Home!

Home! It’s glorious. December went by quickly, with masses of family time and as it was the wettest December on record, regular runs on the local Hutt gorge. I struggled with the usual headspace issues created with landing in a new place, with added complications that actually this place isn’t new, I was born here…

Christmas hurtled by, and it was time to meet up with the lovely Kate on the ferry south. Sharing stories from the last three years over a few monteiths she proposed that instead of heading straight to the Coast, we join a four day sunshine trip down the Clarence on route. With more old friends, sun and a raft full of wine and cheese at the put in, the plan seemed a cracker. Ignoring the weather forecast of a looming southerly, we floated down through one of New Zealand’s largest high country sheep stations, feeling a long way from the rest of the country’s holiday plans. The southerly hit the next day, and as I rowed the raft through driving sleet I reflected I had not been as cold running the Etive in the snow.

Five days later we emerged in Murchison, where the weather had been hot and people had started to wonder where we were. Laps on the lower Matakitaki restored feelings of being on holiday and it was fabulous to catch up with the kayak school team. We cruised down a day later to Hokitika, for the wet west film festival – and some proper west coast boating.

A day out on the Whitcombe was a much needed break from the constant social whirl, and despite the fact that Ngaio and I didn’t run our most stylish lines, we did reflect that three years ago we had a very different experience – mine largely on the bank of Colliers Gorge. That night Mick was down from Murch and we set up a team for the Arahura. With a sunny day and a lovely high end of medium flow, I spent a moment at the put in quaking that everyone else on this team is famous, and what am I doing here? This thought disappeared as soon as we dropped into the first rapid, and we had one of those shiny days out where everyone flies over drops and the smiles at the takeout last all the way back to town. More old mates turned up and we ran the more of the classics and went back for repeats. Prayers for rain were answered and we walked into the Styx and romping down the lower runs. It cleared again and we kept Dando busy, amazed that we managed to get two good weeks in without having to stir from our base at the campground in Hoki.

Employed for the first time in eight months, it’s been good to have a routine which includes walking thru the town belt on the way to work, and regular swims in the harbour in the evenings. Wellington is a sparkly wee village, and I’ve actually bought a house in Kilbirnie, close to the only surf beach in town. Happily, I could rent it out tomorrow, so that feels about the right level of commitment for now. I’ll be back in the UK for a spot of baby admiration in June, before taking on the biggest adventure yet – a circumnavigation of Spitsbergen in Svalbard. Eighteen months ago two inspired (or mad?!) friends dreamed up the mission to sea kayak for eight weeks round an island a looong way north of Norway. While it’s difficult to train for artic conditions, 100kg boats and 50km days in Wellington harbour, I’m doing my best.

Chai and samosas

Namaste!

I've been boating with an ever-increasing team of absolutely lovely boaters. Yoga sessions, serious attention to eating and drinking and occaisional river trips have all been good. It seems that the objective of coming away from this trip svelte and fit is being happily dashed.

Meeting Ngaio off the plane and hearing James' classic kiwi accent has been like visiting home without going there. On a four day trip down the sun kosi, we pitched our candy striped fly with matching groundsheet, and the boys learned about girl talk under the stars. John, our token pom, has been a nice balance to my excessive enthusiasm to paddle constantly.

It's the first time I've re-visited anywhere, and Nepal is a great place to come back to. The locals have had a pretty hard time here over the last few years, and it's amazing they've retained their friendly openness. I'm finding it more difficult to be constantly delighted about some things (small children, tourist shops) but the essentials of Nepali river trips, chai, samosas and days and days of boat scoutable class four are outstanding.

We've managed a nice balance between self support trips and staying in villages - and even had a Nepali cultural evening put on by the local school for us one evening. The boys did some sort of haka as their contribution, and Ngaio and I tried to keep up with the graceful hand and wrist movements made by the local women. For those who've been boating here, we've had great trips on the Balephi, the Modi and Madi Kholas, and are planning our next move... maybe way out west.

I've been unemployed for that glorious amount of time that means I've forgetten entirely about what it means to go to work, and have only the vaguest feeling that I'll need to find a job in the future. It's fabulous.
Polly

A bedtime story for creekboaters

Heya all

Duncan and I have been boating our way thru the middle of BC - to the town of Likely (where the hell is Likely?) visited the abandonned mining town of Quesnel Forks - down thru the desert with truly enormous rivers (the Thompson is low at 2700 cfs) and to shiny Whister (more like Queenstown than I feel comfortable with).

The Cariboo/Chilcoten area has a feel not unlike remote spots on the NZ west coast - where the land is rugged and the search for gold is still seen in the rivers today. We've had some truly magic days on the water - highlights were the Chilko, Stein and Nahatalatch and met more lovely locals. At the cark park (read kayakers camping area) for the upper Cheakamus we met some Americans from North Carolina who are writing a guidebook to the best places to boat in the US.

Duncan decided he was not up for class 5 about the same time I discovered that low volume creeks are simply wonderful. We've been out exploring waterfalls - most memorably Rogers
Creek, a bedrock gorge with three 20 foot drops. A mandatory 60 footer! Leland laughed as we got out in the eddy before the first drop. The pools were green and it was possible to stop and surf the boils between each fall, waiting for each member of the team to plummet off the edge and land safely clear of the hole at the bottom. Leland got some truly spectacular photos as we managed to coordinate Andrea and Taylor's run of the second and third drop simultaneously. At the bottom of the drops we whooped and hugged each other - giddy with the fun of it all going so well.

