by Jimi Hunt
My feelings of success were slightly premature. The bubbles resumed rising. In a few minutes, the Lilo would be flat again. From either side of the lake I could probably walk for a week and not find anything—I hadn’t seen any sign of life all day. Even if I had found someone, they wouldn’t have cell phone reception either and, anyway, I didn’t know exactly where I was.
I had learnt my lesson on Day One about carrying a spare but, quite simply, a Lilo is too big for me to carry. Ten minutes later the Lilo was flat again. I got in the water and blew it up again. This took me five to ten minutes to do and it was actually quite tiring, trying to keep afloat and blow at the same time.
I needed a plan to get through the afternoon and to my destination. The Lilo had a 10- to 20-minute life cycle. At the end of its life, with the pillow still inflated, I could put the pillow under my abdomen and swim for a bit. Granted, this was not the best plan I’ve ever made. But it was a plan. I looked towards the bank. Maybe I could get out and walk beside the lake? Forest on one side, bush and farmland on the other—the answer was, no, not really.
I established a plan I called Sprint Training. This is how it worked. I’d blow up the Lilo, hop on and start paddling as fast as I could. I’d pick a point up ahead and aim for it. I was not allowed to stop until I got to that point. As a variation, to break up the boredom, I would pick a number of strokes and keep paddling until I’d got to the magic number. When I had achieved my goal or when the Lilo was flat I’d reward myself with some water and a bit of protein bar, and I’d check my phone to see if I could get a signal so that I could check a map and see how far I had to go.
We had planned four hours to the rendezvous point. At least the time on my phone worked, so I knew when the four hours had passed. By then I had stopped and blown up my Lilo countless times and I knew for sure that I was way behind schedule. I was shattered.
Simon had got his wish. This was real drama—not Shortland Street–type drama, but the hurting-Jimi kind of drama. My Lilo was flat, yet again. I blew it up, again. I started paddling, again. It was getting late. I moved to the other side of the lake to get out of the cold shadows cast by the hills. I paddled. I stopped. I blew up the Lilo. I paddled. I stopped. I blew up the Lilo. I was late. I was very late. I figured the team were probably worrying about me.
Ahead of me, miles ahead of me, I could just see a shape—it looked like a boat. This was the first sign of people I’d seen all afternoon. Literally and mentally deflated, I wanted to get to the boat, to get out of the water and get a ride. I paddled as fast as I could, willing myself to get to the boat . . . get to the boat . . .
My Lilo went flat again. I blew it up and started chasing the boat again. I didn’t appear to be getting any closer. I started to think they were heading away from me. Then I thought I’d imagined it and there wasn’t a boat at all, just some random shape in the lake. I paddled fast, as fast as I could. My Lilo went flat again so I swam and swam and swam. Bugger this! I thought. I started yelling, ‘Hey! Hey! Come and help me!’
There was a boat. There were people on the boat. They heard me and started driving the boat back up the river towards me. The relief! I stopped swimming and floated in the water, happy in the knowledge that help was on its way. When the boat arrived and before I could explain my situation someone said, ‘Hey, you’re the Lilo guy. You need a tow to get places, aye?’
‘Haha, yes, yes I do, usually. Today, though, I don’t care about towing, just give me a lift.’ They could hear I was exhausted.
‘Isn’t that cheating?’ they asked.
‘I don’t know. Probably, but I don’t care. I just need to get to my support crew. I can’t really paddle any further and it’s about to get dark.’
‘Hey, you’re not gonna use that camera, are you?’ the big Maori boy asked.
‘I was going to film the guys that helped me out, yeah,’ I said.
‘Nah, you can’t do that. I’m wanted by the cops!’
‘I couldn’t care less, my friend. Just give me a lift where I need to go,’ and I made sure the camera was switched off.
The three gentlemen had pretty much finished their fishing for the day anyway, but they hadn’t caught anything. They were happy enough to take me where I needed to go.
‘Where are your friends?’ one of them asked.
