 Two days prior to trip, disorganised as it is possible to be, I skillfully kick a housebrick that holds up my bed and broke my toe. Fucking Great. Hoping for quick recovery so paddling/climbing plans aren’t affected; I’m told red wine is a powerful healer . . .
Last minute e-mail from US paddling mate alters itinerary and I’m to go to Murchison instead of Payne’s for first 3 days of trip . This means paddling instead of climbing. Good for the digit I hoped and good in hindsight since it started raining the first evening and didn’t stop for 5 days.
Arrive Christchurch, claim car (Thanx Rat), do some circlework and drive to Murch. in time to catch Libby at the pub.
(Libby is Kiwi who has been away from NZ for the last year and while away has married a good old mate of mine in the US. Each day is a bit of a reunion for her with all sorts of paddling mates and an exercise in remembering new names for me).
We wait until dark and then go find somewhere we can “park up.” (“Park Up” means finding somewhere we can get away with sleeping in the cars- her van and my rental Suburu- without getting hassled). I can just fit in the back of the Suburu on the diagonal, so I am saved the hassle of pitching and packing a tent in the rain. Hot and stuffy with the hatch down, a bit wet with it up, but generally better than tentage issues. Shitloads of traffic and not much sleep. Look for better spot the next night.
Paddle the lower Mitakitaki twice the next day. Creek boats in the morning, play boats in the afternoon. Pub time all evening. The toe must be getting better by now. Meet up with Jen- huge smile, tons of energy, totally wacky- that evening at the pub. She is pulling together a trip to India to paddle in the autumn. We park up in front of her house up the mountain for the next few nights- yippy.
Rain keeps falling, water keeps rising, we keep paddling.
Granity section of Buller, we bring a less experienced boater with us who swims just above the only challenging rapid on the run. We had been told that we MUST scout this rapid. We get the paddler to shore, but the boat runs the rapid (quite well really). By the time we get out and scout the rapid, which would have been fine to run without scouting, the boat is long gone. The planned takeout was at the bottom of this gnarly bit so Libby continues downstream to find boat; the rest of us get out to go get the car and then get Libby. She found the thing washed up on gravel bar at last possible spot before it went to god. Some salivating rabid concentrated ball of quivering ferocity in the form of a Rotweiler below her landing spot was much more frightening than the river.
BIG play sessions on the Lower Mitak. Play hole is about 50 mtrs down from put in. We stay there till our arms are about to drop off, then bumble down the rest of the run several times a day.
 Leave Murch for Paynes with prospects of dryer weather. It’s time to climb. Supposed to give Wendy a lift to Paynes, but can’t get in touch because she has left out a digit in the phone number (Yeah yeah it wasn’t my fault OK). The weather is still grim, so I go to the one part of the cliff that is super steep- Bo Peep Slab- great name for the inside of a cave. Even though this crag is pretty much a cave, it has been raining so long that it is still damp and slick – bit like climbing a moist fish.
What a fucking fiasco! I picked up some bonehead at the campground that seemed OK. He was from Switzerland and claimed to be a trad climber (usually a good sign at a sport area) that mostly did long routes in the mountains (also usually a good sign). First, he didn't have his harness doubled back (no I am not kidding), then he didn't have his knot finished, then he couldn't even get to the first bolt while trying to top-rope my lead (we had discussed the grades of the place we were going and he said that he would be comfortable on them- being steep enough to stay mostly dry in the rain, the grades started at 21). On the second climb I lead, I thought he was going to kill me as he would lock off the rope about an inch short of enough for me to clip the draw, meanwhile my hands and feet were slowly slipping off of the greasy wet holds. Without my knowing it, a Brit that was near was so concerned that he stepped into belayer position. It was a relief when I looked down and saw I had a competent belayer. I found a two bolt 14 that wasn't in my book and he wobbled his way up that. Can't wait to see Drew!
I discover that even though my toe seems fine when I am paddling or walking around barefooted or in my sandals, a shoe of any kind and particularly a climbing shoe is excruciating. I was just about ready to go back to the rivers when I decided to try borrowing a super big climbing shoe for my injured foot. It worked, more or less, so I spent the rest of the trip climbing in two different shoes.
Wendy arrives bringing clearer skies with her. The rock dries quickly, but the tracks are a mess. Wendy manages to slip in the mud regularly, so constantly looks like she is just leaving a mud wrestling match.
