I would like to take this chance and apologize to those of you waiting for this post, I was too busy getting more material for the blog, we’ll call it… research. I mean surfing in one of the nicest areas on the north island of New Zealand warrants a break from writing about my other incredible trips right? Sorry, not sure when I'll get these bragging rights again... Enjoy.
Day 4
Despite the two layers of thermals and gloves I had dressed myself in the night before, the tent and I awoke at eight, shivering in the wind. I could hear people walking and talking at the tent site just to the right of me and judging by a few muffled words and angry tones I deduced that their tent and its residents were a little beyond shivering. The heavy winds had ripped a gaping hole clean through the six person tent and despite their best efforts to fix it in the early morning hours, the wind huffed and puffed and nearly blew their house down again a few drafty minutes later.
Although I had thoroughly enjoyed the bottle of red wine the night before, it had left my stomach and was now residing somewhere at the back of my head, bringing with it a jackhammer, what a lousy tenant. Aside from the dull thudding that seemed to forcefully massage my brain, it was time to pack things up so we could start the day. Five minutes later I was packed and headed for a hot shower, I was more efficient than my German counterparts, not an easy feat. Somewhere between this moment and the actual shower I had pinched a nerve or something in my neck and was now unable to look any more than a few degrees to the left, right or up. This had also happened on my backpacking trip from Tobermory to Lions Head a month or so earlier in Ontario and had lasted for two or three days. I was not a happy camper.
Now that I had entered a state of zombie-esque posture, the first thing we had on our list of things to do was white water rafting, wonderful. I was dreading the thought of bouncing around wearing ridiculously restricting floatation gear in addition to not being able to move my neck, it will be damn near impossible to look anywhere but forward haha. After eating some granola and guzzling down a coffee the worst of my cranial symptoms had been mitigated and I regained my sense of humour. Benen’s comment pre-coffee about the “immigration of birds” followed by Graeme’s quip about “their poor living conditions forcing them out” had me in stitches and Benen looking for the bottom of his coffee cup before we arrived at the rafting head office. Upon our arrival we were greeted by a group of testosterone primed adrenaline junkies that had the hilarious humor of 'that friend' who wasn’t afraid to jump off the highest cliff or pull a prank on the teacher when they weren’t looking. These guys had it made, rafting or kayaking white water rapids whenever they wanted and most of them had been all over the world to do it, wild lives coupled with wild stories.
After going through the safety talk, blah, blah, blah, you might die, blah, blah, please sign here, blah, we were given wetsuits, fleece sweaters, and neoprene boots. When we emerged from the changing rooms we looked like the biggest bunch of goofs you’ve ever laid eyes on; some of the wetsuits were a little big and so you had these thick rolls that looked as though you had been through a number of poorly planned liposuction operations, it was quite entertaining. Next we went over raft etiquette and key words that would be used when we got on the river, the guides had fun tormenting the ‘foreign’ kids during this segment. You could tell that they had a sort of mock routine they followed when teasing the group. When we got on the shuttle bus to the river one of the guides asked, “Who has never done this before?” Of course all of us raised our hands assuming he was referring to the rafting, to which he replied, “Hmm surprising, I used to take a bus to school all the time but this vehicle essentially takes us to the river…”.
We were split into two boats and when we got out onto the water the guides started to get a little more serious with their instruction although they still had ridiculous names for sections of the river like ‘Meat Grinder’ etc. Thankfully we were accompanied by two guides on kayaks that were there for first aid situations, we’ll touch on this a little later on. One of the most exhilarating sections of the whole rafting trip was the seven-meter waterfall, Tutea Falls; the tallest commercial waterfall you are allowed to raft in the world. There we were, perched at the top of it, our guide going over the safety rules and bringing up times when the raft flips, sending everyone flying. I watched as everyone’s faces went from a comfortable smile initiated by the trip thus far, to an anxious sort of ‘ha-ha this is gonna be great ha-ha… right?” kind of a face. We watched with bated breath as the other boat approached the edge of the waterfall, its crew suddenly jumping down into safety position and then disappearing in a cloud of mist and gasps of elation.