‘No idea, somewhere on the left-hand side,’ I replied. We started down the lake, and as we got around the first point there they were. I’d been rescued about 800 metres short of my destination. But I’ll tell you right now, I was happy I didn’t have to swim the last 800 metres—I was shattered. They dropped me off and Pip, Michiel and I went to find some accommodation. This had been the most difficult day on Lilo by far.
First, we drove into Putaruru because we needed to go to the supermarket for supplies. I was in the car park talking on the phone to the PR company. We were arguing about depression.org.nz and the Mental Health Foundation. They’re separate entities and each had given me help. Now, they were arguing about which one was getting more coverage from the media as my story unfolded.
I was angry. I was just one guy trying to do good raising awareness for depression in New Zealand, in all its shapes and forms. My message was simple—ask for help. I didn’t care who people turned to to ask for help. It could be the Mental Health Foundation, depression.org.nz, a family member, a friend or Father Christmas, as long as people took the first step to reach out and ask for help. The PR people were stuck in the middle and both entities were missing the point—Lilo was proving to be good for everyone that was following my progress.
In the car park outside Countdown in Putaruru, a young woman stood patiently, quietly listening to the whole conversation as I talked angrily into my phone. She looked like a nice normal young person from Putaruru. As soon as I hung up she approached and, speaking very quickly, said, ‘Hi, Jimi, I really like what you’re doing, I’ve been following you on Facebook and think that it’s fantastic and you’re helping a lot of people. Here, I’d like to donate this to the cause.’ She handed me $40 and walked away as fast as she had talked. I don’t know anything about her, or her story, but I’d guess either she or someone she loved had been affected by depression. I still think of her and that donation, which was handed on to Lifeline, with gratitude, because I’d also guess that $40 was a lot for her to give away. Thank you, anonymous donor.
DAY SIX: ARAPUNI TO CAMBRIDGE
Before we left the next morning, we went to a cafe. We were the only people there and I ordered my usual eggs Benedict. We got talking to the owner, who hadn’t heard about what I was up to but she was intrigued. I told her the story and she asked more questions than the average punter. I thought she must suffer from depression and might be looking for some answers. I tried to share what I knew as we talked. Then she opened up and started telling me about her husband who’d been suffering from depression for over 10 years. During that time, two rural GPs had told him to ‘harden up’. That made me angry. Medical professionals were still prescribing a dose of ‘harden up’. Rural New Zealand clearly still had a long way to go.
I explained the simple tools Dr John McEwan had given me in the hope they could help her husband, too. I gave her his contact details and told her to call him. Right then and there she decided she would take her husband to Auckland for a weekend away and they would go and see John McEwan together while they were up there. She was ecstatic. I had given her reason to hope.
‘Where are you off to today?’ she asked.
‘I’m going to make it to Cambridge.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘I’ll sort you out some accommodation.’
‘Cool, that works for me.’
She went off and got on the phone. A couple of minutes later she came back. ‘I’ve got you a room at the Cambridge Coach House, a five-star bed and breakfast owned by my friend Vicki. And before you get there watch out on your left-hand side for a camp with a massive waterslide going into the river.’
Yes! This day was already
better than the day before, and I knew it was going to get even better.
I jumped into the dam at Arapuni and the water was flowing nice and fast. I was heading in the right direction at an enjoyable speed, then, after the obligatory couple of kilometres, it turned into another hydro lake. Lake Karapiro is the last of the lakes on the river, thank goodness. I came to a halt and had to start paddling hard to make progress. Another day of paddling, paddling, paddling . . . I was feeling like the previous day’s Lilo, pretty deflated and over it. Skipping the boring bit, we’ll jump ahead to the bit where I went round a bend in the river and there on the left was Finlay Park Adventure Camp on the edge of Lake Karapiro.
I was running late again and felt shattered. I had been a bit flat—I definitely wasn’t full of the joys of spring. Going round that last bend just before the camp changed everything. There were kids everywhere, lots of kids. They were on the obstacle course, kayaking and hanging around having a whale of a time. My mood lifted. Pip and Michiel had been joined by Dan. They were there to meet me, and all the kids knew who I was and why I was there. They came up to take photos and ask questions and generally cheer me up.
