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" Picture this. I'm driving to the get out. We're late. The anticipation builds as the reality kicks in. I'm about to get on a run that I've waited eight years to do. The video footage back then had planted a seed of imagination in my mind, today it would be realised... "

Article by Greg Nicks for PLAYAK.COM, May 2003

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[ This article is a follow-up from the latest Slugs report.

'We're late, so you two get changed while the rest get the gear ready!', Andy's voice collected our efforts. As if the excitement of being at one of the worlds destination paddling areas wasn't enough, I eagerly waited for that distinctive noise that would define this trip. 'Now remember it's like a horse'. Andy shepherded us into position. 'Only approach from the front or the side, the back is the dangerous bit '. Surely the front also, he's never been bitten, I thought. Then it started, the distant but very distinct noise of a helicopter approaching over the ridge. 'So what?' you might say. This chopper was going to land feet away from us and we would climb inside, our kayaks attached to its skids. The blood was rushing through the back of my hands as we effortlessly took off and started our way up the Arahura valley.

'That's the cesspit' Bruce Dando the pilot was giving me the in flight commentary. Little did he realise that I instantly recognised the drop from the video, I couldn't wait to be down there. What seemed like only a couple of minutes later and too many rapids to remember had flashed below us we were dumped at the get in. You always feel you are a couple of inches too tall when getting out of a chopper. Colin and I acted like a couple of action super heroes as we unloaded the kit. As the chopper took off down the valley for the next load the peace of the situation was in marked contrast to the cockpit of the chopper. We were surrounded by the Mountains of the southern Alps, South Island, New Zealand . As I took in the scenery my mind got back to the white water, it was now sinking in that we had a long run of white water ahead of us.

The Arahura is one of the most famous runs down the West Coast, but not only for white water. It is a sacred river in Maori folklore for the Greenstone that it provides. Essentially a class four river it has its fair share of class five rapids to shock the system. The crux of the river is the cesspit, an ugly looking waterfall into a seething cauldron followed by the most beautiful canyon you'll find. I will have to dedicate this run to Rob McConnell who swam in the canyon below cesspit to break his paddle, completely wrap his boat writing it off, and rip his cag open (Rob had previously snapped a shaft on the Waikaia after trying to bend it round his head. Rob definitely has more muscle than boat, although I only feel I can say this now I've left the S. Island because I wouldn't start one with him). He then had to swim down the last few rapids as this was the only way out of the sheer canyon. But the story doesn't end there. The previous week Rob had been on a bender in Queenstown with Andy England and lost one of his brand new trainers only to get a flea in his ear for his wanton carelessness from his wife on his return home. He had camped at the get out the previous night so he could start walking up the Arahura at the crack of dawn to save money on the flight in order to find favour with his newly wed partner. He had got half way up only to start coming down with ‘flu. On the way up in the helicopter we could see Rob struggling up the path. Having told this sob story to Bruce Dando the pilot, he went back to pick Rob up as this story must have appealed to the pilot's sense of charity. So if you ever think you're having bad luck, think of Rob. Thanks for the entertainment, Rob.

We did the cream of the helicopter flights in the form of the Waitaha, Perth And 2 days on the Whitcombe. The award for the hardest run goes to the Waitaha, which I found technically and psychologically grueling. Porno got stuck in an ugly hole in the first 100 meters and I bagged him out of it. What can you say, he was obviously very tired after the experience. Facing facts we were at the top a long run having just been dropped in the middle of nowhere by helicopter. Not a word was exchanged as he got back in his boat and we continued on down the river. Commitment is the word that comes to mind in one of the canyons in the Waitaha. Scrambling down the bank along the canyon wall there was a class 5 rapid with no possibility of portage. Towards the end of one of these canyons, Colin was to add himself to the swim list. Having done a couple of rounds with mike Tyson in a nasty slot hole he swam for the green room taking about 20 seconds under. Standing on the bank I was nearly sucked into his lungs with his first breath. After about five hours of paddling we approached the final canyon which is a hell bush bash of a portage, taking over an hour. I was struggling for the last few ounces of energy as we lowered into the last bit of the canyon for the last 100 metres of class five before the river opened out to the get out, after about an 8 hour trip. I paddled the last stretch totally drained physically and mentally.

If the Waitaha was one of the harder runs then I think one of the best was the Perth. I am conscious that I am harping on about carnage but the day on the Perth is too significant to miss. To describe the run gives me great pleasure at thinking of the continuous and hard nature of the upper Perth. All had gone well on this section so we were really excited to get down to the lower 'easier' section. Supposedly a class 4 canyon it was to prove that the river is not over until it is over. I paddled into the side of Marty's head as we were playing in a hole, it looked really sore as he masticated away to check he hadn't blown a jaw hinge. Right around the corner on what was essentially a class 3 bit of river he back looped, split his head and his helmet open on a rock. Then Porno got worked in a hole for a good minute to claw his way out to safety. Helen got stuck in the same hole but had a nasty swim. The other group further down the river asserted that she had swum as her wet suit shoe floated around the corner. Similarly fellow tangent sister Jo Lucas who was in a different group again had also swam out of the same hole. The group further on down the river saw her flip flops floating past and so were getting a good deal of information about who was swimming further upstream, a kind of warped bush telegraph!

