At the parking point, we met our guide, a short, fiery woman called Tammy - who turned out to not only be a brilliant guide, but scared of bugs and a meaaannnn camping chef. I don't think I'd eaten so well in weeks! It was at this point we realised our bags were not coming with us, but going in a car to the campsite. I, personally, felt a tad foolish.
On the back of her ute surrounded by sleeping bags and lifejackets, clambered on me and Martine - because, of course, our delightful effeminate friends had taken the back seat. But, you know what? I so didn't mind. Hooning along at the speed limit, wedged between a water cooler and some sort of metal bar, the wind was in my hair, the eagles were flapping by and I got to REALLY see a lot that I hadn't before. I kept thinking 'We have nothing like this in New Zealand!' but of course, we do. It was just the vastness, emptiness, the untouched terrain that was so compelling.
At the dropin site, we had a lunch on the back of the - now empty - ute, smothered ourselves in sunscreen while Stuart tried to freak us out about the 'fresh water crocodiles' Yeah right Stu!
Tammy's briefing was hilarious, because though she was very serious, she kept getting attacked by Stone flies (which, by the bye, are huge and look prehistoric) so she did repeat herself a couple of times. Which, for me, was a good thing.
Imagine a raft and then in lines, you sit at the top, the middle and the back. Slipping your inside foot under the fold of the raft - for safety. The people at the top set the rhythm (day one was Stuart and Gretchen who are great company but hopeless leaders. Sometimes Gretchen would stop paddling, and look around and smile at us. Which would've been nice, had we not been in a rapid...) and the others follow. Tammy calls out directions 'All forward! All back! All forward hard!' and then 'Left back!' which means the left side paddle backwards while the right go forward (this, obviously turns the boat and keeps it on a trajectory)
She warned us that if we went up on a rock and she called 'High Side!' we had to all hoon it over to the rock because otherwise the boat would flip.
If you fell out close to the boat, swim for the boat - you can hold your oar out. If you fell out in a rapid, go down the rapid feet first, pulling yourself up out of the water, so your feet hit rocks first as to not hit your head and to bounce your way off them so you can either swim to shore or swim to the boat.
I am pleased to say that on one fell out, but there were some terrifically scary and exhilarating instances - one of which, when we were in the most dangerous rapid and Gretchen stopped paddling. I was not proud and yet supremely proud of myself in that moment, because I hit her on the bum with my oar to get her to paddle. Bahah. It worked though. We nearly were highsiding in the biggest rapid that day Needle point (I think that's what it was called...?) and I was not having myself being trapped under a rubber boat. No thank you.
After a couple of hours, we arrived at our destination, a campsite, where Tammy made some Hors O'douvres and I set up my tent - I kinda stuffed it up - but got there in the end. Probably was funniest when I got trapped inside it, not sure of where the zips were.
We gathered firewood, I did some food prep, and we read books in the sun.
Dinner was a feast! Proper Italian style pasta with Zucchini and tomato and garlic and parmesan. Woodfired bread. A yum salad. I could hear people tooting all night after havin 2nd and 3rd helpings.
Around the fire, Stuart read a beautiful poem by Edward Hardy (tbc name) we sung songs from home and Peter - our other helper - busted out his guitar and we waiata'd into the night. Loudly, confidently, sometimes rudely (there are some brilliant vulgar songs I now know) and all while Tammy made fudge brownie in a metal pot with coals on the top of it. Decadence.
Finally, exhausted and full, everyone hit the hay. But as it was FREEZING I crept into Adam's two person tent in the middle of the night, craving some warmth. Unfortunately, I fell over inside it, woke him up and both of us did not sleep the whole night. On the upside we got the giggles on as the sun came up and woke everyone. This, believe me, was a good thing. Because we had an epic day ahead.
As we all rose, Tammy had already whipped up cheesy scrambled eggs, soft baked bagels, bacon (not for me) and delicious hashbrowns (like fried potato mash with jalapenos, onion, garlic) wholllymoley was it divine. We all, again, ate far too much. So much so, it was a challenge getting on the boat a couple of hours later.
Day two was much harder work, and scarier. But also better. At the very top, we hit the Yarmony rapid, where I found out after, people kept flipping their boats and people have been known to go missing for days. Oh good. But with new leaders at the helm and a very skilled and confident Tammy, we worked our arses off and got through it.
It's great, whitewater rafting, because you'll go through an epic rapid - adrenalin going crazy and then for the next 15 minutes you'll either be in a current or flat water and it is so calm and idyllic, you chill for a bit. It's a great workout.
We had one stop at a little community led by a man with 1 and a half feet, and where we picked up handsome Peter, and had a few snacks before we were on our way again.
I was grateful that Peter was one my side for two reasons on the rest of the journey. 1) he is a strong paddler and evened up the boats power, and 2) because he was sitting in front of me, and very nice to gaze at during the less hectic times. He is 20 years old. So yes I was having a perve at his young, strong physique. It wasn't just me though! 2 gay boys and Martine. Nuff said.
After 4 hours, we came to a stop and dragged the epically heavy boat back to the car, deflated it, had lunch and packed down.
White water rafting - what I can only describe as something that makes me appreciate mother nature. Thank you rapids for holding us and not letting us get sucked into you. We had such a good time.
And you know what? I'd probably do it again.
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