Frankie goes to Hollyford - Part 3 February 1890 and George & William Park set off from Plimmerton, Wellington to Picton before continuing on to Nelson. After making landfall at Mana island to wait out some rough weather they continued their journey in their Rob Roy canoes to land on the South Island. They weren't the first Europeans first to attempt it, but they were the first to succeed. Their clever use of sail & paddle along with their huge mass of adventure experience gave them the skills to make it where others had failed. Steve Moffat & I are about to recreate their journey from Mana Island to Picton and Nelson. This is the third of our historical recreations - I will be using the best modern gear available, Moffat will be using equipment faithfully recreated in identical materials to match the gear used by the Park's brothers in their crossing 125 years ago. Campbell live will be airing a segment on our journey from Wednesday 25th Feb onwards - if conditions allow we will be setting off from Mana Island in a few days time. Follow us right here, join my newsletter, follow us on Spot Satellite GPS, and watch out for us on Campbell Live!

I’ve had a hankering to paddle the Cook Strait since 1990. During the 1990 Xerox Challenge race, we aborted an attempt at kayaking the Cook Strait. After waiting 2 days at Makara beach for the right conditions, Juddy ordered us onto the Ferry instead, and arranged a shorter kayak leg from near the inner Tory Channel to Picton. However this was a disaster, with gale-force winds, and it too had to be abandoned! I have a lasting memory of paddling across an open stretch of water near Waikawa bay where, out of the protection of the headland, the fleet of kayaks was decimated by a sustained easterly blast. Visualise if you will, unattended surf-skis tumbling and rolling across the Queen Charlotte Sound, mere matchsticks, toys at the mercy of the howling wind, with their paddlers dumped in the drink a hundred metres back. Sea kayakers were treated with similar distain, with many swimming after their craft. Only a hardy and skilled few stayed upright or at least rolled back up again to weather the gale. Helicopters somehow managed to find and pluck to safety those few swimmers that had been missed by the rescue launch in the rough seas. Although I managed to survive the conditions and paddle safely to Picton, I have since had a healthy respect for the seas in the area. If conditions were that bad in the shelter of the Queen Charlotte Sound, imagine their ferocity in the Cook Strait! However, my sense of adventure got the better of me in the summer of 00/01, in preparation for the Coast to Coast race. I also reasoned that, like the swimmers, all I needed to do was to wait for the right weather, study the tide and current charts, pick my company carefully and take the right equipment. I reasoned a support boat was over-kill for my skills and preparation. Lisa Kahi and I would paddle my Sisson voyager, (fresh from a win in the Southern Traverse), and John Howard and another suitably skilled paddler would paddle another Voyager. Raring to go, in Picton, Lisa and I got a message from John that he’d just injured his ribs and could not come. A little disappointed, Lisa and I decided to head out to the Tory Channel anyway and see what it looked like. A zippy 3.5 hours paddling saw us to the Tory Channel coastline. Conditions looked great! “Should we go for it?” I nervously proposed, (Xerox challenge visions flashing vividly through my mind!). My stomach was not the only thing that tightened,.. typical “b-b-ball-shrinking b-b-butterflies” It did look perfect,..very little swell, no wind, we’d timed the tides and Strait current pretty well from the Cruising Guide charts, and the weather was stable for 24 hours. We had cell phone contact with a very helpful chap by the name of George at the Wellington Coast Guard. I had a GPS to create a back track if the weather fogged out, a compass and map. I reasoned that once we got to Wellington, we than had the choice to paddle back the next day, or to catch the ferry. We were pretty damn nervous about going it on our own however. Lisa was relatively new to the sport of kayaking, but gutsy being a national grade swimmer. There was certainly an element of risk, not just from the point of view that we were a tiny solitary boat with no support, but I felt very vulnerable, virtually invisible in fact to the speeding inter-island ferries. In the words of Sir Ed, we decided “nothing venture, nothing win” We decided to shoot the gap, after a quick stretch on the rocks, and a pee. It was almost mirror calm, so I tried paddling without my spraydeck on. Shortly however, a light breeze popped up so I put it on, but not before I phoned my dad to let someone know our plan. To be totally honest, the phone call was more to skite to someone, such was my elation at finally being out in the big bad Cook Strait in a kayak! About half way across I realised that I had not compensated quite enough for the current sweeping south through the Strait. What made me realise was that we seemed to be headed on a direct collision course with the Lynx fast ferry! I did a double take when checking behind,…to my alarm, there was another ferry bearing down on us from behind!! We were smack in the middle of the shipping lane and we were rather insignificant flotsam in both size and speed. To further complicate matters;… Lisa, a flight attendant with Air New Zealand Link had mentioned to some work-mates that we were to paddle the Cook Strait. A concerned, or, rather, alarmed, a pilot workmate tried to talk her out of it, but compromised with a promise to do a low pass over the Strait on the day to check that she was OK. We’d been looking forward to seeing the ATR fly overhead, and it was due any moment now. I had visions of the Ferry Captains craning skyward to see what this low flying plane was up to, and all three of sea craft colliding! Despite the humour, it was a nervous 30 minutes, as we would be too slow to paddle out of the way of a ferry. We made it from Picton to Lyall Bay, (beside Wellington airport) in 9 hours. I marvelled at Lisa’s endurance, not skipping a paddle stroke the entire crossing. Women often have more endurance than blokes. I had romantic notions of continuing paddling around to Wellington waterfront, tying the kayak to a dock and strolling arm in arm, salt encrusted, wet neoprene and PFD, into café for a latté and smoked salmon bagel. But by now Lisa, typical of that unfathomable breed we call women, was suddenly in one of those, “choose your words very carefully” moods, which popped that bubble. Typical stubborn male was about to say “stop being so soft”, but heeding past experience, I turned to more pressing matters like accommodation for the night. On the cell phone it turned out that Phil, our mate in Wellington did not have roof racks and there was no-where to store our kayak in his apartment perched on a cliff face! So it was George from the Coast Guard to the rescue. He had a mate who could look after our boat, and he came around to personally transport us there in his trusty Subaru after work. Thanks George! Next morning dawned too early with the challenge, that catching the ferry back would feel like cheating. So we dragged our weary butts into the kayak and set out from Island Bay. The wind promptly picked up considerably. The forecast for the Strait was OK with a maximum of 20 knots Northerly later in the day. It would be rough, but I reckoned we’d be just fine.