One. Two. Three. Where the hell is my rescue??? Four. Is that a kayak? No, damn…it’s a rock! Five. Six. Don’t panic… Seven. Was that a bump? Eight. Oh my God! Kayak! Grab it! Nine. My lungs are exploding; take a breath…CRAP that was only water! Ten. Drown or swim? Screw it. I’m swimming.
There is a saying when one comes close to death that goes something like, “your life flashes before your eyes”; well, I wasn’t exactly close to death, but my life was definitely flashing before my eyes. Ten seconds is a relatively short time to hold your breath, but when you are upside down emerged in freezing water, drifting into rocks with half your body uselessly lodged into a piece of plastic, ten seconds is a very very long time. Here I was, not twenty minutes into my first trip kayaking down a river and already I had flipped on a pathetically calm rapid. Yanking my legs from the overturned kayak, I shot toward the surface with wild and panicked determination. Gasping for air in between heaving coughs of water, I felt myself being pulled by my lifejacket onto the bow of an instructors kayak.
“Had a nice swim did we?”
Cough. “Ye-,” cough “-s”.
“Told you not to lean away from the rocks”
Cough. “I’ll definitely,” cough, cough, “remember that now.”
Two weeks ago I had no intentions of learning how to whitewater kayak in the next…maybe ever. But when a cheery Kiwi university student gives a completely random invite to go on a practically free three-day whitewater adventure, it would be stupid to pass up such an opportunity. So here I was, sputtering and shivering half submerged in the Mohaka River trying to figure out how the heck I was supposed to get back in the kayak.
One of my Instructors on an earlier trip.
Luckily I was surrounded by several very helpful and experienced instructors including CJ (Canadian Jen), Obi, and Magnum (a slightly serious but very fun older gentleman). CJ held my paddle while Obi emptied the water out of my boat. Finally Mag steadied me while I wedged my legs back into place and unsteadily tested my balance. Within a few minutes we were headed downriver again and maneuvering through one set of rapids after another. Three more swims and two t-rescues (when a kayaker flips and uses another kayak to upright themselves) later, I had completed the day’s run. Cold, wet, hungry, and exhausted, I wouldn’t exactly say I was thrilled at the idea of two more days on the river.
We managed to pack 10 people into Pip before shuttling back to camp where food, dry clothes, and a warm fire awaited us. Night fell as the haphazard members and friends of the Auckland University Canoe Club (AUCC) gathered around a massive bonfire. A giant redhead aptly nicknamed Big Red was quick to consume his drinks and begin the first of many songs of the night. Half playing his beloved didgeridoo and half singing, Big Red led all 60 of us in enthusiastic choruses of The Lion King’s Circle of Life and the crowd-favorite Hakuna Matata. I found it enormously entertaining to be singing Disney songs alongside several dozen full-fledged (and slightly if not incredibly drunk) adults!
Day two was apparently not meant to be a river-day. Outnumbered by club-members, my friend Caroline and myself were ousted out of our spots on the raft to run a grade 3 section of the river. Instead, we drove out of the mountains and toward the ocean for a relaxing day at the beach. My first real attempt at surfing was humorous if anything, and a rugby-related shoulder injury kept me from being able to paddle the waves for very long. After six or seven goes at catching a wave (followed by as many wipeouts) I called it a day and made my way to shore. Swapping a surfboard for driftwood, I began indulging in a favorite childhood past time and built a sweet beach fort!
By evening we were back at camp and had just settled in when a random girl came running toward us. She worriedly asked if we had cell phone reception before explaining that she needed to call 111 (the equivalent of 911) because one of the AUCC guys was really sick. I jumped up to follow her back toward the tents along with a fairly new kayak instructor named Ellie. We approached as light was fading and found a young man shivering and in a state of fevered delirium. Apparently the girl had just happened by the tent and heard the guy moaning. One look and it was obvious the poor kid was not in good shape. I quickly assessed his condition by asking him as many relevant questions as I could think of, while just feeling his forehead was enough to know he had a very high fever. Ellie was careful to get very specific responses before grabbing someone and jetting off in a car to find cell phone reception.
In the 45 minutes it took Ellie to make the phone call, we had already begun moving Omar (in fear that his appendix had burst) onto a board in preparation of loading him into my van. The hospital was over an hour away and we had no idea if anyone had been able to make a phone call. As we were just about to move him, word reached us that the ambulance was on its way so we covered Omar in blankets, got him to drink a little water, and waited. The ambulance arrived nearly three hours into the ordeal. Omar was loaded in and driven away. Within minutes of his departure it was as if nothing had happened and everyone began gathering for dinner and the nights unruly festivities. *Omar is still in the hospital with a virus or something but will be okay.
Morning came quickly on Easter Sunday and soon the lot of us, sleepy and now on our third day of showerless camping, began readying ourselves for yet another day on the river. Once arranged into kayaking and rafting groups, the newbies (including myself) were sent on a frenzied Easter hunt for a chocolate rabbit amongst the beached kayaks. I came up short of a chocolate treat but was rewarded with a bag of Goon (the inside container of boxed wine) to drink on the river instead. Because there weren’t enough instructors (most had left earlier to kayak a gnarly Grade 4 section of the river) seven of us were put into a raft with Obi as our guide. Obi, not happy to be guiding a raft down a measly Grade 2 river, brought with him chips, beer, and magazines and situated himself smack in the middle of the raft.
“Who’s rafted before?”
Three of us raised our hands.
“Alright, you” (pointing at a clueless looking shaggy-haired freshman) “you are guiding us first. If the boat starts going out of control I’ll tell you what to do.”
And that’s how the raft went down the river on Easter Sunday.
Perfectly content to sit on the raft and chill down the river all day, my time on the boat was short-lived. While bumping our way down the first rapid, we noticed a group of kayakers on the side of the river with several standing on the shore. Once we got close enough, the instructor Victoria cheerfully asked for a volunteer to kayak in place of a girl who had spent the last ten minutes swirling around half-drowning in an eddy. No one looked very interested so I took a big swig of Goon, high-fived Obi, and jumped into the water.
Day two on the kayak was phenomenal. The girl who I switched with had a kayak that was a hundred times easier to stay upright in than the topsy-turvy contraption I had paddled two days before. I smashed through the rapids and was able to maneuver around obstacles without fear of rolling with every splash. Only swimming once (I rolled trying to avoid another kayaker who had already flipped) my second attempt left me wanting more. Once back at camp, buzzing from the excitement of a successful day on the river, I noticed a girl named Lou walking by her motorcycles.
“Hey Lou! Can I try riding one of those?”
“Hell ya girlfriend!”
Sweet as.
I somehow managed to get the dirt bike started on my first attempt, into gear on my first attempt, and took off in an attempt to brake. I got the bike to stop but didn’t realize how heavy it was and found myself leaping over the handlebars as the bike fell to its side. Laughing, Lou ran over to help me upright it before I jumped back on and started the process over. This time I was able to stop and go several yards before Lou shouted at me to let ‘er rip. I did! Much to the annoyance of other campers, I zoomed up and down the campsite testing my speed with each pass. It was brilliant! I got hooked to the adrenaline rush before I even got off the bike; it was like mountain biking without all the effort!
What an epic weekend of firsts…Now I just have to figure out how to do it all again!
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