Easter Resurrection for Ancient Kayaker - Waikato River

On and off, we'd been discussing this project - kayaking from Hamilton to Port Waikato a journey down the Waikato River of some 110 kilometres. So this Easter two of my sons and I decided that it was all on. Dad's cunning plan was to use his downriver racer a fast but unstable kayak that he hadn't been in for about five years. It was a way of being able to keep up with the young ones - something that amused them, now in their fifties. I even tried to get used to balancing the craft a few times before Easter. The day before we started David and I located his car and my trailer at the mouth of the river in optimistic anticipation of getting that far!

From left David, Grandad and Warren readying to leave Hamilton (Photo: CatherineS)

Heading Off Downstream on the Waikato River (Photo: CatherineS)

On the morning of Good Friday we set off. Progress was good and within a few hours we were past Huntly having averaged about 8.5 kph and a maximum of over 12 kph on the faster parts of the river. I thought I was going well until I asked David if I could raft up beside him for a bite to eat and a rest - the signs were starting to show. But when we separated I wasn't a paddle width away from him when I turned upside down. Warren picked up my floating gear while David towed me and my kayak to shore - at least I'd done the kayaker thing and retained my paddle! Away we went again but somewhere just beyond Meremere I upended again. This time the rescue and landing was more difficult - willows everywhere. However we managed and afterwards David had a look into the Whangamarino wetland entrance while Warren and I made it to Mercer where we were well looked after in the local hotel/motel. They even made us a very welcome cuppa tea. And the woman there was soooo impressed when I told her I was ninety five. I did fess up to my real four score years but admitted that I was feeling more like ninety five that evening.

Next morning we set off again at about 0830 with me a bit nervously probing the water downstream. Progress was a little slower as the river was now slowing a bit.  Later we explored some of the delta islands and were fascinated by the array of structures that comprised whitebait stands, duck shooting maimai and residences - a hundred or more would not be an exaggeration. Some of the many channels were a bit narrow and some contained faster water as the tide was running out.  A combination of wind against tide made for some (smallish) waves. It was here that grandads problems began.The problem was that we had to cross several channels of the river and the waves and current had me doing more slap-support paddling than progressive paddling.

I managed to tip upside down five more times. So my cunning plan of the fast kayak failed me (or I failed it) but after the several rescues of grandad and his gear we eventually we made it across to the true left of the river and down to Port Waikato - and from there to home and the anxious Catherine who seemed pleased to see us safely home. I was pleased to have finished the job - not without some embarrassment though. The weather for the whole trip could not have been better. I couldn't blame the conditions for my tipping problems at all, just the loss of skill over the years. And the guys reckoned that I didn't have enough for breakfast either. It was a great expedition and great company. We saw lots of wildlife including many very large carp - fortunately none of them big enough to be man-eaters! The big tuna knew better than to try.

Of lemons and keys and other things

For almost forty years a group of us (runners, kayakers and multisporters from Hamilton, NZ) have been celebrating life in the form of a champagne breakfast to welcome each season.  These have usually taken place on the Waikato River about 15 mins upstream from where we put in for our Saturday kayaking.  We light a fire cook breakfast on it, drink some champagne, tell yarns and go happily homewards.  The event has faltered a bit of recent years but still happens.

Last Saturday it was pouring with rain as I squinted up the river to where I expected to see the smoke of Eric's fire.  No such luck but the local farmer came down and together (and without Eric) and with the help of a little champagne and diesel we soon had a good fire going and had erected a shelter from the rain.

The others arrived and we had our usual bonhomie.  Mid morning we descended the river to our cars - but where were my car keys?  Searching revealed nothing so I had to get back into my kayak and go back up the river to our breakfast spot.  More searching - nothing. It was getting late and I had no cell phone to tell Catherine that I hadn't drowned up the river.  And they had her second set of car keys on the ring.  It was getting worse.

They Float !

It gets better though.  On arriving back at the car place I saw three young guys looking over their new rubber raft and motor on the edge of the river.  "Have you seen any car keys" I asked "No", they said but one offered the fact that he'd seen something yellow floating down the river.  Discussion indicated that this was probably my keys - they floated!  By now they must have been well down the river if not tangled up in some willows.  "Would you like us to have a look for them" they offered, probably keen to demonstrate the usefulness of their new craft.  I checked that they had enough fuel and gratefully accepted.  Off they went.

I put my kayak on the car and sat down on the bank to watch the ducks.  I reckoned that the chances of them finding my keys were were less than one in ten.  After a while the sound of their motor approached and they came back around the corner - they waited until they arrived on shore until they smiled and produced the keys and their lemon-like floatation attachment . They must have been floating down the river for about three hours as it is certain they fell out on my first trip up the river.  The boys had found them down near the Cobham Bridge.

 I was besides myself with gratitude - had no chance of rewarding them other than with a beaming smile and utterances.  I, too often, bemoan the 'state of the younger generation' there is too much publicity given to all the bad news and the graffiti about the city doesn't help.  Every so often you happen on something like this - better than champagne to celebrate life.  Thanks guys.  You made my Christmas.