Pungwe Adventure

On Monday the 22nd of Feb 2010 Robin Kock and I pulled the pin on plans for a South African contingent to visit he Pungwe and Nyagui, due to a lack of rain. The next day it started raining and within three days 20 inches had fallen on the Eastern Highlands. With the Pungwe in flood the HACKERS took on the Shava's that following weekend – see the earlier trip report.

Robin decided to visit two weeks later and this proved to be an epic.  Nick H, Kenny and I met Robin at Harare International on the 11^th of March and set off for Aberfoyle Lodge. After a long drive we arrived at the stunning lodge, with its excellent snooker table, table tennis, squash court, tennis court, swimming pool and picturesque 9-hole golf course, nestled in the tea-covered hills, a long way from anywhere.  Having woken the staff we discovered that we were supposed to self-cater, or warn them in advance to stock up.  Fortunately they had drinks, excellent facilities and wonderful service. After a light dinner of banana sandwiches, Robin and I set about carbo-loading for the next day, while warming up our arms over the pool table (and reducing our sleep to two hours to maximise alertness and decision-making abilities).

After a hurried breakfast, Nick H set off with a guide to explore the local (feathered) bird-life, while Kenny dropped Robin and I off (and promptly found a shady tree to sleep off his hangover). The road past Red Dragon Lodges is still in good condition, so we pushed on well past the commercial put-in. Two porters were hired and within 45 minutes of being dropped we were on the river, about 2km above the commercial section.

Robin started bleating immediately about my having talked him into bringing a play-boat instead of a creek-boat.  Did he really think I was going to let him have an easy ride - I don't have a blasted creek boat!  The river was much bigger than I had ever seen, so we did a lot of scouting and portaged a few nasty drops, running a few with much nervousness all round.  Things were going OK, if a little slow, until the inevitable screw-up.

Just before the commercial section there is a group of pour-overs, all combining into one boiling cauldron.  It was Robin's turn to bank-scout, and he advised me with no uncertainty to pull out.  I duly agreed and pulled up in an eddy, a meter or two away from the edge, next to his boat, not realising that he's actually gotten out higher up and dragged his boat there.  I found it fairly difficult to exit my boat, while hanging on to a small tree, and decided to adjust my position using another little tree.  Alas, it turned out the second "tree" was actually a loose branch with no roots.

Within seconds I was headed for disaster, and Robin could only stand by and watch, as I ducked under a log, negotiated the first small drop and whirlpool, before plunging through a narrow gap into the roiling water below. I managed a roll but was unable to keep any semblance of control over my boat, which was bucking like a mustang mainlining on the best Mozambican Mbanje.  What seemed like hours later I pulled the deck and swam - well I like to think I did - but I actually just hoped for the best and tried to grab some fresh air. The river promptly tossed me over the next big drop, first planting my left butt cheek on a sharp rock, and then into a retentive hole, and put the machine on spin for about 3 or 4 cycles - with my waterlogged boat and paddle for company.

Having tired of my woeful gasps for breath and smacking me on the head with my own equipment, the river spat me out like last nights leftover sadza, thankfully into an eddy. I clung onto a rock for dear life and watched my boat complete another three or four cycles, having managed to rescue my paddle as it went past.

My boat eventually flushed out of the hole, and pinned itself on a rock a little way down.  Robin managed to recover the boat, and quite miraculously, all my loose gear (dry bag, throw bag, sponge and water bottle had been disdainfully tossed into the kayak without attachments) was still inside, and although the foam padding had all been dislodged, it was also still in the boat.

Apparently Robin managed to capture a confession on video in the moments after I swam back across the river, in which I'm alleged to have concurred that portaging was a noble sport.  Maybe one day it will turn up and I'll dutifully post it on YouTube....

The rest of the trip, which consisted of the normally simple commercial run, was a blur to me.  I do recall one portage, where I slipped on a rock and landed on my already purple left butt, and another swim in a grade two (having somehow dropped over a small ledge onto my head) - I claim fear of a nasty siphon a little further down, combined with exhaustion.  These two swims were my first in several years, and hopefully the last too.

Yes Robin, you're right, we should have been in creek boats! And while portaging may be considered a noble sport by some, I still avoid it as much as possible.

After an interesting round of golf on the very scenic Aberfoyle Golf Course, where we lost about 10 balls each, and another eventful night of table-tennis, snooker, amber liquid and little sleep, we packed up and headed back to Harare to find some smaller rivers to regain our my composure.

Shavas - St Pauls to Main Rd and Novice Run to Old Rd

Shavas Feb 10 proved to be an epic: Excellent water, great weather, lovely scenery, superb rapids, Andy pinned three times, Nick M pinned twice, multiple swims (me too) and a novice completed his first run without swimming (albeit not on the same section as the mishaps listed above).

Andy LM, Nick M, Nick H and I took on the Shavas after a week of good rain. Squash had initially planned a Pungwe trip, but twenty inches of rain in a few days meant that the Pungwe was in flood and the roads impassible. So plans were amended for a Nyagui trip, but Squash pulled out citing fear of big water on the Nyagui (at least he was honest about that, and the Nyagui can be very unkind).