… well that’s what I told Lisa anyway. At Island bay, the wind was swirling and gusting into mini twisters (as only Wellington can produce!) much higher than 20 knots and was grabbing and buffeting our paddles. I reasoned with a nervous Lisa that we should paddle around in the lee of the south coast to near Makara beach and re-assess the situation there. We could always turn back. Besides we needed to wait until noon to leave the North Island to avoid a strong southerly current through the strait. Near Makara we pulled ashore to have a stretch, a power nap and to assess the wind. It was rough, with the occasional breaking wave-top, but not dangerous in my experience. I also knew that he Voyager handled superbly in these conditions, was fast yet stable and totally predictable. The breaking waves looked intimidating, but I promised Lisa that there would be no more than 12 waves break across our kayak……. We stopped counting at 30….ooops! It was a battle to counter the wind blowing us sideways south and to stay north of the Ferry route. More than once I mused how easy and exhilarating it would be to surrender to the wind and surf the 2 metre swell down to Cape Campbell, and hitch hike back to Picton for the car. Half way across I got a helluva fright! Suddenly from upwind, behind a big approaching wave loomed a huge feathered monster!! Just like Jim the giant Eagle (from Bad-jelly the Witch), a giant Albatross flew directly over us, missing us by a few centimetres. Its wingspan was about the length of our double kayak, and for a split second, it occurred to me that this magnificent bird might pluck us out of the water and lift us high above the Strait! Hearts pounding we watched this wizard of the wind and waves skim above the stormy seas, marvelling at the precise control it had, clearing the wave-tops by just millimetres. Finally reaching the protection of Tory Channel in 3 and a quarter hours from Makara, I was in another of those romantic, hunter/gatherer/provider moods, keen to hook a cod or two for dinner on the way in through the channel mouth. But Lisa was in one of those “ just get me out of the damn boat moods” thus bursting my cute bubble again. Quite justifiably so as it turned out, as she had some wickedly bad chafing around her arm-pits from the neoprene rash top I made her wear as a safety precaution. (So bad was the chafing that despite 2 day’s rest, we had to use more than a metre of duct tape to patch her up for the remaining paddle back to Picton!). Another marvellous display of endurance from Lisa, without missing a stroke for the entire return crossing. We camped on a sandy beach, deciding to spend the next day naked sunbathing, and fishing, relishing in our achievement of a double strait crossing. Thus began my “ferry fascination” With all of the furore about the wake of the fast ferry I decided to measure it. Camped on our narrow beach, just inside the narrow mouth of the channel, the ferries passed within a mere hundred metres of us. It was a fascinating opportunity to study the wakes, and marvel at the power and magnitude of these beasts. One could hear the deep throbbing a few kilometres off, reminding me of Pink Floyd’s track “Welcome to the Machine”. I also noticed that the ferry captains all got out their binoculars to study us as they passed us. At first I thought it was simply because we were naked sunbathing and quite rightly, Lisa was worth a closer look! As it turned out, it was at the request of the Picton Police that they were looking for us. I had forgotten to phone my old man back to tell him that we made it to Wellington. As only parents do, he had a sleepless night and phoned the Police to share his concern for the worst. Of course I had turned my cell phone off to conserve battery power. The next day we spent fishing from the Voyager. We learned skills catching cod, Leatherjacket and Terakhi, but nothing quite prepared me for the Octopus! Thinking I’d snagged some kelp, I reeled in my line. Not watching it as it came up, you might imagine my shock as 4 tentacles suddenly splashed and “splocked” around my cockpit, 2 on each side. Just like the horror movies, I thought I was to be plucked and dragged to its murky lair. It was reasonably large, but I managed to unlock it from the boat. Lisa wasn’t having a bar of it, and was no help in figuring a way to get rid of the thing. Finally it spat out my hook and sinker and we were spared our watery grave. It was amazing however, observing it’s “jet-boat” method of propulsion as it towed us around the bay. I managed to squeeze in a run up to the top of Awapara Island; past the South Island’s earliest whaling station. It is abandoned now, but being restored for historic posterity. A retired couple that live on the Island suggested this “lovely loop route’ to the top and back. I returned bleeding and punctured from the dense gorse I crawled through on the way down,… they must breed ‘em with thick skin in the sounds! On the way back to Picton we trawled for Kawhai. We caught 2, but the buggers both jumped off as I was reeling them in. The Cook Strait is a marvellous challenge to kayak, but I recommend making sure you have the skills, the equipment, and the right preparation. It is very risky doing it as a single boat, and is much safer with several boats, and preferably a support powerboat. This is not a trip to take lightly. It a true adventure, but easily accessible. Have fun, be smart. Steve Gurney Recommended equipment: Tide/current charts from the “Cruising Guide” to pick the optimal currents. Marine radio waterproofed. Cell phone is OK but not as good as a radio. AN Emergency locator beacon Map. Compass GPS and set way-points for exit/approach to the coasts Tell someone your intentions, remembering to follow up! :-! Warm gear in case of capsize eg neoprene hat, top, booties, pants Easy to access food and fresh water. An accurate marine forecast for the area Contact with the Coast Guard Be prepared to turn back before leaving the coast if the weather is not good Practice the procedure for a deep-sea re-entry into you kayak. High volume pump Sealed compartments or air-bags Always ask “what if…?”

