The Tour of Love
(An Unparalleled Journey into the Buller Experience 1998/1999)

``Love, Obviously, Very Soon, Everybody''

The 26th of December 1998 was hot and sunny. The evening ferry departure at 10:30pm gave Rohan an entire day to stress about what would be required on the annual VUCC Buller trip. New Prijon Fly and kayaking gear were obvious, but even after 5 years Kayaking the number of underpants needed was questionable. Rohan contemplated the underwear question for some time. If one takes N to represent the number of underpants a given person packs for a canoe trip then the actual number of underpants required on the trip itself will always be either N+1, N+2,... or N-1, N-2,... It will never be N. Never. Get over it now. Rohan sighed, stripped off his last pair of underpants and proceeded to do a last load of washing that would ensure maximum clean underwear for the trip.

There was a degree of relief among Rohan's flat when he finally declared that he was packed and needed to be dropped off at the ferry terminal 5 minutes ago. They could drink uninterrupted by the cries of ``Fuck, I know I've forgotten something, I always forget something, fuck, fuck, fuck''. Via their gentle prodding Rohan remembered Insect repellent, a mug and the various other little things that make camping a pleasant experience (big tubs of vasaline etc).

Rohan's trepidation departed as his flatmate drove his car away from the terminal. 'Too late now if I've forgotten it.' Nick 'Niklaus' Smith was all smiles as he made his way through the maze of boats and gear cleverly piled in front of the fire exits. Getting back into the kayaking bizzo wasn't going to be too bad thought Rohan as he told anyone who would listen (couldn't escape) about his new Fly. By the time the Southern Traverse Love Mobile (STLM) had arrived, the group at the ferry terminal included Adrian, Mark, Julian, Nick, Rohan, Luke and quite possibly others too. The STLM rolled up bringing back memories of the '94 Easter trip MotherShip. What ensued was probably the least problematic boat loading exercise of the entire Tour of Love. It was simple - every single boat was loaded into or onto the long-wheel base Toyota Hiace STLM. And then Andrea was loaded in just for good measure. Her waif like features could be glimpsed through the side window at the back as the loaded van went to board the ferry. One corner taken too fast and Andrea would be the first victim of the Tour, death by flying kayak within the confines of a van. Fucking unheard of.

Ceri visibly relaxed as the ferry left port. She had made the crucial mistake of being around when both Duncan and Kim had abdicated organisational responsibility for the last few days. A mistake as bad as that on a river will kill. Acknowledgment of Ceri's answering service (aka her dad) should also be made with regard to the last minute organisation. Rohan settled into a comfy corner of the ferry surrounded by daypacks, newspapers, books, cards, food, jerseys, pillows, snowfoams and other stuff that was all miraculously claimed by its owners after the ferry berthed. When did the ferry become so fucking boring? As a child the highlight of one of Rohan's holidays was a daytrip to Picton on the ferry. From memory the ferry had not been late at night, and he was probably not quite so hungover. Mmmm. Whatever the reason, it was a long and uneventful trip to Picton not helped by the fact that the most inviting thing waiting for us when we arrived was a search for a patch of ground on which to sleep.

Not any patch of ground would do. There are pros and cons to travelling with a large group. Good points include economy, variety and person dispersion. It's got to be cheaper to travel with 13-16 people. You get to talk to lots of different people, and its easy and painless to avoid people if you want to. The other side of the proverbial coin is that it a damn sight harder for 13-16 people to discretely camp somewhere in Picton than it is for 2 or 3. It also takes 7-10 times longer to do anything. This indeed was the case in Picton. However if the blind faith in telepathy between Van people and Walking people had been eroded earlier things could have run smoother, perhaps only taking 5 times as long.

Rohan and the others filed off the ferry in Picton at 1:50am. Not really being in the mood to partake in discussions regarding where they would camp he kept his distance until the group dispersed at which point he tacked himself on to the edge of the walkers. It appeared that as many people who could fit in the van would go ahead while we would walk to some place known as Echo Point. The first twinge of anxiety occurred as the van disappeared around the corner with none of the walkers appearing to have a clue where it was going. A second more persistent pang occurred as the van reappeared driving back to the ferry terminal and Alice piled out and joined the Walkers. Ignoring Julian's advice that we should simply continue to walk through Picton shouting until we found a place that echoed, the walkers proceeded along the Picton water front, a journey that was made somewhat more interesting by Bolke's manipulation of the waterfront hydroponic equipment.

