Surviving rapid heartbeats

NOTHING prepares you for what lies ahead on this four-day rafting odyssey, reputed to be one of the world's best wilderness adventures, writes Cathy Finch.

rafting/supplied

AS I sit beside the raging North Johnstone River in far north Queensland and face four days rafting on the world's highest grade of rapids, I wonder if this time I have gone far too far.

My experience is rated one of the top 10 wilderness adventures in the world.

The only way in is by helicopter; the only way out by conquering the curves of this rampaging river.

Just before our trip, north Queensland had a record day of rain, 600mm in 24 hours. Water is barrelling down the steep open chasms and carving its journey through a volcanic gorge.

Our voyage begins in Cairns where we are given a tiny plastic bag to hold our belongings. Everything we need is to be carried with us on our rafts.

We travel about an hour over the Atherton Tableland to a hilltop clearing at Mungalli Falls where our helicopter awaits.

Rolled up rafts, ropes, supplies, dry bags and yes, even poo barrels, all need to be put in slings and choppered into our put-in place up stream.

It is a heart-stopping flight. Our skilled pilot careers over the ancient rainforest rolling from side to side to give us the perfect viewing platform of surrounding powerful falls and rugged terrain. As we approach the river he swoops in low over violent rapids and sets us down on an uneven rock.

We have been briefed on a lot of the dangers, we have fine-tuned our crocodile repelling action plans and familiarised ourselves with the heart shaped stinging tree (leaves definitely to be avoided if toileting in the bush).

Slings are unpacked, rafts inflated and after much organisation we are unleashed into our heart-pounding expedition.

At the same time thundering water fills my ears, the gentleness of nature also appears.

A dazzling blue Ulysses butterfly flutters playfully around my paddle and brushes its spidery legs on my cheek.

It's down to business, though. There's no peaceful paddling today.

We are baptised on Misconception Rapid but the second – Snake – nearly nails us.

"Forward paddle, harder, harder, harder, go, go, go," urges our guide.

But then "get down, get down, get down". He sees our fate. White water pounds down on our heads, over the top of us, in from the sides and devours any sign of our presence on its raging white radar.

Miraculously, we push out, elated and unscathed.

Camp is a welcome sight, even if it is only a tarp slung between trees on the water's edge where we roll out our sleeping bags and rest as a colony.

Throughout the night I am awoken by a tropical downpour.

Day Two's rafting is intense, steep and technical. We are taught about the draw of the water, huge sieves at the base of flows that suck under the rocks and pull like a plughole.

It doesn't help that one rapid is named "the sucking hole of death" and indeed, I think I might die here.

It happens too fast. We are not happy rafters. We are pushed into a barrel of water at the base of a large drop. On a small rapid this can be fun, playful even, intentionally "surfing" a rapid.

On a big rapid it's deadly. A bit like being thrown into Waikiki after surfing the Broadwater.

Time drags on agonisingly slowly but eventually we are flung out of the barrel and into the rush.

We are now being held on our side by a churning force of water, throwing us into a precarious pivot point of balance. In the snap of a second I realise we are rolling over. If there's one place in this whole river we don't want to roll, it's here, in the sucking hole of death.

Astoundingly, we bring the raft back.

A fellow paddler still hangs outside the raft, skimming the water on his back. Over the course of the next few days there are many rapids stories such as this, rehashed and laughed about until the tears roll, around the evening fire.

Day Two's camp is nothing short of spectacular. Perched between a 200m waterfall, small falls in front of us and another 150m fall to the right, it doesn't get any better than this.

As darkness settles, the forest canopy is shrouded in thick fog and a hundred darting fireflies flicker amid the mist.

In the days ahead we paddle through driving rain and searing sunshine, beside ancient lava flows and in eerie fog.

We canyon up a pounding waterflow, hauling ourselves over sharp, slippery rocks and logs with ropes and manpower to the most spectacular plummet of water I have ever seen.

We paddle with ospreys through towering columns of basalt, and on our last day encounter a rare tree kangaroo, platypus and crocodile.

It is indeed one of the world's great wilderness adventures and I find it intensely invigorating to view my life from the edge of normality, flipping towards the insane.

Sunday Mail (Qld)