“A Most Ambitious Journey by Canoe” My good mate Steve Moffatt told me a story one day about his great, great uncle, George Park, and his brother James who in 1889 carried wooden kayaks from the West coast, up the Taramakau river, over Harper Pass and then paddled down the Hurunui via Lake Sumner and all the way out to the East coast. Then, George the crazy bugger, kept right on going down to Christchurch. George was very probably the first Coast to Coast athlete! We decided to re-enact the journey, a 13 day, 330km traverse dragging, lugging and paddling two kayaks the whole way. Moffatt did it as his forebears did with only the resources available in 1889. He found the original boat made 128 years ago, and got a replica made by Ian Franklin Boat builders, thus dubbed “Frankie”. George had used his sail as a tent for the trip and unfortunately for Moffatt, this made for a miserably small tent! I did it with all the modern stuff, neoprene, Gore-tex, and convenient dehydrated, freeze-dried meals from Back Country Cuisine. My kayak of choice for this trip was an Incept Tasman single inflatable kayak. It was almost identical in length and beam to Frankie, but it had a flatter hull, so it wasn’t as fast in a straight line, but it was much more versatile. I easily packed it away for the carry over the pass. At 19 kgs it was less than half the weight of Moffatt’s wooden boat. It was impervious to the rocks, as it’s made of the same stuff as the white water rafts that Incept manufacture. I chose an ingenious after-market sail by Pacific Action. It is a light weight, pop-up design of 17 square feet that has a huge advantage over George’s set-up in that it can be hoisted or retracted in 3 or 4 seconds. George’s rig took a few minutes, and even then the mast had to be left standing. However, George’s rig was slightly more efficient and he could sail closer to the wind. Sound technology from 120 years ago! Despite the differences in sail size, we had similar speed. George and Moffatt used their sails for a tent, and both had only a woollen blanket for a bed. Rather conveniently, I could climb inside my inflatable kayak for a cosy airbed! It was great that I didn’t need to carry a tent or sleeping mat. The trip gave us a chance to compare lifestyles. 120 years ago they didn’t even have cars and there was no processed or packaged food. In 2008 we are supposedly more tuned in to ourselves physically and mentally than ever, fitter than ever, and have more stamina than ever. We wanted to test this. What really intrigues us was his attitude to adventure, risk and personal responsibility. What was life like in those days? What is the kiwi adventure heritage that we’ve inherited? The only hint we got at what food George actually had on the trip was illustrated in this delightful quote from the old newspaper clipping we found from 1890. “So he went in search of a homestead, and was made welcome at Mr Reese’s house at Monserrat, and was just in time for breakfast. This he thoroughly enjoyed as his own stock of provisions was reduced to two sandwiches.” Sandy Sandblom, our independent photographer, also showed Moffatt how to make Billy Bread. Pausing before starting the bread lesson, Sandy paused with a very stern warning; “ there is one major problem I must warn you about what I’m going to show you. This is you last chance to back out…..? The problem is once you’ve tasted this bread you won’t want to eat any other!” We couldn’t see how such a rudimentary recipe could sway our taste-buds from commercially made bread with all of the extra delicacies and technology available. But by crickey, Sandy was right! It was delicious! We quickly mastered the lining technique we’d copied from George’s photo. It was a fantastically simple but effective system; A stern line effectively pulled the kayak upstream. The bow-line kept the bow on a slight ferry glide, angled away from us on the bank, thus enabling the kayak to stay midstream whilst we saved considerable energy by staying out of the water, or at least in shallow water as we waded upstream. Clever fellow that George! Initially, I was pessimistic about the limits of being able to float the boats very far upstream. But the system worked really well. It was extremely convenient to have gravity negated by floating all of our gear in the boats. It was so much easier than carrying. Whilst George’s towing technique was simple, it still needed skill to operate it. Both Moffatt and I lost control of our kayaks at times. Moffatt crashed Frankie cross current and into a boulder reasonably hard on one occasion. It seemed innocently undamaged at the time, just a wee bruise in the timber, but this proved to be a sin that would re-visit later. The grunt over Harpers pass was infinitely harder than we’d ever envisaged! We copied George and James’ technique of doing shuttle loads. Taking Frankie up to the pass, we left all of the other gear at the Locke Stream Hut. The track was hellish steep, and was littered with hurdles like fallen trees, rock falls, slips and tight zig zag corners. Whilst it was a heavy load, Frankie weighed 40 kgs, the most difficult part of the load was coordinating with the other. When one of us slipped, which was frequent, the other had to stabilize with all of their might. We daren’t drop Frankie, for it would smash a terrible hole in it. Much of the time it was two steps up and one slip back. We’d have to stop every 20 metres for a break, as our heart rates maxed out. Finally, exhausted we stood on the Pass marvelling at how fit those Park brothers must’ve been, because that same day they went back and got the second boat! There was no way we could do that. Wearily we descended back down to the hut daunted by the next day’s task of carrying the remaining gear and kayak up. Those 2 days lugging gear over the pass shattered us, and we never recovered fully from that exertion. For the remaining 9 days to Christchurch fatigue accumulated and we got daily slower. It was not until the 5th day that we finally were able to paddle those damn kayaks. Quite ironic since it was a kayaking trip and we were on a river. And even then it was just on selected bits of the Hurunui for it was still very skinny. I had a huge technological advantage now because I wouldn’t damage my inflatable as I scraped over rocks, so I could stay in the boat for shallow rapids. Finally the river deepened enough that we could fully float. It was utter bliss to rest our legs. It was the end of the shin bashing, the ankle twisting and the toe stubbing! We were 2 kms