guys and as I promoted the magic of New Zealand white
water that was enough to convince Antoine Dupuis to come for
a visit… he arrived mid-Feb and I took another three weeks
leave to show him around. Our itinerary initially consisted of 25
rivers in 25 days, but that was always going to be a mammoth
task, and after one month Antoine was happy to leave New
Zealand with 21 new rivers under his belt... these are the
highlights from our three week trip:
Friday 18th Feb: We picked up a Mystic for Antoine from C.O.W.
then headed for the Coast, stopping at Castle Hill for a 30min
meander through the beautiful cave stream. Our first river
involved an arduous two hour trek up the very muddy Crooked
valley where Antoine‟s initiation into kiwi portages was sorely
tested (Owen would have told him to “just harden the fu*k up”
and Dr Wong would have given him a concrete pill). We had a
pleasant 1.5hr paddle through the pristine upper Crooked
gorge… and there were a few changes in there too… while
portaging a tree-clogged rapid, I seal-launched 5m into a pool,
only to dent the front of my brand new Magnum. “I should have
just ran that drop, dammit!” But being the first river in our
agenda we didn‟t want to jinx our chances by taking risks too
early on.
We hooked up with other internationals in Hokitika: Three
French guys (and a hot French girlfriend), a cheap German tagalong, and a Kiwi local. Over the next few days they joined us at
various stages on some of the Hokitika classics: Kakapotahi,
Toaroha, Arahura, Styx and Whitcombe. And for future
reference… if anyone asks “do you want to walk up to the
waterfall on the Toaroha?” …tell them to “go jump in the lake!”
Still don‟t know why I suggested it… nor why anyone was silly
enough to follow me… but it was heinous! A solid 3.5hr walk-in
(made that much harder because I stupidly volunteered to carry
Paolo‟s kayak as well as mine because his back was playing
up) and we only got up to the grade IV rapid, still an hour or
more from the waterfall… we had all had enough! The run was
super low too and we scratched bottom all the way down, so it
hadn‟t been the best decision for a paddle today.
While the French contingent ventured up the Arahura the next
day I took the German guy up the Styx. The Styx river went
through some dramatic changes in the Xmas/New Year floods
and there are now several new sieves to watch out for… not to
mention the seven wash-outs you have to walk over on the way
in… it is almost like paddling a new river.
Day 5 was a rest day and we all took to the local swimming
pool. While Paolo and I were playing “knock-the-kids-off-the-biginflatable-thingy” the pool attendant watched us with
trepidation in his eyes… on exiting the pool he told us of the
earthquake in Christchurch which had shaken the building and
how he almost closed it down and evacuated us… we had all
been ignorant thinking it was us making the waves in the pool.
That evening was a sombre time in front of telly watching
coverage of all the devastation across the alps, and the
Frenchies were frantic on their cell-phones informing loved
ones back in France they were ok… today was a very sad day… I
lost three friends in that quake.
Styx river - Matthieu on the GV entrance rapid.
It rained a bit now and most of the upper runs were getting too
high, but Bruce convinced us the Whitcombe would be a go, so
with our paddling prowess improving we embarked on a big
water (high flow), class V (V+) run of the 2-day upper
Whitcombe river… and boy oh boy was it mean! Flying in we
saw solid back-to-back rapids, coloured grey (not the magical
blue we had hoped for), flowing through tight constricted
gorges… oh jezzzus! There was silence at the put-in… we were
a little anxious… it was so remote (we were almost at the main
divide itself) and the water was icy cold too. This was the big
one… the mother of all West Coast runs… some rate it the
hardest run on the West Coast… some rate it the hardest run in
New Zealand! It was all very exciting as we navigated our way
down the big hard rapids but after three hours we stopped for a
quick bite to eat, to warm up, and to get our nerves back… the
water was seriously pushy and we had had a couple of close
calls. Scouting the entrance to the first must-run gorge,
trepidation got the better of Antoine and the call was made to
portage the gorge… we spent the next 5.5hrs walking the
toughest trail any of us had done with a kayak before! It was
made tougher with all the flood wash-outs where we had to
sling our kayaks one-at-a-time across near-vertical slips… it was
all rather hair-raising really. We finally made it to Prices hut for
the night and spent a very exhausted evening reminiscing over
our hard day‟s labour… it had been the mother of all portages…
Antoine was no longer complaining about the Crooked walk-in…
that, the Toaroha and the Styx had all been warm-ups to this
mammoth day, we were well and truly hardened for New
Zealand boating now. Owen, you would have been proud of
those French boys.