The third attack of anxiety induced stomach disturbance hit Rohan as it became quite clear that the Van people obviously had no idea how to get to the place where the Walking people, in fact, were. After sending Duncan and Alice on a recon mission up the road, the Van was at last sighted, at which point it turned around and proceeded to disappear again. All this was too much for Julian who at this point hurtled down the road in a vain attempt to halt the departure of the van. For some reason this seemed reminiscent of that English fullback trying to tackle Jonah Lomu in the '96 world cup. Neither Lomu or the Van were ever going to be stopped. After some time the van, Julian, Alice and Duncan all reappeared and a patch of grass known as Echo Point was located and tents were hurriedly erected. 3:20am, noted Rohan, fuck this was going to be a great nights sleep.

Having no tent of his own Rohan had borrowed Kim's mothers tent. As he had been assured it used to fit two people, Rohan offered Niklaus 1/2 of his tent to save on erections (of tents). It soon became clear why none of Kim's family is very big. If they had grown to even 2/3s of the size of Rohan or Niklaus they would have had to buy a new tent. And why would you want to do that? Nick and Rohan spent a somewhat more intimate night than anticipated, with serious cause for concern being raised when Rohan produced an industrial tub of Vasaline. 'Couldn't find any lip balm' he mumbled as he fell asleep. Meanwhile Nick perfected the art of sleeping on his hands.

Dawn of the 27th came early. As people went about packing up erections (of the tent variety) the Tour of Love Vehicle 2 (TOLV2) and trailer were picked up. Rohan was fairly sure that it was a good thing that Reg from Reg's Rentals was not there to see his beloved Van loaded. At this point, seeing the opportunity to become the privileged 3rd person in the STLM, Rohan produced several reasons why he ought to be included. By 10:30am the vehicles were loaded and off to Blenheim to pick up Kim. Rohan was feeling elated, it was sunny, he had scored himself a spot in the STLM with Ceri, Therese and the 10CD Sony disc changer stereo system. So with Janis Joplin offering just another little piece of her heart, the vans left Echo Point. The Tour of Love had been officially christened earlier that morning and was underway.

After picking up Kim from her fathers place, blind faith in telepathy between vans ensued again. TOLV2 assumed STLM had gone directly to Murchison. STLM assumed that both vans were meeting at a undisclosed supermarket in Blenheim. After STLM checked all the supermarkets in Blenheim it became clear this was not, in fact, the case. So the STLM was getting together and feeling alright as they were jammin' down to Murch to the sound of a man called Bob and these wailing people. This had all the hallmarks of a classic NZ road/kayaking trip, and moods were high.

As the STLM cruised into the Murchison campground excitement began to build again. The day had been stinking hot, the time was mid afternoon and the edge of the heat was just diminishing. And there was kayaking to be done. Erections were again called for (of the tent variety) and then it was off to the Doctor's Creek section of the mighty Buller. Here unfolded the first ``group change'' of the trip. Kayakers are not renowned for their modesty. And while things had toned down somewhat since Rohan's previous club trips there was still enough naked flesh to excite the odd passing motorist. In terms of modesty, there are two golden rules during the ``group change'': 1) don't look up, concentrate on dressing yourself and find an affinity with the patch of ground by your feet. 2) Once changed don't wander behind or around any vehicles. Others may change slower than yourself. It was also noted that although Luke ``we didn't do things like this in the old days'' Geldermans complained about the brand and style of peanut butter down to other minor details of trip organisation, he was not heard to say "there was more naked butt in the old days, come on lets see some ass''.

Rohan was just about ready to burst by the time shuttles were completed and the ``virgin'' run of the Fly was about to commence. Duncan appeared somewhat bemused by his good humour, but hell, it had been a long year, he had a new boat, it was sunny and he was in a van with a 10 disc CD changer!

By the time Rohan had run down the grassy paddock to the get in, excitement was at bursting point (something that is unlikely to ever occur again on the Doctors Creek section). In the new boat the blissful transformation from sliding to gliding as the boat leaves contact with the bank was a truly sublime experience. Then it was a race to the first eddy line and many Whoopees latter the group began to head downstream.

The on-river organisation of the first day paved the way for the rest of the trip. With a very large group it is good practice to split into groups, matching experienced with unexperienced paddlers, so that the latter may have an eye kept on them and be warned of potential hazards. ``Fuck that'' thought Rohan. ``Doctors Creek? Hell if they get into trouble on this it's going to be a looong week. And mostly I just want to rock-splat and whoopee all day long''. Others must have had similar thoughts as the group gradually dispersed downstream. ``Beginners need to learn to look after themselves'' Rohan further justified to himself.

Well fuck, what a great day on the river. No one died, and the water was warm! Like, not just not giving you frostbite, but actually WARM! Rohan paddled until he thought his arms would drop off and that he would swim if he went upside down and then got out at the Mangles/Buller confluence. Others got out earlier and swam and jumped off rocks and the discomfort of the days journey and the stress of a bad nights sleep were gently eased from aching bones by the gentle massage of a mighty river.

