Women down the wild river

By JUDITH DOYLE

Rock on, Jude," says my canoeing partner as we emerge from a tributary of the Whanganui and join the main river, heading for the frothing waters of our first rapid. We're on a five-day canoeing trip on the Whanganui River, led by Lizzie Baker of Wanderwomen and two other guides.

We have just finished a session on canoe strokes and techniques for shooting rapids, in persistent rain. "What am I doing here?" I wonder. How will a novice like me manage camping in the rain, let alone shooting rapids in a Canadian canoe?

Once on the river, I'm too busy trying to remember the canoeing wisdom from guide Claire Webster to think about the rain dripping down my neck. We plunge through the Whakatara Rapid no trouble, thanks to my partner (and third guide) Steph Honeysett, who hoots with delight.

Maori knew the river so well that they gave names to all the rapids - there are 110 between Whakahoro and Pipiriki, the start and end points of our trip. According to my Guide to the Whanganui River, nine of these need special care.

I settle into some serious paddling. We're gliding through smooth water now, murky and greenish-brown - the river's muddy appearance comes from its heavy silt load.

The untouched bush that hides the river from outside eyes makes it seem like a secret we are just discovering. There is no road access to the river along this stretch, which is within the Whanganui National Park, so it is wilderness all right.

Not so in bygone days. Maori lived in villages along the river, building fortified pa on strategic headlands. Then the Europeans arrived - missionaries in the 1840s; a regular steamer service from the 1860s and international tourists heading for elegant Pipiriki House or the posh houseboat-hotel at Whakahoro. Between the 1920s and 1940s, soldier-settlers tried to farm nearby.

Today, the river belongs to us. The cliffs rise sheer for several metres until thick bush begins. Down the cliffsides ferns cling, like green triangles of lace. Occasionally a ponga fern, like a green asterisk, finds a foothold in a crevice.

The rain eases off before we reach our first campsite at Mangapapa, after 11km of paddling. We struggle up the bank with the barrels that contain our gear, pitching our tents on a level site overlooking a curve of river.

Guide Lizzie combines many talents: canoeist, organiser, punctilious about safety and fun to be with. She also has the ability to produce amazing meals under less-than-ideal conditions.

My sister, a friend and I have joined a party of eight women for the trip. Ages vary from thirtysomething up to the 70s. Good food, good company and good paddling combine to give me a surprisingly good night's sleep.

I even find the strange night noises soothing - the melancholy cry of a morepork, the croak of a frog and the splashing of a waterfall on the opposite bank of the river.

Next day, we wake to find mist blanketing the tops of the trees but it clears to a sparkling morning and we load up the canoes in high spirits.

We set off, down through the gorges. On the cliffs, toe-toe wave in the breeze like prayer flags. The bush is one of the largest remaining areas of untouched lowland forest in the North Island. The nikau palms are easy to pick out, as are the pointed tops of rewarewa above the bush canopy.

The paddling strokes feel more natural today: forward paddle, back paddle, draw stroke, ferry glide and sweeping stroke. As we shoot several rapids, I hear yahoos from the canoe in front. We're getting the hang of going for the V in the water and paddling like mad so that our speed is faster than the current. The theory is that you're then in control and less likely to capsize by getting broadside to the current.

We pull our canoes up the bank mid-morning for a swim but soon we're paddling energetically again - there's 26.5km to cover today. We detour into one of the tributaries, which are so skinny that the sun barely reaches in. Later we raft up and a couple of paddlers hop overboard and drift in the current, hanging on to a canoe. Claire makes a foot loop with rope to help them back on board again.

As we negotiate one rapid, we have company - a pair of Mallard ducks surfing the rapids, too. On a smooth stretch of water, we hear the story of the Whanganui River. How all the mountains loved Pihanga, the lovely bush-clad mountain near Lake Taupo. Pihanga chose the venerable Tongariro. After many centuries of peace, Tongariro caught Taranaki in a love affair with Pihanga and he cast red hot stones and lava over Taranaki, who was forced to flee.

