Riding the horizontal waterfall

I'm gripping the grab-rail with both hands on a white-knuckle ride down the fastest-flowing navigable river in New Zealand - and I've forgotten what century I'm in.
Grade-three rapids and two Lexus V8 engines are carrying me through ancient beech forest on a wild, weaving, 27km ride down the Wairaurahiri River from Lake Hauroko to the sea through Fiordland National Park.
Giant overhanging trees thrust gnarled, moss-covered branches over the river, taunting me when I stand up to feel the fresh, cool breeze in my hair. The riverbed is strewn with tree trunks transformed by time and tannin stains into grotesque shapes. Great boulders rounded by ice-age glaciers rise up to threaten the speeding jetboat.
At regular intervals the dense forest opens up to reveal a catastrophic landslide of grey-blue mudstone and precarious undercut cliffs of ash-like papa rock, where the raging torrent has striven to escape the confines of its banks.
I can't help but feel that riding this bush-bound river is like travelling back in time to a prehistoric era, long before man sought to tame the wilderness of the Waitutu Forest. Fortunately this area escaped the early forest fires and logging gangs and remains under the control of a Maori trust. It is now the largest tract of unmodified temperate lowland forest left in New Zealand.
"This place is a national treasure that must be preserved at all cost," skipper Johan Groters tells our small group of adventurers. "Today's journey down the river should be a straightforward trip, unless things turn to custard. We don't want to hit any big boulders as it's a three-day walk out of here."
Johan has the understated humour and matter-of-fact machismo of a Southern Man who has seen it all and knows what he's about after 20 years on the river. If we are going to have a dispute with a river boulder, I feel confident he'll see us right.
I'm now acutely aware of the profusion of boulders in this river, which drops a staggering 200m in its 27km length. We skim past Lonely Rock, which has drawn less-skilful drivers into its lovelorn clutches.
The manoeuvrability and responsiveness of the twin-engine jetboat is amazing, as the craft turns violently around the bends, slewing sideways and skidding over the surface, defying all hidden obstacles as it confidently rides on its 12mm aluminium bottom reinforced with grader-blade-quality steel.
We nose into a quiet backwater and step ashore to examine one of Johan's many stoat traps along the riverbanks. He demonstrates the spring mechanism and his ingenious flag alert system that tells him when a trap has been sprung. These traps can be sponsored by the public as part of Johan's award-winning stoat-control programme.
Deep inside this river section of the Waitutu Forest are the remains of 150 live deer capture pens. The pen gates were set under spring tension and released when deer walked into the trip wire. I'm incredulous when told that the men led the animals on a rope over rough tracks back to the waiting jetboats. The stoic, laconic Southern Man must have originated in those halcyon days of the 1960s.
Before we leave the forest glade, I can't resist a photo session. The beech trees are laden with soft, spongy mosses and I have a real sense that this is everyone's vision of an enchanted forest. The tree limbs assume weird shapes with their mossy cloaks and the whole scene is so arrestingly beautiful that I can't believe the forest is inhabited by deer, possums and stoats - not goblins, elves and fairies.
Back on the river, time stands still once more until we suddenly burst out on the dramatic panorama of Foveaux Strait. Bouncing over the river mouth, we float for a time on the open sea before crossing the bar, nosing into a quiet beach and stepping ashore.
What we find is an idyllic clearing in the bush, remarkable for its vivid green grass, which we learn is cropped and manicured each night by browsing deer. Fronting the clearing is the two-storey Waitutu Lodge and a separate caretaker's lodge occupied by Alastair Osbourne, alias Peanut, who has lived a solitary existence here for nine years with his constant companion, Max the
collie dog.
This man of the bush traps possums, goes whitebaiting in season and hunts for his own pork and venison, sparing the red deer hinds that mow his lawn on a nightly roster.
An electrician by trade, he used to service lighthouses in remote areas. This colourful character is renowned for his firmly held opinions on most subjects and visitors appreciate his company. On cold nights on this hard edge of the southern landscape, Peanut is an important part of the Waitutu Lodge experience.
A tasty Kiwi lunch of venison, sausages and salad is laid out before us and we are joined by four mud-splattered, hearty Australian trampers who will accompany us on the trip back to civilisation. They have traversed the Hump Ridge and Port Craig tracks and are loud in their praise of this pristine wilderness.
Our return journey up the river is surprisingly smooth, as the jetboat is able to maintain a slower, steadier speed against the current. Reaching Lake Hauroko, we find that its mood has darkened. Its restless spirit has been stirred, whipping up an endless succession of chilly, foam-tipped swells.
"This is New Zealand's deepest lake at 632m and the 17th-deepest of the world's 5 million lakes," says Johan, adding with a grin: 'It's so deep there should be grouper down there."
Arriving at the ramp, Johan drives the boat on to the trailer. We head back to Clifden, passing through the Lilburn Valley and the westernmost farm in the country, ending a thrilling journey into the heart of Fiordland. We have explored an untouched wilderness and listened to an informative commentary, making this a true eco-tourism journey. The scenery, the local characters and the heart-thumping ride make the Wairaurahiri Jet experience better than any theme park.
- Paul Rush travelled to Lake Hauroko courtesy of Venture Southland and Wairaurahiri Jet.
Fact file
* The Wairaurahiri Jet operates from Johan Groters' home base at 1260 Clifden-Orawia Rd, just over the Clifden Bridge, 20 minutes' drive from Tuatapere.
* The trip duration is 6.5 hours and warm clothing and rainwear is recommended as the weather can be changeable.
* Accommodation in Tuatapere is available at very reasonable rates at the Waiau Hotel, 47 Main St, along with warm southern hospitality and country cooking.
Websites:

www.jet.co.nz
www.waiauhotel.co.nzRiding the waterfall