Back at the camp sight dusk fell and the TOL trip sat down to the first of many exquisite concoctions brewed up by the Alice/Bolke camp cooks league of excellence. The happy campers retired to their tents for a well earned rest.

Dawn of the 28th came early. Suprisingly the rising of the TOL group did not. Some things, it seems, will not change in a hurry. The thought of getting on the river before midday or paddling 2 sections was quickly banished from Rohan's mind. But hey, this was a holiday not a prison camp right? The morning brought with it more TOL paddlers: Stu, who had managed to have less sleep on his first night in the Island than the rest of TOL joined us. So too did the TSM boat decoration crew.

TSM: Team Small Member (aka Toasted Sandwich Makers) were these really cooooool guys. While VUCC revels in it's position as one of the most educated and generally cleverest and bestest canoe clubs in the country, TSM offer us an example of humanity from the bottom 2 percentile. In fact these guys were probably worse than that - it has been estimated they were somewhere between 4 and 5 std devs below the norm. While baboons tend to scent mark, TSM use spray paint and a ``TSM'' stencil. When the TSM boys returned from the pub late the night before, they had decided it would be realllllly coooool to scent mark some of the TOL boats. So tweedle dum and tweedle dummer picked out Mark's shiny red Transition as the ideal target. But Mark heard rustling, and like a mother awakened by the cry of her new born baby, Mark was up in a flash to check on the well being of his boat. After securing the safety of his boat Mark promptly fell asleep while the baboons, oops, while the TSM boys continued on their search for prey. HARK! Atop the mighty STLM a yellow Fly bared it's arse to the world. In what can best be described as a warning to those prone to such nakedness, the arse was adorned with the TSM brand.

As the sun rose, no-one from the TOL did. As those from TOL finally got around to falling out of bed, they were greeted by an angry Kim Murray. Life, it would appear, burdens Kim more than most at times, and today that burden was heavy. Rohan was not the only one with a new Fly. The TOL was full of Flys - Alice, Rohan, Ceri, Luke, Adrian, and Kim all had Flys. But only one of them had had their baby emblazoned with TSM. After some cunning deduction, it was concluded that the people at the campsite next to us with TSM painted on their tents may have had something to do with the overnight occurrence. The fearsome team of Therese, Kim and Bolke confronted their fellow campers. After some denial it was conceded that Team Small Member had in fact been responsible for the scent marking exercise of the night before. The proof was in the knuckles of tweddle dum and tweedle dummer. They were stained a dark green from dragging through the grass all day looking for things to mark.

The ever courteous TSM agreed to remove the offending material. But their attitude had gotten right up Bolke's nose. If you're ever gonna fuck with people, make sure they are not friends of Bolke. He led a sortie to the Camp Office and arrangements were made to meet the local police officer. On his return they found TSM removing the offending artwork. ``What are you using to remove that?'' asked Bolke. ``Ripper stripper'' came the reply. ``Can I have a look at that?'' asked Bolke, and after a quick glance he muttered incredulously ``How fucking stupid are you guys? This is going to destroy her boat''. Thankfully Kim's boat wasn't destroyed. Unfortunately Therese's van did sustain some damage. As too, we hope, did the TSM video camera as Therese used her toothbrush to clean the lens as it was thrust into her face by tweedle dummer. The whole episode was most memorable for the insightful reply of tweedle dummer to Therese's question of ``why did you do it?''. A look of studious concentration came over his face and drawing upon his vast skills of sophistry he answered ``Why not?'' If these guys went to University, Beavis and Butthead were their lecturers. Anyway, TSM made a quick exit to ``Th'Coast'' and Mr Plod came on down to write all the details in his standard issue police notebook, with his standard issue police pencil. The resolution of the story came some days after the TOL had ended. Tweedle dummer's mother in Hamilton was contacted and, acutely embarrassed by her son's actions (why had she had that drunken fling in the monkey cage 20 years earlier?) agreed to pay for the damage to Therese's van, which included corroded glass and melted paintwork from the ripper stripper dripping off Kim's fly and onto the van below.

After the TSM episode there was a lengthy discussion on what to paddle that day, and the mid Matakitaki was chosen as the destination. The section actually paddled is also known variously as the mid mid Matakitaki, the combined upper and lower mid Matakitaki, the upper Matakitaki followed by the mid Matakitaki etc etc. The section soon provided us with some further precedents for the rest of the trip.

Everyone having studiously ignored the ``NO RIVER ACCESS'' sign on the gate, it was duly noted that the Mid Matak was as low as everything else in the region. Being fully aware of her responsibilities as co-organiser of the trip Ceri proceeded to liven up the section by going upside down and cunningly lodging her paddle behind a rock in the river so as to provide maximum entertainment for the rest of the group. This brave action resulted in 1) the first Pink Hat award of the trip and 2) the first of many broken paddles.

