Mo Ngā Te Aroha, He Waiaroha – For the Love of Rivers 

The West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand holds legends of catching eddies above siphons, and hearty locals who make walking in rugged terrain look like strolling to the put-in for the Little White. So why is a group of individuals so obsessed with a place that constantly serves hard on the menu, and where you can’t kayak every day?

Hokitika sits at 42 degrees south in the heart of the roaring 40s. Wind whips along the Tasman Sea uninterrupted until it hits Ka Tiritiri o te Moana, the Southern Alps. Moisture-laden air is forced upward, creating liquid gold. The weather shapes the environment, and in turn, shapes the people. Hokitika is a boutique kayaker’s paradise.

Because of the objective danger of hard rapids on the Coast, it demands a different approach to running rivers. From one flood to the next, rapids, even entire runs, can change. In spring, flood events capable of this can happen weekly. The usual paddling style, where once you’ve learned the line, there’s no need to scout, doesn’t work here. Teams get good at one person scouting and setting safety. This builds trust, respect, and a deep understanding of your team’s strengths and weaknesses. You move down the river, dancing from eddy to eddy with intuitive head nods.

There’s a rarely talked about geological gem on the West Coast that runs along the Alpine Fault, a granite sliver weaving its way from the Hohonu Mountain Range south past Turiwhate, Mount Misery, Mikonui Awa, Red Granite Creek, and Kakapotahi Awa. This granite seam is a storm rider’s paradise. It holds Falls Creek, which flows into the Hokitika.

Falls Creek was first paddled by Bruce Barnes, an unassuming adventurer. I first met Bruce when I was 17 years old. We were paddling the lower Toaroha, a local grade 3–4 run, where you walk for 30 minutes to get to the put-in. Bruce walked in with his Bliss-Stick Scud and his two dogs following in tow. Although almost three times our age, he humbled us with his pace. At the put-in, he gently instructed his dogs to walk back to the car.

I would have been paddling for no more than three months. I had a beaten-up fibreglass paddle, a Mini Mystic, and no dry top. On the first rapid of the day, I rolled upside down and broke my paddle. At that stage, I had no idea you could hand roll or roll with half a paddle. Swimming to the side with my gear, I was questioning my next move. Before I could open my mouth, Bruce had given me his paddle and put his boat on his shoulder. I asked, “What if I’m not up for it?” He just smiled and started walking back to the car.

In the early 2000s, Bruce paddled and portaged his way down Falls Creek. He deemed it too hard for him, and it required the next generation. Around 2008, with the development of boat design, Marty Bisbee, Kev England, Andy England, and Dave Kwat were the first to fall in love with Falls Creek. Falls Creek is fast, in-your-face, and a committing Class 5 that plummets into the Hokitika River. It is a West Coast kayaker’s dream, and everything about it is hard. Hard to paddle, hard to catch the flow, and hard to access. It requires the right team, and if you go about your work efficiently and humbly, you and your crew may be rewarded with safe passage through this sacred chasm of water and rock.

To access Falls Creek, you must pass through private land, and after the bridge that crossed the river was stolen, access was closed off to the valley for over 15 years. Falls Creek remained unpaddled.

Our own kayaking progression was shaped by the environment and one tall, athletic, ginger-bearded West Coast hard man called Keith. Keith took what Bruce had started and dialled it to ten. Long, hard walk-ins became the norm, searching for rivers that everyone deemed unpaddleable or too gnarly to approach. On one of these missions, Keith found Red Granite Creek (RGC). RGC drops through a series of 10 – 50ft waterfalls before you catch a must-make eddy to walk out. The last 500 metres was deemed unrunnable for now. 

To get to RGC, you must carry your kayak 500 metres vertically. It’s honest in every shape and form. If the walk-in and out wasn’t enough to put you off, it also requires a forecast of over 100mm of rain that peters out with “dropping rain.” Inspired by Keith, we worked hard to slowly gain the skills to paddle RGC. Eventually, our patience paid off.

Our team consisted of an American named Marty, and Nouria Newman affectionately “The Frenchy” . I’m not sure if we’d clearly described the type of sufferfest we were about to embark on. We left in the dark to allow maximum daylight. When we arrived at Red Granite Creek, it looked mean and massive as it thundered into the Mikonui. Apprehensively, we kept moving toward the put-in. Your calves burn as you pick your route up the steep, slippery hillside. Four hours later, we reached the put-in—tired but excited to see that the flow was good.

We cautiously moved downstream, thankful for Nouria’s knowledge of running waterfalls. As darkness fell, we arrived at the car, rewarded with a safe descent of this boutique run. We went to bed that night inspired and intricately motivated for hard adventure. Our eyes shifted to Falls Creek.

Falls Creek is 16 km from our house. As our skills progressed, our desire to paddle Falls became an obsession. Over ten years of relationship building and countless boxes of beer, Falls Creek has become our local. Like RGC, it’s hard to catch, hard to paddle, and needs the right eye to find beauty in it.

Falls Creek, to us, solidifies the idea of a gift of commitment to our place of tūrangawaewae (home). From flying, climbing, mountain biking, and kayaking, when you commit to a place because of the adventure on offer, you become attuned to the natural world. Quite often, you’ll get more opportunities to experience amazing places first-hand than others who must travel to enjoy what’s on offer here. You understand the tohu tāka of the landscape, and your curious eye seeks out the next adventure to fill your belly with fire. And that’s why a small group of hard men and women call Te Wai Pounamu home.