Instead we unpacked several metres of twine, a foot pump and four tractor tyre tubes. After a few hours of feverish activity we had ourselves a raft and paddles (built with dead branches).

A canoeist had told me it would take six to twelve hours to float down to Pipiriki, so an early night was in order.

We'd had breakfast, checked the raft, tied the bikes onto the rear tube and were on the river soon after eight. Ye haa! It floated! We were lying back on the tubes relaxing when a Dept of Conservation jet boat came past. "How long do ya think it will take to get to Pipiriki?" I asked.

"At that rate, about three days", the ranger replied.

After that we paddled hard for the rest of the day.

The river was so slow in places it was difficult to detect any flow at all. In a couple of shallow parts we sped things up by towing and pushing the raft.

Occasionally day jet boaters passed and circled, exclaiming amazement. In the early afternoon, Paul decided to hop on top of the bikes to film the next rapid with his super-8 camera. He got about halfway up and the rear part of the raft capsized, throwing him and our cameras into the river. You can imagine our reaction.

By about ten p.m. we were becoming exhausted and anxious. Paul started showing the early signs of hypothermia, and brotherly love was pretty scarce as Jonathan and I argued over the best route through rapids. In parts the brightest sources of light were the glow worms on the cliffs, followed by the stars and patches of shining white water. The calmer moments were pure magic.

At about 10:30 we tackled the last, most exciting rapid and got wet from head to toe. After more than 14 hours we dragged the raft, and ourselves ashore, still several kilometres from Pipiriki, but near the start of a 4WD track heading that way.

We got up a 5:30 am, faced with a single muesli bar left for food and 130 kms of 4WD, gravel and sealed road left to cycle. With a train to catch from Marton at 3:30, there was no time to spare. We were away by seven after dismantling the raft and assembling the bikes. Paul was still stuck in a single gear and now had a loose crank, while Jonathan began struggling with all his gear on his back in a pack. After about 70 kms a farmer gave us a brief lift in his old truck, till it broke down. Luckily he got us over the biggest hill of the day and we soon arrived at a shop with FOOD. Once well refuelled, the final 55 kms of sealed road was tackled at pace and we made it just in time.

While recovering on the train, I reflected on the events of the past four days. It was a classic trip, which we'll never forget, but we could have made things a lot easier on ourselves.