Day 4
We awoke to a lovely sunny morning. Josephine kindly gave us and our nearly-dry gear a lift back down to the river--only my toilet paper supply was irrecoverably water damaged, but this was easily replaced by raiding the campground supply. Thanking Josephine very much we loaded up our canoe and set off. Taylor didn't see the point in double lashing the gear down as we had been instructed and unfortunately I didn't push the matter...
The river south of Pipiriki is not as picturesque as it is no longer National Park and the river banks quickly become farmland, but there are still some lovely wild stretches. A a road follows the left bank of the river all the way from Pipiriki to Whanganui so the whole area feels more civilised and less adventurous...except for the rapids. We'd been assured there were no more serious rapids south of Pipiriki, but we still managed to get into trouble (we were later told the severity of the rapids changes a lot depending on the water level of the river...which makes a good deal of sense).
Taylor paddled extremely hard all day, so much so that I could not keep up at all and eventually had to say so. Apologising in advance for seemingly slacking off I eased off, trying to keep pace with him but not paddling as hard. Only at the end of the day did he tell me he'd been paddling hard to try and make up for lost time the day before; admirable perhaps but I wish he'd said something at the time, not that I think I could have persuaded him that it wasn't necessary.
We stopped for a break under a rickety looking bridge. The sun was blazing and Taylor was finally able to get his sleeping bag properly dry. Eddie and Marie stopped to have a snack as well and the four of us looked up in astonishment as a quadbike followed by two guys on foot and a possy of dogs went over the bridge overhead. Expecting the bridge to disintegrate at any moment we all breathed a sigh of relief when they disappeared down the road on the far side of the river without having plunged into it.
None of the stops are signposted south of Pipiriki so you have to identify landing spots by sight and descriptions in notes provided by the tour operator. None of us paid as much attention to the notes as we should and so we sailed right past Jerusalem without even realising it. Consequently I was still steering (Taylor and I had agreed to swap at Jerusalem) when we came upon a fast and frothy rapid flowing round a willow-tree lined corner. Having learned from my previous experience I lined up dead center down the rapid, but was unable to bring the head of the canoe round once we were in it. Within moments we were swept straight into the willows. I had a moments horrific image of Taylor being pinned between a low branch and the canoe before the water built up behind us, flooded the canoe and forced us under...and we capsized once again. Happily the capsize freed us from the tree and I was swept off down the rest of the rapid, desperately hanging onto the canoe with one hand and my paddle with the other. Unfortunately I was traveling headfirst so with every wave I was plunged under and up again, spluttering for breath. I was also bounced off multiple boulders, one in particular would have knocked all the air from my lungs (and possibly cracked a few ribs) if I hadn't been wearing a life-jacket. Funnily while plunging down the back of this boulder I felt the water washing the sunglasses off where they had been perched on my head. I remember making a furious swipe at my head to jam them back on again before floating down into slower water and desperately striking out for the nearby shore, canoe in hand.
I made it to the bank but wasn't strong enough to haul the waterlogged canoe out of the current that threatened to wash it further downstream. I was hampered by the fact the only single strapping our barrels meant that although none had washed away, they'd all popped out of where they'd been wedged and were dangling chaotically in the water around the canoe. But gear be damned, where was Taylor?! Hanging onto the bobbing canoe I desperately scanned the rapids. If he didn't appear in the next few moments I'd let the canoe go and have to try and find him. For a scary half second I envisioned him drowning, but then I saw his head pop up among the willow trees where we'd first come to grief, a look of pure frustration on his face. He was furiously swimming against the current looking for something. As he was seemingly okay for the moment I turned my attention to the canoe and began furiously hauling on it to try and get it and the tray barrels at least partially out of the water. Taylor eventually washed down and swam in to help, closely followed by Marie and Eddie in there non-capsized canoe. By some miracle everything was present and nothing had washed away--not even my sunglasses! The only casualty was Taylor's paddle that he had dropped and which had become wedged under a branch of the willows. It was that he had been trying to retrieve. I commenced a check for leaks in the barrels while he set off along the bank to try and retrieve the paddle. Gear okay I set off to help, but turned back when I saw Taylor once again washing down the rapid, this time with paddle in hand. Eddie was impressed and turned to me saying "You've got yourself an action man!". I laughed in agreement, but did wonder why he'd jumped back in the water and not simply retraced his route back along the riverbank. I know I was in no rush to be bounced off boulders any more than was necessary and I couldn't help but smile when Taylor, previously dubious about the necessity for life-jackets, said how glad he was that he'd been wearing one.
