By 7 o’clock we began to think that we had had about enough for the day, and, putting the boats ashore, we walked back, over the old moraine and along the rabbit fence (which, by the way, I hear is doing its work splendidly), to the Pukaki Ferry for the night.
By 7 a.m. next morning we were again with the canoes, and once more performing gymnastic feats along the rocky bank. But our reward was now near at hand, for after an hour or so we got on board and sneaked down the quieter sides of one or two pools. The moraine deposits gave way to those of fluviatile origin, and the size of the stones in the river-bed decreased rapidly; consequently we soon began shooting the rapids again and were making grand headway. The country on either hand opened out; from our left came in the Tekapo River, and soon after, as we sped on under Ben More, on our right the Ohau. Now we were in the Waitaki, which is formed by the junction of these three rivers. ‘Waitaki,’ or ‘Waitangi,’ means ‘Crying water.’
The hydrographic area of the Waitaki Basin is 4,914 square miles, more than three times as great as that of the Rakaia or Waimakariri, and it drains most of the principal eastern slopes of the Southern Alps.
The eastern source of the river drains the Godley and Classen Glaciers with their numerous tributaries, forms the Godley River, and flows into Lake Tekapo (some fifteen miles in length); it issues from the southern end of the Lake and curves a channel for itself through the ancient moraine, when it becomes known by the name of the Tekapo River, which, flowing for a distance of about twenty-five miles, joins the Pukaki; all these, with the addition of the Ohau, the junction of which is a few miles further down, form the Waitaki River. The Hopkins and Dobson Rivers drain that part of the Alps immediately south-west of Mount Sefton, and flow into Lake Ohau. The stream issuing from thence, under the name of the Ohau River, runs for a course of thirteen miles, and joins the Pukaki and Tekapo as before mentioned.
After the union of these three systems of drainage the course of the river runs through a wider bed for about five or six miles before entering a gorge some ten miles in length. Down this fine stretch of water we now enjoyed a delightful paddle, and soon we sighted Black Forest sheep station, with its rows of green willow trees, on our left.
Here various kinds of river birds lent an aspect of life and gaiety to the scene—gulls, terns, paradise and grey duck, teal, dotterel, stilt, and red-bill soared over us, or rose in startled dismay as we shot by.
We had left the snows behind us and were fast being closed in by the foot-hills. We neared the gorge at 11 a.m. and paddled ashore on the Otago side and boiled the ‘billy’ for lunch.
It seemed a delightfully quiet hour after all we had been through; we sat and smoked in happiness and watching the rabbits skipping about amongst the bracken. We were certain, if only by that, that we were in Otago, where rabbits are the monarchs of all they survey.
The Mackenzie country hands had told us that we should find the gorge a little rough, so we knew we were in for it presently; yet for a couple of miles we found the river good going, though some ominous spurs of bed rock now and then entering the current—the first bed rock we had met with since leaving Mount Cook—foretold what we were coming to.
After going round a few ugly corners the white water became more frequent, until suddenly we were brought up by an awkward rapid into which we dared not venture.