With lodged paddle and watching eyes, Luke and Rohan proceeded to think of increasingly grandiose plans to rescue the said paddle. Although totally unsuccessful, perhaps the highlight of the attempts was Rohan attaching himself to a throwrope with various others holding on upstream, launching himself into the river and then proceeding to gesticulate wildly as the rope became taught and his head began to disappear. In the end Luke managed to retrieve the paddle following some good thinking and clever rope work. ``Bugger'' thought Rohan, ``I'll have to do something pretty clever today to make up for that''. For the record, I don't think he did.

In some respects, the section was a bit disappointing due to the lack of water. Some of the Buller first timers were beginning to look doubtful after the 23rd time anyone said ``there should be a great XXXX around the corner''. There were some wave trains and a couple of small holes to provide entertainment however.

After the section finished and boats had been dragged across the ubiquitous grassy field, another VUCC tradition unfolded on the TOL: The VUCC lunch is an experience that mere words cannot do justice to. It is the feeling of wet polypro, the smells of various delicacies and the trading of abuse as the last of the bread disappears and the vegetarian knife is used to cut the salami. The VUCC lunch can take place anytime between 3 and 6pm. For some it is the chance to see how many tins of sardines can be consumed between only 2 slices of bread (Nick) while for others it is the strange concoction of flavours mixed together with mud and sand that can be used to shock and revolt the rest of the groups finer sensibilities (Mark). The tricks to be learnt from experience with the group lunch include: 1)Bread is important - if you can get bread then there will always be something to put between it. You may lose out on your first choice of filling but you will fill your stomach. 2) Don't let people see you slicing cheese. You will be there for a long time as people snatch the slices as soon as your knife is halfway through them. 3) tinned fish permeates your clothing and is of no use in repelling insects, although it does a damn good job with members of the opposite sex.

After shuttling and the arduous boat tying, it was decided that a few members of the group would paddle the Glenroy. And so began a love affair, a passion, and a blinding desire between Mark and the Glenroy. The sort of passion that inspires young men to write poetry, the sort of passion that instils a jealous rage when the beloved accommodates others. I think it would be fair to say Mark enjoyed the Glenroy. In fact, Mark suggested the Glenroy during every discussion about what the group might paddle. And after every section if there was at least a 1/2 hour of light left. He may have said prayers to the spirit of the Glenroy but at the time of writing this is merely an unsubstantiated rumour.

Luke, Rohan, Mark, Andrew and Julian and Nick were driven to the get in of the Glenroy by Bolke. Reg's Rental sustained a broken tail light in the infamous ``turning the Van episode''. To cut a long story short, which I am not prone to do, it is very difficult to turn a van with a trailer on a one lane dirt road WITHOUT doing some damage. Bolke should be commended for the comparative lack of seriousness of the damage and his later superlative fixit Job.

After moist polypro had been re-penetrated, the ``Boys'' enjoyed a quick run down the section. It was low enough so as to make the serious river wide stopper that is normally the crux of the section a number of shutes. After a long period of contemplation, the whole group ran the drops each commenting that it was easier than it looked. The boys returned to the Murchison campground. There was general agreement among the group that Ceri should be bestowed the honour of wearing the Pink Cap (kindly donated by Bolke) for doing the stupidest thing of the day. She wore this proudly at the pub, while we ate chips, drank beer and played darts.

The 29th was Granity day. The Granity section includes the Granity Creek rapid. It should be stressed that this rapid is called Granity because a high proportion of the rocks in the rapid are granite. It has nothing to do with the rapid being hard like granite rock (which isn't all that hard I don't think) or anything else. So it was all bare bums at the Gowan bridge, which is surprisingly well used, before the section commenced.

By this stage of the trip it would be fair to say that tensions were rising between the two major vehicles of the trip, the STLM and the TOLV2. While the TOLV2 was full of uptight paddle junkies who wanted to spend maximum time on the river, the STLM was full of laid back groovy people who insisted that the best way to drive to a get in was via several other local tourist spots and after many stops. It also took time to select the best tracks for the Sony. So arriving somewhat latter than expected, and completely overshooting the agreed meeting point at the get out, the STLM made it to Gowan bridge and the section was begun.

It was to be one of those days that remind us why people paddle. Lets face it, we spend a lot of money and a lot of time to spend fuck all time on rivers, that are, at times of only marginal interest. But there aren't waves in the North Island like there were on Granity that day. An old time VUCC paddler, Steve Ward, was once talking about surfing green waves with a fellow paddler. ``Surfing a green wave is better than sex'' said the fellow. Steve, who up until this point had been agreeing on the merits and enjoyment of surfing such waves quickly snapped, ``Nothing, NOTHING, is better than sex!'' Mmmm. Maybe they could compromise and say that surfing a good green wave is better than bad sex. Something like that anyway. Back to the waves. Perfect opportunity to get back into the groove.

