Swift-flowing grade 3 rapids and two Lexus V8 engines producing 560hp are carrying me through ancient beech forest on a wild, weaving, winding, 27km ride down the Wairaurahiri River from Lake Hauroko to the sea through Fiordland National Park .
Giant overhanging trees thrust out gnarled, moss-covered branches over the river, taunting me when I stand up to feel the cool breeze in my hair. The riverbed is strewn with tree trunks transformed by time and tannin stains into grotesque shapes. Great boulders smoothed and rounded by ice-age glaciers rise up to meet the speeding jet-boat, threatening to capsize the craft.
I can't escape the feeling that riding this bush-bound river is like travelling back in time to a time long before man sought to tame the wilderness of the Waitutu Forest. Fortunately, this area escaped the early forest fires and logging gangs and remains under the control of a Maori trust, with no plans for its exploitation. It is now the largest tract of unmodified temperate lowland forest left in New Zealand.
"This place is a national treasure that must be preserved at all cost," skipper Johan Groters tells our small group of adventurers.
Groters has the understated, pithy humour and matter-of-fact machismo of a Southern Man who has seen it all and knows what he's about after 20 years on the river. If we are going to have a dispute with a river boulder, I feel confident he would soon slip into Man Versus Wild mode and see us right.
I'm now acutely aware of the profusion of boulders in this river, which drops a staggering 200 metres in its 27km length. We skim past Lonely Rock, which in the past has been known to draw less skilful drivers into its lovelorn clutches.
We nose into a quiet backwater and step ashore to examine one of many stoat traps placed along the riverbanks.
Groters demonstrates the spring mechanism and his ingenious flag-alert system that tells him when a trap has been sprung. These traps can be sponsored by the public as part of Groters' award-winning stoat control programme.
Deep inside this river section of the Waitutu Forest are the remains of 150 live deer capture pens. The pen gates were set under spring tension and released when deer walked into the trip wire.
Before we leave the forest glade, I can't resist a photo session. The beech trees are laden with soft, spongy mosses and I have a real sense that this is everyone's vision of an enchanted forest.
The tree limbs assume weird shapes with their mossy cloaks and the whole scene is so arrestingly beautiful that I wonder if the forest is inhabited by goblins, elves and fairies, rather than deer, possums and stoats.
Back on the river, time stands still once more until we burst out on a dramatic panorama of Foveaux Strait. Bouncing over the river mouth, we float for a time on the open sea before crossing the bar and nosing into a quiet beach and stepping ashore.
We find an idyllic clearing in the bush, remarkable for its vivid green grass, which we learn is cropped each night by browsing deer. Fronting the clearing is the two-storey Waitutu Lodge and a separate caretaker's lodge occupied by Alastair Osbourne, alias Peanut, who has lived here for nine years with Max, a black and white collie dog.
This man of the bush traps possums, goes whitebaiting and hunts pigs and deer, sparing his mates the red deer hinds that mow his lawn on a nightly roster. An electrician by trade, Peanut used to service lighthouses in remote areas.
This colourful character is renowned for his firmly held opinions on most subjects and visitors appreciate his company. On cold nights on this hard edge of the southern landscape, Peanut is an important part of the Waitutu Lodge experience.
A tasty Kiwi lunch of venison, sausages and salad is laid out before us and we are joined by four mud-splattered but hearty Australian trampers who will join us on the trip back to civilisation. They have traversed the Hump Ridge and Port Craig tracks and are loud in their praise of this pristine wilderness.
Our return journey up the river is surprisingly smooth as the jet-boat is able to maintain a slower, steadier speed against the current. Reaching Lake Hauroko we find that its mood has darkened. The lake is cold and deep, wild and free. The wind has whipped it up into an endless succession of foam-tipped swells.
Groters informs us "This is New Zealand's deepest lake at 632 metres and the 17th deepest of the world's five million lakes".
He adds with a grin "It's so deep there should be groper down there."
Arriving at the ramp, our guide guns the boat on to the trailer. We head back to Clifden, passing through the Lilburn Valley and the westernmost farm in the country, ending a thrilling journey into the heart of remote Fiordland.
We have explored an untouched wilderness and listened to an informative commentary, making this a true eco-tourism journey. The scenery, the local characters and the heart-thumping ride make the whole Wairaurahiri Jet experience better than any theme park.
FACT FILE
• The Wairaurahiri Jet operates from Johan Groters' home base at 1260 Clifden-Orawia Rd, just over the Clifden Bridge, 20 minutes' drive from Tuatapere.
• The trip takes 6.5 hours and warm clothing and rainwear is recommended, as the weather is changeable around Lake Hauroko.
• Accommodation in Tuatapere is available in the Waiau Hotel, 47 Main St, along with southern hospitality and country fare.
WEBSITES
- www.waiauhotel.co.nz
- www.wjet.co.nz
• Auckland writer Paul Rush travelled to Lake Hauroko courtesy of Venture Southland and Wairaurahiri Jet.
