DAY SEVEN: CAMBRIDGE TO HAMILTON

In the morning, I had to award Vicki the prize for Best Breakfast of the Trip. The trip wasn’t over but Vicki proved she was a true connoisseur of the eggy breakfast and I knew she couldn’t be beaten. I’d possibly rate hers as the best breakfast I’ve ever eaten. Thanks, Vicki.

Today’s paddle, from Cambridge to Hamilton, was going to be different. We were heading back into civilisation. There would be houses beside the river, people standing on the banks to see me. There’d be lots of waving and calling of hellos. In the end it was a long uneventful day and we didn’t arrive until late that afternoon. We got to the Hamilton Gardens cold, hungry and tired.

I called Pip to let her know we had arrived. She was busy organising supplies for the bus and said they’d be there in an hour or so. Right. I lay on the grass next to the car park in Hamilton Gardens and decided to call everyone I knew, ’cos I could and to fill the time while I waited. It was Friday night and I’d been paddling pretty hard. I was ahead of schedule. The only fixed date on my timetable for the trip was a Float Day through Hamilton, scheduled for Sunday. We wanted as many people as we could get to come and do a section of the river with me on any device they could beg, borrow or cobble together that would stay afloat. That meant I had a day to spare and could have Saturday off. Friday night in Hamilton, with a day of rest to follow—it was time to party!

A few friends had come down from Auckland for the weekend and the Float Day, and I had a couple of friends in Hamilton who joined us for drinks, too. That night I met a pretty girl in a bar and we started talking. Turned out, the only girl that I thought was hot in the whole of Hamilton was engaged and a devout Christian. She didn’t drink alcohol either, so two sober people sat in a bar in Hamilton late that night and discussed the pros and cons of religion without getting annoyed. When she argued prayer, God and faith, I offered energy, coincidence and quantum mechanics. I liked her. I just didn’t like what she believed in. Still, she offered to pray for me to find a new wife and added, oddly, that she would pray for me to receive a specific amount of money.

When I had told Caroline, the hypnotherapist, how much I needed to cover the basic costs of this trip she had said I would get twice that amount. The next day the Mental Health Foundation had given me that exact amount. And I’d just heard from Dad, before heading out that night, that the money had gone into my account. And it was the exact amount my new Christian friend had said she would pray for me to receive. There’s a very strange coincidence, but I do believe it was just another coincidence.

The final thing she said she’d pray for sent a chill down my spine. ‘I also want to pray for you to have strength when you come across that boy that died today.’

Earlier that day I had been told about the death of a young boy in Huntly. He had been jumping off the bridge into the Waikato River, having a great time like Kiwi kids do every summer. Hell, I had already jumped off two bridges into the river on this trip. I could imagine the fun he and his mates were having. The last jump he made, he landed on one of his friends. I assume he was knocked out and dragged under by the strong current. So far searchers had been unable to find his body. It saddened me greatly because he was just a young boy having a good time.

I didn’t know what to think about what my new friend had just said to me, and I wasn’t going to be in Huntly until Monday. I was at least three days away. Surely someone would find the body before then? I felt uneasy and it was time to go. I left the bar with my friends and we went back to our accommodation to catch some sleep.

Saturday was a good day—a day of rest. It was a day off paddling!