So there were a couple of mighty cool wave trains above Granity rapid. There was also a wee hole in which Julian, Duncan, Rohan, Bolke, Alice and Eaon attempted to do 360s on. Anyway, after the wave trains and some mighty fine surfs came Granity rapid. Everyone piled out of their boats on river right, climbed up a bank and viewed the heaving water. It was fairly low but the pour-over/hole on river left at the bottom looked nasty. It was, however, more or less, a ``paddle in a straight line, hold on to your hat, lean forward, you'll be loving it man'' type of rapid. Duncan showed the way, followed by Rohan. The eddies on river left looked enticing so Rohan hopped down river left until he reached the final eddy before the drop. ``Fuck me, this is still pretty steep!'' he thought bouncing up and down looking at a couple of mammoth waves. Having a few spectators encouraged Rohan not to piss around too long and he took 4 or 5 BIG strokes, hit the eddy line, leant forward and downstream and it was all a bit easier than anticipated. Still a lot of fun though. So he ran it twice more. The bottom eddy then became a bit of an attraction to a lot of people, Duncan, Luke, Nick, Julian, Mark, and quite possibly others. Ceri continued her unique style of river running doing the bottom drop upside down. Come to think of it, there is nothing unique about this. It's a style that Duncan has been working on for a number of years now. Do we have a convert? There was quite a bit of carnage but generally the rapid provided a lot of fun and confidence.

It was a fairly short paddle to the get out where we waited for the shuttle to be done, fending off the ever present sandflies: Luke had this idea that if he covered his entire knee in sandfly corpses which he gratefully collected off others limbs, that the sandflies might get the message. They didn't. After the shuttle it was a quick drive to the Owen River Tavern for a beer and to watch some cricket. Then it was off to the camp ground for the inaugural TOL group wash.

Having received a ``waterways friendly'' bar of soap for Christmas, Rohan proceeded to bath in the tepid Buller river by the camp ground. Luke and Mark both thought this was a good idea and then soon everyone was lathering up and splashing around. A good trick was to lather up atop a large rock and then dive oneself clean in the river. Or jump oneself clean depending on level of ability and gracefulness. That evening it was decided that Andrea should gain the pink hat for mistaking herself for an elephant, and an elephant in need of a bath at that. Having heard something that could have been vaguely amusing, she proceeded to regurgitate a significant amount of tea through her nose. Fantastic to watch - really quite a spectacle. (We note that despite a lucrative offer from the Wringly Brothers, Andrea is still starting her MSc this year).

The 30th dawned and seven hours later the mighty VUCCers of the TOL proceeded to paddle the Lower Matakitaki (aka Earthquake Matakitaki). It should be noted that the name ``Earthquake'' refers to the fact that the Earthquake rapid was formed after the Murchison Earthquake many years ago. It has nothing to do with the rapid making oneself feel like they are in an earthquake. (There are rather a few misconceptions out there about the names of various rapids and sections. eg. the rapid ``Too hard for Graham'' which the delightful author of the New Zealand white water guide that we all use, Graham Charles, had not even seen at the time of naming).

After a great deal of angst at the get in, groups were made (that members actually kept to and respected!) for the rest of the section. It's a short section but fun, with interesting rock gardens and the drops of the final Earthquake rapid. Having gone down in the first group, Rohan became rather bored waiting for the others after reaching the Earthquake rapid and so proceeded to run it eight times. Becoming more lackadaisical with each decent, he was glad that no-one seemed to notice his final attempt during which he managed (only just) to roll as he went over the top of the last drop. Remember ``cockiness will get you a beating, fear will keep you alive''.

Stu and Nick both decided that the right hand line on Earthquake looked like fun. After a couple of instructions they both ran it, neither quite making that boof move and getting some impressive tailstands out of the hole. Nick, having been so inspired by the first attempt did it again, with a slightly different set of instructions and suprisingly did exactly the same tailstand manoeuvre. Mark, in circumstances that he was not prepared to discuss, lost contact with his boat on the flat water below Earthquake. Paul, who up until now has not even received a mention departed from the TOL to pursue other activities, his dusty car now replete with TOL emblazoning.

The evening brought a quick and not too successful surf at O'Sullivans rapid. The most successful boat by far for the type of wave that evening was the Turbo. The other, shorter boats fell off the back very quickly. Pink hat award for the day? Julian, who lost his fork, and thus asked if he could borrow someone's spoon to eat his cereal. Upon entering the borrowed spoon into the cereal he promptly discovered where his fork had mysteriously disappeared.

