Taylor and I had signed up for a 6-day canoe trip from Whakahoro to Whanganui, which we both expected to be picturesque and fun but otherwise uneventful. As it turns out that wasn't exactly how things transpired. As the tale is best told by sometimes addressing events that happened on different days at the same time the blog entries that cover the trip loosely go in chronological order, but not always. I've broken the trip up into different entries purely because leaving them as a single entry will make them even longer and more intimidating to read than normal entries!
Day 1
I was the first to wake up in the bunkroom. I snuck out to the outside vault loos and back, by which time other people were beginning to stir. After breakfast, while packing up, the disgruntled French girl from yesterday asked if all the huts along the river would be like this one. I tried to be sympathetic in the affirmative. She seems to have come to terms with the idea. I think it's the sharing of sleeping space with a bunch of strangers that concerns her, but after last night I guess she's decided it isn't as bad as she'd feared.
Along with Nadine and Philippe, Taylor and I trekked our gear down to a landing spot on the Retaruke River, a few hundred meters upstream from its junction with the Whanganui River. The landing spot is a large boulder-gravel beach accessible by gravel vehicle track. Marie and Eddie were already there waiting--apparently all six of us are booked with Yeti so we took up positions on various logs and boulders to wait for Gavin to arrive with the canoes, hoping that the damp clouds overhead would be able to contain themselves at least until we'd packed down our gear into the barrels that were to be supplied along with the canoes. Meanwhile two guys, a Kiwi and an Irishman (one of whom was sporting a full-length mullet) arrived and made ready to launch their single kayaks.
Gavin was late so the six of us TA-ers chatted a bit. Taylor asked if a fleck in a rock was a fossil. It was and it turned out loads of the other rocks scattered around the beach were full of them so scouring the river bank kept me occupied until a van towing a trailer-load of canoes finally arrived. Hooray! Canoes--check. Life-jackets--check. Barrels--check. Mine and Taylor's food boxes--check! Furnished with three barrels apiece we repacked our gear, trying to anticipate which things we would need access to while in the boat as that would all have to go into one barrel each that would be strapped in upright and be the only barrels able to be opened without landing the canoe and unstrapping everything else.
Gavin took everyone (six TA-ers plus four young German guys) through a surprisingly brief safety talk and then showed us how to strap everything into our canoes. He then gave Philippe an emergency beacon--the only one for the entire group. I was surprised...surely each canoe should be given one as there is no obligation or expectation for any of the canoes to paddle together! No matter, I have one with me anyway, but I'm a little surprised the operators are allowed to send inexperienced paddlers out on the river without a beacon per boat or strict instructions for us all to stay together.
Taylor and I were to be launched first, in a battered old orange canoe. I being the heaviest would go in the back and be responsible for steering, whilst Taylor would sit in the front and provide the bulk of the power. At Taylor's suggestion we would switch each day. Gavin asked us to demonstrate our paddle strokes within the first few tens of meters on the river. He was happy with our technique so away we went, off downstream to the mighty Whanganui! There would be rapids on the trip and apparently about half of all canoers tip out. I was sure we were in for an adventure.
It quickly became apparent that Taylor and I have completely different approaches to canoeing. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised since all our conversations up to this point indicated that we had completely different approaches to everything in life. How this might influence the canoe trip I (perhaps foolishly) hadn't considered, but within the first several hours on the river I was beginning to worry how the two of us would handle being stuck in a tiny boat together for six days. It's all very well walking when one or another person's pace is different, the faster is free to go on ahead. But canoeing requires team work and a collaborative approach...and this was something Taylor and I would never quite master.
