Is ignorance bliss? Spending time in undercuts of the Wairoa River, NZ

Another sun set on the North Island of NZ

Twenty-six days a year the Wairoa River flows through a densely forested gorge. The other 339 days it’s rerouted in order to create a small amount of hydro-power, destroying a delicate ecosystem.

at the put in for the Wairoa, cliff jumping, paddling, and kids splashing

Waiora from Chris Baer on Vimeo.

heading into the beautiful canyon section

With only a few release days a year the locals flock toward the Wairoa. The upstream access point turns into an arena of cliff jumpers, sun bathers, and kids splashing in pools, not to mention the Gore Tex clad kayakers heading into the rapids downstream.

Ladislav Švarc, on the waterfall

The shuttle on the Wairoa only takes ten minutes, which means most paddlers make multiple laps during the release days. On one of these laps I was sitting at the base of Roller Coaster, the crux rapid, which has a tight entrance and stacked hydraulics in the main pitch. The issue with Roller Coaster is that all of the water at the base of the rapid flows directly into the left wall, which is distinctly undercut.

playing of getting chundered?

I floated in the safety eddy at the base of the rapid watching the rest of the crew when a paddler flipped on his descent. I wasn’t too concerned because Roller Coaster has the tendency to roll a fair amount of paddlers. The undercut left wall is located nearly 30 feet from the base of the rapid, which is far enough away that most people can attempt a couple of rolls. The scare came when the paddler botched one roll attempt after another. It wasn’t until he had floated across most of the pool nearing the undercut wall that he finally snapped up. A shaky brace and spastic attempt at getting away from the wall led to another capsize. The overturned boat made contact with the wall and it instantly disappeared.

The team went into action. People clambered onto rocks with throw bags, but there was nothing to throw at, he was under the rock. At this point I stayed in my boat, unclipped my tow tether, and patted down the front pocket of my PFD where I carry a CPR mask. Thoughts of how to deal with an unconscious victim started ripping through my brain. Everything was in place for some bold rescue attempts, all we needed now was a body. After a few seconds the crowd of rescuers started getting quiet because we hadn’t seen him in a while. Other thoughts started to roll through my head... previous accidents, and the thought of setting up a lowering system to start probing the undercut. Panning back and forth across the water line there was no sign of the paddler - he, his boat, and paddle had all vanished. I neared the wall looking for any signs when a helmet finally emerged from under the corner of the rock wall. That half a second while the helmet was on the surface of the water face-down felt like an eternity. I took a couple of huge strokes toward the would-be victim, he finally tilted his head upward and took that first surreal gasp of much needed oxygen. With one more stroke my bow was in his face and he grabbed onto it. I paddled back into the eddy. Amazingly he had no idea how close he was to dying and seemed rather unfazed by the episode.

the tight entrance into Roller Coaster

Is ignorance bliss? He said that he just tried to stay calm and not do too much. I know from experiences that I would have been super aggressive down there. I’ve had a few friends come up from beneath undercuts with their fingernails packed full of moss and debris. Then again, struggling hard for an unknown escape route would certainly have deprived me of oxygen more quickly.

wheelie through stacked holes of Roller Coaster

Steven Johanson, boofing Bottom Drop

Have fun out there friends, and do not be complacent, especially on your home runs! Just because you have paddled a section a thousand times doesn’t make the rocks any softer or the undercuts, strainers, and sieves any less dangerous.

As the five month trip was wrapping up it was time to sell the van and other gear. Time to go to the beach for a couple days of true relaxation.

adventure by Chris Baer

Fiordland, paddling Shangri-La, or Death by Sandflies?

Gonzo spotting his next line on the Hollyford River, NZ

The clouds were low and thick, producing just enough drizzle to keep the constant screeching of the windshield wipers going. It was becoming harder and harder to keep up with the topography. Pulling the van over, I came to understand it wasn't the surrounding clouds that were creating the precipitation; rather the adjacent clouds were formed from precipitation at a significantly elevated atmosphere. It was snowing thousands of feet above, and most of the precipitation had already made earthly impact once. The rock structure surrounding my current location was numbingly tall and just shy of vertical. The precipitation that had landed thousands of feet above was now melting and conjoining into ribbons, veins of water, and recommencing its cascade from the heavens, into my present location.

  Milford Sound, Arthur and Hollyford rivers from Chris Baer on Vimeo.

The valley is bizarre. Dense, dark green vegetation, the kind often found in the Pacific Northwest. The walls are too steep, steeper than any Colorado canyon, steeper than physics would seem to allow. It feels claustrophobic, as if in a major city; the massive vertical rock nearly omits the sky. The rock is a dull grey, splashed with vibrant mossy green, and overlaid with countless streaks of cascading white water. The peaks above glisten in a fresh coat of brilliant white snow.

the nearly extinct Kea, these birds are very intelligent, and have a fondness for eating windshield whipper blades, door trim and kayak back bands?