13
WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
We really needed another day of rest before tackling our next
big adventure: two days on the upper Hokitika and the mighty
Mungo… “boo-yeah!”. Tom Botterill came across from
Christchurch and Owen Glover came down from Greymouth..
with Antoine and I making up the team - we couldn‟t take many
others because the tiny Serpentine hut only accommodates
four… unless you like to sleep on the floor… with the rats! The
Mungo would have been one of the most beautiful rivers I have
ever paddled, the gorges are simply… breathtaking! The swirling
patterns on the rock walls, the pristine clear blue waters, the
tight technical rapids, the feeling of remoteness, and the sheer
beauty of the place all contributed to this being a truly
wonderful and magical experience. I can now see why Jordy
Searle rates this his favourite New Zealand run, and it is way up
there with my favourite runs too. Even Antoine who has clocked
up an impressive 180 odd rivers around the globe (rating the
Zambezi and Futaleufu as his top two rivers) puts the MungoHokitika in his top five of the world so far… and that is
impressive! Our adventure began with a very low flow Mungo
river at the Poet hut put-in and quickly became tight and
technical class IV+ rapids… it was great fun. At the entrance to
the first gorge we must have pondered for over half an hour
because the entry consisted of portaging over a huge tree
stump, one person hanging on to your boat while you got in,
Hokitika river - scouting the very scary Mikey's drop.
carefully do up your skirt, a single paddle stroke in turbulent
waters then drop sideways over a 2m ledge and straight into a
thrashing hole… and hope like hell you got out in one piece or
didn‟t swim into the un-portageable gorge below! And then the
last person would have to do a 3m seal-launch off the cliff and
straight into that hole… we all portaged. An hour later we got
back on just below the confluence with the upper Hokitika river
and continued in magical class IV+ rapids with the class V ones
getting more challenging as the flow increased the further
downstream we travelled. Owen was on form and styled a big
beefy rapid just before the most magical of gorges… a breathtaking canyon where the rock patterns seemed to enclose you
as the top of the gorge curled in on itself and nearly blotted out
the sky, with waterfalls dropping in from the sides and
everything flowing as smooth as a baby‟s bottom… it was
absolutely stunning! 5.5hrs of awesome boating and we made
it to the classic upper section of the Hokitika. We bombed this
bit in less than an hour before reaching our bag-drop not far
from Serpentine hut, Bruce had left them on a wee gravel pile
in the middle of the river. Serpentine is a tiny bushman‟s hut
and mostly kayakers write of their Mungo experience in the
historic Forestry visitor‟s book, with the odd tramper spinning a
yarn of how tough the hut is to find since there are no tracks
leading to it. Day 2 of our classic 2-day Hokitika descent saw us
enter straight into the meat of the run… Viagra falls! Solid class
V back-to-back rapids, successive and non-relenting. Owen got
some serious air off an 8m waterfall after hitting a submerged
rock at the lip and let out a expletive as he went down (made
for an awesome photo though Owen). We checked out Mikey‟s
drop (a class V+ mess of… “sheer evil!”) but no-one was keen to
give it a go, and immediately after this the must-run rapid has
changed and took Tom by surprise (got a good photo of you in
there too Tom) ;-) 5.5 hrs later we were back at the truck where
a cool beer had been stashed in the bushes and Tom‟s partner
Hillary welcomed us home to a hearty venison stew, which just
capped off one of the most perfect paddles I have ever done.
What an absolutely awesome trip this had been… I can‟t wait to
go back!