above Lake Sumner. we had travelled the best part of 45 kms, dragging or carrying our boats before being finally able to put in a paddle stoke. The lake was a blast with a wickedly good tailwind. I used my sail and felt pretty guilty at leaving Moffatt languishing behind. Out the end of Lake Sumner we were treated to lovely gentle rapids and an exciting wee gorge with class 2.5 white water. However, our nervous tension grew the closer we got to the class 3 White Water of Maori gully. We were anxious about smashing Frankie. By now James Park had already holed his boat, and the law of averages suggested that Frankie was due for damage. Moffatt’s kayaking skills had improved significantly, but both of us felt incredibly nervous at the thought of paddling the 3 worst rapids. Humour deserted us, and the trademarks of adventure, climbing heart rate and that old familiar adrenalin kicked in strongly. In the Press article we read that George and James actually roped their kayaks down the 3 worst rapids, but it would be extremely satisfying for Moffatt to paddle the entire river, source to sea. The gauntlet was laid. The temptation was huge, but so was the tension! Eventually we exceeded our safety threshold, deciding the risk was just too much, and we roped Frankie down these 3. Even then, there were some intensely stressful moments as we flipped Frankie, nearly sinking it. I paddled the entire gorge. It was much easier in my inflatable. However, the drama didn’t end there. Finally out into what we thought would be the safety of the placid braided river flats, we relaxed, but we relaxed too much. Moffatt ended up trapped sideways, upstream of a tree jam. Trees are the most lethal hazard on a river. One imagines rocks to be the worst, but they’re safe as houses compared with trees, because water flows around a rock and not through it. But trees act as a sieve, trapping a kayaker, often pulling them under water to a damp death, due to the way a tree branches outward. The golden rule is to CLIMB! Abandon the kayak and climb for your life! Trouble is there was nowhere for Moffatt to climb to. This was a dead stump that had been washed into the middle of the river. Moffatt was stuck sideways. I leapt out of my boat and ran back to help. Sandy the photographer was not with us for the kayaking stages, so I stood there with rescue rope in one hand and camera in the other wanting to record the drama for our doco. It was an easy choice, Moffatt was at serious risk of drowning. Even if he did manage to extract himself from the tangle, Frankie would certainly be reduced to match-sticks. Carefully we worked together and all survived, the only injuries being pride and a small ding on Frankie. By now Frankie was leaking significantly. Those original sins were re-visiting us. Some of the earlier dings had swollen and forced the joints apart. No convenient Fibreglass repair kits in those days. Moffatt had come prepared, and as George would’ve, he screwed on some wooden patches. We quickly realized that George was not only a true adventurer, but also a very skilled boatman indeed. Extra-ordinarily talented, showing he was not only a clever kayaker, but also an exceptional sailor and boat builder. However, always the entertainer, Moffatt turned it on again, and this time we got it on camera. It was 2 days later attempting to land at Amberley beach. By now, the Hurunui river had found the sea and we were out on the briny blue. George was on his own by now as his brother had had to pull out at the Hurunui pub with a broken boat. When George got to the coast, seeing the wind was favourable, he cut himself a mast and rigged his sail. Moffatt also rigged his sail as we too had good winds. Good winds, unfortunately, made for rough seas and a sizeable swell. Moffatt was shaky nervous about the landing and rightfully so, as Frankie, with no rudder and a 2 metre mast was not an easy boat to nurse in through a dumping beach break. I landed first and stood on the shore with camera. Moffatt timed his run between sets and caught a small wave in the last few metres. Safety of the shore was a mere few metres away. The wave rose up steeply and unceremoniously rolled and tumbled Frankie. The mast snapped off on the first revolution, and then there was a mishmash of boat, sails, booms and de-throned Moffatt tumbling over and over. I had those vibrant visual images I so easily conjure up, of the stump of the shattered mast protruding from Frankie impaling Moffatt, and the blood was a vivid scarlet. It made good footage, albeit shakey. Moffatt learned a good lesson about being more assertive with brace strokes and aggressively railing the bilge of the boat in a broach situation like that. Just as resourceful George would’ve been, we scrounged through the campground rubbish piles and eventually found an old tent pole. Moffatt thought that George must have been looking over his shoulder, as it was an amazing coincidence to find such a lovely piece of Oregon that was the exact length of our broken mast. Moffatt’s subsequent beach landings were textbook perfect. We finished the trip without any further drama, and we not see any of the sharks that the Press reporter warned George to watch out for. We were accompanied by dolphins, a flock of Gannets, and spotted numerous seals down the coast. We finished exhausted but reflective. We’d survived, our bond of mate-ship was hugely strengthened as only it can be, when two mates depend on each other for safety and survival in nature. Most importantly, we’d got a very good look at what life was like for George Park and those other pioneering adventurers of early New Zealand. Those adventurers were tough bastards. There was so much more unknown then. Their trip outcomes were less predictable. They needed to rely on their own skills and judgment of risk more than we did. Their level of personal responsibility was far greater than ours. We’re so inspired by the Harper Pass trip that we’re going to do more. Moffatt discovered George and his brothers were the first Europeans to canoe Cook Strait. There were some other mad keen Rob Roy canoeists. George Mannering and Marmaduke Dixon attempted to climb Mt Cook and then paddled out to the east coast. They also paddled from Bealey to Kaiapoi, hitching a ride to Christchurch in a horse drawn cart in time to attend the Canterbury Jockey Club ball, all in one day! Finally we’ll kayak down the Hollyford to explore Fiordland. And there’s the name of our documentary series, “Frankie Goes to Hollyford!” Frankie goes to Hollyford Part 1: https://youtu.be/Dc2wjcIgQi8 Part 2: https://youtu.be/gcJq9uXFjx4 Part 3: https://youtu.be/K-c3hH3mO6U DVD: Prefer to watch on DVD? Click Here Click here to purchase your copy of this DVD