Sorry, kids, there’s a waterslide! We’ll have to talk later. I gotta get up there. Hell, it was about 60 metres long, super fast and sent me skipping along the surface of the lake like a stone. Next to that was something called a blob, which is basically a two-thirds-inflated canvas rectangle that floats in the water. I lay with my Lilo at one end of the blob. Dan, Michiel and one of the camp counsellors stood on a platform and jumped onto the other end of the blob and sent me flying miles into the air. Genius.
The next section was from Lake Karapiro to Cambridge. When it was time to go I was really looking forward to leaving the hydro dams behind. The river should flow properly from then on. Now that Dan had joined us, Michiel could get out the kayak and come for a paddle with me. We set off from the adventure camp and the river flowed nicely—and then, a couple of kilometres further on, it was actually still flowing nicely. Yahoo!
New Zealand has plenty of amazing, natural beauty and much of it is hidden away in the back country so most of us don’t get to see enough of it. I’ve already told you about Orakei Korako and the Mangakino Stream and now I’m telling you about the stretch of the Waikato River that flows from Karapiro to Cambridge. It is, quite simply, stunning with its high cliffs, lush green vegetation and deep blue water. Guess what? No one uses this part of the river. No one.
As Michiel and I were enjoying the swift-running water, paddling at a leisurely pace and just having a good general chat, it occurred to me that this was how I’d thought the entire adventure was going to be: a bit of paddling, a lot of floating and plenty of interesting conversation. We didn’t see a house, a person or any other sign of human life until two hours later when we saw a boat coming up the river towards us. Two guys I went to university with, Flip and Phil, and whom I hadn’t seen in years, had decided they’d come and meet me on the river. What a fantastic way to finish the day, reconnecting with old friends.
According to Google, we weren’t too far away from the boat ramp in Cambridge, so I rang Dan, who was waiting with Pip at the bed and breakfast place, to give him my expected time of arrival for pick-up.
We four water rats got to the boat ramp and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. According to my map the bed and breakfast was only four kilometres away. I called Dan. No answer. I called Pip. No answer.
After an hour, Phil offered to give us a lift to our accommodation. We strapped the kayak a little haphazardly to the roof of his car and set off. When we got there we were greeted by Vicki. Dan and Pip were nowhere to be seen, and nor was Kenn’s pride and joy.
‘You’re not going to be too happy,’ said Vicki. ‘Go and look down the drive.’
We walked down the drive. There in the driveway were the roof racks from the bus. Somehow Kenn’s magnificent bus with the camo paint job was sans roof racks. I felt a knot in my stomach. I called Dan, who answered. ‘Where are you?’ I asked.
‘At the ramp!’
‘Come back, now.’
It took them about 35 minutes to get back. I have no idea how. It seems neither of them is very good at directions or reading maps, even though Dan’s smartphone can give precise directions between two points. They stepped out of the bus, cheerful. I had a super-angry look on my face.
‘What?’ they asked.
‘What the hell did you do to the roof racks?’
They clearly had no idea what I was talking about. ‘What roof racks? The bus had roof racks?’
‘Yeah, it did. Right there,’ I pointed, ‘where those holes in the roof are.’
They looked blank. They still had no idea. How someone could hit a tree, removing two bolted-in roof racks from a bus and tearing holes in the roof, while travelling no faster than 15 kilometres per hour, without noticing the racks fall to the ground will remain one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of Lilo The Waikato.
‘Get it fixed.’
DAY SEVEN: CAMBRIDGE TO HAMILTON
In the morning, I had to award Vicki the prize for Best Breakfast of the Trip. The trip wasn’t over but Vicki proved she was a true connoisseur of the eggy breakfast and I knew she couldn’t be beaten. I’d possibly rate hers as the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten. Thanks, Vicki.
