Up the lazy Whanganui river with me ...

By COLIN MOORE

It could be the quintessential Kiwi family holiday: canoeing down the Whanganui River, at peace with nature and the world, camping on the riverbank and, as with the best of experiences, sharing the enjoyment.

The Whanganui was once grandly promoted as the Rhine of New Zealand. It's not. It's a pathway through the wilderness, gouged out, Maori legend relates, by Mt Taranaki fleeing to the coast.

That water road, from the melting snows of the central North Island mountain trio to the Taranaki coast, has been used by peaceful settlers and invading armies, for food and for spiritual sustenance, to transport trade goods of pounamu and wool bales.

But its future lies with those who make the journey for the river's intrinsic value, or, as one traveller puts it: "A trip back to nature. I forget who I am and where I'm from."

It is the softest of soft adventures, easily tackled by the very young and the elderly. An adventure where muscles never ache, where you lie cozy at night under nylon, well fed and well satisfied with a day enriched and a sleep well earned.

The gently graded river is navigable for 234km, from Taumarunui to Wanganui, but family travellers usually pass by the first 58km and join the Whanganui at the Retaruke Landing at Whakahoro and leave at Pipiriki, 88.5km from the sea. This is the middle section under the traditional guardianship of Tamaupoko, 87km of wilderness without any road access, where the river flows through deep-cut gorges and rugged lowland forest.

My journey begins at Whakahoro with Simon Dixon, of Canoe Safaris, who has been floating families down this river - and others - for nearly 20 years. That makes him one of the most accomplished rafting and canoe guides in the country. It also means he knows almost every bend and nuance, whirlpool and snag, legend and potted history of the route.

His mana on the river is why we are here for this early-season taste of an experience that every Monday from now until the end of April will be enjoyed by many New Zealand families.

When the 150 reserves created up and down the Whanganui from 1891 to protect nearly 36,000ha of river frontage became the Whanganui National Park in 1987, the Department of Conservation built a hut on the site of the abandoned Tieke marae.

Good landing sites, safe from flood, are rare and treasured on the Whanganui. So are national-park hut and camping sites. The Tieke site, close to the Manganui a te Ao, a tributary that gives access deep inland, was a trading hub, a thriving village with a carved meeting house, until early last century when someone told the villagers the land had been sold for a reserve and the people drifted away in confusion.

There is no record of the sale, but a sense of injustice survives and when DoC invoked a user's fee to pay for hut upkeep the people of Tieke returned by jetboat to reclaim their land.

People said they'd drift away at the first sign of bad weather, particularly as DoC no longer kept the hut gas bottles full. That was seven years ago. The people are still there. So is the hut, well-maintained as a sleeping hall - and with the gas bottles full.

There are neatly mown lawns around the site and native trees. Attached to the hut is a canvas-covered whare kai with poles of manuka and trestle tables.

When travellers come down the river - Kiwi and others from many nations - they step ashore at Tieke marae to a traditional challenge to the manuhiri. Having been accepted as tangata whenua, they pass over some food - or perhaps cash - as koha and gorge around the trestle tables that night on piles of steaming food cooked by the people of Tieke.

There is no charge for the meal, or the campsite, or for the inevitable entertainment and stories. It is a truly priceless New Zealand experience.

For several years the men of Tieke have been busy staking their land claim another way - carving a pou whenua from a giant totara log that was washed down the river.

It is finished, ready to be erected and unveiled, a land marker to assert the hapu's right to be there, and for the people of Tieke to invite their friends, the regular river users, to join them.

There used to be a houseboat moored at the Retaruke Landing where river travellers could rest for the night. It was burned out in 1934, but the old Whakahoro school is now a DoC hut where we and other guests begin our journey to Tieke.

Our first day is a 40km paddle down-river to the John Coull Hut. First we must carefully pack our stable Canadian (open) canoes. Each traveller is given a waterproof plastic barrel of fairly generous dimensions, for clothing and sleeping bags.

The barrels are strapped into the centre of the canoe. Dixon and his assistant guide, Kelly Eberhard, brief us on safety and give a short lesson in canoeing technique.

Eberhard is a young Canadian lawyer who has been paddling canoes and guiding trips since she was a youngster.

A couple of years ago I spent 35 days and 2300km river-paddling in the back of a Canadian canoe. I wish I had spent a few hours soaking up paddle technique with Eberhard first. Now I am in the front, digging it in, and enjoying myself.

Two other teams are learning the hard, but fun way of making these rudderless craft go in the direction you want. But under most conditions the Whanganui is easy paddling. So-called rapids are hardly worthy of the title, although no doubt those silly enough to ignore Dixon's advice could tip out.

The Maori tale of the Whanganui being cut out by Mt Taranaki is evoked as you paddle downstream because much of the river is etched deeply through papa cliffs, often clothed in moss and ferns.

Small waterfalls trickle down the banks. Dixon says that the river was once the parish of a missionary called Taylor who planted poplars at places he visited and these trees stand high on the banks where once there were villages.

There are few places to land and even fewer where you can camp safely. The Whanganui is fed by a huge inland catchment and can rise up to 10m in a few hours.

Family trips are more leisurely, with five days on the river. Our first day is usually done in two but even so it is hardly tiring.

Adventure guides know how to cook sumptuous meals and Dixon and Eberhard are no exception. Even wine is supplied.

Our goal next day is Tieke, with lunch at the Mangapurua Landing and a short walk to the Bridge to Nowhere, an early Think Big project.

The bridge is a New Zealand icon, as is its background. Returned soldiers were offered impossible land to turn into farms that had no hope of being economic. Their struggle against all odds was finally defeated by collapsing markets in the Depression - and by a Government which built a bridge that is nothing more than a memorial to backbreaking work and folly.

Tieke marae is a sobering place, too, although we spend the night across the river at the Ramanui Lodge where Raewyn and Ken Haworth, who found the money to put their children through school by trapping possums, now trap tourists.

There are hot showers and cold beer - which you are not allowed at the marae - and warm hospitality.

The unveiling and dedication of the pou whenua is attended by a large crowd, including DoC officials.

The ceremonies cover all bases - traditional taha Maori, Ratana, Anglican, marae kaumatua, DoC and the Whanganui River Trust Board.

It is Archie Taiaroa, chairman of the board, who puts the pou whenua, Tieke and the Whanganui River in perspective.

The carved pole, he says, declares that the area belongs to the people of Tieke for all time, whether the land is sold, given away or confiscated.

If the concept of land never being alienated - regardless of legal circumstance - seems difficult to grasp, take your family paddling down the Whanganui River this summer.