1. FIRST TO CROSS THE SAHARA DESERT BY WIND POWER ALONE 2. LONGEST KITE BUGGY at OVER 2100KM There aren’t many “Everests” left to conquer. Not on this planet anyway. And now there is one less because we’re the first in the world to cross the Sahara by kite! But we only just made it….Every day something conspired to stop us in the harshest of harsh environments they call the Sahara desert. Our second goal was to break the 1000km record for a kite trip, and we smashed that with 2160km. However we failed on goal number three to break the 24 hour record of 315 km. We only managed 215km. But “two out of three ain’t bad”, as the song goes, and to me, this is a good sign that we’re setting goals that really stretch us, but are still realistic. Our expedition had a mountain of challenges, some life-threatening, and others more logistical that very nearly stopped us in our tracks. But it wouldn’t be a satisfying challenge unless there were significant dragons to slay on the way. As it turned out, those dragons breathed much more fire than we’d ever dreamed. I was going to need to call on all of my experience learned in my Adventure Racing career, and also good team-mates. Like moths to a light-bulb, our Sahara quest attracted resourceful, solutions men. Unlike moths though, every single one of us had “MacGuiver knives” and we didn’t need to be asked twice to show off each gadgety feature! If there was ever a call for a tool, it was like a quick-draw show-down with Leatherman gizmos to the rescue. Not only knives, but solar gadgets, GPS, SPOT beacons, Satellite phones, 2Csolar hats and the list goes on. (We were ready to build brilliance with bare hands, Leatherman knives and duct-tape! Nothing was gonna stop us!”) Blokes simply have to have gadgets, and the more opening and shutting clever bits the better. Females may call us predictable, maybe primordial, or primitively prehistoric even, but it’s a primal need, ingrained in our DNA as provider hunter and gatherer. A sense of humour and an ability to laugh at ourselves is one of the essential attitudes that enabled us to succeed as a cohesive team over 30 high pressure days in the hostile environment that is the Sahara. The main challenge for us was the huge vacuum of information about the corner of the world we were headed to. We quickly discovered a reputation for Al Qaeda style terrorism and there had been a few tourists killed. We decided against carrying any weapons for defence and instead opted to hire guides as prevention is better than cure. Besides, I have no interesting becoming proficient with weapons and those terrorists would out-skill me for sure. We found weather records that showed us the ideal winds were in August for a North to South crossing but we needed to be finished before the rainy season hit the south in September. So we chose to start at Sidi-Ifni where the Atlas mountains end and the Desert begins and we’d aim for Dakar, 2500 km south to finish. Google earth showed us scant details about terrain, but we could tell that the first third of the trip would have very challenging terrain with a high possibility we’d need to walk and drag some sections. Sure enough, the first week was diabolically slow progress, the main culprit being the rocky terrain, and the scrubby thorns and cacti that ensnared and tore at our kites every time we crashed them (once an hour). Our foot-pegs also broke prickles off and flung them into our seats. At first I thought it was scorpions biting me! Fortunately we used Ultra-seal in our tyres for puncture proofing, and at the end of each day there was the tell-tale evidence of wet-spots around thorn entry points. At a mere 30 km per day average (much of this walking) we fell well behind target and I seriously doubted we’d make even half of the desert crossing. Maybe the terrain would improve, but maybe not. In that first week we trashed several kites, leaving our spares stock at zero. Desperately we hand stitched the least damaged ones. Finally the terrain opened up a little, with less of those punishing prickles, and some lovely looking sand-dunes. But we discovered with desperate disappointment that the sand-dunes were mostly too soft for buggying and they had a diabolically dangerous steep lee side! That side dropped off, cliff-like onto a hard rock floor! It was back to the slow thorny scrub! But then with huge relief, we found several massive, flat, open and hard salt pans. We managed to get good speeds but once again we were disappointed to find we could get nowhere near the 80 kph we’d expected. At exactly 55 kph our buggy wheels got a death wobble that threatened to shake every bolt and nut loose, and our teeth too! This batch of tyres had an imbalance, arrrrrgh! Fortunately though, the wind blew well into the night and we made up valuable distance at 54 kph, clocking over 200 kms several days. We were back on schedule and my Adventure Racing experience with managing sleep deprivation was paying off! But then disaster struck once again! Craig discovered gaping fractures in his frame which broke clean through before we had time to rendezvous with our crew. Being MacGuivers we whipped out our tools and efficiently jury-rigged a type of trailer with the broken bits. But then disaster again. We discovered cracks in all of our frames, hidden under the straps and seats! Once again the MacGuivers relished in the opportunity, splinting the frames with tyre levers until we met the crew. Fortunately Craig had the foresight to design our trailers to double as back-up buggies so we continued on these for 2 days until the main frames were welded. Things were on track again, … until the Land mines! In Western Sahara, the U.N. warned us to stay on the roads and beaches below the high tide line only. There had been 11 land mines discovered in this area this year already. So we had to play chicken with the speeding Mercedes and trucks for the next 800 km. Unlike other countries these drivers never slowed down when passing and it was nerve-wracking! However, we got skilled at swerving off the road at the right time and made up good ground. But then we had terrorist threats to deal with in the south of Western Sahara. At first I thought it was just propaganda, until we got shadowed by a very dubious Al Qaeda looking vehicle, and then that night in camp being confronted by an AK47 wielding dude! We headed