I set out on the river excited, but also nervous as I have no prior experience canoeing on moving water, let alone through rapids. Taylor on the other hand set out confident and questioning the need for all the straps holding down our gear, along with the need for life-jackets. I was in no particular hurry, happy to float with the current and paddle gently--after all we'd be paddling all day and energy and un-trained arm muscles would need to last. Taylor's approach on the other hand was to maintain momentum, paddle hard in straight lines and cut every corner along the river, irrespective of how different parts of the river were flowing. I on the other hand thought it would be best to follow the thalweg or main current as it meanders down the width of the channel, and therefore avoid eddies and slack water where paddling would become, I thought, unnecessarily difficult. I quickly got told off for doing this, and also for using the paddle as a rudder to turn the boat as this caused the craft to rapidly lose momentum...this is true, but turning by paddling requires more time and effort and isn't as effective in faster moving water where you have less time to correct the orientation of the canoe. But I promised not to do any more 'ruddering', quietly resolving to try my best to avoid getting into situations where it would become necessary. Unfortunately this would require careful planning, particularly when entering rapids, something that Taylor also found annoying, telling me to "just go for it!". At such times I felt caught between the proverbial rock and a hard (wet?) place. If I was stubborn about it I risked rocking the boat metaphorically and I was conscious of the fact that Taylor and I had to spend the next six days in each others company, and I would prefer if it remained amicable (I'm not good with conflict!). The alternative however was to "go for it" and risk literally rocking the boat and capsizing in a rapid. Deciding I'd rather get wet than have a confrontational trip down the river I went for it. Predictably this worked fine for little rapids, but on bigger ones it proved to not be such a good idea.
Despite my misgivings given our different approaches the first day on the river was enjoyable. The scenery is lovely and paddling is only really difficult on long straight stretches where a headwind is channeled by the steep cliffs on either side. The forest is lovely, seemingly a mix of native broadleaf and nikau palms. I must have made some comment about how nice the forest was as I remember Taylor's answer being that is wasn't nice at all. He finds it's impenetrable appearance totally uninviting and said he wished it was more like the pine forest we'd walked through on the way to Pureora. I was humourously horrified. Those aren't forests, they're tree farms! I thought, and told him so. At least, they are here. In the States nice open conifer forests are the natural forest; I've seen them and they are lovely. By comparison New Zealand 'jungle' apparently comes as a bit of a shock to the uninitiated, and an unwelcome one at that.
Taylor's objections aside, the scenery is lovely. Steep forested hillsides give way to vertical medium-thickly bedded mudstone-sandstone cliffs. Some layers had small round concretions that look like miniature Moeraki Boulders. Other's have distinct cross-beds, or more rarely concentrated rounded mudstone pebbles, or shellbeds. The cliffs drop straight down and disappear into the water where the current causes upwellings all the way along that reassuringly mean that unless you're travelling at speed the canoe is often naturally fended off from the cliffs as you float along. Every now and then there's a cave to explore. NZ isn't particulalry wildlife rich, but there are several birds to see, mostly native pigeons or kereru, and also numerous tuis, as well as the odd hawk. One thing I hadn't expected was the number of feral goats! They are everywhere, and apart from tui song, the distinctive flap of pigeon's wings, the constant gurgle of water and occasional roar of rapids, the bleating of goats is a common sound to be heard along the river. They're a pest, and there are controlled shoots to try and keep the numbers down. Certainly along some sections of river these appear to be working, but along others goats are ten a penny and, at this time of year, have several young kids with them. Pest or not, they are incredibly cute and very fun to watch as they frolic along the riverbank, or are bleating frantically when they've lost sight of their mother. None of the goats are at all perturbed by the people floating past in variously coloured craft; if one had a rifle with a silencer they could easily take out fifty a day.
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| Chilling on the river. |
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| One of the larger caves. |
The first day we paddled 37km to DOC's John Coull Hut. This is currently undergoing renovations but despite that was jam-packed with paddlers. Taylor and I arrived late in the day and pitched our tents on the lowermost camping area that is close to a toilet block, but quite a distance from the hut itself (so much so Taylor never even saw it), Thankfully this also means it was removed from the crowd! All six of us TA-ers, plus the Germans and Kiwi-Irish duo camped here; the Kiwi Quartet, slightly happier French couple and whatt must have been at least fifty other people camped further up. Philippe is not enjoying the paddle, saying he'd rather be hiking. I think he is finding it cramped in the boat.
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| John Coull Hut |
While making dinner, one of the hut wardens came round to check us off the booking list. He took a look at my small pot of curry and laughed "I hope there's more to it than that". Looking at it I couldn't help feel the same. Tasty hydrated food is nice, but despite the box size the sachets proved small and I couldn't help wishing I'd bought more food. I laughed ruefully when I remembered back to Bog Inn Hut and Taylor running out of food, dimly wondering if on this leg of the trip it would be my turn. No, it wouldn't be...not as long as I didn't eat more than my meager sachet of curry! As the light faded I kept my eyes peeled for the native bats that information boards in the hut say live in the area, but I saw nothing but pigeons, and the faintest white spec negotiating a narrow path along a near vertical cliff high up on the opposite side of the river; goats can quite literally get anywhere.
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