Across the South Island with my Little Blue Boat
What happened when I took my packraft to Te Wai Pounamu last year.
I recently went on an adventure. Finally continuing on from my 2022 packraft traverse of the North Island, I flew to the South Island and picked up the journey from there.
“Better drowned than duffers, if not duffers won't drown”
Te Wai Pounamu has always been the metaphorical skyscraper to climb, compared with the North Island. Its rivers are vastly more aggressive, more remote and less direct when travelling north-to-south, since most of them run off the Southern Divide to the east or west coasts. Arthur Ransome’s adventure classic Swallows and Amazons features the blunt line from father, in response to the kids’ request to head off on a sailing adventure: “Better drowned than duffers, if not duffers won't drown”. A solo packraft adventure of the South Island perpetually straddles this same duffer-not-duffer frontier. You can paddle the gentle inlets and lakes, hike through the mountains in relative solo safety, but round every bend sits a raging, whitewater temptation. The knack is to resist. Or get someone along to paddle with you.
It’s here that this adventure falls flat for me. The two main ingredients that attract me to such journeys are solitary strength and self-power. The enthrallment of travelling huge distances, under one’s own steam, over the Earth as nature - not our concrete designs - intended, is unmatched. Every day is about the journey, getting from A to B, or Z. The untangling of our mangled lives. It’s extreme simplification: wake, eat, move, eat, sleep. To add the complication of a second party and the associated human logistics abruptly ties a several knots in this. That said, it’s better than being a duffer.
Still, I clocked 17 days from Cape Farewell to Coldwater Hut, in relative solo safety. I paddled my raft across the Whanganui Inlet, down Golden Bay, hiked myself and it over the Pikirunga Range and into Tasman Bay. Once at Monaco, I hauled the boat out the water and… took five days off with my mate Scoot in Nelson.
Back on the trail, I took on the Richmond Alpine Track - said to be one of the toughest parts of Te Araroa. For seven days, six nights, I wandered around that circuit, marvelling at the scenes. (To say they are unique is an understatement: 95% of what I saw was unique in NZ terms alone!). I struggled. My gear had put on weight against my 2022 stripped-back pack and I just couldn’t work out why! I also felt that this extended hiking section went against the original spirit of this journey: my North Island traverse never saw more than two days back-to-back hiking before I found water again. By the time I reached St Arnaud, I had my answer: I would hit pause.
Watch my playlist of video logs, vlogs, shorts, reels and Tiktoks from this trip:
It was a difficult decision, but on balance the right one. If there’s one thing I know about all of this bounding about the outdoors it’s this: if it doesn’t feel 100% right, then it’s 0% right.
The next section after Nelson Lakes would’ve seen me clamber up Waiau Pass, then have to stare into the Waiau River, only imagining what it would be like to paddle, as I walked alongside it. Far more rewarding to return another day, with a paddle partner, right?
To be continued…