for the safety of the beaches and once again started making good ground in good winds, until I had a very serious argument with a car sized rock at speed. The rock won! Despite my full face helmet and Thor Impact Rig body armour, I ended up concussed and bleeding from my face and a paralysed shoulder. My Oakleys were mashed into my forehead and had to be cut out. Credit to their quality, they didn’t fracture and saved me losing an eye. We scaled a small cliff and Satellite phoned the crew to cart me to hospital. That was a mission in itself with multiple police stops! The hospital X-rayed me, kept me in for a day, bandaged me up and declared I had no broken bones. In agony, I rested for 2 days, but since they said I was not broken I thought I’d better harden up and get back in the saddle. It felt great to be flying again and it distracted me from the pain. We were half way across the desert as we crossed into Mauritania and the terrain improved radically from here. Gorgeous open flat desert, and into National Parc Du Banc Aguin which was stunning for buggies. In stark contrast to the north, the locals were delightful! Three weeks into our quest, we neared the Senegal river which defines the border to Senegal and the official end of the Sahara Desert. We need to head inland to the border crossing as the military post on the beach didn’t allow border crossings. At a mere 70 kms our world record was just one day away! Nothing would stop us now, would it? How about gale-force winds, rain where 3 drops and you’re soaked, lightening and thunder, and severe flooding? Within minutes the thermometer dropped to freezing and the water was lapping at our knees. It was way too dangerous to fly kites and to keep warm we had to tow our buggies through the mud. We discovered that this was actually a dried up swamp we’d been buggying in. Lucky the buggies floated. Through the night we slogged, until dawn saw the skies clear and a scorching sun came out, and not a breath of wind. The mud turned to a porridge that glued our feet and wheels to a standstill. We were out of food and water, and on the verge of heat stroke. On the Sat. phone we learned our crew’s special desert Land cruisers were also bogged. Without rescue things were looking desperate until we spotted a bogged truck way on the horizon. It must be a road! By the time we got to the truck it was being towed out by a digger, and we were able to hitch a ride 70 kms out to a sealed road and some food and drink! Phew we were saved from near disaster. But we were in for more treats at the border crossing. The police and military are appallingly corrupt. It cost us a $NZD3000 bribe to get across the border or be held for several days while they search our vehicles. With our wallets lighter we set out to cover off that remaining 70 kms. In a desperate but cunning move we ended up bribing the military to allow us back up the beach to the latitude we left off. All was going well until we got hit by our second storm! On the beach this time we managed to fly our smallest kites in the storm into the night, until herds of camels camped on the beach stopped us. We were being lifted into the air by the gusty storm front and we had no control in the dark of our landing zone. After 3 near misses with camels we abandoned flying, and managed to scamper through the military post at dawn before the big chief caught us! Storm battered and sleep deprived, we had no energy to celebrate crossing the mighty Sahara. Besides we still had 4 days left to cover the 500 km to Dakar and complete 2500 km as fundraising for the She Rescue Home. But once again we were thwarted by storms. By now it was obvious that the rainy season had come early. We managed to squeak out another 160 km before time was up and we needed to head back to NZ, but not before a well earned celebration. Back in Godzone I was still a bit sore and got some scans done. To my horror I have 4 fractures in my face, a 6cm piece of scapula broken right off, a badly torn rotator cuff on my left shoulder and a damaged eardrum. No wonder it hurt! Fortunately the surgeons here managed to pull the bones back out in my face saving some rather more serious face–peeling surgery if the bones had not budged. There’s still work to be done on my shoulder. Reflecting in my hospital bed, I realize the team-building skills I learned in Adventure Racing played a big part in getting four driven men through 30 extreme days as a cohesive and powerful team without wilting in the pressure-cooker of the audacious goals we set. They tell me I was lucky my crash didn’t do more damage. There’s no luck, I put it down to my years learning to crash my bikes well. Go multisport! I also realize that if I had died, I’d have died doing what I love best, adventuring and pushing boundaries. How’s your bucket list looking? Gear: Kite Buggies: Our Big Foot buggies are the brain-child of our very own Ashburtonian Peter Lynn. He's world famous (but not in New Zealand as so often is the case) as a kite designer extraordinaire. Hes the craziest kite coot, an intelligent man but with wildly darting eyes and a keen sense of humour he is definitely a character. Mostly famous for his parafoil and carnival kites. Born and proudly bred a Cantabrian, with a Mechanical engineering degree, he has a busy factory in Ashburton churning out all things kiting. His team have equipped us with specially reinforced gear for our trip. Our tyres are so voluminous that the buggy will float with us in it so we can cross rivers where they intersect our path and there is even a 10 km ocean short-cut from a coastal peninsular that we are entertaining doing as a float! SPOT GPS beacons: These are not only emergency rescue beacons, but they also leave a bread-crumb trail that our supporters can view to keep track of our progress on the SPOT website. They are a fantastic new technology. You can buy the SPOT beacons from me, email steve@gurneygears.com. The DVD has now been released for this adventure - click here to buy your copy today. A Big Thanks to our Sponsors! Stuff.co.nz: Steve Gurney is Senegal or bust by kite buggy Closeup: Adventurer Steve Gurney speaks to Close Up Explorer's Web: Sahara kite buggies finished their journey through landmines and in rain NZ Herald: NZ athlete injured on Sahara quest Xtreme Sport4u: MadWaySouth are home and dry…