Have a break, watch some video highlights! (Low quality MPEG files):

• Colin takes on Nevis bluff big and bold: MPEG video, 212 kb
• The bizarre cave rapid on the Waitaha: MPEG video, 80 kb
• Dave in the Cesspit, Arahura river: MPEG video, 160 kb
• Greg in the thick of it ont he upper Whitcombe: MPEG video, 216 kb
• Pete cleans Dent Falls on the Arahura river: MPEG video, 216 kb
• Pete's shoulder refuses to relocate: MPEG video, 296 kb

However it was on the famous slide further down the river that tragedy would strike. Now Porno had sat out in Nepal while his shoulder had healed up and had come back with a vengeance all the way down the West Coast. He had been paddling hard and his shoulder seemed to be ok. I was first to paddle the rapid, a slightly tricky lead in over a small diagonal wave to get access to a ramp. Off the side of the ramp was a particularly famous and ugly recirculation known to have caught out some particularly good paddlers. My line was sweet. I watched with the throwline as Porno was up next, his line being ok, although in what seemed to be true Porno Pete style, he lazily blobbed off the drop to pop up on the boil not really paddling. We collectively shouted 'PADDLE !!' at him to get away from the boil, but the lazy wee tyke just seemed to be floating there. The creeping realisation was that something was wrong and the hair became erect on the back of my neck as I could see his left shoulder lying limply to the side.

Luckily he floated away from the boil and we got him to the side. Swimming in that hole would have been hell let alone with a dislocated shoulder. We slipped into the routine that we had been through in Nepal. We gave him the slug team special body traction as he whimpered in pain on a boulder. Again there was no way his shoulder was going back in so we had to float him round the corner and heli-evacuate him. The sight of the helicopter coming around the corner was a sight for sore eyes, quite an emotional moment. It had been a long day and the remaining three of us sprinted down the rest of the river chasing the creeping darkness. Back in town Porno's shoulder was being put back in at the local surgery while we drowned our sorrows in the street. We headed straight back to campsite, straight to the pub. What a day.

Now I can't let Porno off without word of his previous epic on the crooked river. A famous run known to many who have visited the West Coast. Made famous not only for the superb, clean nature of the lines, but also for its hellish mode of access to river. A two-hour walk in through tree roots, mud, slippery slopes and bush bashing will make this for many their first and last walk in. One of Porno's defining aspects to his character is his laziness, so halfway up the walk in we were not surprised to be waiting for him to catch up. Only thing was that after over an hour of waiting we were starting to get concerned. With no sign of him back the way we decided to make it to the get in and take things from there. With there still being no sign of the porn star and as it was getting late we decided to leave the boats at the get in and retreat back to the car, in order to concentrate our efforts on the missing team member. Only as we were about to head back who should come running down the trail but the missing chap himself. It turned out that he had got lost, become disorientated and headed down to the river , gaining access only after abseiling down a cliff. After getting to the bottom of the river he had actually got in below all of the major and good rapids. No problem we thought, now we'll have to get on the run and meet Porno back at the car, Dave Colin and via the river and Porno via the trail again. It was getting late so I think the 3 of us must have run the river in record time. All runnable and touching class five in places, it IS worth the walk in , what a fantastic run.

So as we arrived at the get out we half expected to see Porno waiting for us, surely he would know the track by now? As dusk started to creep in we decided to send in our survival expert Colin into the woods. Dave and I sat in the car waiting for several hours, it was now very dark. Colin eventually found Porno snuggled up in a tree root having got lost again on the way back he had settled in for the night cold, disorientated and at the end of his tether. Colin pulled him out of the woods using his survival sense of direction, to greet us waiting in the car with hooting and hollering. In the end Porno had been bush bashing, crawling and grovelling around for something like eight hours, all for 10 minutes of grade three! If we had been another ½ hour later there would have been a rescue call out for us, funny thing was that Andy England our host was on call with the rescue team and would have had to come to our rescue.

Our last helicopter trip would be the Whitcombe. We flew in for two days of paddling, the hut where we stayed overnight would be the put in for paddlers doing the next days run, so we were able to chopper in and out our overnight gear, food, beer and whisky, a multiday with style! The first day saw us doing some quality class five with its fair share of portaging. One particularly long portage ended in lowering into an eddy and swimming into the back of a cave to get back into our boats, The crazy places you get to when you're out for a paddle!

But as the great Andy England says you never have a bad day on the Whitcombe. His prophecy was to come true, as the next day was a joy. Most notably a whole section of this river had changed in the last few weeks creating a whole new series of rapids. This is testament to the geologically young nature of the rock here, the river is alive with the bed changing all the time.

Our last blaze of glory in New Zealand would be the conquering of the Nevis Bluff. A famous test piece of the area the guide giving it a class five plus. What it lacks in length it more than makes for in punch. Five hundred metres of charged whitewater more akin to the Zambezi than kiwi creeking.

As the New Zealand tour rounded towards its conclusion, it was time to take stock of the slug tour and where it was going .Due to injury and financial reasons the future for the slug team is a little uncertain. Colin is to leave for South America on a solo mission we will be looking forward to hearing his tales in and out of his boat. Pete is out for the Duration requiring full surgery to his arm. Dave is making ends meet in Greymouth filming. Greg is to head back to the North island for the next few months on a play boating mission, and to earn some much needed cash putting his arm up the part of a cow where the sun doesn't shine(in a professional sense). What does the future hold? Hopefully operations will continue in California for the spring....

Stay tuned for more slug action coming soon on PLAYAK!

The slug team is Colin Aitken, Greg Nicks, Dave Kwant and Peter Kyriakoudis. Their tour of whitewater pleasure continues and will be regularly updated on PLAYAK.COM.

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