River Clutha: From Source to Sea (7 days)

aBOUT THE CLUTHA RIVER. 

The River Clutha is the longest river in the South Island of New Zealand, has the highest volume of any river in the country and is also the fastest flowing. Running 338km S-SE from its source close to Wanaka in the Southern Alps, it passes through Central Otago (which as the driest region of NZ is semi-desert) to where it meets the Pacific Ocean, south of Balclutha. It is a formidable force, or at least it used to be prior to 1956.  The last half century has seen immense changes to its channel.

The Roxburgh dam was commissioned in 1956, creating Lake Roxburgh. Then in 1992 the Clyde Dam was commissioned filling the Cromwell Gorge and creating Lake Dunstan. The building of theses dams for HEP was pretty controversial at the time, the results of which have changed the landscape considerably. Both the Cromwell Gorge  and the area north of Roxburgh were famous for their huge rapids. In particular the 'Cromwell Gap' and the 'Terminator' which now lie buried under Lake Dunstan and 'Molyneux Falls' and 'Golden Falls' which lie under Lake Roxburgh.

day one:albert town, wanaka to lake dunstan.

At Albert Town the river appeared calm from the surface but once on the water it was pretty fast flowing. The waters were a beautiful turquoise as a result of glacial snowmelt and the cliffs either side were intimidatingly impressive. 

I didn't know how far I would get the first day but with the current moving so swiftly it was apparent early on I would make good time. This section of the river in the Upper Clutha Valley is grade 2/3; the beginning of the day saw me enter 'Snakes rapid', 'Pioneer rapid' and the unusual 'Devils nook'. I had to run Devils nook twice as the first time I was taken too far to the right and deposited in an area of calm water. Trying again I negotiated further to the left and passed the whirlpool. The second half of the day involved passing through 'Hassings bluff' and 'Smokin Joe's rapid'. Both of which didn't involve much technical skill, although with changing water levels and conditions this could be a different story. 

The day came to an end as I approached the top end of Lake Dunstan. By now the landscape had changed, the Southern Alps were visible in the background and the banks lower allowing you to see the farmland either side. After the swift current of the Upper Clutha Valley the slow waters of Dunstan were a bit of a disappointment. The last paddle was hard, but there was a free campsite with toilets (fancy!) on the north east side of Dunstan so I dug in deep and carried on. All in all I had paddled about 50km and went to sleep peacefully, listening to the sounds of the water gently coming to the shore. 

Day two: lake dunstan to 1/3 up the cromwell gorge

Today I had hoped to get as far as Clyde but alas the weather was not with me. The wind was seriously up and paddling across Lake Dunstan to Cromwell took me most of the morning and early afternoon. The wind was so strong that it was literally pushing the boat about on the water and there were waves coming towards me across the lake, against the current of flow. I must admit this was mildly off putting and dispiriting. I pulled out at Cromwell to eat my lunch and by the time I got back in and crossed the Cromwell bridge the wind had picked up even more.  It was obvious I was not going to make it to Clyde. 

Paddling into the Cromwell Gorge was seriously impressive, there were massive steep grey cliffs either side and the scenery was stunning. I must have looked ridiculous to any passers by on the high road above, a tiny blue boat bobbing about in the huge gorge. I went a bit mad towards the end of the day, making up a song about the LACK OF FLOW and singing it at the top of my lungs. After a while I came across a patch of flat land, pulled out and pitched up for the night. The weather forecast for the next day looked miserable, rain all day. 

day three: cromwell gorge to alexandria

I set out in a light pitter patter of rain and again it took bloody ages to get across the rest of the flat water to Clyde Dam. You could't really even tell you were approaching it, as coming from the north it just looks a mini wall. It’s only from the opposite side that it looks impressive, a huge drop leading to the river below.

I got out just before the dam and pondered how I was going to haul my stuff to the river again. It didn’t look like there were any places to get back in the river directly after the dam, meaning I would have to walk a bit. I had just moved all my stuff to a picnic bench and was getting ready to pack up when a car entered the car park. Handily the guy, Matt, was local to Alexandra and knew the area pretty well. He offered me a lift to where I could get back in the river and then went one step further and said I could sleep on his couch in Alex!

The section from the Clyde bridge to Alex was excellent, the river had flow again and I didn't have to paddle so hard. I made good time and upon arriving Matt came and met me, taking me to his flat. Not going to lie, it was slightly odd, his living room housed four massive fish tanks all in various states of scum, in which tropical fish were attempting to swim. You couldn't even see the fish in a couple of the tanks they were so dirty, but we had a nice evening. We brought a few beers, ate pizza and had a good chat about tropical fish, before I fell asleep on the sofa in the nice, warm, dry living room. 

day four: alexandria to lake roxburgh

Matt gave me a lift to the boat ramp and the beginning of the day was marvellous. The scenery was amazing, huge towering cliffs either side with goats peeking out of hidey holes. It was a proper adventure playground and the river had flow! This was until 11:15am when THE WIND KICKED IN AGAIN. And, oh my god, did it blow! It was insanely strong, causing actual waves to break on the surface. It was also raining. 