 Old friends come up from Christchurch for the weekend and before the weekend is out, we have kidnapped one and not allowed him to go back home for a week. Big loungy pancake breakfasts before a cold plunge in the river and finally hit the crags. Large group of us tackle various routes on the globe wall and spend most of the day hanging on the ropes and heckling each other.
That night: After much alcohol and other substances, motivation takes over around the campfire ring and we decide to do Celia a favour (she runs the campground). Some previous overseas dirtbag climber has abandoned a car at the campground. For Celia to get rid of it will cost money, but if it were abandoned on public property, the council would have to deal with it, so in pitch-black darkness, we push it to the Reserve property. Miraculously no one was run over and there was no traffic coming down the highway at the bottom of the hill as the breakless car had way too much momentum to stop. After our successful car delivery, we all went back to the fire, where the usual campfire antics took over. Someone had a can of mystery content, so obviously the only way to discover what was inside was to throw it in the fire and see what came out. Picking the molten bits of tin and blood from Jorge’s tent, we decided tomatos and Jorge decided to move his tent.
 Next on the agenda - Possum hunting. In a fantastic deal from the Mussel Inn you will get a free beer with every Possum tail you slap on the bar. After much fooling around we decided to soothe the feeling of failure by just buying the stuff.
Floppy, the wonder dog, is a dedicated dog. Last year the superbeast leapt silently, paws forward, from the top of the cliff in a stealth attack on a possum in a nearby treetop, gallantly missed the meat and fell to the ground 40m below. (and was very disappointed with the evening.)
Generally, horrible weather for the next week, but fortunately the torrential downpours were all through the night and the days started clear. Justified large pancake breakfasts and lazy mornings because the rock was just getting dry by 11am. Rains usually hit again between 4-6pm. The Wholemeal Café was a welcome little haven. Good coffee, decadent deserts, great meals and a warm dry place to hang out.
The two British lads celebrated their birthday with an ugly night at the Muscle Inn. Fi and Drew helped them celebrate and weren’t seen outside of their tent all the next day. Tim, the Hooded Wonder, ventured through camp while most of us were having breakfast and looked so bad, it was painful to even watch him try to walk from his tent to the toilet. The 10% alchohol Monkey Puzzle beers are probably best drunk in small quantities.
Day 18 or so: Back to Murchison to meet up with Jamie and Libby for a bit more paddling. Enough rain for the GlenRoy run to be in condition. Fantastic continuous boulder hopping for most of the run, then two tougher rapids at the end. General scene- meet at campground in the a.m. and have lots of hot drinks and try to formulate a plan for the day. After going round in circles for hours with different ideas, finally load boats and drive shuttle. Have a great run and then retire to River’s Café or the Commercial Pub till dark. Park up and do it all again the next day.
 After 3 days in Murch, down to Hokitika. Dumping rain and every drainage I cross is in flood. Arrive in Hoki to a town full of disgruntled paddlers who haven’t gotten to do any of the super epic runs all season because of bad weather. Stay almost a week, but get very little paddling in. Spend a lot of time “sifting.” (sifting- hanging out in café’s, shops, libraries or any where else you can get away with it, trying to spend as little money as possible, but still have a warm dry place to hang out) Things are so desperate that we paddle a run that requires walking the entire shuttle. After 2 hours carrying my boat on my shoulder, and thinking that these fucking Kiwis are nuts, we finally paddle a very nice technical run. I swear to myself that I will never carry a shuttle again in my life as my shoulder and hips feel permanently damaged. Two days later with no other options, we carried the shuttle for another run. Fucking Desperate.
Bailed on the pathetic weather to retreat to my friend’s house in Christchurch. Three other friends from Paynes coincidently arrive as well. The house is full of climbers, not sure the roommates are impressed, and the party continues. Nynne and I go searching for surf up the coast in Kaikurra, but find a good winery and some great pubs instead. More healing.
Get stung by the usual bastards for $60 excess baggage to get all my climbing and kayaking shit home (plus all the extra Rat clothes that had been shipped over). Suppose sixty bucks isn’t that bad when you think about it; it was a great trip. Life’s good and I’m still feeding.
E
[ Enga flew straight to Australia for a few weeks of climbing, then to Bali for a few weeks of surfing, then to the US for a few weeks of domestic shit, then working on some weird bamboo project in France …..before heading back to the US to climb…….and so it goes on] |