We spent a few more days boating with this team (on Callaghan, Snowcap, Soo and Cayoosh creeks), before heading to Skookumchuck, and got the playboats off the roof. This amazing tidal playspot comes with rave reviews, and despite feeling sore, I had two days of fabulous surfing. Clear water, purple starfish, red aneomones and more friendly locals... bliss.

Our tour of BC was to finish at the Ashlu festival. Set up by locals to publicise and preserve one of the most beautiful rivers I've ever seen, the an 11th hour decision by the provincial govenment to support a hydro scheme means that it was the last chance to get down the mighty Ashlu.
The friendly mini-mine section and play run are gorgeous, and with encouragement from a group of truly superb group of local(ish) boaters I decided to take on the harder mine run. It's awfully big in there - one rapid "ate my lunch!" as they say here.


Our BC trip is done... the only thing left to sort is - how can I persuade the powers that be to let me move to Vancouver?

love to you all
Polly

Logjams great and small

Hey all

Duncan and I have been exploring the small corner on the bottom right of the truly enormous province of BC, where the rivers are all at a fantastic medium flow, the sun shines all day, and at night you sometimes get an impromptu displayof awesome lightening and thunder storms.

We're learning about what it means to travel together. Duncan is like a specially sensitive mosquito campsite test- get him out of the car at any time of day and wait five minutes. Been bitten yet? No. Excellent, we can stop here then. Mozzies here are ferocious and don't seem to understand that they are supposed to be nocturnal.

After driving up thru Glacier National Park (beautiful!) we abandonned Seattle friends in Alberta and drove west in search of water. And found it. A week of boating in the Kootenays has made us into - if not a seamless team - at least a functional one. A day on Horsethief creek at highflow illustrated the fact that in a 2 person team you have to constantly be on your game. We both had sobering encounters with logs in one rapid, with the result that Duncan hiked out of the canyon while I cautiously pursued his boat down the river. Towing a creek boat past logjams great and small I reflected how wood is such an important hazard here in the northwest.

The locals are awfully nice here. We've had offers of help, shuttles and information from strangers on the river bank who quickly became friends.

Just as I surfaced from the news of losing one friend on theriver, another drowned in on the Sjoa in Norway. Chris Rendu was a great Hurley buddy - a person who enjoyed his boating more than anything else, whether taking photos or trying outhis new tricks on the wave. I've been thinking a lot about those who were with Chris on the river and all those who will miss him now he's gone.

Mick, who runs the NZ Kayak School has a habit of saying things as if they were written on huge bulletin boards on the highway. Sooty told me how he proclaimed one morning at an instructors meeting "Just bring them back alive!" While you can obsess too much about risk, I'm definitely developing a new and more conservative approach to my paddling on this trip.

We met up with the Seattle truck convoy again and ran a few local gems with long shuttles that we simply couldn't manage on our own. Sharing stories, beers and help with flat tires has been fun. We'll next head north to Kicking Horse river, and up to Jasper where as well as being tourists (Banf! Lake Louise!) we'll go in search of the mighty Fraser.

love to you all
Polly

The land of the brave and free

Hey gorgeouses

While mates from NZ come to an end of their 2 year working holiday visas, my first bug trup has begun. Leaving the UK I felt I was leaving home - home is after all where your friends are, where your local playspot is, with tofu burgers on the bbq and the coffee smells like it's time to spring out of bed.

A couple of weeks of being a lady of leisure in Maidenhead coincided with the world cup and much time on the couch with beer in hand proved essential training for future kayaking expeditions. Time also for a last trip to the French Alps and some truly excellent playboating. Mike and Ritz get the friends of the year award for testing, buying and insuring the most immaculate car I have ever owned. Freed of car-shopping duties, I have instead been hanging out and connecting with local paddlers. Seattle has an amazing range of rivers within an hour or two of town. It's all been very relaxed - Ritz and I have been out trying new playboats on the Skykomish and sea kayaking on Lake Washington.

My first weekend in the States was the 4th of July weekend - Independence day. As we headed off to the Deschutes River in Oregon, we admired the number of houses swathed in red, white and blue. The Descutes is a lovely 3 day rafting run, and we drank beer and sat in sun and experienced the super mellow pace that is a US rafting trip. Shot any Indians lately? asked Ritz as we passed Warm Springs Reservation.

The best and cheapest fireworks are available on the reservations - to celebrate a holiday which is about as colonial as you get. It's against the law to set off fireworks in Washington State, but the locals were either blissfully unaware of the $500 fine or the sheriff never made an issue of it. Seattle went mad with double and triple happys, as rockets were set off in every back yard. There are so many trees here, I couldn't understand how the whole place didn't go up in
smoke.

We came home to the news that Sam Rainey had died on a river in Norway. The week went out of focus as I struggled to get to grips with something that is still more a matter for tears rather than coherent reflection. There have been lots of emails from the paddling community and like everyone, my thoughts have been constantly with Sarah and Sam's family and with Miriam and Ra who were with him on the river. Sam was a good mate, fantastic on the water and a lovely man. We will all miss him terribly.

Mike and Ritz and I took some time out off the water by joining friends on top of a mountain in the Canadian Cascades for the weekend. Lots of hugs, hiking, gin and dancing helped me gain some sort of perspective, and think cheerfully about paddling again. Like Mick says, sometimes
you have to be lucky ay.

Love and hugs to you all
Polly

Welcome!

Welcome to pollyboating. This blog replaces my rambling email updates, and means you get to see photos too. I love other paddling blogs, and finally twigged that I could set one up myself.