How did your first time trial go this week? In Duncan’s words: “I took 52 minutes for my Lake Hayes loop, which was pretty slow I guess? I pushed myself a little on the flatter parts but walked much of the uphill sections as I still don’t have the strength in my legs.” The whole idea of the time trial is to use it as a measure of improvement over the weeks. A slow first T.T. with some walking in it is totally fine. In fact it’s expected, and he can look forward to steady improvement on that as a mini-goal. In addition, Duncan not only stuck to the schedule, but felt so good that he lengthened a couple of his shorter sessions. Use the research on successful goal-getting. How do winners do it? You’ll be able to recall many successful people who consistently achieve their goals. Sports teams, business people, and also yourself! There are some areas in each of our lives where we’re very successful at making sure we get what we set out to do. Conversely, there will be some areas of our lives where we wished we could get what we aimed for more often, and you can also recall examples of repeated failure at goals for others in the world, in business, sport etc. Great new research shows, that by studying and modelling the habits of successful people and the strategies we ourselves use when we’re successful, we can copy and adapt our approach to be more successful in areas we’ve previously failed at. This accelerated learning can be applied to your marathon goals to substantially increase the chance of you succeeding, (or even bettering your goal!) Four of the main strategies of successful people: 1. Choose goals that are truly inspirational. Goals don’t have to be outrageous, it’s more about goals that are deep-down powerful to you. The sort of things that raise the hairs on the back of your neck and give you goose-bumps. The sort of things that link profoundly to your values in life. They align with your purpose on the planet, or your mission in life. You’ll be able to recall successful people, maybe your heroes, and notice that sense of purpose they have, the sense that they are part of something bigger than themselves. Imagine the drive and motivation with which they tick off their goals, and copy that for yourself. To juice-up your marathon goal, I suggest making a list of 8 to 10 values you live your life by, the bullet-point list of sage advice that a wiser, older you would pass on to grand-children. Common examples of these sorts of core values are: Be a good role model to my family Make the most of every opportunity and have no regrets Live with integrity Then write a sentence for each of your core values, to link how achieving your goal in the marathon supports and strengthens these core values. 2. Determine the difference Be really clear on all the ways that things will be different. Not just the physical things, but also how you will be “being” different. You might have heard the adage “the definition of insanity, is doing the same things but expecting different results”? How exactly will you be different in how you’re acting, behaving, going about things on the journey to these exciting new results in your life? Notice the difference between old and new behaviour, but then focus on the new, positive version of you and your way of being. How different is your diet? Your Friday night? Your wardrobe of smaller clothes? How will you be talking differently to people (perhaps with a sparkle in your eye?), and the topics of conversation? What sorts of new sensations will you be feeling? The refreshing cool wind as you train, perhaps some rain? Some snow? How will it feel to be super fit? What sort of things will people be commenting on? Apply the same sorts of questions to how will things be different in the weeks, months and years after you’ve achieved it? 3. Powerfully word your goal The way you word it makes a big difference. It’s more powerful to enrich your written goal by adding some description about how you’ll do it. For example, “Finish the marathon in under 5 hours.” Could be boosted up to: “Cross the finish line, punching the air with excitement, in 4 hours 50 minutes!” You can make your own powerful version. Make sure you have your “elevator pitch”, ie a sentence like the one above that you share with your mates when they ask what you’re up to. Notice also that I converted “under 5 hours” to a figure with 4 hours in it. Research shows that this is very useful because the number you see on the clock at the finish line needs to have a 4 in the hour for you to have achieved your goal. Help your subconscious to create your reality the way you want it! 4. Richly remind yourself Put motivational reminders all over the place. Not just your goal written on a piece of paper on the mirror, but add really cool and thoughtful motivational memory boosters to yourself. Eg a screen saver picture that inspires you, change your wake-up smart-phone alarm to a motivational theme song to get you out the door running, print off a picture of a champion runner and glue your face on it… stick it on the fridge. Give your running shoes pride of place, stored in view, ready for action at a moment’s notice. You get the idea, go over-board with this one! Perhaps most importantly, share your goal with people around you. They need to understand how important this is to you, they’ll treat you differently, they’ll ask how your training is going, and make “space” for this change to happen. Even more powerfully, you might be able to get your family to come with you on some of the runs, eg, your kids could ride their bikes with you on the recovery days. It’s about making it reality, acting “as if”. I’ll cover some of the other strategies in future columns, and you can also have a session with me if you want more advanced help. For now, invest time wisely by applying the above to your marathon goals and other important goals in your life. Notice how much more motivated you feel already! Week five training schedule: We’re gradually converting the walking to jogging and increasing our time training. Thursday 17th July 40 mins; walk 10 mins, jog 25 mins, walk 5 mins. Small hills. Friday 18th July Rest day Saturday 19th July Warm up 10 minutes with brisk walk or easy jog. Time Trail Course - See if you can go a tiny bit quicker than last week. Warm down 10 mins walking. Record your time, ideally start a graph Sunday 20th July Walk / jog 50 mins at a conversational pace (Easy-Medium) Monday 21st July Rest day (optional swim or bike or yoga or gym 30 mins) Tuesday 22nd July Walk 5 mins, jog 30-40 mins, walk 5 mins. Medium Pace. Wednesday 23rd July Rest day (optional cross train eg swim, bike, yoga 30 mins) Thursday 24th July Walk 5 mins, jog 40 mins medium to quick pace, walk 5 mins. Small hills.

