Murchison probably has more river runs in close proximity to each other than anywhere else in New Zealand, so it didn't take much brainpower to workout where to go after we finished chilling in Christchurch. We were planning on camping at the paddler's campsite by the river in town, but before we got there we found the source of the Buller, flowing out of Lake Rotoiti; the lake is set amongst mountains near St Arnaud and make an idyllic camping spot. The Upper Buller was low, due to lack of rain, but was still a good, short warm up run. Talking to the staff at the NZ Kayak School in Murchison after finishing the run it seemed everything in the area was low, but most of it was still runnable. Mick Hopkinson, kayak legend and school director, offered Sharon a free 1/2hour of coaching and based on that she booked on to a 4 day training course. In the few days we had until the course started we headed down and met up with Simon and Cheryl and some of their friends on the west coast.

Some of the worlds best creeks are located here, but the area is so sparsely populated and the mountain valleys so tightly packed that there are no roads to the top of them. Unlike the UK where almost every river has a road running along side it, to get to the top of these you need a helicopter. As usual Simon had a plan for hitting some harder runs and luckily I was able to get a warm up with them on the Whitcombe before flying into the Upper Hokitika – I'd need it.

There's something surreal about jumping out of the helicopter, keeping your head low as you untie your boat from the skids and drag it out of the way before covering your eyes as Bruce flies his helicopter away, leaving you with only one way out – downstream. The Hokitika is a full on run, with numerous vertical walled canyons, house sized boulders littered everywhere and a lot of gradient. Simon brought had notes from the guide book, but after the first couple of rapids it was obvious they were useless – the river is always changing, with land slides and erosion constantly creating new and challenging rapids. The last few groups we'd heard about had attempted it a few weeks previously after heavy rain an had both been trapped on the river by nightfall after making slow progress when they needed to portage one of the blind gorges, we made sure we had much lower levels. The group was strong – one of Simon's friends from Vermont, Ed, was in town and we'd met up with a French Canadian raft guide, Mike, who joined us – but we were still feeling apprehensive as Bruce flew away.

The river starts with a pushy gr4 – 4+ 'warm up' before the lines narrow and the consequences increase. We made an early start and by lunch had made good progress through the first gorge and into the second, with minimal portaging and few hiccups. Just after lunch we had the first swim of the day and my first swim this trip. Within a few yards of the launching was a drop, the line was to boof off the middle and head right. That's not quite what I did – I started left to give myself momentum heading right, but failed to get far enough right and dropped off the rock just left of centre. I cleared the stopper at the bottom of the drop, but landed in a pot hole that feed back around into the stopper. I was alternately surfing the hole and then the cushion wave in the pot hole, taking a roll every few recirculations. Ed was doing his best to get close enough to pass me the bow of his boat, but couldn't. As I felt my self tire, I pulled my spraydeck's release cord and abandoned ship, while I still had the energy. Timing my exit for the outer most point of the recirc., I pushed off the bottom with my feet and came clear of the hole, straight into the eddy, a little shaken and out of breath but otherwise unhurt. Ed attached himself to the end of a throw line and jumped in to grab my boat once the others had successfully run the drop. The rest of the river was filled with more tight lines and sticky holes and interesting portages. The entrance to the third gorge was messy, there were two boulders each the size of a large car in the middle of the river with unrunnable drops on the left and right. With the sheer cliffs either side, the only portage option was to catch a micro eddy in the middle above the drops and seal launch off the second rock. The rock would have been under water with more rain, so this was where the previous groups had had to walk around.

It was a tiring day – the committing gorges pushed us mentally and physically more than any other river I've paddled and we were all glad to see the impressive gates of Argonath and the last rapid, Fat Lady, almost had us singing. From Fat Lady we were on the lower Hokitika and pleasant warm down for a few km and then after the confluence with the Whitcombe we were on a flat paddle out for an hour or so – glad to be exiting in the Sun light.

The following day called for a lie-in before we headed to Christchurch to return our broken waterproof camera – it turned out not to be so waterproof and then we headed up the coast. Sharon will write up the seal and dolphin swimming, along with Nelson and the winery, but we're now back in Murchison and she's on her course while I catch up with some work.