Plunging towards the setting sun, he tore a deep wound through the earth as he went. From the side of Tongariro sprang a stream of water. This filled the wound and created the Whanganui River.

Even in the sun, the high cliffs topped in bush make the river dark and mysterious, to match the story of its creation. Waterfalls are frequent on the cliffsides. Some drop like delicate bead curtains; others look like silver ribbons. We explore a few that are hidden within a deep cavern. Many spout from a hole like gargoyles.

We land on the muddy foreshore of John Coull Campsite by late afternoon. It has three terraces for tents and a DoC hut. We labour up a steep bank with all the gear, while a kereru watches us, flying above us with a whirr of wings.

That day becomes the pattern for the next three. The sun shines; we become more confident at rapid-shooting, we swim, share jokes, raft up together, drifting down as a flotilla and slowly but surely meld into a group. Sharing a wilderness experience that is well outside your comfort zone makes a strong bond between you.

We enjoy walking along the Mangapurua Valley to the Bridge to Nowhere, where World War I veterans tried - and failed - to farm.

Another interesting interlude is visiting Tieke Marae. We are met at the entrance and given an explanation of protocol, which "since Lizzie never brings any men" does not include speeches or singing.

After a handshake and a hongi by the family living there, Lizzie spreads out our lunch on a long table on the lawn and we sit around eating and chatting.

Twelve years ago Lizzie co-founded women's adventure travel company Wanderwomen, which has taken groups sea kayaking, tramping, mountain biking and rock-climbing.

Next challenge is to shoot the Ngaporo Rapid, following Lizzie's instructions to stick close to the bank where the channel runs. I read later that this rapid is notorious - in 1940 a steamer carrying sheep and cattle capsized here, losing all stock and drowning three members of the crew.

Our fourth and last campsite, Ngaporo, is a delightful spot with room on the flat pebbly foreshore for tents and two further terraces up the bank. Despite paddling 23km that day, we get the gear uphill easily - we have a chain system sussed by then.

A later group of paddlers lights a campfire with driftwood and we join them near the water watching the stars come out and the river slowly turning black in the dusk. It was a magical moment to mark the last night of our journey.

On our last day Lizzie advises us on the Autapu Rapid which can have pressure waves up to 1m high. You can avoid these large waves by passing to the right of the main current.

Before the next rapid, a jetboat driver yells to us as he passes, "Niagara Falls coming up!" Te Autemutu Rapid is swift. We hardly have time to bale water out before we're into the Paparoa rapid, past an old eel weir. It's a long turbulent rapid. I think "Eureka. We're all through." Then I look back and see an upturned canoe with two heads bobbing along beside it.

Lizzie sets off immediately, rescue rope at the ready. But the two in the water swim to the nearby Pipiriki boat ramp while Lizzie hauls in the canoe by rope. This, our first and only capsize, certainly ends the trip with a bang. Or, as one of the swimmers puts it, "Capsizing was a crowning achievement for me - all that build-up we went through preparing for the rapids just had to have a dramatic climax."

Case notes

Contact

Bushwise Women (Email) ran the trip, contracting Wanderwomen as guides.

Ph: Lyn Jowett (04) 562 6011.

When to go

This trip was a New Year special which has become a regular. Bushwise Women also run other types of outdoor trips throughout the year in New Zealand, Australia and some places further afield.

What it costs

$750. Covers canoe/camping gear; food and transport from and back to meeting place; single tent and sleeping mat can be hired for $20 each.

How to get there

We met at National Park. Car parking was available on private property. Transport provided to Whanganui River and return. What to take Bushwise Women provide a gear list and urge you not to take extras - everything must be carried up steep banks in your barrel.

Fitness

Fitness-for-canoeing exercises sent when you book. Novices are welcome.