In the excitement of the moment we all discussed what had happened. Marie and Eddie had seen the whole thing. Eddie offered lots of advice for next time, most crucially to make sure I entered a rapid on the angle I intended to exit it, so as not to have to haul the nose of the canoe round mid-rapid. I wished he'd told me that before! But I made a few more mental notes:
Mental Note #4: Paddle harder going into rapids.
Mental Note #5: Enter rapid on the angle you intend to exit them.
Mental Note #6: Strap all gear down as much as possible so that it stays in the boat in the event of a capsize.
Somewhat understandably Taylor decided he no longer trusted me to steer and as we set off again I was in the front of the canoe. No other rapids that day proved as challenging and we managed to make it all the way to Downes' Hut without further incident, although I sensed Taylor's patience with my paddling was wearing thin. We ended up switching again in the afternoon as he decided I couldn't paddle hard enough; we'd ended up zig-zagging down a long stretch of the river as his more powerful strokes from the stern made mine seem like mere splashes in comparison, whilst also dominating the steering. Taylor understandably found this frustrating, but as I was physically incapable of making a difference to our progress and previous suggestions to ease off and follow the current hadn't been entertained, I settled on being merely bemused. After we switched places we stopped zig-zagging and made better time, but frustration remained when I tried to follow the current as it meandered down the broad channel and Taylor curtly asked if I realised I was unnecessarily crossing from one side of the river to the other...
While the view along the river wasn't as impressive as it had been, there were still lots of goats to entertain, and even at one point a small herd of horses that saw us coming down the river and took off at a canter along the river bank and out of sight. There's something about horses running that is strangely peaceful and captivating to watch.
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| Downes Hut |
Thanks to Taylor's intense paddling we spotted Downes' Hut in the trees on the right bank of the river sooner than we had anticipated. Hauling out on the gravel bank downstream as the notes instructed we began the search for the track leading back up to the hut. Unfortunately cattle had worn tracks criss-crossing in all directions and eroding the bank in several places, so much so that the track to the hut was completely obscured until well into the trees. Marie and Eddie weren't far behind and in two trips apiece the four of us had hauled all of our barrels up to the quaint little ex-homestead turned DOC hut. There's a slepeing platform along one wall with room for five mattresses arranged cheek-by-jowl, a fireplace in the opposite wall, a sink bench by the door and wooden table and benches in the middle of the room, on which we found the hut log book. I went through it, recognising several names, but none from the party of fifteen TA-ers Nathalie and Andy had been a part of--understandable since they wouldn't have all been able to fit in this hut. Outside there's a water tank and sink, and a short distance away a vault loo that was much more appealing once I'd taken to the seat with a handful of wet-wipes.
I made curry for dinner, Taylor nibbled his usual rations and I watched as Marie compiled a two-pot culinary delight from dried pasta, fresh veges and sauce. Eddie also has a jar of vegemite and was hoeing into cheese and vegemite sandwiches while he waited. He kindly offered me some and I made a cheese and vegemite wrap to supplement my meager curry. I don't like it as much as marmite but sacrifices must be mad in the wilderness!
It amused me to watch the other hiker's routines. Eddie and Marie clearly have their agreed upon tasks while hiking that together make for an effective and comfortable unit. Sharing things like cooking gear also means that they collectively can carry more non-essential items (including an entire tarpaulin) than any solo hiker ever could. It's not the first time it's occurred to me that solo-hiking has its disadvantages, but after Taylor and I have been touching each other's nerves off and on I think it also has some distinct advantages as well.
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