The 31st - New Years Eve 1998. The Earthquake Buller (aka the Lyall section) was the call of the day. It was stinking hot, and a magnificent day for a magnificent section. There were wave trains, whoopee spots, pourovers to try tricks in and even the Lyall creek wave which allowed a couple of flat spins. But by far the best part of the day was running Guuuuunslinger, which due to the low water volume was, at the top of the rapid, renamed ``Popgun'' for the day (thanks Duncan) although, by the end of proceedings, had pretty much won back it's proper title.

Rohan eddy hopped down river left, which was in retrospect a fairly boring route. Ceri was the first to REALLY show the line, by going straight through the hole at the bottom which would ``probably be nothing at this flow''. Although not a heavy beer drinker, the words ``yeah right'' went through her mind as she was tailstood, cartwheeled and her boat spat vertically into the air sans Ceri who had ostensibly been sucked out. Nick, not one to be put off my such trifles, decided to aim for the deepest, stickiest part of the hole in an exercise of personal discovery. What he discovered was that cartwheeling isn't really as hard as it looks, it's just the stopping which is the tricky bit. After a beating that would have ensured the death of any body lice that Nick may have had, he decided to hit the eject button and pull off his spray deck. Not a bad move, but unfortunately, very bad timing. There was no chance of Nick using Ceri's rather dubious ``I was sucked out'' line, as the hole decided to spit him straight into the air, his body facing the watching crowd, with both his hands grasping for his sprayskirt tag. The look of horror and disbelief on his face was like a guy who has been caught masturbating by his girlfriend's mother in her bathroom. The Pink Hat had been won.

Now it was a matter of really figuring out just how big various peoples penis's were. The theory is, that if you are prepared to go into a hole that has just done that to someone, you must have a pretty big penis. This may be why many women do not attempt to do such things. They tend to be surrounded by enough pricks on paddling trips without gaining one of their own. Anyway, after a bit of dillydallying around the edge of the hole, both Rohan and Duncan dropped into the guts of it sideways. Upon reflection, It would probably have taken much bigger balls to go in nose first and backpaddling over the edge, as going in sideways didn't seem to do a hell of a lot to you.

Preparations for the nights festivities got underway back at the camp ground. Ie, everyone got tanked. After another fine meal, everyone eventually headed for central Murchison. There, DJ2000 was pumping out the tunes. Badly. This was not enough to dampen the TOL spirits (we WANTED to hear Prince's 1999 3 times in the 1/2 hour following midnight).

But New Years Eve was really Andrea's night. Sexy Dan Jones from the Custard Adventures Van (formally AUCC, and a member of the infamous Auckland ``B'' canoe polo team at winter tourney 1996 at Massey) was on the prowl. ``I normally charge girls $20 to teach them how to snog in the back of my van but for you I'll do it for free''. He really said this. Unfuckingbelievable. This didn't work but the lines kept rolling off his tongue. Rumour has it he is a virgin. Despite the obvious absurdity of the situation, the VUCCers kept a close eye on Andrea in case the alcohol overpowered her (Dan's charm sure wasn't going to manage).

While the overall events of the night are hazy, certain episodes stand out. 1) Nick lost his shirt to the adoring crowd, and having danced topless for some time, borrowed a sweatshirt off Rohan. 2) At Adrian's suggestion, members of the TOL had a group hug by the stereo and chanted ``this is the tour of L, O, V, E, loooooooooove''. Several times in fact. Other less reputable patrons pushed us around a bit as we swayed merrily and the DJ's bodyguard became rather angry with us. 3) Andrea, Duncan and others used the shoulders of Nick and Ceri as vantage points and generally caused more disturbance. Mostly though the TOL members just staggered about a lot and drank beer. The walk home was also eventful as Stu flirted with disaster, DIC of Alice's bicycle. The wee flashing light on the back kept disappearing up other people driveways, normally until the resident dog was alerted, at which point the cycle rejoined the road in a hurry. Rohan made it home earlier than others, missing the toasted cheese sandwich making of the latecomers, and fell into his tent (not a mean feat given the tent in question!) his head awash with images and thoughts.

New Years day rolled around. Tired eyes and dry tongues emerged from stuffy tents. Today was to be a day of rest. A trip to the Maruia hot springs was organised. After the usual pissing about Stu, Kim, Nick and Luke left early in Stu's car while the rest of us pissed around some more. In fact the STLM had to piss around the most as none of the occupants knew how to get where they were going. The STLM stopped to ask a hitchhiker if he knew. Not a clue. Thankfully, the next person to stop for the hitchhiker did know and they were on their way.

First stop was Maruia Falls. They were quite high. Two foreigners in ``X'''s ran the falls, giving each other high fives at the bottom and generally hamming it up for the tourists. At this point Therese decided that Rohan should run the falls. Some would call it tenacity, others beligerence but on and on she went. Rohan was glad when they left the area. ``Maybe later, I'm not in a good head space at the moment'' he said. ``It's now or never ... you may as well do it now ... come on Rohan, it's easy'', etc, etc, was Therese's enthusiastic response.