Antoine and I were on our own now, we had had company for
the past 11 days but the other foreigners had moved on and
the Kiwi‟s had gone back to work… and the rain had started to
settle in again too. A high-flow brown-water (class V) Blackball
creek was next on the agenda (that was a hoot!) followed by a
quick descent down the awesome nine-mile slide and a fast
road trip up to Murchison for Bullerfest weekend, however we
arrived in Murchison two days too early and by the time we‟d
paddled Glenroy and lower Matakitaki we were bored… so we
returned to the Coast after doing a couple of hucks off Maruia
falls and headed South. Antoine had met an Italian sweetheart
on his flight into New Zealand and through copious emails
arranged to meet her in Queenstown the Sunday after
Bullerfest. We sped South so he could have a romantic evening
with her and I was dropped at my sister‟s place in Haast to chill
out with the nephew and niece. It was good timing to have a
break from all the intensive boating (and driving) we‟d been
doing too. Antoine returned refreshed so we hit my favourite
New Zealand river; the Turnbull. I couldn‟t source the key this
time so we did the easy 1-hr walk-in to a high-flow clear water
classic Turnbull run. I like this river so much because it is roadside and offers all the classic qualities of the remote runs
without the added expense of a helicopter: pristine clear blue
(and sweet) water, awesome boof drops, challenging big
moves, and fast continuous action… and although I now reside
in Christchurch, I grew up only 60km to the North of the
Turnbull and still regard it as “my local run”. It was full-on right
from the onset… a very fast and pushy flow with big chunky
holes and hard must-make moves! Our hearts were pumping
right from the start all the way to the last drop, “what a blast!”:-)
I love the Turnbull… this is another to add to Antoine‟s top-10-of
-the-globe list.
Next came the Kawarau and the mighty, mighty Nevis bluff! It
was running a super high flow today, murky grey and bank-tobank massive! After getting in above the dog-leg section we
charged through Nevis bluff while workmen were laying
explosives in the cliffs above… that added a new dimension to
class V+ boating… “paddle like hard, be on line… and watch out
for explosions and falling rocks!” Citroen seemed a lot easier
after running Nevis though it was still a big-water class V rapid
too. We had intended on hitting a low-flow Nevis river the next
day but Antoine was more interested in getting on the classic
Perth and with impending bad weather threatening to hit the
coast we made the decision to high-tail it back up to do that,
stopping at the Gates of Haast to spend 2.5 hrs scouting our
14
WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
Kawarau river - Antoine takes on the raw power that is Nevis bluff.
line through the technical class V+ rapids directly beneath the
bridge… but as they say: “the time you spend scouting a rapid
is directionally proportional to the time you’re going to get
beaten by it.” So we drove on.
Thursday 10th March: Perth river. It was a late fly-in (11:00am)
so we couldn‟t do the 2-day trip in 1 day and just got in at the
classic; Scone hut. The river was super low and Antoine was
having a bad day making mistakes all the way down, but when I
ran a manky waterfall (and found out why it was a mandatory
portage) my day got worse and Antoine‟s improved. Still… it was
a beautiful day on a beautiful river. And not realising until later
that evening, I had torn my rotator cuff while doing that
waterfall… it hadn‟t hurt going over but the impact with a rock
had done my shoulder damage and I was now out-of-action for
further paddling :-( It flared up something wicked during my
sleep that night too.
We stuck around Hokitika and Antoine revelled in the
celebrations of the Hokitika Wild Foods Festival and we
jammed with my brother who played a live gig at his friend‟s
house. Antoine joined Owen and a few Murchison locals to hit
the famed Kokatahi river while I stayed home and cooked
spaghetti bolognaise for the boys on their return. They were
totally spent when they got in and conversation was short and
sleep came quick… it looked like they‟d had a big, big day out
up there… no carnage, just lots and lots of solid boating. And
due to the unfortunate circumstances of the Christchurch
earthquake I had the good fortune of extending my period of
leave a few more days… but that was ripped short by my injury
so all I could do now was return to work and undertake my
duties in civil defence, so I drove Antoine to the Rangitata
where he did a solo descent in flood conditions (he said it was
a solid class IV+ in there) then he flew to Wellington to hook up
with his Italian girl once more and do a couple of classics
(Rangitikei and Kaituna) before flying home out of Auckland.