Steve Gurney is best known for winning the Coast to Coast race a record nine times. He has years of kayaking experience on the extensive braided river networks of the South Island. He knows more than a few tricks of the trade in choosing a good line on a braided river like the Waimakariri that is forever changing. Here are some of his top tips. The Waimakariri is a braided river (very rare in the world) and requires a unique skill to navigate for a fast trip. A braided river has numerous shallow rapids spread over a wide and pebbled bed. It meanders, splits into multiple channels, and then these channels rejoin at different and varied places. The biggest challenge to beginners is taking a channel that runs out of water, requiring an arduous (and embarrassing) walk back to the main channel. For the competitive sharp end of the field, choosing the fastest channels can be the difference between first and second place. There are five general rules that I teach kayakers who are looking to paddle braided rivers faster are below. (95% of the time these rules will give the fastest route, but very occasionally, there might be a small short-cut that could save a few seconds.) (1) Look ahead Look as far ahead down the river as you can, always scanning between a kilometer or a few hundred meters, to pick where the majority of the water flows. This enables one to more consistently pick the fastest flow. (2) Biggest flow at junction The biggest flow or biggest volume will move the fastest. It is also likely to be deepest and kayaks are much faster in deep water. It's often tempting to take what looks like a short cut, a smaller branch, shallower and skinnier, but invariably it is slower or sometimes runs out to a dead end. If it looks like your 2 options are equal volume then use additional rules of (3) and (5) below to guide your choice. (3) Equal Memory Remember the historic flow: let's imagine you took a right in a previous channel choice. This means that as you paddle down this right channel, there a channel of water somewhere on your left. This channel on your left will eventually rejoin the main river, or another channel. So statistically, (and by the Law of Gurney :-) if you subsequently get a choice of equal flows, you'd be best to take the left one as it is very likely to meet the left flow that you previously didn't take. (4) Early Bird Sometimes you’ll see the rapid split off to the side in a series of small chutes, only to join up again in a deep pool or channel. When you see the first small chute split off, it’s tempting not to take it, instead staying with the main flow. And this repeats as the next small chute splits off, and so on, and so on until there is nothing but a shallow fan trickling through the gravel, and you have to get out to walk. The trick is to always be scanning ahead to spot this type of braided rapid so that you’ll know to take the first possible chute that you can get your boat down. (5) Low down puddles Gravity plays a big part in determining where water eventually flows. Water will always end up at the lowest (altitude) point… it wants to puddle. So if you've been looking ahead as in (1) you'll be able to figure out which channel ends up lowest, and hence where there will be bigger and faster flow. The higher channel will likely run out of water. It's all about consistently picking the deepest, fastest most voluminous flow.

How to win at racing, business, and life. Get ruthlessly competitive.

This video is about Beliefs. How much do we actually limit our potential with beliefs that aren't true? All humans are basically the same with resect to how our personality is formed, and how much confidence we have in achieving and growing. However, many of those beliefs instilled in us are not our own beliefs, or our own perception of our limitations; rather they were passed on to us by our parents, teachers, grand parents, usually loving, well-meant advice. It's always useful to examine our beliefs on what we're capable of to check whether they're actually true. In addition, our limits or capabilities often change as the world changes, eg technology advancements enable us to achieve different things, the climate or the economy changes, all affecting what is possible or not possible. Listen to my story about the fleas. Another example is Roger Bannister breaking the 4 minute mile record. The most important thing is to be curious, to always be prepared for something different to what we thought to be true, and to be prepared for change.

This video is about Choosing powerful words

This video is about 3 keys to a champion team.

Adventure racing teaches critical lessons for success with Covid. Dealing with disruption and re-setting has three basic tenets: Attitude of resilience. Race to your strengths Travel fast and far…. Cut excess baggage. Adventure racing, and in life, nothing ever goes to plan. The winners (successful at achieving any goals) are those that deal with disruptions the best. There’s always a surprise storm, slashed tyre, headwind, muddy swamp, flooded river, broken shoe-lace, food problem, cramps, broken bone or other injury. And that’s why we LOVE Adventures and Adventure racing, because it calls upon us to be resilient, to be in the present moment, to powerfully lead, to strategise, to be innovative, creative and to PIVOT. It’s exactly the same now with Covid. Covid calls upon us to be present, access the part of our brain that thinks innovatively for survival, success and winning. We can learn from Adventure race winners: https://youtu.be/vhgL6aZuZJE 1. Winning is an attitude of resilience. In adventure racing we expect problems, challenges. A perfect race never happens. In fact, it’s perfect that it’s not perfect. The winners are the ones who adapt, patch it up and move on quickly and consistently. We choose adventure because it requires us to be adaptable, because it surprises us and because it challenges us. Satisfying. It’s exactly the same for life, and for Covid. We just need the big picture perspective to see the growth it gives our lives. How can you change, tweak or flip your attitude to truly welcome the disruptions like Covid for the growth, strengthening and wisdom that it gives you? 2. Race to our strengths We never win an endurance race by focusing on other athletes. (life/business is also an endurance race) We all have different strengths, abilities, advantages, and weaknesses, so their strengths and specialities won’t match our abilities. To win, we must focus on OUR unique abilities that will give us the competitive advantage. Just as in baking a cake, one needs to follow the matching recipe for the cake ingredients for the cake to rise, we need to match our strategy to our unique strengths. What are you really good at? What do you truly passionately love doing? What is your Unique Ability that defines your point of difference and competitive edge? 3. Travel far and fast …. Cut excess baggage In adventure racing we won’t win, (let alone finish), if we drag along too much baggage, (and it adds to the blisters too). When disruptions upset our race plan we need to be agile and move quickly. We ruthlessly minimize the gear we carry for the week-long race, (without sacrificing it’s functionality). We chop off the labels, replace metal zip-pullers with light Kevlar string, squeeze half the creams out of the first aid kit, no toilet paper, no spare socks. We get COMPETITIVE! How can you get truly competitive? We innovatively analyse the purpose and function of every item we carry to check whether it is truly useful (or is it just there just because “that’s how we’ve always done it”), and we critically brainstorm for improvements. How can you cut off your dead-weight? What stuff is unnecessarily holding you back, slowing you down in your business? Failure to critically minimize and optimise is preventing your win, or even threatening your survival. Get competitive! Let me help you and your team be competitive and efficient. steve@stevegurney.co.nz 021 487 639 (021 GURNEY)

Nine time winner Steve Gurney has a great bunch riding tip for this time of year!