Perfect Counteragent for Jet Lag

What follows is a short read that gives the reader the perfect antidote for annoying jet lag after a long flight.

I arrived in Rotorua, North Island, New Zealand about two o’clock in the morning after three flights from Edinburgh and more than thirty hours of travel. My luggage has a more leisurely trip and arrives nearly two days after I did.

My abiding memory of Rotorua from that morning is of smoke billowing between the buildings, illuminated by a surreal, unearthly orange glow from the low pressure sodium street lighting, augmented by the overwhelming odour of rotten eggs.

My only disappointment was not seeing Dante.

I finally, after a nightcap, or two, of Scotch whisky, get to bed at four o’clock.

After five hours sleep I am shaken awake from my slumbers by my son, with the advice, ‘get up and walk in the Redwoods, that will help you get over jet lag’. And we did.

I was a working class boy from the industrial belt of Central Scotland who harboured thoughts of perhaps one day swimming in the Pacific Ocean and, if very lucky, seeing a live Albatross, but not really believing that I ever would. So, as we walked past the huge Mamaku Ferns and listened to the unfamiliar birds flitting about the equally unfamiliar trees, and catching a glimpse of a Fantail, I think, maybe these dreams are perhaps nearer fulfilment. I pinch myself to check I am not dreaming.

Fantail in the Rotorua Redwoods — Author’s own collection

I am like a child in wonderland.

We arrived back at the house mid day to find a note on the table;

‘Whitewater Excitement’ are running a free promotional trip down the Kaituna river and there are two spaces available. You are invited.

I was soon to find out the real antidote for jet lag.

We drive a few miles to Whitewater Excitement’s depot by the river Kaituna and parked near the main building amongst a selection of inflatable rafts of varying dimensions.

Our guide, Nick Gutry, is pleased to see us. It seems he was taking three staff members of a partner company on a ‘corporate’ trip and if we had not consented to participate the trip would not have gone ahead.

Nick fits us up with wetsuits and explains how to fit and secure the safety gear we will have to wear. I am still a bit travel groggy and perhaps not quite grasping what I had volunteered for. I had once been on a short white water rafting trip in a river in Scotland, The River Tay and at the time had thought that was thrilling. How naive.

Safety helmets firmly strapped on heads and life jackets securely donned, we each grab a bit of our selected raft and ‘portage’ to the river.

Once safely aboard our cruising craft for the day we are off, drifting along through reasonably unagitated water.

I remember thinking;

‘I like this, it is just like my River Tay run, good fun and mildly exciting, just what I need to waken me up’.

Was I in for a ‘rude’ awakening?

I should explain something at this stage, for those who have never used this mode of transport. Travelling in an inflatable raft requires one to sit, precariously balanced, on the side of the raft, leaning out over the water whilst propelling it forward with a paddle. Keeping out the river and ‘on board’, requires jamming a foot, your own preferably, under one of the inflated cross tubes that fit across the width of the raft to keep it rigid. An uncomfortable position.

After these few early minutes of getting acclimatised to our inflatable and surroundings, I detected our craft ‘speeding up’ a smidgeon. Nothing too noticeable or alarming.

Then the first set of ‘on board’ safety instructions are issued, prefaced as follows;

‘You are involved in a serious undertaking as we are about to descend a grade five river, during which you will go over a series of waterfalls, one of these, the Okere Falls, can only be navigated by going straight over it, there is no detour available. It is vertical drop of just over thirty feet and is, you will be glad to know, the highest commercially rafted fall in the world.’

Apparently and most importantly, we have to paddle really hard as we near the top of the falls. This will keep us in control. We don’t want, under any circumstances, to get out of control and go into the waterfall sideways or backwards. I nod sagely.

‘No we certainly cannot afford to go in backwards.’ In fact I am not sure I even want to go in ‘frontwards’.

We are also informed that there will be a fifty-fifty chance of remaining upright with even shorter odds of us all remaining in the craft. What is absolutely certain, none of us will stay dry.

Now he tells me!

The river now has entered a meandering narrow gorge, dank and gloomy. The sheer vertical walls are covered in vegetation, mostly ferns of one sort or another. I also see fantails flitting about. To complete the picture, a thin mist hangs in the air. A hundred feet or so above us a narrow strip of blue. That must be the sky I muse, earnestly hoping I will see it again.

Then I hear the falls. A faint, non-threatening sound at first, getting louder by instalments. I was so busy with the paddling, balance and keeping the craft headed forward, that I failed at first to notice the change in the tempo of the surround sound.