The springs themselves were divine. Well they would have been divine except there were millions of sandflies, so it was just really good. Now none would argue that Luke is not an ideas man. His great idea for the day was to see how long people could stay in the cold pool. I think he won the pink hat for this. If he didn't, he was a strong contender. Stu, Ceri, Luke and maybe Bolke or Mark were the participants in this macabre competition. I'm not sure who won. I think it can be concluded, however, that all the participants were winners. Nick happily aired his opinion about what the sole purpose of the overnight facilities in the complex was. Having been truly relaxed, the TOL proceeded to go and BBQ at some weird little spot near the river. The vege patties went down a treat as did the cricket and cold Speights. A short walk was taken to a wee bridge and then the tired campers went back to Murchison for a well needed rest.

The 2nd of Jan saw the O'Sullivan's to Ariki falls section being done. The pink hat was won early in the day as Stu, in his eagerness to hit the water, allowed his boat to float peacefully into the middle of the river without him. Although the boat was quickly recovered the incident had been noted. Later episodes did, however, steal the limelight somewhat.

The Buller river, as previously mentioned, was low. But there were a few whoopee spots and waves to keep people awake. In fact the O'Sully's wave was going off, Bolke in particular carving up. And then there was Jetboat. Jetboat rapid, at this level, requires a paddler to take a drop over river left into a smallish hole and then to veer right through some turbulent water to avoid being swept into a bluff. There was a large recirculating eddy on river left in between the hole and the bluff which water fed into after it hit the latter.

It didn't really look like much of an issue, but Therese decided to make one of it. With eyes wide as the drop approached Therese guided her Hurricane over, perhaps slightly too far left. Struggling vainly, in the same way that a fragile fawn struggles as it is mauled mercilessly by a savagely septic toothed tiger, Therese never quite made it into the main river flow on the right. WHAM!! Into the bluff side on she went. BLAM! Her upstream rail dropped for a microsecond and she was hammered upsidedown and under the bluff. FUCK! Her whole boat disappeared. Suddenly the watching crowd have their eyes torn from the bluff to the upstream reaches of the eddy, Therese has swum, and been dragged under the water upstream and popped out at the top end. And with a wail to impress an angry banshee the group is alerted to her plight. Therese was clinging to the upstream cliff but to the spectators horror her fingers and nails slid agonisingly down the rock and she was sucked in and under the water for another recirculation. Enter Luke. If we can call Therese our maiden in distress then we can call Luke our knight in shining plastic. Fearlessly he entered the surging water and plucked Therese from her peril. And then to add further insult to our dragon-like rapid he returned to rescue her paddle.

After watching this incident, Rohan decided to talk Andrea out of walking the rapid. Andrea was going to walk the rapid even though at this stage she had no idea of the treatment that had been dished out to Therese. If she had seen the episode, Rohan wouldn't have stood a chance, but realising that she hadn't, he seized his chance. And so it was that Andrea paddled strongly over the drop with Rohan's directions ringing loudly in her ears, ``start left, head right, if you go upside down, STAY IN YOUR BOAT, I will be right next to you and I will pick you up''. The drop was navigated expertly and Rohan lengthened the distance between their boats, when under she went. ``Fuck'' thought Rohan, and with some powerful strokes pushed the upside down Andrea into the main current where she could quite safely swim. But Andrea had no idea where she was or that she could safely swim and kept waiting to be pulled up by Rohan. Occasionally her head would appear and a ghastly sucking sound like a bath empting could be heard as Andrea tried to refill her lungs. Eventually Andrea was righted in her boat, a little the worse for wear, her brain too starved of oxygen to abuse Rohan for his tardy rescue. But that was ok as everyone else abused Rohan for his rescue and his decision to goad Andrea into paddling. ``It did wonders for her confidence'' Rohan argued, more to convince himself than anyone else.

Other events of the day included an examination of the entrance to a large tunnel dug by Chinese miners some time ago, which was meant to divert most of the water from the Buller so that the riverbed could be properly excavated. While some water does flow through this tunnel, most of it does not. Useless for miners, an interesting diversion for Kayakers. The day's river trip ended at Ariki Falls, which after much scouting, were unanimously considered too shallow to paddle. The TOL then split up into three: those who wanted to look at where the hole in the river came out, lead ably by Duncan who had been there before and found it most interesting; those who wanted to go to the Lyall Creek wave and have a surf; and finally those slack buggers who had had enough for the day and wanted to laze in the sun. In retrospect, the sun lazers may have made the best decision.

