Franklin Fiasco: Part 7

Tasmania, Australia
By Charlie Hynes

Day Seven – Coruscades Camp to Rafter’s Basin
Despite the comfort of the camp I slept poorly, overheating in my bivvy bag and feeling sick in the stomach. The morning saw me visit the outdoor toilet three times before we left and I felt it was going to be a long day. As I sat perched in the state of ablution, the grand white body of the eagle soared past not far above the river, wings stretched and gliding magnificently. I prayed it was a good omen for the Great Ravine.

WHAT A MASSIVE DAY! A journey through the Great Ravine would require getting past the Coruscades, the Faucet, Sidewinder, Thunderush and the Cauldron. It was appropriate then that we should begin the day with a portage – again an innocuous word but so very painful.

We carried the gear over the Coruscades rapid, taking about an hour to get the job done. The rapid was a grade 5, dangerous but alluring at the same time. Scrambling over slippery rocks was now becoming something of a habit, though I did have a couple of stacks. We paddled downriver a short distance and crossed a couple of rapids, one of which we thought was Thunderush, though this would prove to be something of a cocky underestimation of the rapid, but we’ll get to that later.

We reached the Faucet and decided to run it, carefully picking a line and going for it. It was fantastic to be among the carnage of white water. We reached the lower part and felt we could run it successfully, but it was to result in our first swim for the trip.

The boat went over the pour-over without any problems, and despite Rowen shouting instructions to us we were too far to the right. As a result ‘Tiddilik’ got nonchalantly parked on top of a 2m drop, flipped vertical and we were all unceremoniously tossed like lambs to the slaughter. The cold water flushed through my wetsuit, robbing me of the breath from my lungs. I held on to the paddle and pointed my feet downriver as the boys had instructed me to.
Below lay another boiling rapid ready to swallow us, so I headed for a small eddy on river right. The raft swept past me, where I could see Dave and hear the other boys yelling instructions to each other. I turned around and reached out to secure the raft. Rowen yelled out to Dave but there was no answer, he’d completely disappeared somewhere beneath it. This was bad.

After what seemed like an eternity the white helmet of Dave emerged on the far side of the raft, his mouth agape and gasping for air. I looked behind me to see Rowen and Simon and for now it seemed that disaster had been averted.

Laughter filled the ravine as we righted and emptied the raft. In some ways it was a great rush, but overall I had been shit-scared most of the way.

For the next half hour we ran the odd rapid while keeping a careful eye out for Sidewinder, arguing gently over whether it was a missile or a rattlesnake. Imagine our surprise then when we found it to be very manageable and ran it without incident. After an easier than expected beginning to the day our spirits were beginning to lift, which might have become confidence if we’d not bumped into Thunderush.

What a big mother of a rapid! It was insane to look at. The first section ended in a massive stopper that looked as if it could eat a twenty foot boat let alone our half sized version. It was, without doubt, certain death for anyone who ran it.

The second section didn’t look great either, requiring a tricky manoeuvre around some serious rocks that were surrounded by high cliffs that would doom any swimmer to a solo mission and a good look at mortality.

We portaged the top section as recommended by the guide book, but baulked at the portage on offer for the bottom section. If we didn’t run it then we were faced with a high and dangerous six hour portage that none of us were really up for. The other boys felt that the portage was more dangerous than the rapid which made some sense, though I did make the point that no one had ever drowned on a portage track.

I felt like it would break our own rule to run the rapid, but resigned myself to the group decision. The lads thought there was a definite line through the section, though it took forty five minutes of standing and looking before even they were convinced and could agree. Like an unpredictable jig saw puzzle, it took some time to ‘nut out’ all the possibilities. In their opinion, the risks weren’t too high and any swim appeared manageable.

In the end I trusted their experience and we prepared to run it. The re-loading of the gear was precarious enough, as not twenty feet from the back of the boat lay a massive and angry keeper hole. The boat rocked and wobbled and I began to experience pangs of doubt. My sphincter tightened remarkably.

We readied ourselves and went quiet. The four of us wore poker faces like masks, knowing that this would either be all over in seconds or we’d be in the drink…a common feeling when rafting big water.

Our blades pushed away from the rock wall and we spun a half circle to position ourselves in the right part of the current. Ahead could be seen big rocks in river middle, the rock wall on river left and a motley collection of dangerous pockets and assorted rocks scattered here and there.

The paddles dug in as though we were working for our very lives. A sense of unison drove us forward on the right line – we were looking good. Our success was pivotal on stomping the correct line. The raft punched through the first big stopper, though brushed a submerged rock on the way out which saw Simon and I exit the boat with some speed in a forward direction; Oh Shit! Swimming was exactly what we hadn’t wanted to do.

Okay then – react! The boat ahead, Dave offering his paddle but I can’t reach it; legs hitting rocks, Oh Fuck! Swim to the boat and make it, Dave pulls me up and in, instructions being yelled, I dive over the gear rack and towards the front section. Rowen yelled to Simon to watch out just before we see him get pinned to a rock and hear him yell out; I stand up in the front cockpit which is full of water. Dave hands me my paddle – MASSIVE ROCK! We cross a pour over, face covered in water again, stand up and keep paddling forward. Simon appears next to me holding his paddle – ROCK WALL! We brush under, spinning again, more rapids – OH JESUS! Down again we go, more water flows in, am underwater again, we come up and I wedge my feet under the gunnels once more. YOU BEAUTY! I hear someone yell, we all start yelling, laughing, sweating and breathing hard. The rapid is left behind us and the roar recedes to a sliding whisper. YOU ARE THE MAN! Then pointing and breathless commentary comes. Elation as we talk of our luck. Relief.

The natural high lasted approximately two or three minutes, or about as long as it took to paddle down and lay eyes on the Cauldron.

It was mean and nasty – a long and dangerous rapid. Again it would require a portage, but this time there was no option but the high track, which on first sight looked much like the Kokoda. We pulled in at Eagle’s Nest camp and lugged the gear to the bottom of the path. The steep and wild trail would require us to deflate the raft to get it through to the other side. This made the other portages look like bugger all.

The next four and a half hours were some of the toughest I have spent on this earth, challenging my mental strength and physical limits. We climbed and carried, dragged, heaved, pushed and pulled the gear over the track, which took at least twenty minutes to get from one side to the other, at least four times each. Words can’t describe the effort required to get through.

By the time the raft was through and we loaded the boat it was almost 7.30 p.m. The camp was another three kilometres down the river and we paddled slowly towards it, completely knackered. The river quickly became slacker water and long, deep pools made it much heavier going. High on the slopes above we could see the brilliant sunshine, though it only teased us as we sat low on the river wrapped in the ever growing coldness.

Rafter’s Basin camp was like a five star hotel and was flat, dry and comfortable. Everyone rushed to get set up and boil water for soup, all the while getting warm gear on and reflecting on the arduous day. Darkness came quickly and we ate like exhausted men, speaking in short and quiet sentences. Ten p.m. saw us all crashed out and wallowing in the deep slumber of contented men. The Great Ravine had been conquered, the biggest challenge was over.

After a day like today, you gain a real true sense of why we do this. The cocktail of dangerous rapids, sublime scenery and the camaraderie among the boys, as well as the dogged intent to get through each challenge successfully all contributed to this sensation. It was one of those times in life when you are quite becalmed and in awe of what has transpired.