Red, Yellow, Black and Blue - Paul's off rafting with his crew

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RED, YELLOW, BLACK AND BLUE - PAUL'S OFF RAFTING WITH HIS CREW Geoff Crockford Back in the summer of '91 the scheduling of an "Unty" at the surrounding beautiful bushy slopes before, like us, lead "Dads, Lads Mums and Lasses" trip from they disappear into the beckoning gorge. Our entry to the Holdsworth to Walls Whare road end sparked the gorge at about midday instantly demands greater respect beginning of a "cunning plan". as inattention, submerged rocks and the swifter water begin to claim some spectacular capsizes. Cunning plan: for four people to carry two rafts, 5 paddles, 2 bailers, 2 collapsible alloy racks, pump, We survive this initial indoctrination to be enticed further miscellaneous bits of rope, nuts, bolts and kitchen sink down the gurgler by a section of deep clear pools and along with helmets, wetsuits and the usual weekend miniature cascading waterfalls. tramping gear - into Mid-Waiohine. Then? To raft down the Waiohine Gorge, rendezvous with 'Unty and troops at Six hours pass, the gorge finally spits us out rather than Totara Flats on Saturday night, and to raft out to the road swallow us. Making good boat speed in the calmer water end on sunday. past Hector Forks, our two battle weary boats and crews are soon drifting ashore amongst the ubiquitous Dads, Its Friday 10.15 pm, Holdsworth carpark. Amongst the Lads, Mums and Lasses. The evening is marked by a Dads, Lads, Mums and Lasses and general chaos, Paul hearty meal and the pleasure filled squeals of young Critchley, Roger Bolam, Rex Benbrooke and myself are children plucking large writhing eels from a prized fishing hastily persuading the aforementioned equipment to attach hole. itself to our packs. Sunday dawns fine and clear. There is no need to rush as Finally, the loads are wrestled upward and onward as the rafts will reach the road in an hour. The river now protesting legs ferry us off into the murky darkness. The becomes quiet and relaxing, there's no need for maximum walk up to Powell is a hot sweaty affair with a brief concentration and my thoughts drift back to the previous interlude at Mountain House to converse with another day: injuries to crew included a few hundred bruises and team, also intending to navigate the gorge. However, their one fractured rib. However it had been a day of somewhat casual inner tube/woollen wetsuit approach exhilarating scenic rafting. comes across as a little dubious. We had negotiated waterfalls, logs, massive boulders, It isn't until about 1.30 am on Saturday that all four tired rapids and gnarly bits. We had been flipped, caterpaulted, bodies finally lie motionless inside Powell Hut, slowly somersaulted, bashed and bruised. Yet above all else we sinking into that dreamy, steamy world of a warm pit. had gained a feeling of delight and enjoyment at having rafted down this ruggedly beautiful river in such good company and in such a cunning manner. Four and a half hours later, chaos resumes and it's only too soon that protesting legs ferry us onward again. On the summit of Jumbo we pause, breathless, feasting on oxygen and crystal clear views before our descent to Mid Waiohine, 800 metres below. We reach Mid Waiohine about 9.45 am time out for a watery frolic in a deep pool to cool overheated bodies. After a bite to eat, photos and a general sigh of relief, having completed the "carry in", we began the transformation. An hour later the infamous red and yellow Critchley rafts sit poised amid our swimming hole. The river level is moderate and having entered the current, we pick up speed, committing ourselves to the challenge ahead. In the first five minutes the Waiohine is chuckling a familiar tune as the red boat somersaults into action. Its a brilliant hot sunny day as we pick our way through the upper rock gardens and on towards the gorge. Geoff Crockford In between drops, squeezes, rapids and familiar chuckling, quiet deep pools give an opportunity to marvel