Buller Trip -- Jan 1996 (Part I)

The following is an account of the first part of the 1996 VUCC Buller trip.

There ended up being two car loads of us; me, Kelly (Gritter) Bargh, Johnny (Gritter) Mulheron (no relation), and (Indefatigable) Duncan McEwan in the beige beast of yourz truly, and in the left hand corner, wearing the bannana shorts and the kayak/mountain bike/windsurfing/climing rack/kitchen sink top, Phil (Animal) Clarke, (Hot) Rod Ogilivie, Sophie Crichton, and Matt (Mad Dog) Bennett. Apologies to those who ended up with the wrong nickname, or who didn't get one...

The ferry left at 1:30am. We slept. We arrived at Picton at 5am, and drove to Pelorus Bridge where we put our sleeping bags under some trees and slept some more. We awoke in a different island, with the sun shining through the trees, the birds whistling, and the water tinkling, making you want to pee. At least me at any rate.

We paddled the Rai River which was a steady grade 2 - beautiful scenery. A relaxing start. We paddled the Waimakarina in the afternoon, setting the pace for the trip. Matt Bennett quickly emerged as a great guy to have on a trip on account of his guiding and paddling skills as well as his morning tea making ability. We made the St. Arnaud camp site that night, after the traditional stock up with food and piss.

The source section of the Buller starts out at Lake Rotoiti which just happened to be where we were camping. We gave it a bash. It bashed back. We bashed it again and it didn't get up. At the end of this, Johnny's Alpha was totalled, Sophie lost a paddle, but (Hot) Rod, with his battle hardened swiming skills survived with all gear intact. It's a great section -- a bit like the mid-Rangitaiki) with some marvellous holes, but quite continuous, which helps explain the carnage that occured. Matt covered himself with glory by rescuing Rod and Sophie and as much gear as he could.

Aroha arrived from a long way away on her bike just as Sophie was departing, and then we went to Owen River.

Owen River was as full of kayakers as a can of sardines is of sardines, or a can of pilchards is full of pilchards, or a can of spam is full of spam (actually, probably not that full) - none of which we ate on the trip by the way. OK, OK. The toilets were good except that one didn't flush so I spent quarter of an hour filling the toilet lid up from the slow running tap in the sink and emptying it into the flush tank so I could flush it. It was kinda cathartic. And it was definitely worth it just to see the expression of the person who was waiting patiently while I was performing this act of contrition.

New Years eve at Owen River was good. I danced with a half naked man from Auckland University Canoe Club, who apparently became fully naked later on (but you should ask Kelly about that). He was a good dancer. I would dance with him again. I probably did some other stuff, and probably other people did as well. Matt certainly did, but I won't go into that because I don't really know.

We paddled Granity on New Year's day, with relatively little carnage, but a fair whack of adrenalin resulting.

I think we took the next day off, except for a play in the hole fifty metres away from the camp site, and a great game of Ultimate.

This ranks as one of my better New Years. Beers chilling in the river, people coming over to share their kayaking yarns, balmy weather and beautiful scenery, not to mention excellent company. Excuse me while a drink a litre of Janola...