Arriving in the "city" of Milford, I was immediately dispirited. The scenery was gorgeous but the immediate surroundings took on a theme park feel. There was no town, not a single grocery store, or post office, even the petrol station was unmanned, everything in the valley seemed fabricated for a quick tourist in and out visit. There were ‘no camping’ signs everywhere, and I quickly faltered at the thought that my Milford experience would equate to another tourist obtaining a handful of photos.

looking out onto Milford Sound

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted something brightly colored and out of place: three creek boats strapped to the top of a tiny hatchback. These were my kind of people; these weren't tourists, but people on a mission, a kayaking mission! I tried to contain my excitement as I walked in their direction, and as I approached I received the classic smile and head nod. Five minutes later Oscar Gonzales (Gonzo) was in my van, we were chasing Ben Young and Jimmy Wright over the pass towards the Hollyford River.

WHITE! Water

Gonzo making a tight pinch look good

The Hollyford River is jam packed with whitewater. It flows true white for kilometers at a time, through tight slots, and over off-angle ledges, occasionally piling into steep hydraulics. The Marian section of the Hollyford River is the crème. That single section holds more off angle features then I have ever seen on any river. It is begging to be paddled… and paddled well! Falling off any of the features early, or not making a slot, forces paddlers into powerful hydraulics and the invariable sieve laden eddy. Hazards included, the Marian creek section is my New Zealand favorite.

the take out for Moraine section of the Hollyford

 Staying in Milford

There aren’t many good overnight options in Milford. It's either an expensive hotel, or a very discreet parking spot. Luckily Gonzo, Ben, and Jimmy invited me back to the "Paddle on Inn,” their (sea kayak guide) employee housing. Evenings were shared laughing with new friends, and enjoying the beauty of Milford Sound. The valley truly shines in the evenings; 99% of the tourists leave in the early afternoon, allowing Milford to settle into its surreal quietness. Sleeping in the parking lot of an adventure tourism business felt right at home.

 Sandfly mania!

The Arthur River is directly across the bay from the "Paddle on Inn". Unfortunately the Arthur is due for a case of Didymo. The amount of visitors to the river is on the rise, and the fact that you must paddle across Deep Water Basin (which is partially fed by the Cleddau River, and already infected with didymo) means every paddler needs to re-clean their gear upon arrival to the Arthur Track. This is compounded by the fact that there are millions of swarming sandflies in the area as well. Wiping down my kayak with a soapy sponge the flies begin to gather on the suds. Swatting the sand flies is futile; every swipe kills a few dozen but attracts another million.

Gonzo, escaping from the sandflies and taking in the view from Lake Ada

Intensifying the sandflies torment is an hour long hike up the Milford Track to Lake Ada, the put in. Thankfully I brought my pool noodle backpack system, which leaves my hands free to remove the random flies that decide to blitz into my eyes and nose. Upon arriving at Lake Ada, I took a couple of minutes to put on my dry top, skirt, and SANDFLIES! Quickly slipping into the rest of the gear I hopped in my boat and headed out to the center of the lake. A few quick strokes and my jaw dropped. I knew the area that we were hiking into had amazing geology, but it wasn't until exiting the surrounding forest that I was able to understand the magnitude of the scene.

Gonzo looking and feeling small in the Arthur River Valley

Utterly stunning! We were surrounded by thousand foot waterfalls cascading towards the lake that Gonzo and I were floating on. My smile was huge regardless of the sand flies... I certainly did not notice them. I looked like a child seeing snow for the first time, my face a mixture of amazement and a bit of disbelief.

it's hard to look at your line when you have scenery like this

Once again, although unfortunately infrequent, it was a true pleasure to paddle out of a lake (not a reservoir) into a free flowing river. The water leaks from Lake Ada into a handful of different channels that combine to create the Arthur River. The white water is high quality, and as we paddled through some of the bigger rapids I felt slightly annoyed that I couldn't stare up at the surrounding scenery. The style of the whitewater is hard to pin point. Most of the rapids were caused by a large earthquake and the subsequent landslides. The entrance to both of the major rapids are cluttered with boulders backing up the water, creating Lake Ada at the top, and a decent piece of slack water before the second major rapid. The entrances to both of these rapids are tight and technical, passing by a couple of large boulders you can feel the volume multiplying as the cluttered landslide riverbed gives way to big volume features. While scouting these rapids, try to keep in mind the fact that it is big, and you probably are not going to scout the entire tail waters. A run and gun approach works well, boof any big water feature that is in front of you.

