Rafting the Franklin - Day 4
Feb. 5th, 2012 08:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shapeofthings[Day 1] [Days 2 & 3]
Ok, so where were we? That's right, camped on a beach under the stars after a long 3rd day on the river.
Day 4 started slowly, the combined effects of a late finish on Day 3 and the generous sharing of booze that evening. The morning was a little overcast so we all slept in and got into the water late. By then it was another brilliant sunny day and the water level had dropped noticeably overnight: a portent of the hard work to come later in the day.
Our journey started pleasantly, however, with some fun rapids to travail (with much bouncing up and down to get the raft unstuck in places. The guides keep telling me the raft is not a bouncy castle, but it so clearly is!) and a rest stop at the descriptively-named Blush Rock Falls.
Loading the rafts, preparing to depart for another day.
Beautiful Blush Rock Falls
By now we'd settled into the routine of rafting, with Brett giving very little instruction. Kevin and Niall commandeered the front of the raft, with all the pulling, pushing and leaping in and out that entails, while Jeddah and I were in the rear on bouncing duty, emergency braking and turning, and real-wheel drive. We'd settled into an easy rhythm, paddling together well and letting the conversation ebb and flow. At times our raft was silent as we all absorbed the treacherous beauty of our surrounds.
Although the River was mostly gentle, a couple of times Brett bade us all to disembark while he wrestled the raft alone through a particularly tricky or dangerous section. We'd clamber out onto the rocks and work our way downstream, paddles in hand, to rejoin him.
Navigating the river begins to get tricky
Our leisurely morning soon came to an end, however, as the river narrowed and the cliffs rose up on either side and we entered the Great Ravine. Here we encountered reached the first real portage of the trip: the Churn - a rush of white-water that's not safe to raft through at any water level.
There's a high portage, up over the top of the cliffs, that would take hours of back-aching effort to carry the gear up and over, but Brett has a better idea: the low portage route - a scurry across a fold in the cliff face, directly above the contorting waters. We all clambered out, forming a chain gang to unload most of the raft's contents, hauling paddles, eskies and gear bags up the near-vertical cliff to nestle in a little alcove perhaps half a metre wide.
Both rafts unloaded, Brett declared our little cliff eirie to be the perfect place for a picnic lunch: we were all there, the eskies were with us and we were hungry. Thus began the most improbable picnic I've ever partaken in.
Espen & Sam check the rafts are secure, while Nikki grates carrot on a precarious perch
Jeddah watches the lunch undertakings from a comfy ledge, Espen loiters and Niall wanders off seeking photo opportunities.
Kevin and Jim show us how to picnic in hard-hatted style
Our little lunch-time universe
Lunch eaten, it's time to extract our rafts from the turbulent clutches of the Churn. We watch Brett and Jim wrest our yellow life-lines from end to end, safe on our perches, before passing the gear back down the rocks and lowering ourselves back on board. The Churn is passed successfully and now it's short, easy paddle to camp at Coruscades.
Coruscades turns out to be my favourite camp of the trip. Last off the boats, I resigned myself to a poor sleeping spot, caught between snoring boys and a walkway, only to be saved by Jim who told the girls there was another camp area off to one side (we'd missed it on account of a couple of trees fallen across the path. Though actually getting to my new camp involved shuffling under fallen trees then scurrying up a steep, eroded path I found myself with the best spot of all: under the myrtle trees, cradled in moss in my own little private patch of rainforest. Best of all, once the sun set the cliff face in front of me provided a stunning private light show: glow worms! Utter magic. I lay there, entranced by nature's fairy lights until my eyes would stay open no longer.
I slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted, waking early the next morning to the scolding of a scrub-wren, unhappy to find me asleep in its territory. To appease both the bird and my own curiousity I rose and set about exploring the camp, discovering my fellow travellers all still sound asleep.
Happy for the solo time, I wandered out onto a rock in the river to watch the sun slowly slide down into the dark, quiet waters of the Great Ravine, waiting for the others to wake.
