While on a whitewater rafting trip to find out the truth about an ...

WHITEWATER R AF TING
Caleb tests out an
abandoned boat
Linton and Caleb
portage past a narrow
section of the river
the last rapid is ‘jellyfish
rock’, so named because
people try to go left
instead of right and end
up pinned against a rock
45
photography Andrew Harris
What to bring:
Gear hung up
to dry at camp
If it’s too cold to get wet, only a
drysuit will keep you happy. The NRS
Extreme Relief Drysuit is durable,
waterproof, breathable and with
its built-in latex booties, qualifies
as a paddler’s best friend in winter.
Wear a thick pair of Merino socks
inside the booties, a pair of NRS
HydroSkin socks on the outside, and
stuff the works into a pair of tacky,
hard-wearing NRS Attack Shoes. As
for your hands, wear a pair of NRS
Maverick Gloves, made of heavy-duty
neoprene, featuring a grippy textured
palm and insulated with flecks of
heat-reflecting titanium. For more
information, visit www.nrsweb.com.
boat pinned against a rock. We avoid that
fate and then nearly end up missing our
destination, Surveyor’s Camp. The old
piece of canoe that was supposed to have
been nailed to a tree to mark the way is
missing. With daylight fading fast, we catch
sight of the track leading to the camp in the
nick of time.
The rain eases up long enough for us to
cook, eat and thaw by the campfire. Then it
settles in for the night. Greedily lapping up
the deluge, the river rushes by below and I
drift into whitewater dreams.
The next day, we paddle on to Pop’s old
stomping ground. Long, loose unnamed
rapids alternate with flat stretches where
we spy platypus feeding on goodies
brought by the rains. Huge brown birds
swoop down from nearby cliffs and fly
ahead of us. The water is so pristine that we
drink straight from the river. All the while, a
Linton demonstrates
what to do when a
rafter goes overboard
fine rain sprays down. Soon we’re paddling
down to a bend in the river where we were
told that Pop once panned for gold. It’s
called “Little Niche” these days but it’s still
known locally as “Pop’s Farm”.
After leaving the raft, labouring up a
steep cutting, then descending into a tiny,
sheltered valley, we find two generations of
Pop’s descendents awaiting us with tea and
biscuits in a fire-warmed outbuilding.
Free of our drysuits, we sit down with
Ian “Thommo” Thompson, Ian’s daughter
Julie Martin and daughter-in-law Diane
jul-aug tiger tales