Before I had the chance to get my head around what was happening, we had been driven to a small tributary of the mighty Whanganui, plopped in the canoe and pushed into the current with no looking back.
After an "entertaining" few minutes while we spun in circles and figured out that in a Canadian canoe you do actually have to be a back seat driver, we were on our way into the heart of one of New Zealand's most well preserved native environments.
For the first few hours I attacked the adventure with the same sort of hurried enthusiasm I apply to my professional life - always rushing for the finish line as fast as possible and pausing for breath only when the oxygen tank is sitting close to empty.
But the thing with nature is that there is no directing it and no controlling it.
After about four hours of solid paddling in pursuit of our first campsite, I finally rolled over to Mother Nature and let her and the current handle things.
Having physically taken myself off the grid, I decided to mentally do so too, and as I exhaled a few gulping breaths of 100 per cent pure New Zealand air, I imagined the balled-up bundles of accumulated stress draining from me.
When you remove yourself from the distracting and frustrating minutiae of daily life, it is surprising what you notice instead; the way a cool breeze on a hot day slides over bare shoulders, the wing-beat of native wood pigeons flying overhead, the way you smile more and swear less when you are connected to nature instead of a cellphone or computer.
I've never been a huge fan of dehydrated peas, but then again, I'd never tried eating them at a remote campsite on the sweeping bend of a river at sunset, with the strong frame of my delicious boyfriend as a backrest. Right at that moment, they could have earned themselves a Michelin star.
My bed that night was a thin roll-up mattress in a small tent but just like the peas, I discovered that luxury is all about context and for a busy person, the opportunity to unplug and unwind made everything around me a five-star experience.
When we arrived back at Ohakune and turned on our cellphones, it was a little sad to hear the endless beeping as several days worth of "urgent" messages begged and brayed for our attention.
But even though I am back on terra firma and up to my usual work-a-holic tricks, it is comforting to know that all the things you think can't ever possibly wait ... actually can.
And when they do, you realise they are not nearly as important as you thought they were.
