We met at the gear shed on the Friday evening, and unlike most trips, got away pretty quickly. At the Mangaweka camp ground, the stars were out in force, falling through Totara trees to cast faint shadows on the wet grass.
Morning saw Julian and I with pillows over our heads in a vain attempt to keep the dark in. We finally roused ourselves, just in time to be given the extremely dangerous task of waking Alice up. Deliberating over approaches, we ruled out the "bang pot lids together outside tent door and make a lot of noise" in favour of "Cuppa tea Luv?"
Another hour and the troops were moving, en route to the Maunganui-a-te-ao. The brilliant skies of the night before had given way to thick cloud and light drizzle. Winter paddling! Stopping to regroup in Raetihi, we met up with Mark Duckworth, an ex-VUCCer now living in Auckland.
I have to report that en-route to the get-in, staunch vegetarian Duncan ran over a hare. Instead of weeping inconsolably and refusing to paddle that day, his eyes lit up like fireworks. "Got it!" after gunning the car straight towards it (hmm - that's not quite the way I remember it - Duncan]. On the way back he almost added a possum to his tally.
At the top get in Pippa and I convinced each other that we weren't up to paddling that part, then decided we were, then chickened out, and repeated the whole process. In the end we didn't do it, so I can only describe the river from the middle get-in. What I saw was beautiful, with Manuka and Beech forest crowding down to the river banks. There were some nice little drops, which often ran hard-up against a wall. I pulled off some fabbo whoopies in my beautiful new boat and had a blast. Bolke looked good in his styly new Kinetic. The day was fading to a grey twilight when we got out, whereupon we hastily put away gear and having accepted Mark's invitation to stay the night at his parents holiday home at Kuratau near Taupo, headed off.
So instead of shivering while cooking tea outdoors (character building), we visited the hotpools at Tokaanu, and then back at Kuratau drank wine and watched the Canterbury/Auckland Super-12 rugby final on TV. Being Canterbury born, I had a perfect day! Tricia (resident American) looked on bemused.
Morning came with views of heavy layered cloud above Lake Taupo, broken with shafts of sun that quilted the lake. The word from HQ was that we were going to paddle the Kuratau - a small tributary of the lake. The normal get-in involves a slightly round-about drive, so we headed to a possible alternative that Mark wanted to check for feasibility. As we were getting into our paddling gear, with no water in sight, a car full of locals drove by. Not sure what to do, I just grinned and waved. They were still staring at us as they rounded the next corner.
The track to the river appeared to be impeded by thick bush so most of us went back to drive to the normal get-in. Mark, Duncan and Julian crashed on, determined to flush out Charlie. They made it to the river a little ahead of us, somewhat scratched, and a couple of corners down-river from where we got in. The general feeling was that they did it the hard way!
The Kuratau was small, but with some nice chutes and pleasant bush surrounds. VUCC whooped and hollered it's way down to the final longish flat section where the river joins the lake. About half-way along the flat section we came across a sheep stranded on the river bank, unable to climb back up to its paddock. We tried to herd it back up but it just wouldn't go, and eventually it panicked and jumped into the river. As it sheep-paddled across, my alarm increased as Duncan headed his kayak directly towards it. Happily it made it to the other bank, and we left it in clover, masticating joyously; a sheep in a new frontier.
And so on to Taupo. And once again, by a twist of good fortune we found ourselves in the lap of luxury - staying at the Huka Village timeshare complex courtesy of Pippa and her parents. We laughed, drank and fought over television channels. We also took a trip to Spa Park which was at an excellent water level. Sitting with hot water pouring over you, looking out to the Waikato River, just visible in the last light of evening, winter paddling seemed neither harsh nor arduous.
The night swept by until 6:30am, when my alarm stomped into my brain and bashed about. Too much alcohol! I wobbled out of bed, and with a hard core group headed off for an early morning recce to Ngaawapurua. Outside the invisible sun was sending pink streaks across the sky. Mist was lying with a thick frost on the ground. It was very cold. After a boat re-tie we set off. Just out of Taupo the sun came up cannoning red light across the white landscape. Stunning. At Ngaawapurua we wriggled into ice cold paddling gear and got going. The water there, although undrinkable, is always warm (yippee!) and lit by the sun was steaming profusely. Awesome! I caught some nice long surfs, shouted a lot and felt high. What a place to be. After some more surfage, deck popage and sinkage we reluctantly left and went back to meet the others. I had a grin on my face that just wouldn't leave.
The 2nd departure of the day was more leisurely, heading south to the eternally grey Whangeheu River. This river seems to reflect the country that it flows through; just past Waioru the sun disappeared behind a westerly cloud bank and that was that. The Whangeheu section down from Colliers Bridge is nice and gentle, but cold and after Ngaawapurua hard to get off on. We made the get out on dark and headed south. Tour of duty pretty much complete. And I must say, with the odd holiday home and warm play rapids, winter paddling can be surprisingly well, un-harsh.