This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
N.Z. Rail Ferry, bane of South Island trips, was as usual late. However in this instance it was probably a blessing in disguise as the extra half hour gave a few late punters a second chance to arrive on time. When all 15 of us were finally assembled in the departure lounge, Eric, the man who was supposedly leading us over the next few days of outdoor adventure and excitement asserted himself: “Right, let's go!" and promptly marched off in the opposite direction to the boarding gang plank. Having recovered Eric and piled on board we engaged ourselves ina moderately flat sailing in which we amused ourselves by making the usual silly jokes pertaining to the food, the service, and the particularly nice redecorating on the Aratika. Lyndsay, who was determined not to be bored whatever the cost, paid more than $6 to sit in the dark for two hours watching Ghostbusters II by himself. Even with the Easy/Medium party there was enough room on the bus from Picton for most to have a couple of seats to stretch out on. Nevertheless all were cramped and tired when the two hour journey past Richmond to Roding River
roadend was over. We dismounted and slept out under trees, drifting off somewhere around 1:30ish. The buzzing and biting of the riverside sandflies, more rousing than an alarm clock, saw the entire crew on deck and ready to leave at 8:00. Tramping with packs containing food and clothes enough for three days as well as straining with wetsuits and truck tubes is ample cause for a good sweat no matter what the conditions, but as we moved up the fairly open terrain en route to Browning Hut Peter's thermometer was observed to read 37°C (how accurate that is no-one can be sure, but it was Certainly hot!). Many were walking without shirts and were wearing sunhats, but I was still drenched with sweat when we reached Browning for morning tea. This proved to be quite a lengthy break as we waited for Rob and Liz foliowing their substantial detour to another hut - of course they claim to have made it on purpose. From there we ascended Totara Saddle with lunch not too far away. Once over the saddle we were caught in a nasty little traverse about 40 metres below the ridgeline for about 5 hours. Comments were passed as to this being the “Neverending Sidle" or the "Sidle of the Century”. We reached Roebuck Hut in time for a quick paddle in the river with the last of the sun before ripping into our pits with the weather looking good for a Sunday on the Pelorus. All (except Eric and Debbie) were up and about, full of zest and zeal, ready to leave at 9:00. Not too long after that the Chiet Guide and his cohort managed to get their act together, and inner tubes were tossed into the icy pool just below the hut. Various positions and combinations of pack, person and tube were experimented with and soon everyone had more or less sorted out how they wanted to travel for the next couple of days. The river we travelled mid-morning was probably the best of the trip, although we were still a bit tentative to let go of our inhibitions and packs and really enjoy it. The water was quite swift and often dropped sharply in continuous cascades for perhaps 100 horizontal metres. About 11:30 the river flattened out somewhat and progress was slower. After one particularly long slow pool there was a quick rapid with a nice shute at it's end. Several of us went through, noting the sharp bedrock not far below the surface. Then came Graeme : abandoning himself to the thrills of a good rapid he was oblivious to the denticular stones beneath and so made himself the first trip member to puncture. As Graeme patched his tube on the beach below the final drop, PJ recalled that it was on this particular set of rapids that 3 punctures eventuated on the '89 trip. All remaining punters with an ounce of caution then skirted the set ; Tony went through it five or six times. The pressures of the day and a few more jagged rocks took their toll on the punters and lunchtime saw two of our company retire to the sidle-track along the riverbank to dry out some of their gear and complete a pleasant blat down to the Captain's Creek Hut on foot. The rest of us threw ourselves back into the fray to find that the steep falls of the early morning had left little for the afternoon. Travel was slow, although not boring, under the hot sun which gave a pleasant contrast to the crystal clear water, whose bite had now softened to merely semi-frigid. An hour or so passed with the occasional rapid or drop, but nothing spectacular. The party had once again spread itself out over about 15 minutes of water. However the next section was to give those having trouble with the flatter areas a chance to gather some momentum. The banks closed in as things became decidedly gorgey and we zipped along for some time until we reached Captains Creek around 5:30. We were all pleased to exit the water and lay out our gear in the day's remaining sun. Soon even the expansive beach below the hut was a veritable jungle of soggy, damp or gently steaming equipment. Dinner was a pleasant enough affair - Tuna, rice, veges, etc - and we all retired to bed early. As I closed my eyes the sensations of motion experienced throughout the day continued in my mind, gently rocking me away into restful slumber. Monday we rose a little late as we only needed to spend about 7 hours on the river to get down to Tinline Creek and our pickup point. The weather was great again and while the slight head wind was something of a disadvantage through the long pools.it did manage to ward off the clouds of sandflies that would otherwise bite your face ingratiatingly as you tried to paddle with your hands. We lunched on a shoulder of the river where the track came close to the bank. While we had suffered no punctures that day, it was at this point that many punters, sufficiently deterred by rumours of endless slow pools and boring
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shallow rapids from the "old hands", decided to give the remaining tubing a miss. However a hardy few (or was it 4) were still ready to face whatever the Pelorus had to offer. As we progressed we soon realised that the "slow pool" rumours were not mere rumours after all, but rather substantiated fact. Some pools even resembled small lakes with depressingly long distances from end to end. There were several memorable rapids interspersed amongst the pools which made the afternoon worth it, yet we were all pleased to reach Tinline and be reunited with our fellow trip members, the Medium punters and of course our charter bus. The coach driver dropped us off at the Ferry terminal and everyone soon disappeared into town for a healthy dose of fast food and a brief stop at the Picton Pub before reconvening on board the Arahura this time for another calm sailing home. Disembarking in Wellington were: Eric Evans (Trip leader), Debbie Douglas, Tony Alexander, Lyndsay Fletcher, Lynley Whitford, Brian Goodwin, Peter Jackson, Graeme Hawthorn, Dianne Gale, Liz King, Rob Hughes, Berin Thomas, Anthony Brown, Anton Mischewski and Simon Delahunt.