Gonzo reaching for a boof on the second major rapid of the Arthur River, NZ

The Future of paddling in Fiordland 

Milford Sound is proof that the region and geology create great whitewater. The other bays of Fiordland deserve quality inspection. Logistics will be nightmarish, boats, helicopters, and long hikes. Not to mention half the crew may come back mentally insane from the constant bombardment of sand flies.

adventure by Chris Baer

Hiking in sucks! How to build a kayak backpack system and a couple of fun New Zealand rivers.

stunning Westport beach sunset

Paddling in remote locations is immensely rewarding. But, to do so without paying for a helicopter usually means super long shuttle drives or… hiking. The physical act of hiking with a boat sucks. Shoulders go numb, sides chafe, and its just plain awkward.

Chris Tulley's van making the first pitch of the journey into the crooked

There are a few things to think about before the hike: How much does your boat weigh? Are there any optional items that you can remove from your craft? Can you spread out the essentials: breakdown paddle, med kit, pin kit. What about interference; is your hike in snow, mud, on a steep side hill or does it have overhanging vegetation? The simplest option is the classic shoulder carry, but sometimes you can benefit from a quick and easy backpack system.

New Zealand beaches drift wood and a staggering forest

The few backpack systems on the market that I've tried (NRS Sherpa and Salamander Bak Yak) have all failed. The production packs all score high on initial comfort but fail in longevity, hefty weight, and dizzying complexity.

 

How to build your own kayak backpack

Ingredients:

10ft cam strap
pool noodle
sharp knife
duct tape
carabiner

the basics, pretty light and as simple as it gets

 

Recipe:

Putting the backpack together is rather simple, but there are a few tricks to making the system fit well and hold up for the long hikes.


1. There is enough foam in one pool noodle to make two systems, so cut the original pool noodle into four equal parts.

2. Wrap the ends of the pool noodle in duct tape loosely. You don't need a ton of tape, just a wrap or two, as this helps keep the pool noodle from being pinched and cut by the cam strap.

 notice the duct tape is tight making the hole compress and actually forcing the strap to start cutting the noodle

looser duct tape and a better finish

3. Slide one of the pool noodle sections onto the cam strap and lace the other end under the rear of the seat.

this takes a bit of wiggling, make sure it is supported by the plastic of the seat not the rear foam pillar

4. Slip the other section of pool noodle on the cam strap and weave the remaining cam strap through the two stern handles directly behind the seat.

laced up and looking for a walk

the carabiner in the middle is essential for a comfortable pack

5. To get into and adjust the system, stand the kayak up vertically against something stable and take a knee. Before cranking down on the cam strap use a carabiner to attach the two shoulder straps in front of you (this really eases the stress on the shoulders).

No, this system is not perfect, and having a waist belt would seriously help to disperse the load and alleviate some shifting. But, I find the simplicity, lightness, and ease of use literally outweigh any of the other systems on the market.

tight landing zones on the Kakapotahi

this is the first slot, of the Upper Kakapotahi and there is a six foot ledge to get you here

The Upper Kakapotahi,

has turned into my staple after-work run. It only takes a little rain for the water levels to come up into run-ability and the shuttle is only about a mile, making the backpack system not necessary, but a great place to test it.

clench those cheeks the landing zone is narrow

Kerry Hoglund enjoying the upper Kakers

The run consists of seven fun rapids and after some probing they all are acceptable at most flows. The rapids have one consistent attribute, the lines are TIGHT! Whether it's boofing into a narrow landing zone, or unique laterals that flow directly into a confined triangular rock cave, all the lines are more than snug.

Kerry Hoglund zipping out of the triangular sieve, cave, fun line

be patient on the hike in you never know what you might spot, I wonder what this one does

 

 Crooked River,

The long muddy hike into the Crooked was what I originally built the backpack for and it turns out the hike in is far from backpack friendly. There is a ton of overhanging vegetation and the steep terrain covered in mud means having a 50 pound oblong backpack on is sketchy at best. The trusty shoulder was more well suited for the almost two hour hike in.

starting into the Crooked River

Once on water the action starts quickly and after a couple of fun ledges the crux of the run is reached. Bent and Twisted is a fun two-piece rapid that starts with a Raven Fork-esque twisty lead in where all the water smashes into an overhanging left wall. Thankfully a small, but well placed, eddy splits the rapid up and allows a quick breath and reset before paddling into the stacked second pitch. From there down, the rapids ease in difficulty and risk, and allow paddlers to boat scout well.

a couple of seals near Westport

Upon reaching the take out I had a solid reflection, no I didn't like the two hour hike and yes the river and location was worth the sore shoulder!

adventure brought to you by Chris Baer

Helicopter shuttles are complicated, Upper Perth, New Zealand

Thump thump thump

the approaching helicopter made its notable entrance, arcing through the amazing New Zealand backdrop of dense jungle and snow-caped peaks.

Sophia Mulder, with a solid boof to finish a rather sieve infested rapid

  Upper Perth, 2 day adventure, New Zealand style! from Chris Baer on Vimeo.

