Jetboating on the Makarora River. Photo / Supplied
Jetboating on the Makarora River. Photo / Supplied
Our ancestors would have ventured deeper into our back country if they'd been able to do so in a powerful jetboat, writes Lisa Scott.
Would I like to go on a jetboat picnic, as a guest of Ahipara Luxury Travel? There would be crayfish. I love crayfish. And being a guest. My husband, an economist, on the other hand, is a man allergic to niceness. To him, "luxury" means pillows and candles, and he hates both.
"It'll be a holiday," I reassured him.
First to Wanaka, a town where the rich go to practise backing boat trailers. It was atrociously hot and the sight of marine transport jogged the economist's grumbles.
"If you ask me, it's what's wrong with the world today. Too much luxury."
I let this silliness slide. Wanaka's manicured verges were littered with listless retirees in polo shirts and chinos, sweltering under a top coat of utter boredom. A golf-weathered ex-CEO with a face like a disappointed handbag watched in envy as we escaped the suburban stranglehold - taking the Lake Hawea road to Makarora.
It's amazing how quickly the scenery changes. One minute you're in the lunar landscape of Central Otago; blue skies above acres of rumpled velour, next, the wild West Coast. Bracken replaces tussock, wispy clouds make milk moustaches on mountain faces.
For every kilometre up the isthmus between the two lakes, add an inch or so of rain. Ferns drip and waterfalls stripe dense bush hillsides. People here wear Swanndris.
Jetboats were invented in Canterbury in the 1950s by William "Bill" Hamilton, who once said, "I do not claim to have invented marine jet propulsion. That honour belongs to a gentleman named Archimedes, who lived some years ago."
Harvey Hutton (owner of Wilkin River Jetboats) with a crayfish at Makarora. Photo / Jean-Michel Jefferson
Because they need only 10.16cm of water, they're perfect for navigating shallow, braided rivers, and Wilkin River Jet owns the only two allowed to ply the Wilkin and Makarora.
Lifejackets and sunglasses on, we're off, Hayden Blackburn driving a custom-built Jet Seeker with a 384 Kodiak engine.
When I stop screaming, I notice the economist's lunatic grin. It's not all zoom-zoom, though. The river is glacial blue and clear enough to see its pebbled bottom. A flock of Canada geese V above us and, in deep, shady corners, enormous rainbow and brown trout enjoy a scarcity of anglers.
The landmarks say a lot about the mindset of the pioneers: Mt Awful. Mt Dreadful. Jumboland is named after a stallion called Jumbo, which ran away from home. Every year farmers would release their mares at the tip of the river and every year they'd come back in foal. Jumbo was never mustered.
Wilkin Jets stop at the border of Mt Aspiring National Park. More Jurassic Park: pristine, prehistoric, a sudden tree shake followed by an emerging herd of triceratops wouldn't seem out of place. This is awesomely juxtaposed with the fact we got here in a marvel of modern technology. Shooting back up river, we head for the tip of Lake Wanaka. Normally buffeted by gusts, today it's as flat as a pancake.
"How deep is it?" I ask Hayden. "Really deep." he says. Would I like to drive?
"Yes!" I say, just as my companion smothers a "Nooo!"
Hayden points the boat away from shore and I let it rip.
Stepping from the terrifyingly powerful jetboat I have just driven, it's hard not to swagger a bit. When the adrenaline rush wears off, however, I go all floppy.
Our host, Harvey Hutton, is a good keen man. A farmer, hunter and wild food enthusiast, he has just gone out with a smile on his face and lived every day of his life. He started flying helicopters during the live recovery stage of the New Zealand deer industry. His wife, Patsy, is descended from the first white woman settler in Makarora.
A lunchtime feast is prepared beside Wilkin River. Photo / Jean-Michel Jefferson
"We find people don't want to leave this spot once they get here," she says, of a grassy glade enclosed by wind-bent willows. Maybe its because lunch is crayfish, paua, whitebait patties and tender venison.
"As you get older, it's more enjoyable to share the things you have," says Harvey. In a freakish happenstance of greed, I am seated beside the crayfish platter.
Replete, we snooze while the Wilkin River chuckles past.
"It's not luxury," says my hubby. "I mean it's great, don't get me wrong, but 'authenticity' is the word you're looking for. This is an authentic New Zealand experience."
Getting there:Air New Zealand and Jetstar have several daily flights to Queenstown. From there, Makarora is about a two-hour drive via Wanaka.
Further information:Ahipara Luxury Travel is run by Jean-Michel and Karen Jefferson. The jetboat picnic costs $2600 for a group of six and $300 each for the next two people to a maximum of eight in a boat.