Photos from my run down the Hokitika and Whitcombe rivers with Simon and Ed and others.

{smoothgallery folder=images/gallery/hokitika/}

Thanks to Simon and Ed for the photos; my waterproof camera gave up during Seal swimming and it's still with Pentax.

Our photos from the awesome Kepler Track – my trip highlight so far.

Just a quick update (more detailed one to follow):

We've spent the last week in the Fiordland area, amidst some of the most beautiful scenery I've seen. Apparentlly it's one of the Southern Hemisphere's premier wilderness areas and has been recognised as a World Heritage Area (WHA).

We went to Milford Sound and saw seals and penguins playing around – spending a night in the tranquility of the sound was awesome. No sooner did we return to land than we booked ourselves on one of New Zealand's Great Walks, the Kepler Track. It's a 4 day hike taking in the full range of the scenery in the WHA, from almost a full day above the tree line on a still snowy alpine ridge path to days walking through native bush with plants that have survived almost unchanged since Gondwana. (Gondwana is a much harked about time when all the southern continents (Antarctica, Australia, New Zealand, etc) were joined in one land mass over 100 million years ago).

The hike is probably a highlight of my trip so far and we'll post photos soon. After recovering from the walk we drove to Christchurch where we went to see Muse play and unfortunately we're having to say good bye to Vicki now, who is heading home in time for Christmas. Sharon and I are continuing North from here, to the only page in our NZ road atlas that we've not been to yet, Able Tasman/Nelson/Murchison area, but we've planning the rest of our trips, moving our flights to their proper dates and booking some tours in Australia, India and Nepal…

As we drove up the Southern Scenic Tourist route's final leg, to Te Anau, the clouds lifted and the sun lit up the surrounding mountains. This was the first sun we'd seen in days. The rest of our trip from Christchurch to Dunedin and on to Invercargill has been wet, cold and made us doubt the existence of summer this far south. We've stood, rain-lashed on the South Island's most southerly point and could visualise the air blowing straight off the Antarctic ice and through our clothes. The animals either don't mind, or have got used to it: the ubiquitous lambs and calves have never been too far away, and we've also managed to get pretty close to some less usual wildlife, yellow eyed penguins; nesting pied shags with their chicks as well as a colony of NZ Fur seals. Watching from a Department of Conservation approved hiding area, it was harrowing to wait for the penguins' return after a day catching food for the young – a stoat had found and emptied a couple of nests while the parents were absent. There was nothing we could do from our vantage point but hope for the swift return of some of the penguins. We saw one arrive and waddle up the beach, pausing to stretch and dry out in the wind – he seemed to pose for the gathered crowd. Being so close and seeing the world's rarest penguins in the wild was an awe inspiring experience, this penguin's fragile existence only underlined by the presence of the predators that man unleashed.

The penguin wasn't the only endangered animal we've seen. Not far from Christchurch, an extinct, collapsed and now flooded volcano cone forms the harbour for the small and surprisingly French town of Akaroa. It's the site of the attempted French settlement of South Island – this failed when they were 4 days slower than the English frigate that raced them from the North Island – but more pertinently it is the current feeding ground for the smallest and rarest of the world's marine dolphins, the Hectors. The boat tour of the harbour took us up close to these extremely cute animals.

The area's natural wonders were unconcerned by the elements – the smooth rock orbs of the Moeraki boulders are still lying where they fell when the cliffs around them eroded away and the fossilised remains of an ancient forest still lies in the same rock it did 180 million years ago. The long gone trees have left embedded in the rock wood grain so perfectly detailed that you need to touch it to be convinced it isn't wood. It really isn't hard to imagine the stumps and logs being trees in a great forest.

We've left the coast behind us and headed into the Fiordland, an area of mountains and lakes. Tomorrow we will visit the famous Milford Sound (named after Milford Haven in Wales, but with a reputation for being much more beautiful!), to fully appreciate the area we're booked on an overnight tour and will sleep aboard the sight-seeing sailing ship. From there, the west coast will be our playground.