Helicopter shuttles are way more challenging than I would have imagined. Each helicopter has its own load capacity, think about it like running shuttle with either a Geo Metro, a single cab pickup, or a minivan; all of the vehicles can make the shuttle happen but they all have wildly different limitations. The helicopter we had at our disposal was a McDonnell Douglas 500 D, it seats 5 including the pilot, and has a payload of roughly 1,500 pounds. To get boats and other necessary gear to the top, a sling (glorified cargo net) is used. Packing the gear into the sling is a bit of an art form. The theory is to load the gear in a tight aerodynamic shape and weave the net snugly to minimize wind drag and the chance of the entire payload spinning below the helicopter.

wrangling the massive sling load, notice the snow capped peaks, and the jet fuel tanker in the back ground

the gorgeous, glacial, Perth valley

On our Perth shuttle Mark and I drew the short straws and rode up with the sling load. Checking the numbers a second time makes me a little nervous. We had ten kayaks 500+ pounds, Mark the pilot and I another 500+ pounds. Obviously helicopters run on fuel, hopefully the fuel gauge was no where near full as it can hold up to 400 pounds of jet fuel. We then added overnight gear, paddles, helmets, life jackets, cameras, and beer. Totaling up the gear, fuel and us the payload was quickly reaching our 1,500 pound weight limit. Looking out of the bubbled helicopter windows, towards the massive sling load, a red sign caught my eye. The sign stated something about being extremely flammable and was attached to a large shiny tanker truck that was containing jet fuel. This massive potential energy source was just underneath the circumference of the main rotor, and was easily within swinging distance of the overburdened sling. As the helicopter slowly gained elevation I released a clenched breath.

Phil Palzer, on day one

The wind was gusting, the sling load was swaying, and we were undulating, bouncing, and oscillating our way up the Perth Valley. The helicopter pilot controls the rear rotor with two opposing foot pedals, his movements were almost mesmerizing as he tap danced the helicopter up the canyon. As we rose over a steep ridge, a blast of wind slammed the machine and it swung 50 feet off course and swayed 30° off vertical. The pilot looked over his shoulder towards me "IT'S PRETTY WINDY UP HERE!" I put on my helmet.

the crew prepping to put in

The Upper Perth is a true classic and has three distinctly different sections. The first pitch allows no warm up and the rapids are formidable with lots of missing water (siphons) and arduous scouting. Thankfully the crew was on point and were quick to be out of their boats, scouting, setting safety, and collecting media. The few truly ugly rapids offered relatively quick portages and allowed the group to make steady downstream progress.

Mark Basso, enjoying the emerald blue water

Of the eight paddlers (Jess Matheson, Rata Lovell-Smith, Phil Palzer, Sophia Mulder, Daan Jimmink, Dag Sandvik, Mark Basso, and myself) that flew to the upper put in, three were ladies, a relatively high percentage for class 5 creeking. Paddling with ladies always has a slightly different feel. The male machismo disappears and everyone seems to smile more. "It's simple, we're all here to share a beautiful experience." Paddle twirls, high fives, and giggles ensued.

Jess Matheson, leading a charge of ladies

The first day of whitewater came to a quick culmination as we reached a large tributary and the Department of Conservation cabin that we would call home for the evening. New Zealand has numerous remote cabins strewn throughout the back-country that are maintained by the Department of Conservation. These cabins are set up with bunks and a wood burning stove. They allow long distance hikers, hunters, and kayakers to stay deep in the bush without the need of tents, sleeping pads, and most cooking equipment.

The evening allowed everyone time to share stories, jokes, and dinner.

breakfast time in the DOC hut

The morning sun reignited the crew's energy, and the cabin was quickly buzzing with kayakers gathering gear, drinking coffee and making breakfast.

another complicated, multiple route rapid on the Upper Perth

The rapids on the second day started in the same style as the first. Hard lines and a multitude of options awaited at every horizon line. The difficulty continued through lunch time and then quickly the gradient dissipated and the rapids waned to big boulder class 3.

Daan Jimmink, putting together an acceptable line in the sieve laden Upper Perth

A few kilometers of cruising brought us to a distinctively different section. Tall striated granite walls splashed with vibrant green moss concealed the sun and revealed emerald blue water. The air temperature dropped and the horizon lines started to look imposing. Awkward scouting was possible at most of the rapids and our crew made quick work of the eerily beautiful canyon.

Dag Sandvik, checking out the peaks, or maybe getting some wheelie action?

The third different section of the trip is due to a massive convergence. The Perth and Whataroa combine and keep the Whataroa name; the run changes to big volume wave trains for an hour back to the helipad. This last pitch was enjoyed during a torrential downpour. Salutations at the take out were brisk due to the precipitation; but the entire crew knew that the driving rain meant our new-found friends would reunite soon to romp in our liquid playground.

adventure brought to you by Chris Baer