On the third day of the new year and after much debate and consideration it was decreed that the Mid Matak was flavour of the day and off we went on the trip that was to witness perhaps the stupidest event of not only the Buller TOL, but maybe the last 18 months or so. The river was a bit HO HUM, we had been there and done that and it was even lower than before. Ceri was in a borrowed Kendo, after master boat seller Tim Starr managed to convince his friend that he wanted to sell it (he didn't) and to convince Ceri that she wanted to buy it (she didn't). Given that no commission was involved, answers are still being sought to explain this Cantabrians obsession with getting people to buy and sell boats willy nilly for the sake of it.

Anyway, the river trip was over in record time and people were disrobing and hanging gear up to dry. The wonder of modern lifejackets is that included in all the safety features is the karabina. They make an excellent cloths peg to hang up ones wet life jacket to dry. A word of warning though. DO NOT CLIP A KARABINA ONTO A LIVE ELECTRIC FENCE. Unfortunately Mark had not had this piece of advice imparted to him in time. The thing with a karabina is that it requires a modicum of motor control to release. This control is hard to come by as ones hand is jolted about by electric shocks. Mark spent some time attempting to remove his 'bina from the fence as most of the TOL stood by in mild hysterics,. Eventually, with the use of a paddle blade, this was successfully managed. Luke and Nick then answered Mark's merciless call for the Glenroy, while the others disappeared back to the campground. It was at the campground that the aforementioned Tim Starr decided to remind Rohan of his promise to paddle Maruia Falls if he would, and to goad him about being a ``pussy'' and a ``soft cock''. And thus the STLM, loaded with Therese, some of her beer swilling friends, Tim, Rohan, and Ceri, set off for the falls. When there is no possibility of really being expected to run a rapid or some falls, it is really easy to say they look pretty easy and not as hard as one expected. When one is pulling on damp polypro and feeling a constant urge to relieve oneself, such pieces of water become quite daunting. Nevertheless, Tim and Rohan with matching blue Flys, stared for some time at the falls, then proceeded to warm up in the pool above the drop. Rohan insisted on Tim going first, ostensibly to consider his line of approach, but mostly to make sure he survived. After Tim's first successful decent, Rohan watched from the pool above as Tim disappeared over the edge for a second time.

After the thumbs up from the assembled crowd Rohan began his approach. Things went very quiet and almost onto autopilot. The roar of the river was forgotten as the point of no return on the lead up was reached. From here on in, any panic is disastrous. Rohan concentrated as that slippery point went by, ``Four big strokes, really dig on the last one going over the lip but lean forward to stop the boat going horizontal''. The final stroke done, there was a moment of weightlessness, a moment of exhilaration, of wondering what the impact with the water below would hold. One timeless fucking moment, before BOOM, one's face hits the water at a million miles an hour, WHAMMO, the paddle held at waist height comes shooting up to bash you on the bridge of the nose and fuck you can hear the water again. And your arms and legs still work. WOW! If this wasn't enough, Rohan was now told by Tim that to show that it hadn't scared him he had to do it again. He was already feeling lucky, did he want to push it? Not really, but it was probably a whole lot easier than being a pussy, so the whole episode was repeated.

It should perhaps be pointed out that Maruia Falls do have a bit of a reputation for crushing vertebrae as a person lands. At least 4 people have been hospitalised after going off the falls. Who knows if they were unlucky or what - the point is that it is a long way down from the top. It was then off to the pub to celebrate.

The fourth was hometime. Erections subsided and gear was packed. Some keen ones paddled the Granity section again while others preferred the comfort of Eaons pleasuredome Range Rover while racing back into Murch' to buy glue for tailight repairs.

The trip back to Picton was entertaining in the STLM with it's exuberant hitchhiker, the incorrigible Tim Starr. Occupants found out all about where Tim had done 'it' and various other naughty things he had been up to. Tim also showed them how to place their cupped hands outside the window at 100km an hour so that it feels like one is groping a breast. For the record, it's not quite the same as real flesh.

After a brief stop at Kim's Fathers place to clean out the rental van, TOLV2, Picton was finally reached. The rental trailer was miraculously bent back into shape and accepted as new by the somewhat dodgy Reg and his companions.

The proceedings after leaving Murchison were officially no longer TOL ones. As the VUCCers reached Picton the TOL was left behind. An incomparable 9 days were swapped for the realities of life - the endless summer had ended. Like a bather lounging in an outdoor hot tub suddenly finding the water gone cold, we were jolted back from blissful oblivion. To summarise the trip home, some made the 6pm sailing, and others made the 9pm on standby. There were various disagreements over innumerable details concerning who was doing what and where and who was going with whom on what ferry and why. There was, however, much rejoicing by those left on standby when several caches of alcohol were found hidden amongst people's gear. The ferry sailed, the sun went down and we all lived happily everafter (until the hangovers kicked in the next morning).

Rohan.



Last update: Wed May 5 21:34:50 NZDT 1999

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