Labour Weekend on the Clarence

Being an ex-member of the NZRCA executive, I had heard a lot about the legendary Clarence River. In the 1991 River Survey it was rated as one of our most important wild and scenic rivers by kayakers all over New Zealand, and consequently the Association took on the might of Tranzrail in the Environment Court to protect the lower riverbed from bulldozers.

Stories from friends ranged from warm summer trips with lots of wine and cheese to roller coaster rides at high flow. Our Spring trip had a bit more than normal flow, an excellent (if freezing) amount of water.

Planning the trip, I read about the amount of class II and II and decided that double kayaks would be the way forward. Having had very few family trips on rivers, I invited my father and partner (both non-paddlers) with a kayaking friend, Kate, and took a double sea kayak and a topo duo.

After contemplating various shuttle options, Ben Judge from Clarence River Rafting sorted a driver and we arrived at the put-in. A fantastic high country valley with snow sprinkled ominously close on the hills. The gear packed we waved goodbye to the rafting team who were also putting on, and floated down to our first class II rapid.

We were relieved to find that a double sea-kayak does not need railing - all you need to do is line it up at the top of a rapid and paddle enthusiastically - we made our way through the first gorge and the famed Chute rapid. Due to the flow, the rock that creates the chute was instead forming a substantial hole. Kate and Pete lead the boat in the Topo Duo, and we discovered that the considerable momentum of our loaded kayaks carried us through all the class III features in this and other rapids in the first gorge.

With the weather closing in and reducing daylight, we chose a campsite with rare totara trees. An excellent supply of firewood meant a blaze to dry gear and cook a substantial thai curry.

Our prayers for clearing weather were not answered the following morning, as we woke to more rain and southerly winds. Paddling down as it sleeted, I was the coldest I had been on a river since my first days winter paddling as a beginner.

We chose to camp early and started another spectacular fire, and with an elaborate arrangement of flys, managed to dry much of the gear. Drinking wine and demolishing our supply of chocolate, we giggled and watched in amazement as nearby hunters took shots at geese.

Next morning, the sun was out and we paddled thru the most spectacular country we'd seen. Stark hillsides, with towering Kaikoura ranges covered in new snow in the bright sunshine had me agreeing that this is one of our national treasures. The considerable flow meant we were often covering 15km per hour, and in the afternoon we descended into the sheer red ravines of Sawtooth gorge.

The long awaited Jawbreaker rapid was hard to scout - I had no idea approaching the rapid where was the best place to be. However, a paddle signal from Kate pointed straight down the middle, and we sailed over huge waves, whooping and yelling. The rapids were straightforward, but the combination of large bluffs and a 5.5m boat meant we were paddling hard to make the simple moves. When things went well we charged over features and funny water without a wobble, however occasionally we spun on boily eddy lines, frantically keeping the rudder away from the cliff. Once out of the gorge we made camp. Finishing off the wine, we were still on a high from our excellent day.

On our final day, we unexpectedly came across a huge hole. The Topo Duo flipped and Kate and Pete bailed out. Without time to change line in the sea-kayak we put on speed and charged through the middle, only to be caught and sucked back in. We both swam out of the boat, Miriam miraculously rescuing my camera in its pelican case as it floated by. The sea-kayak stayed in the hole for another 10 minutes or so, while Kate and Pet got the Topo Duo into an eddy. When the sea-kayak came free, Kate valiantly launched into the river after it, and after a dodgy moment or two on a bluff, managed to get it to shore. Amazingly, as we took stock on the bank (in the sun) we had only lost two maps, a teva, a pair of sunglasses and a sponge.

Cold from the freezing water, we leapt back in the boats and paddled a speedy 40km before lunch. Fire lighting during lunch broke all speed records, as I found a dead shrub, added white spirits, and lit it. Several more dead shrubs, hot noodles and meal mates helped us recharge and cheer up. Not long after, we floated under the Glen Alder bridge, our first definite confirmation since our swim of where we were.

The lower Clarence is a romp of big wave trains though gentle farm scenery. It was great to be there and appreciate what was saved from the bulldozers, as the rocks that make these rapids are far better in the river than being used for a new ferry terminal. At the very civilised time of 2.30pm we arrived at the State Highway 1 bridge. Once in dry clothes, we popped open a few beers and celebrated an awesome trip.