A flight into the Siberia Valley, followed by a hike through a canyon lined with waterfalls and then an adrenaline-fueled ride on a jet boat.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
The plane settles out of the air between steep mountains in the middle of nowhere. From the second-row seat, I can’t see whatever the pilot is aiming for. All I can do is sit back and try not to distract him.
As the ground rises, I brace myself for a rough landing, but the pilot settles in with the experienced nonchalance of someone who has made this bush landing many times before.
We come to a bumpy stop in an alpine meadow, and our aviator announces, “Welcome to the Siberia Valley.” What a welcome it has been. We took off from an unimproved grass strip so close to the local highway that it looked like the plane was landing on the road when it arrived. We bounced our way down the uneven patch of grass and were airborne on a beautiful autumn day.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
From the village of Makarora, we flew thirty minutes into Mount Aspiring National Park. And I meant into. We did not fly over the mountains but through the valleys between them. Perilously steep rock walls reached skyward as the pilot picked his way between them. Giant waterfalls cascaded from above our heads down to the valley floor hundreds or even a thousand feet below.
We circled Crucible Lake’s high alpine waters and watched as glacier-fed rivers flowed over cliffs to fall into the lake. The water was the unreal turquoise blue produced by the fine sediment suspended in the liquid after generations of glaciers wearing away at rock. It looked so inviting, but long experience has taught us that despite how welcoming it looks, it holds an icy surprise for anyone bold enough to venture in.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
I planned to make this trip two days earlier, but the weather precluded that attempt. These bush pilots who fly up into the Southern Alps, land there, and then take off again are a hardy breed of unflappable aircraft wranglers, but they know their limits. As they say, “There are old bush pilots, and there are bold bush pilots, but there are no old, bold bush pilots.”
The delay has worked for us as the weather has improved, and the clouds have broken up during the intervening 48 hours. Today we expect a comfortable temperature, no rain, and a little sun — a near-perfect day to spend in one of the more remote parts of New Zealand.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
We stood in the valley and marveled at the mountains rising into the clouds. The pilot had unpacked us from a flying machine that did not look designed to carry three people over six feet tall. Yet, our guide knew how to make it work.
After unloading our gear, the pilot briefly introduced us to the valley and the trek ahead. We would hike the vale for three hours and then meet a jet boat to take us downriver and back to town. I hoped it would be a day with enough excitement to entertain hard-to-please teens and their nature-loving parents.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
The first part of our journey involved fording the wide mountain stream that separated the reasonably flat stretch of grass that served as a landing field from the trailhead. The broad stream was only knee-deep for the taller among us and deeper for the others. The water looked invitingly clear with the subtle blue color we recognize as the product of glacier runoff. But that beautiful glacial color also meant the water was glacially cold.
We peeled off our shoes and socks, tied them to our packs, rolled up our trouser legs, and waded into the sluggish current. The beautiful water was just a couple of degrees above freezing. Within seconds, our feet cramped painfully and went numb, making it all the more difficult to cross the water quickly and all the more expedient that we do.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
With numbed yet painful bare feet, we picked our way over the smooth rocks in the stream bed. No one wanted to fall and end up with any more of themselves in that icy stream than necessary. Yet, we didn’t want to spend more time in the now painful water than necessary.
On the far shore, we congratulated ourselves on a successful crossing as we dried our feet and replaced our socks and shoes. Then we set out on the hike, which warmed us back up.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
The Siberia Valley is a flat green basin cut irregularly by a meandering stream of impossibly blue water. It’s bordered on the sides by sheer ridges that rise vertiginously.
Like the water, we flowed down the trail in our own rhythm.
Long white plumes of water showered over the top of the ridge and down the side to eventually reach the valley below. They joined with the river and finally found their way back to the ocean from which the water came uncounted years ago.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
We arrived at the boat landing a little ahead of schedule. Danielle was already waiting for us. The “landing” is just a small indent in the shore that she nuzzled the nose of the jet boat into. She had to keep the engine running to keep it in place, or else the current would sweep away our ride home.
Danielle wasn’t what I expected from a jet boat driver. She is a soft-spoken, petite young blond woman in a down jacket that was as big as she was. Don’t let that fool you, Danielle knows how to drive a jet boat, and in this place, she needed to.
Before moving to New Zealand, I equated jet boats with speed and racing. That may be true, but here they are a necessity. The rivers are often wide but shallow, like the Platte River in Nebraska. Because of the lack of depth, traditional outboard motors can’t operate here because there isn’t enough depth for the propeller. The jet boat needs only a few inches of water to float and thus can cross the shallowest sheets of water.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
Just because it can cross narrow bands of water doesn’t mean it is easy in this remote location. The river’s water meanders drunkenly through a much wider valley, requiring a good knowledge of the main channel’s many quirks to navigate it successfully. We made radical turns at speed to stay on the correct path several times — very exhilarating. We thrilled at the 360-degree turns that are the trademark of New Zealand jetboats.
The ride was fast and exciting. Several times, we skimmed so close to rocks sticking out of the river or skidded over rapids that I felt certain I would be swimming the rest of the way back. But Danielle handled all this with the same practiced nonchalance we had seen with our bush pilot. I guess that is just the way they grow them in this environment.
Photo by Charles Black and courtesy of Chuck Black Photography
We arrived back where we had started the trip but are now tired and satisfied. The fantastic views of the flight through the valley, the gorgeous hike, and the thrill of a jet boat skidding over an untamed river really did have something for everyone. Even the teens seemed in good spirits from our adventure.
If you want to visit the Siberia Valley, you can schedule your own Siberia Experience here.
