I got my first view of the mighty Whanganui whilst trying to tramp the torrid 42 Traverse (see last post!) and it really is everything a river should be: Wet, full of sweeping bends, delightful eddies and steep banks, with the gorge-framed bush seeming to say “nothing of interest here, paddle on.” Ha but I’m not that easily fooled, as I had seen lots of camouflaged tin shacks when I was yet again going to be benighted on my tramp.
I was paddling with Sam, a 26 year old from Glasgow who is a breath of fresh air in the world of TA trampers. She would no more give herself a trail name than she would spend a day without swearing, drinking or attempting to hook up with various other younger TA people. Apparently there is a Facebook page (closed to us oldies, obviously) specifically for them all to arrange their routes (sic).
I was paddling with Sam, a 26 year old from Glasgow who is a breath of fresh air in the world of TA trampers. She would no more give herself a trail name than she would spend a day without swearing, drinking or attempting to hook up with various other younger TA people. Apparently there is a Facebook page (closed to us oldies, obviously) specifically for them all to arrange their routes (sic).
Sam decided that I needed a lesson in direct action (punching), in case I encountered trouble on the trail. Whilst this did jar somewhat with Quaker leanings and the surroundings of the peaceful river, I did learn a lot. Fortunately I was able to share my new knowledge of choke holds, thanks to Stefan the Aussie cop.
I don’t know how to convey how the Whanganui makes my fingers tingle as my mum would say: A palpable dove-tailing of humans and impenetrable bush. The Bridge to Nowhere made me think of all the poor buggers who were being thanked for being Anzacs in a war in a different hemisphere by being gifted plots of land covered in gorse, surrounded by massive cliffs that lead to the only access on the river. Possibly this would have been successful if the returning soldiers were as physically and mentally strong as they had been when they first volunteered. Sadly they were missing limbs, suffering from shell shock and I’m guessing that their moods matched that of the river: Namely, a flow that can change from gentle stream to raging torrent in seconds with no precursor
I don’t know how to convey how the Whanganui makes my fingers tingle as my mum would say: A palpable dove-tailing of humans and impenetrable bush. The Bridge to Nowhere made me think of all the poor buggers who were being thanked for being Anzacs in a war in a different hemisphere by being gifted plots of land covered in gorse, surrounded by massive cliffs that lead to the only access on the river. Possibly this would have been successful if the returning soldiers were as physically and mentally strong as they had been when they first volunteered. Sadly they were missing limbs, suffering from shell shock and I’m guessing that their moods matched that of the river: Namely, a flow that can change from gentle stream to raging torrent in seconds with no precursor
.I have two beautiful brothers, Alistair and Martin who are geographers and hence know all the technical aspects of rivers. All I know is that rivers have personality and the Wanganui is both introvert and extrovert and I for one am totally smitten.
This trip is not merely a linear journey concerned only with kilometres-covered and distance-travelled. I try very hard to talk with anyone who has a pulse about the MS Society and how MS impacts on families. My parents spent countless years driving over the Kirkstone Pass in the Lake District (UK) to visit my brother Ian at ‘Holehird’, the Leonard Cheshire care home. This was not an easy trip in winter and indeed as I have been enjoying the Wanganui this week my parents and my younger brother and his family have been dealing with the flooded rivers that have afflicted NW England.
To reach Wanganui, I used a cunning combination of kayak, bike and walk. To mix things up a little I decided to exchange 40km of highway walk by attempting to run the Wanganui marathon. Here’s the thing, it turns out that tramping is not the most appropriate training for running a marathon! Luckily I met up with my mate Norman, who is chasing 200 marathons along with his posse of yellow-clad beauties. Norman is the most smiley person I have ever met. Among numerous other virtues, he also has a big lolly supply.
I managed to get a few minutes at prize-giving to talk about my trip but during the many hours on the course my bright orange MS shirt had already sparked many comments.
This trip is not merely a linear journey concerned only with kilometres-covered and distance-travelled. I try very hard to talk with anyone who has a pulse about the MS Society and how MS impacts on families. My parents spent countless years driving over the Kirkstone Pass in the Lake District (UK) to visit my brother Ian at ‘Holehird’, the Leonard Cheshire care home. This was not an easy trip in winter and indeed as I have been enjoying the Wanganui this week my parents and my younger brother and his family have been dealing with the flooded rivers that have afflicted NW England.
To reach Wanganui, I used a cunning combination of kayak, bike and walk. To mix things up a little I decided to exchange 40km of highway walk by attempting to run the Wanganui marathon. Here’s the thing, it turns out that tramping is not the most appropriate training for running a marathon! Luckily I met up with my mate Norman, who is chasing 200 marathons along with his posse of yellow-clad beauties. Norman is the most smiley person I have ever met. Among numerous other virtues, he also has a big lolly supply.
I managed to get a few minutes at prize-giving to talk about my trip but during the many hours on the course my bright orange MS shirt had already sparked many comments.
Talking of which, THANKS SO VERY MUCH for all of the lovely, supporting comments from people, which I am trying to both reply and live up to!
Onwards towards Palmerston North where I have a lunch date with the local MS crew....
Ka Kite
RachXX
Onwards towards Palmerston North where I have a lunch date with the local MS crew....
Ka Kite
RachXX
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