Andy proposed a change to the Shava's which is only good after considerable rain. Upon arrival the Shava's looked perfect and it was agreed to run the top section from St Pauls, with Nick H, on his maiden voyage, only joining the trip for the flatter section from the main road to the old road. Assuring Nick H and Kenny (our fearless driver) that it would only take two to three hours, and with Nick H having familiarized himself with moving water, Nick M, Andy and I set off.

Presenting an omen of things to come, I took a swim while playing on the first wave.

After a bit of flat water and a few small rapids we arrived at the chute. This was duly scouted – the main chute on river left was probably the best option, but a gnarly stopper near the top prompted Andy to opt for the smaller chute on the right side of the same left channel. Even though he missed a few lines Andy pulled it off and I decided to follow suit, while Nick M opted to Portage. Thinking that Andy was safely in an eddy, I ran the chute very nicely, and while eddying out noticed that Andy's boat was pinned. I dashed back upriver to get the throw-bag from Nick, but Andy managed to self-recover, having swum. The tricky last part of the rapid was run by all with Nick M keeping a particularly cool head to recover from a spinout.

A drop or two later our trip leader (elected by overwhelming majority on the basis of having been on this section of river before) Andy announced very late that there was a nasty hole at the bottom. I managed to eddy out to have a look, but Nick missed the eddy and dropped into the guts of the hole going backwards, way too slowly to punch through. And a nasty retentive thing it was too. Nick emerged pretty quickly after knocking a few new dents into his helmet, but the boat was only ejected after all the padding had been ripped out. Nick swam the drop immediately below the hole and ended up with bruised ribs for his trouble. After much searching the boat was found between the first hole and the following drop, wedged between large boulders. Nick managed to scale the boulders with the aid of the throw-bag – which had almost been left in the car (what a disaster that would have been). Nick tied the boat off and Andy swam the main current holding the rope – this clever use of the river's power to dislodge the boat cause a moment of concern when Andy was driven underwater, but the boat dislodged at the perfect moment and all was well.

Having gathered all the flotsam, Nick reassembled his boat, including a foam bulkhead which he swore wasn't there before. (It was later discovered that this bulkhead belonged to Andy's boat, and had drifted down from his earlier swim at the chute.)

Andy's usually unfailing river knowledge was called into question when he attempted the next drop without scouting and ran out of river, which had just disappeared through a great big pile of rocks. Undaunted by this potentially disastrous turn of events, Andy promptly applied Newtons non-existent 14^th law of fluid dynamics, flipped over and ran the remaining trickle of water on his head, arriving completely unscathed in the pool below, without so much as a new scratch on his helmet.

Applying discretion, I bank-scouted the next drop and won the prize for directing my mates into the nastiest hole ever, on river right. Nick M was the victim and his boat had to be lassoed and hauled out of the hole (thanks again to the throw-bag). Andy tried plan B (centre line) with no complications and I followed suit, abandoning any notion of honour, which would have called for my running the same line I had given Nick.

Figuring that the gang needed a bit more exercise, and that the last two challenges had been way too easy, Nick M managed to pin his boat again at the very next rapid – this time underwater in the main current, next to an island. Andy spotted the dead-end into a large bolder at the bottom of the drop and promptly pinned his boat in a much more accessible position. Mostly by sheer luck, I managed to eddy out next to the island. Andy's boat was rescued with the aid of the throw-bag, followed by a balancing act by me to tie the rope to Nick's boat. Fatigue was starting to show – hauling water-logged boats against running water is very energy-sapping – and Andy took another swim after his seal launch from the rocks.

By now it was felt that Nick H and Kenny would be getting concerned so the pace was stepped up. Aside from Andy getting pinned in a syphon, with me on hand to haul him out before it got nasty, the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. 

There were several interesting rapids and a few of the drops didn't have enough water and so had to be portaged. By the time we arrived at the last drop, with it's lovely play wave, we were all too shattered to really enjoy it.

Arriving two hours later than planned, the intrepid gang consumed everything edible to be found in the Landy, whereupon Nick H and I set off on the last section - the 4.5km's to the Old Rd. The first few km's of flat water played havoc with my weary body, but Nick H put in some practice eddying out and ferry-gliding. Nick showed us how to hand-roll- twice – and enjoyed the whole experience, especially the island rapid with wave trains and a play wave, as well as the few small play holes between that and the take-out. Nick H acquitted himself well and enjoyed his first river experience, looking forward to the next one.

On the way home it was decided to brave the drunken crowd at a small rural bottle store in search of a few cold beers. These were secured and enjoyed, and the hearts of the locals won by buying them a round of “Scuds” - well done Andy!

It was a somewhat epic day, but still immensely enjoyable. The Shavas has some excellent rapids, drops, holes, waves and chutes at the right water level, which is probably a bit higher than on this occasion. This level had enough volume to be dangerous, but not enough to clear some of the obstacles.

A couple of lessons for us all:

If you're wondering wether to leave the throw bag in the car – don't.

If there's any question that the next rapid needs scouting – it does.

And if some rivers are too flooded, others will be just right!