What I really remembered however was the increase in speed. I thought, how is that, we don’t seem to be paddling any faster? We are definately moving markedly faster, maybe hurtling describes it best.

The earlier, non threatening, almost rhythmical drumming has been replaced by the heavy percussion section, giving it laldy. Our ears are assailed by a deafening crescendo that echoes along and across the steep sided gorge and assaults our very being. The non threatening has been replaced by threatening.

I am paddling like my life depended on it. Perhaps it does? I look up for an instant and catch a fleeting glimpse of our guide sitting calmly on the stern, urging us to paddle quicker and steering our craft into the best position to tackle the narrow entry.

For an instant I have a ridiculous thought, ‘more steam MacPhail’. A reference to an old Scottish comedy ‘sit com’ about a River Clyde steam cargo boat, known as a ‘puffer’ whose chief engineer was called MacPhail and when the Skipper required to go faster he issued said instruction. So now you know.

No going back now, no last minute escape for the faint hearted. My memory is limited, fragmented, into a few short snapshots at that point. I recall being hurtled forward at breakneck speed, at the same time urgently paddling towards the abyss, all accompanied by the incessant, increasingly deafening roar as the torrent accelerates uncontrollably over the cliff. I remember thinking, ‘what am I paddling for, were going over anyway.’

Nick’s cool commands permeate the roar. ‘GET DOWN, HOLD ON.’ I did.

Entering Okere Falls — image courtesy of Whitewater Excitement

My stomach seems intent on leaving my body through my mouth. I am deafened by roaring water and screams. All seems chaos. We crash onto the next level thirty feet below and I am aware of being struck about my shoulder by a flailing paddle, then beaten up by thousands of gallons of water. Our rubber craft is helplessly trapped by the awesome hydro-power and thrown about like a cork in a toilet bowl. I stubbornly cling on.

Thrown about like a cork in a toilet bowl — image courtesy of Whitewater Excitement

Then we are released and I am aware of cheering. I, then a fifty two year old child who should know better, am also cheering, with relief I suspect.

I am aware of cheering — image courtesy of Whitewater Excitement

We rest a few minutes, gather our wits, gaze back at the falls in amazement. We have just come over that! It was then Nick informed us that we are the lucky few. It seems more than fifty percent of those who crash over finish up swimming as their craft turns upside down. Now he tells us.

We sort ourselves out and head off to traverse the remainder of the river. There were plenty other white water experiences as we hurtled on. Nick asks if anybody would like having a shot at ‘riding the bucking bronco’ (I think that’s what he said. With all the noise and his South African accent I might have misheard). Yes was the answer, although I don’t think any of us had the faintest idea what he meant. We would.

Further downstream we negotiate a lesser fall, maybe about a dozen feet or a bit more. Once over Nick swings the inflatable round and we paddle back upstream directly towards it. A fool is then persuaded to sit astride the front of the inflatable, facing forward, feet dangling in the river, hands gripping the rope around the prow. The remaining crew then paddle the dinghy as hard as they can back into the base of this lesser cataract, yes, the very falls we have just come over.

We were about to experience the ‘bucking bronco’.

As the inflatable enters the torrent at speed, the bow is forced down and I remember thinking, ‘fools, we will never get through there.’ How astute of me. The crew paddle on as hard as they can carrying their colleague, the one sitting on the prow, as fast as they can into the waterfall until ‘prow rider’ is now being violently pounded senseless by its brute force.

The sheer raw power of the waterfall dips the front of the craft down alarmingly and at speed. The craft loses forward momentum and the paddling stops. Then comes the good bit.

Having lost forward momentum and been forced down by the force of water bombarding the prow, hydro powers again take over and in an instant the inflatable is violently released from the power of the rapids and is propelled backwards. On being released so quickly, the front of the craft alarmingly pitches high into the air, summersaulting the prow rider some feet backward into the boat to crash amongst paddles and the other passengers. Keeping a grip on the rope is not possible.

As I untangle myself I understand why this piece of tomfoolery is so named and I wonder; ‘why me?’

Soon we are at the end of our river trip, for that day anyway. The Kaituna offers a relatively short outing, just over an hour, what an hour. It is not regarded as one of the classics, however, certainly for the uninitiated, it is an exciting and memorable mind blowing, experience.

Probably not for the non-adventure seeker, but a must for anyone looking for an early wake up call to New Zealand.

As we trudge up from the river porting our inflatable and having discovered the perfect antidote for jet lag, I see my first New Zealand Kingfisher. What a day.

Regarding Albatross watching and Pacific bathing, keep an eye on this space.