Antoine thoroughly enjoyed his trip to New Zealand and got to
encounter a lot of our classic Kiwi runs, but I fondly remember
his little outbursts of “f#*kin’ Kiwi’s… gonna kill me!” just
before he drops off some big f#*k-off waterfall or peels out of
an eddy to follow someone down a stonkin‟ big rapid. Though
he was always grinning ear-to-ear after doing something like
that… it was fun for us all :-) Antoine left his kayak with me for
when he returns to take on the remainder of runs we missed
out this time round (there are just so many it was hard to fit
them all in) and all are dependant on having the right weather
too. So we were lucky in some aspects, we got to cover a wide
variety of West Coast rivers from Murchison all the way to
Queenstown, some in low flows, some in flood conditions, and
we had an entourage of different paddlers join us at various
stages of the tour too. And due to the nature of some runs it
would have been near-impossible to paddle every day because
some were seriously taxing! However, my personal highlights
were doing a couple of rivers I hadn‟t done before… and now I
just can‟t wait to go back up the Mungo and experience the
magic of that place again… “Go Mungo!!!”
STORY
|
PHOTOS KERRY HOGLUND
15
WHITE WATER CANOE CLUB
Continued from page 5
The gradient soon started to increase and the frequency and
intensity of the rapids did too, we found many wave trains,
some with large cresting waves which lifted the Burn, RPM and
raft high, and sometimes also the heavily laden topo, which
otherwise would plough on through like a torpedo. Our morning
tea stop allowed Bruce, Tania and me to climb a large hill and
scout the river for many miles ahead, yep, more rapids. We
decided Snow Grass Hut would be our stop for the night. This
was somewhere between Jaw Breaker and Nose Bleeder
Rapids.
At Muzzle Stream we stopped to inspect the rapid. This
according to Graeme Egar‟s book is the hardest on this section
of the river. It looked easier than I imagined, and Bruce offered
his now classic advice; “as long as you back yourself”. Shane
and Jane and I went first, and eddied out mid way so we could
photograph the raft and Steve Walker (who likes to be
photographed – oh vanity). The rapid on the day turned out to
be a drop, followed by a wave train with two large holes and a
bluff to be avoided river right with a large eddy line running river
left.
The gradient increased further and it soon became apparent
that we were entering the last gorge as we could see a petering
out of farmland and green pastures on our right. Most rapids
had so much room from right to left that centre was never the
only option. I guess I‟m saying a couple of times when I lost my
nerve I chose the line to the other side of the rapids, depending
on where the bluffs were. Our lunch stop was just above Jam
Stream, which is just above Jaw Breaker Rapid. I couldn‟t wait!!
Jaw Breaker was about half way in to the lower gorge. As we got
near the top of the rapid, Shane said with a smile, “Action
stations!” of course this was for my benefit! The rapid looked
HUGE, and the river at this point was very wide. All I could see
from my kayak was a horizon line of frothing greyness, the
sound was deafening. Bruce jumped out on the left and ran up
the bank for a better view, the three kayaks eddied out on the
left, and Shane and I jumped out for a brief look. From the
angle of the left bank across to the rapid itself I could make out
diddly squat, so watched as first Steve made the descent up
and over the high waves, followed by Shane who just blunted
everything. That wasn‟t much help! I ferried over to mid-stream
to hear Bruce, I couldn‟t hear a thing, but his gestures
suggested a centre right line. I was being sucked along by the
force of the flow and was soon amongst it, Jaw Breaker today
was a series of very high and large standing waves, two holes
river left, nicely given a lot of room, and not much of an eddy
mid way river right. What was the fuss, yes indeed! Soon we
were joined by the raft and several minutes later, we were high
and dry on the rocky beach at Snow Grass. This is an excellent
stop over for river trips; it is almost inaccessible by any other
means except the river. The hut and campsite are up a track, in
a sheltered clearing away from the river, the hut looks quite
new and has a kitchen, bunk room and fire place, plus a DOC
loo in the trees. If intending to use the facilities, it would be
wise to purchase a pass, as we did prior. Again we were
blessed by good warm weather allowing us all to unwind in the
sun prior to nightfall.