Eventually it got a bit much and I went to hide in some reeds to get a bit of respite and take stock of my options. It was still early in the day and I didn't want to stop, but Roxburgh was 9kms away and progress was painfully slow. It was then I spied a stone hut on the opposite bank. Perfect! The hut was full of goat poo, it covered the entire floor, but I found a bit of board and decided it would do to sleep on. It had also stopped raining so I put my tent up to let it air and potentially sleep in (it seemed preferable to sleeping in a hut full of poo). 10 minutes later a big gust blew up and ripped 3 of the tent pegs out, I resigned myself to sleeping in the hut. 

day five: lake roxburgh to millers flat

Today was a massive improvement on the previous, I woke to an ultra calm lake and set off paddling. It wasn’t long till I arrived at Roxburgh dam. There was a little boat ramp to the east side so I got out, pulled my stuff up and went for a wander to look for the best to get back in. Unfortunately it looked like the best place was a little way away on the opposite west bank, around a 40 minute walk.

My pack was pretty heavy, I must have looked like I was struggling a bit, as when I was crossing the dam a car pulled up next to me. "Where you going?" a friendly British accent asked. I explained and they offered me a lift! The driver was a lady called Katie and she was on a day out with her dad, John. They were very inquisitive about the trip and Katie gave me her number and told me to text her when I was finished.

Back in the river things sped up a notch. This made a nice change from the last few days of Lake Dunstan, winds and Lake Roxburgh. It only took 3 hours to get from Roxburgh to Millers Flat, the current was fast and there were mini rapids, but nothing to write home about. I pitched up close to Millers Flat bridge on the east side of the river and was delighted to see that there was a pub nearby! I celebrated that evening with a massive plate of gammon, egg and chips followed by hot chocolate and ice cream for desert. I slept very soundly that evening. 

day six: millers flat to balclutha

After speaking to the locals in the pub the night before I decided to hitch hike the section from Millers Flat to Beaumont Bridge. Apparently the water in the river was low, making the rapids more dangerous. A number of people warned me that I would be best off getting a lift so I took their advice, being alone I didn't want to put myself at risk. 

I was picked up very quickly by a car that had a kayak on the roof, Jenny welcomed me in and was more than happy to take me the 23km to Beaumont Bridge. Both her and her husband were keen kayakers and she agreed that it was best I avoided the section between Millers Flat and Beaumont bridge. Once back in the river the current was swift, there were quite a few rocks poking up and it was hard work to avoid them. Between here and Clydevale the river passes through the Rongahere Gorge, a remote uninhabited area of rare mixed beech forest.  

I was paddling for a few hours when I came into a spot of bother. The water was still pretty fast but would suddenly come to patches of flat water, making the packraft difficult to manoeuvre. A couple of times the boat was suddenly thrust into the flat water, rocking it unsteadily and letting in water at the sides. The final time this happened the boat let in a lot of water and I had to get out in shin deep mud to tip it out. I pondered the situation, feeling decidedly uncomfortable. If I fell out now the current was so strong I would find it difficult to swim, plus there was a possibility I could lose the packraft.

I dragged all my stuff up the bank and was soon stood by the side of the road, it was very quiet. So quiet I was able to read my kindle in between waiting for cars. The 4th car to go by stopped and offered to drop me in Balclutha, I gratefully accepted and put all my stinking stuff in their boot. Once in Clutha, I made my way towards the campsite in town. I was nearly there when a man in his late 60s popped out his house and asked where I was going, he then invited me in for tea.

His house was totally mad; full to the brim with random objects and a load of empty beer boxes that took up an entire wall. His name was Humpy, and him and his three friends were enjoying some post hunting beers. Soon enough a beer was thrust into my hand and the youngest of the bunch, James, said I could stay at his house with him and his wife.

day seven: balclutha to pacific ocean!

My last day! James and Kat dropped me off at the Balclutha bridge and soon enough I was off again. The river was pretty wide and calm, with vast expanses of farmland either side. It forks into two pretty soon after Clutha, I took the west fork as my friends mum, Hazel, lives in Paretai and had offered me a bed for the night. There was still some current so I laid back in the boat, read my kindle and occasionally used my paddle for steering. It was delightfully lazy.

After some hours I could hear the waves crashing upon the shore and knew I had made it! I parked up on the beach, took a couple of photos and read my kindle in the sun. It had been a wonderful 7 days; filled with excitement, helpful strangers and a lot of wind and rain. Although I hadn't managed to paddle the entire river I was happy with the trip and it had left me wanting to explore more of NZ by packraft. For now though, I was happy just to relax at Hazels, before hitch hiking back to Queenstown the next day.