Today’s paddle, from Cambridge to Hamilton, was going to be different. We were heading back into civilisation. There would be houses beside the river, people standing on the banks to see me. There’d be lots of waving and calling of hellos. In the end it was a long uneventful day and we didn’t arrive until late that afternoon. We got to the Hamilton Gardens cold, hungry and tired.
I called Pip to let her know we had arrived. She was busy organising supplies for the bus and said they’d be there in an hour or so. Right. I lay on the grass next to the car park in Hamilton Gardens and decided to call everyone I knew, ’cos I could and to fill the time while I waited. It was Friday night and I’d been paddling pretty hard. I was ahead of schedule. The only fixed date on my timetable for the trip was a Float Day through Hamilton, scheduled for Sunday. We wanted as many people as we could get to come and do a section of the river with me on any device they could beg, borrow or cobble together that would stay afloat. That meant I had a day to spare and could have Saturday off. Friday night in Hamilton, with a day of rest to follow—it was time to party!
A few friends had come down from Auckland for the weekend and the Float Day, and I had a couple of friends in Hamilton who joined us for drinks, too. That night I met a pretty girl in a bar and we started talking. Turned out, the only girl that I thought was hot in the whole of Hamilton was engaged and a devout Christian. She didn’t drink alcohol either, so two sober people sat in a bar in Hamilton late that night and discussed the pros and cons of religion without getting annoyed. When she argued prayer, God and faith, I offered energy, coincidence and quantum mechanics. I liked her. I just didn’t like what she believed in. Still, she offered to pray for me to find a new wife and added, oddly, that she would pray for me to receive a specific amount of money.
When I had told Caroline, the hypnotherapist, how much I needed to cover the basic costs of this trip she had said I would get twice that amount. The next day the Mental Health Foundation had given me that exact amount. And I’d just heard from Dad, before heading out that night, that the money had gone into my account. And it was the exact amount my new Christian friend had said she would pray for me to receive. There’s a very strange coincidence, but I do believe it was just another coincidence.
The final thing she said she’d pray for sent a chill down my spine. ‘I also want to pray for you to have strength when you come across that boy that died today.’
Earlier that day I had been told about the death of a young boy in Huntly. He had been jumping off the bridge into the Waikato River, having a great time like Kiwi kids do every summer. Hell, I had already jumped off two bridges into the river on this trip. I could imagine
the fun he and his mates were having. The last jump he made, he landed on one of his friends. I assume he was knocked out and dragged under by the strong current. So far searchers had been unable to find his body. It saddened me greatly because he was just a young boy having a good time.
I didn’t know what to think about what my new friend had just said to me, and I wasn’t going to be in Huntly until Monday. I was at least three days away. Surely someone would find the body before then? I felt uneasy and it was time to go. I left the bar with my friends and we went back to our accommodation to catch some sleep.
Saturday was a good day—a day of rest. It was a day off paddling!
DAY EIGHT: HAMILTON TO NGARUAWAHIA
Sunday was Float Day. You know the feeling—you put on a party, you invite everyone you know, you prepare the house, you get everything ready, then you wait . . . no one turns up . . . that’s the feeling when you say to yourself, ‘Is anyone going to come?’
That’s how I felt about that Sunday when we had invited all of Hamilton to turn out to support the cause. I had been busy paddling towards Hamilton for the last few days and hadn’t been able to coordinate the build-up to the Lilo The Waikato Float Day. I had done a bit before I’d set out from home, but had I done enough? It was going to be filmed for the doco and how much of a dick would I look like if no one came? I really didn’t want to look like a dick . . .
I wasted a worry there—about 60 people turned up, in Canadian canoes, boats, Lilos, rubber dinghies and pretty much anything else that would keep them afloat. My old uni mates Phil and Flip were there, too, with a couple of their mates—in a spa pool! Flip had bought the old spa pool for $50 off TradeMe, plugged up all the holes and put some water in the bottom for stability, and the four friends managed to float beside me for the day. It was an awesome effort all round.