The next day a not-so-bright and early start saw us on the river
close to 10:00am, the raft had been left high amongst the trees
overnight, so it took a concerted effort to carry it down to the
water and commence reloading. Naturally the two singles seal
launched down the bank with quite spectacular results. The
first rapid of the day was what we believed to be Nose Bleeder
rapid, this was less than 200 metres from camp and is a rapid
very similar to Jaw Breaker; it was an easy centre line. This was
followed by a number of similar and interesting rapids; some
had narrow slots on one side and nasty holes on the other.
Bruce stopped abruptly at one to scout, I did too, but the others
just careered on through, ah simple. After the rituals of morning
tea and further downstream, lunch, the easterly wind came up
quite strong. We were encountering many stretches of flat
water now, and Bruce was struggling. Shane helped by using
the Topo to push the raft, it looked awkward, but Bruce was
certainly very grateful for the assistance. As the wind came, so
did the filthy grey clouds, it got very cold all of a sudden. Matai
Flat was our camp for the night. We got there at 2pm. The
braids and the coastal hills were within reach, but our oarsman
was rooted and needed a rest. To keep warm we set up camp
quickly, dispersed the wet gear and lit a fire, then proceeded to
get lost by going for a walk up an old forestry road. Sleep was
easy that night.
Brilliant, Day 5, Wednesday, clouds are gone, sun is up and we
are away on the open braids, picking our way down towards the
Glen Alton Bridge, then the State Highway One road and rail
bridges. Not a lot to report here. Just floating along, in the sun,
with some good humour and ever-changing scenery. Of course
Tania swapped with Steve and showed us that she can paddle
a white water kayak very well. Bruce gave Steve the oars, and
he showed us very quickly he had no idea what he was doing.
Better leave it to the man Steve. Just prior to Glen Alton the
river reminded us it wasn‟t going to be all easy paddling to the
main highway. A series of large wave trains snuck up on us,
“action stations”, we had three sets of rapids, followed by the
river cutting hard left over a steep boulder rapid prior to the top
bridge; almost all of us (hi!) took the most practical line. Soon
after Glen Alton (and with the knowledge of how high the rapids
in the main flow could get), I took a braid on the left which had
a third of the flow. I honestly thought I‟d be away from the
group for a matter of minutes. It wasn‟t until just above the
main road bridge nearly 20 minutes later that I rejoined the
main flow as both braids dropped at a confluence to come
crashing back in to each other. Our timing was almost
impeccable with no waiting for anyone. What I can tell you, is
my braid would have had at least 15 cu mecs and was a lot of
fun, although I was growing increasingly worried that the others
knew nothing of where I was. On the other side Bruce, Tania,
Shane, Jane and Steve were encountering huge wave trains, on
one such rapid, Steve was cart wheeled – I‟m sort of pleased I
wasn‟t there!! Where we caught up, it was evident a scout was
required to navigate the old bridge pylons which were banked
up with debris. Whalah! This was easily done by paddling on the
edge of the flow river right of the pylons. Our take-out was on
the river left just after the main highway bridge. While we
unloaded the raft, and disassembled it, Tania ran up to Dylan‟s
(the bus driver) house at the Clarence village. Within about 20
minutes of getting off the river we were again loading the bus
and trailer with our gear, and kayaks and with the raft fully
deflated. Dylan then drove us back to Christchurch, after a brief
stop for lunch in Kaikoura, we were soon through the
Hundalees and within a few hours back at Bruce‟s house
unloading and heading our separate ways home.
Thanks to Graeme and Bruce for originally coming up with the
idea for this trip. We were very lucky with the weather, the
higher flow and having raft support. To use the bus and driver
as we did contact Clarence rafting, for a medium sized trip this
method of transport to and from the Clarence is well worth the
money spent. I think the consensus we will all do this trip again
sometime soon.
STORY
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PHOTOS JOHN HUNTER