Happy Paddlers

Today the packrafts made us happy.

The day started with little rushes down Taramakau gravel chutes and searches for the biggest river braid. The river got bigger and faster. Clear and bottle green with splashy fun rapids. Soon it joined the Otira, turned blue and we were swiftly carried downstream, occasionally walking the shallow patches.

The Alexander Creek waterfall with its blue pools caused a hundred photos.

We race along beside the highway moving many times walking speed with big grins. We could follow the Taramakau to the sea but we have an optimistic plan to jump catchments to Greymouth. We portage at Inchbonnie, a five house town where chatty old couples are happily mowing their lawns.

Four kilometres of flat roadwalking sees us at scenic Lake Poerua. It is flat and surrounded by towering kahikatea trees. We paddle happily across the lake to where it empties into a pretty wetland of rushes, huge trout, herons and assorted waterfowl. We explore happily the reflections of the forest and our boats flickering on the dark water. The wetland empties into the tiny Poerua River with barely enough water to float and we explore like kids excited to see what is around each corner. Sometimes we have to get out but each sidestream boosts the flow.

We camp on a sandy grassy floodplain and the rice and salami tastes like heaven. Weka make passes at our scattered possessions.

The next day willow stumps make the little river annoyingly dangerous and we are glad to float out into the wide Crooked River. We float smoothly Class 1 rapids through dairy farms, willows, wetlands and kahikatea into the wide, wetland and forested Lake Brunner.

We paddle firmly across the lake to the holiday town of Moana. As we deflate on the beach locals enquire about the boats and we proudly tell them we have come from Lewis Pass. A storm is coming and one of them, John, offers us a house for the night. Pay it forward he says.

It is a hundred year old cottage. With beds. We feel so lucky. We sit on sofas, drink tea as the rain drums on the old tin roof and rattles against the windows.

Karen leaves us here. Her Alaskan Canadian Scandanavian world spanning life is fascinating and her independent views make for great conversation. I love her little stories of Alaskan raft guiding.