So this was it, our turn. We took part in one final team cheer and released the anchoring vines dangling from the cliff wall beside us. “Paddle hard! Paddle hard! GO! GO! GO! GET DOWN!” shouted the guide. I took one last glance down river and my eyes grew wide with fright, what a drop. I pounced down into my safety position low in the body of the rubber raft, right hand securing the paddle along the side, gripping the safety rope, my left hand clamped like the jaws of life on the handle fastened to the bottom of the raft. Suddenly a view opened up ahead of me and I could see clear above the helmets of my friends as we were now vertical headed for the frothy white abyss below. Down and down and down we went, my chin tucked to my chest, and locked in place as I was unable to move it anywhere else, everything sounded as though it was pressed under the shower faucet. Finally, we crashed into the bottom, folding in half and springing open like a miscreant calzone. Miraculously our only casualty was a paddle belonging to Benedict who looked on in horror as it floated like a corpse away from the raft. The rest of the crew laughed , delighted that it was only the paddle floating along in the unsettled waters below the crashing cataract before us.
After retrieving Benedicts poor paddle we continued on down the river. This is when something absolutely unexpected occurred. While waiting below a set of rapids, we looked on as one of our first aid guides took on the rapids in his kayak. Suddenly he was flipped upside down and rushed unforgivingly through the thrashing teeth of the white water. In awe of what was happening our crew looked on helplessly as the kayak was forced past us, its captor still being held somewhere below. Roughly ten seconds from the time the kayak flipped it hit one of the cliff walls of the pool we were drifting in and at last the guide surfaced, white faced and gasping for breath as the current washed him further down the throat of the river.
“PADDLE HARD, PADDLE HARD, FORWARD, FORWARD!!!” shouted our guide. Our energy renewed by this sudden jolt of fear, we hurled the raft down the river in pursuit of the guide and his overturned kayak. The second kayak guide was just ahead of us and had pinned his coworker along with the overturned kayak up against a vine-covered wall. We immediately pulled the sopping guide aboard and made sure he was all right. When it was certain that no harm was done the rest of the staff teased him ruthlessly for the remainder of the trip.
After completing the rest of the rapids and returning to the office we thanked the staff for all they had done including the unscripted excitement and loaded up the vans headed for yet another adventure. Luckily for us our next stop was just around the corner from the Blue Lake campsite at Lake Tarawera where we had heard of a hike we ‘had to do’. When we arrived at the trailhead it was partially overgrown and uninviting, unsure of what to do we asked the owner of the tour boat on the lake who of course told us the trail was impassable, asshole. Shortly after hearing this Graeme had found the trail that led around the lake, packed down and well traversed. We wound our way along the coast of the lake for a couple of hours through the thick foliage of ferns and Manuka flowers. While crossing a stream we spotted a massive rainbow trout, one of the first fish I have seen here. After making our way around perhaps an eighth of the lake we pushed through the brush to a narrow strip of shoreline to take in the view. Directly across from us was a volcano, lips pursed gently against sky, I tried to imagine it upset, a fire belching beast blowing smoke and ash through the butt of a cigar. It seemed possible at the time because everything around us was so wild, if we had waited a minute longer maybe it too would unleash itself.
During the hike back to the car we were rewarded with a view across the lake of a rainbow, or at least part of one. Unfortunately our pot of gold expert, Benen the Irishman, was not present for his expert opinion as he and Bene were mountain biking (hopefully he doesn't read this). At last most of our adventure was done for the day and we had a long three-hour drive ahead of us to a place called Wentworth just outside of Whangamata (pronounced Fanga-metaa). The drive took us through such places as Te Puke: kiwi fruit capital of the world, and we caught a beautiful sunset while passing through Bethlehem. By the time it got dark the silhouettes of the steep mountain ranges ahead were nothing but a tease to our hungry eyes.
After an hour of steep winding roads we finally arrived at our campsite which was simply flat ground with running water and an outhouse, perfect. Exhausted and starving from a day of rafting and hiking I gorged myself on tortillas filled with rice and tuna, washed down by Red Lion beer, such a treat. That night it was Graeme, Benedicte and I in my small two person tent seeing as our big tent was no longer usable. No need for the extra thermals, we were packed in like sardines.
Well it was another amazing day in the books. I wondered how many days we could keep up this streak of good weather and incredible activity? There was no telling what the next few days would have in store for me and that might be one of the best feelings in the world.
Now I know you all must be getting tired of my writing so my good friend Bene who I have mentioned throughout these blogs has put together some videos for this spring break on his own blog and I am telling you right now, they are impressive. He was constantly filming and snapping photos throughout the trip and his time and effort has really paid off. Please click on the link and see for yourself. I will post Day 5 as soon as I can.
Cheers,
Brayden
Rafting is a recreational activity utilizing a raft to navigate a river or other body of water.
ReplyDeleterafting the grand canyon