The Morda Brook

I drove back into Rotorua and the minutes raced by as the moments dragged. I felt like I had got away with something and that after this day, everything would be different. This dichotomy of tiredness yet awareness, accomplishment yet humility has for me followed a number of intense experiences - like the last vestiges of a flow state that refuses to accept normal life. The day had started at 5am with pizza and coffee in the car on the way to Maungarangi road. The early rise served its purpose and we slid down the put-in ramp at precisely 7am. So it began. The normal Okere Falls lap went smoothly for me, capped by a smooth dry face line on Tutea. It's hard to beat that feeling of muscle memory dialling in, the body focusing for the challenges ahead. As we floated down and unanimously voted to walk Trout we laughed about paddling well now being an 'omen'. In retrospect this was certainly another way to calm our nerves (or at least mine). We rolled down through the slalom gat...

The Ikawhenua range sits between the Rangitaiki and Whakatāne rivers, a piece of land some 20km wide but at least 100km long. During the covid lockdown my mind had insistently played a simple dream of fly camping. Aotearoa emerged into alert level two and I decided the Ikawhenua was the place to be. Given I have something of a predilection for over-training it seemed prudent to cut myself off at the pass and pick what appeared to be the easiest hut to get to. Ergo, I selected Mangamako Hut, situated above the stream of the same name and accessed through forestry near Kopuriki. The kayak guidebook warns of the Aniwhenua take-out that "the area is notorious for car theft". This caused me some pause for thought but I eventually decided (hoped) that the car would be safe enough at the Lake Aniwhenua campground, parked conspicuously in front of some nearby houses. Transport situation relatively assured, I pointed the mighty cadex in the direction of lookout road. Ten hair raising ...

Sometime in late 2018 I decided it was my duty to build a canoe. Furthermore I decided that whilst power tools were available, these did not suit my style. No, it was hand tools for me. The very notion of the intrusive, destructive, awful machines was alarming. They were antithetical to my style, inherently evil, harbingers of all things bad and so forth. Also I didn't know how to use them. In truth I chose hand tools because I wanted to see how hard it would be. Could I pick up a saw, sandpaper, paintbrush and with little else build a boat? Thus was the enticing dream. The idea formed slowly in my head, inspired by a number of books acting in concert. Firstly, An Englishman Aboard: Discovering France in a Rowing Boat  by Charles Timoney. A tale of the authors piecemeal descent of the Seine river in a homemade rowing boat. Secondly, The Pull of the River: A Journey into the Wild and Watery Heart of Britain by Matt Gaw.  Collected explorations of different rivers...

The section of the Ngaruroro between Kuripapango and Whanawhana is known in whitewater circles as the lower gorge, or sometimes simply the Ngaruroro gorge. I refer to it here as the 'middle' section of the river, in order to leave the stretch from Whanawhana to the sea as the 'lower'. There is about 50km of river between Kuripapango and Whanawhana and within this stretch is the hardest whitewater the Ngaruroro has to offer, culminating in one or two rapids which probably reach class IV. There are plenty of stories out there about people doing long day trips on the section, finishing in the dark or taking on high flows. I have now had the privilege of completing the section twice, both as overnight trips. Much like the upper river, this section holds great significance to me but it is for starkly different reasons. Let me take you back to 2013. In 2013 we had a great winter of flows in Wellington and I was chock full with motivation for whitewater paddling. I go...

With the exception of Te Awa Kairangi - Hutt River, the Ngaruroro holds more meaning for me than any other river. It is difficult to succinctly express what different parts of this river have meant at different times in my life. For this reason I have broken the river into sections and will order them as the water flows. By the upper river I mean the stretch from the source to Kuripapango, flowing almost exclusively through Kaweka Forest Park. The Kaweka range was the site of my first tramping experiences. Fly camping, forest service huts, snow and the ubiquitous kanuka scrub. For many summers the family camped at Kuripapango. I remember the obscene heat of the tent after a baking Hawkes bay day. I remember the terror of running low water class II in a sit on top. I remember the cicadas. I remember skimming stones. I remember. In 2011, I started learning to whitewater kayak in a meaningful fashion. Dad would take me up to Kuripapango and we would paddle the oxbow sectio...

Last November we explored the upper Wakamarina river in Marlborough, paddling from Doom Creek to Butchers Flat. I related the low water level, the beauty, the complacency, the upside down experience. Unfortunately, this particular batch of complacency has had a much longer lasting effect than a little wounded pride. I knew something wasn't right in my shoulder but I thought like most things it would recover in a few days time. A few weeks later I paddled on the Waiohine river in the Wairarapa - I had full range of motion but my shoulder felt weak, sore and clunky. At first I instituted a self-developed rehab plan. This plan involved some randomly chosen band and free-weight exercises. I worked reasonably hard and went to the Tongariro a month later to test. No dice. Finally, in March I booked an appointment with a physio. An x-ray and an ultrasound later the verdict was a large tear in the subscapularis caused by a blunt force impact. With the right exercises and dedicatio...

Nothing, absolutely nothing. The whitebaiter sat on a drainpipe, the dull grey concrete in contrast with the surrounding spring green grass. He must have been an optimistic chap as the drainpipe in question was located about 3.5km up the Waiwhetū Stream. The Waiwhetū winds through the Eastern suburbs of Lower Hutt - Naenae, Epuni, Waterloo, Waiwhetū, Gracefield. It empties into the Hutt River just before Te Awa Kairangi greets Te Whanganui A Tara. While the catchment is small, the tidal nature of the lower stream allows almost 4km of paddleable waterway. The key factor to a successful trip is ensuring the paddling coincides with high tide. The Waiwhetū experience begins on the wide tidal reaches of the Hutt, where wind often drives fledgling waves up or down the river. Slipping under an unlikely looking low bridge on the true left gives access to the Waiwhetū itself. Here the Waiwhetū is penned with uniform concrete walls topped by steel fences. The stream is soon released...