Ok, so where were we? That's right, camped on a beach under the stars after a long 3rd day on the river.
Day 4 started slowly, the combined effects of a late finish on Day 3 and the generous sharing of booze that evening. The morning was a little overcast so we all slept in and got into the water late. By then it was another brilliant sunny day and the water level had dropped noticeably overnight: a portent of the hard work to come later in the day.
Our journey started pleasantly, however, with some fun rapids to travail (with much bouncing up and down to get the raft unstuck in places. The guides keep telling me the raft is not a bouncy castle, but it so clearly is!) and a rest stop at the descriptively-named Blush Rock Falls.
Loading the rafts, preparing to depart for another day.
Beautiful Blush Rock Falls
By now we'd settled into the routine of rafting, with Brett giving very little instruction. Kevin and Niall commandeered the front of the raft, with all the pulling, pushing and leaping in and out that entails, while Jeddah and I were in the rear on bouncing duty, emergency braking and turning, and real-wheel drive. We'd settled into an easy rhythm, paddling together well and letting the conversation ebb and flow. At times our raft was silent as we all absorbed the treacherous beauty of our surrounds.
Although the River was mostly gentle, a couple of times Brett bade us all to disembark while he wrestled the raft alone through a particularly tricky or dangerous section. We'd clamber out onto the rocks and work our way downstream, paddles in hand, to rejoin him.
Navigating the river begins to get tricky
Our leisurely morning soon came to an end, however, as the river narrowed and the cliffs rose up on either side and we entered the Great Ravine. Here we encountered reached the first real portage of the trip: the Churn - a rush of white-water that's not safe to raft through at any water level.
There's a high portage, up over the top of the cliffs, that would take hours of back-aching effort to carry the gear up and over, but Brett has a better idea: the low portage route - a scurry across a fold in the cliff face, directly above the contorting waters. We all clambered out, forming a chain gang to unload most of the raft's contents, hauling paddles, eskies and gear bags up the near-vertical cliff to nestle in a little alcove perhaps half a metre wide.
Both rafts unloaded, Brett declared our little cliff eirie to be the perfect place for a picnic lunch: we were all there, the eskies were with us and we were hungry. Thus began the most improbable picnic I've ever partaken in.
Espen & Sam check the rafts are secure, while Nikki grates carrot on a precarious perch
Jeddah watches the lunch undertakings from a comfy ledge, Espen loiters and Niall wanders off seeking photo opportunities.
Kevin and Jim show us how to picnic in hard-hatted style
Our little lunch-time universe
Lunch eaten, it's time to extract our rafts from the turbulent clutches of the Churn. We watch Brett and Jim wrest our yellow life-lines from end to end, safe on our perches, before passing the gear back down the rocks and lowering ourselves back on board. The Churn is passed successfully and now it's short, easy paddle to camp at Coruscades.
Coruscades turns out to be my favourite camp of the trip. Last off the boats, I resigned myself to a poor sleeping spot, caught between snoring boys and a walkway, only to be saved by Jim who told the girls there was another camp area off to one side (we'd missed it on account of a couple of trees fallen across the path. Though actually getting to my new camp involved shuffling under fallen trees then scurrying up a steep, eroded path I found myself with the best spot of all: under the myrtle trees, cradled in moss in my own little private patch of rainforest. Best of all, once the sun set the cliff face in front of me provided a stunning private light show: glow worms! Utter magic. I lay there, entranced by nature's fairy lights until my eyes would stay open no longer.
I slept the sleep of the utterly exhausted, waking early the next morning to the scolding of a scrub-wren, unhappy to find me asleep in its territory. To appease both the bird and my own curiousity I rose and set about exploring the camp, discovering my fellow travellers all still sound asleep.
Happy for the solo time, I wandered out onto a rock in the river to watch the sun slowly slide down into the dark, quiet waters of the Great Ravine, waiting for the others to wake.
