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The Wanganui River, once known as the Rhîne of the South Sea, winds its way through the heart of NZ's North Island, starting off where I had finished the Tongariro Track (if you agree to ignore the 200km trip I annoyingly had to take down to Wellington 1st). I decided to get away from the stress of travelling for a few days - yes, it's a hard life: even travelling can be stressful. However, I would hedge a bet that everyone at some point has, for a moment, wanted to completely immerse themselves in nature, away from the hustle and bustle of booming noises, catfood adverts, road-rage, George Bush's antics and general fast-forward panic of the western world, even if you weren't a hippy. Well, this was my moment.

Indiana Jones and the Quest of the Bridge To Nowhere

Simon Wadsworth
2006-09-04 18:22:45

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were magical, just as I had hoped and imagined they would be. Mostly sunny, each day's distance was short enough to spend enough time letting go of the paddle and just read, write, eat and chill while gently floating downriver. The grey hairs, if there
were any, shrunk back into my head, as I truly relaxed for the first time in ages. Camping was dry (see previous post for comparison!), fires were made, and super noodles became my new best friend. To highlight the bliss that nothing much was happening, the 2 biggest events of these days were: 1) dropping my peanut butter jar into the river, fortunately the stuff was so moorish, it was only half full and happily bobbed its way downstream until I caught up with it, and 2) a 20-second earthquake...which I slept through.

Day 4 on the other hand, was a complete contrast. To do the story justice however, would require a couple of rounds of beer and comfy pub chairs for an hour. In brief, one of the main attractions in Wanganui National Park is a concrete bridge. What makes this bridge 'interesting' is in it being across a gorge in the middle of nowhere. So it's a miraculous coincidence that it is in fact called the 'Bridge to Nowhere'. It was built during Wanganui's short golden era back in the 1920s and 30s, before everyone moved out. Myself and three others: two 30-something Germans called Heiko and Volker, and a young Malaysian called Chau, decided to walk to the bridge along the well-trodden path, only to be thrawted 5 minutes from a glimpse of the BTN by a landslip blocking our path. Gutted and distraught, we head back.

I eventually set off in the canoe first, and paddle past the entrance to the tributary where the BTN is, thinking "maybe we could try going up it...", "no, stupid idea.."...this mental argument went on for a minute unti l decided to try going up it, knowing I would regret it otherwise. Thus, with all my might I turned the canoe around and paddled ...