By ALLAN UREN
I dip my paddle into water that's as dark as black coffee and watch as it seems to melt away beneath the surface. This is the Papakeri, a small tributary that flows into the Jacobs River, which in turn runs into the Tasman Sea in South Westland.
Around a bend in the stream the rest of the group appears, sliding along as if on a silken conveyor belt. There are five canoes grouped together in a loose raft; snacks are being passed around and folk are reclining - chatting.
"This is what I would think the Amazon would look like," says one.
In fact it isn't hard to imagine the outline of a crocodile in a large fallen tree looming out of the shallows. What type of flesh-eating fish lurk in there? At the minimum, eels.
A wood pigeon in the distance performing a lazy stall-wingover manoeuvre could be a tropical bird.
The sea is more than a smell on the breeze and a roar in the distance, it is also a powerful helping hand. The tide has turned and we are being pushed upstream. Our journey had started off the main West Coast road at the thriving settlement of Jacobs, population 30.
On the bank of the river near the local primary school, as the children have morning break, we gear up. We pull on wetsuits and life jackets and there is such a level of preparation that to a casual observer it would seem as if we were heading off for weeks.
This is only a day trip, however, and in the evening we will return to comfortable bed and breakfast lodgings in Fox Glacier township. Deb van Loghem, a gym-honed woman from Tauranga, takes time out from preparations for a session of what looks like "air paddling".
"I'm practising paddling, I'm really keen to master the J-Stroke."
It's a stroke, I'm told, that's used to steer the canoe while sitting in the rear, using a single paddle.
"Okay! Let's go."
Dean Arthur, one of our guides, gathers us together and two by two, boats are launched into a slight current, and we head down the river past native bush.
When we reach a section of river that has a more powerful current, Arthur gives us a safety talk and demonstrates the skill of ferry gliding.
"Ferry gliding is a way of moving to and fro across the river on an angle, using the current to assist you."
Arthur with his partner and fellow guide Toni Bryant go on to demonstrate, moving across stream like a fairy - gliding. The rest of us float out into the current.
A canoe lacks a rudder, unlike a sea-kayak, and requires a certain level of skill and co-operation from both paddlers, if steering is to be easy. Learning these skills is part of the adventure.
So there are no "domestics" Arthur made a decree before we ventured on to the river, " ... no couples are to paddle together until the last day of the week-long trip".
Everyone agreed, as I imagine all of us have had experiences of tension when being taught how to drive, play golf and similar, by our partners.
Our boats are definitely pleasure-craft, but canoes have been used in more practical ways on the Coast. Harry Ayres, a famous New Zealand alpine guide, and Bert Mahuika portaged a 4m folding Canadian canoe into the Callery Gorge in 1940 and used it to search for gold in crevices.
This gorge is described by another legendary mountain guide, Peter Graham, who prospected there in the early 1900s, as " ... so deep and narrow that sunlight never penetrated into it".
The river we are on is wide enough not to be oppressive and in the distance are bluey-grey mountains.
Being an odd number in the group, I follow Ron Chandler and van Loghem in a single kayak and feel slightly left out. Van Loghem's earlier practice seems to have helped - she is looking every bit the expert and they progress arrow-straight downstream. She even shows off, steering the boat by resting the paddle on the crest of the gunwale protruding out the stern, using it as a Venetian gondolier would.
A grinning crew continues downstream until rapids demand everybody pulls out to the shore, so it can be scoped.
Arthur tells us: "The white water may look innocent, but look there," he points and we look closely, "that's a log and if any of you were to fall out in the rapid, it is possible you could get pinned underneath. We'll portage around it."
There's general grumbling, especially from the men. But Arthur is unswayed. "Don't worry, you'll probably fall out at some stage, but somewhere safer."
In deep, moderately flowing water, his prophecy comes true. Everyone is practising the catching of eddies, and the inevitable happens. I watch as a pair leans the wrong way, into the current, the water catches the edge of the boat and they slowly capsize.
They bob off down the river until being swept into shore. There is leg-pulling and laughter from their friends.
Catching eddies is an essential skill, needed if we are to paddle swifter water. It entails leaning downstream when moving from recirculating water back out into the main flow and leaning into the turn when going from the main flow into an eddy.
This description sounds confusing, but as Arthur and Bryant show, carving turns back and forth across the river, there is the grace of a powder skier. By 4pm the tide is at its optimum flow and we turn to float up the Papakeri.
The forest closes in and the line between the Amazon and New Zealand is a fine one. Arthur tells us why this could only be New Zealand, explaining how the forest we're floating through is podocarp, an ancient type of conifer.
There are 17 podocarp species which have developed uniquely to New Zealand. They do, however, share generic affinities with species from the continent of Gondwanaland that drifted apart 80 million years ago.
There is a similarity to the forests of the Amazon Basin. The trees of South Westland survive on impoverished soil, which loses a high percentage of its fertility due to the metres of rain that fall on the Coast annually. The dark water we're on is an artery flowing with the life-blood of the forest, yet the trees have adapted to survive in the nutrient-poor soil by becoming high-rise ghettos, with vines, liverworts and ferns as residents. Nutrients and stored energy are increased by growing on each other.
Arthur explains another oddity of this forest. After the last major ice advance, 14,000 years ago, huge Piedmont glaciers bulldozed all the vegetation into the sea and beech trees failed to recolonise. Now there is a 200km gap, extending between the Taramakau River near Greymouth in the north and the Paringa River in the south, called the "beech gap".
Beech trees have heavy seeds which travel only short distances on the back of a breeze or floating down a river. Along with the seeds and leaves, we continue drifting.
Suddenly the spell is broken by the sound of traffic. We have come to the end of the journey, under the Papakeri one-lane bridge on the main road. Back in Fox Glacier, I part company with the group, who are off to tackle more challenges.
Case notes
* Getting there
Due West Canoe Safaris operate out of Hokitika on the West Coast. There are a number of ways to get there.
Air New Zealand flies Auckland (via Christchurch) to Hokitika. Fares range from $99 to $479 one way (excluding taxes.)
There is a daily bus to Hokitika from Christchurch with Coast to Coast Bus Service. Fare $35 one way. Ph 0800 800 847
The most scenic way of getting there from Christchurch is the Tranz Scenic train, to Greymouth $94 one way. Ph: 0800 802 802
* Getting around
Due West Canoe Safaris will meet you at airport, bus or train terminal and take you to your accommodation. Trip leaves from Hokitika and returns to Hokitika
* Duration of safari
Five days. Each day of paddling time differs (longest paddling day is the Wanganui River trip, six hours).
* When to go
From December through to March are when Due West trips run, to coincide with the most stable weather on the Coast.
* What to take
Comfortable outdoor clothing for any walks and relaxing at cafes.
* Gear for paddling
Due West will supply all specialised gear needed for a safe and comfortable safari. Call them for more information and bookings. Ph: (03) 755 6717
* What it costs
$2500 per person, $4000 per couple
This covers all costs once on safari, excluding alcohol. It includes accommodation for six nights.
Due West Canoe Safaris
By ALLAN UREN
I dip my paddle into water that's as dark as black coffee and watch as it seems to melt away beneath the surface. This is the Papakeri, a small tributary that flows into the Jacobs River, which in turn runs into the Tasman Sea in South Westland.
AdvertisementAdvertise with NZME.