Hollyford Valley Trip report - Part 1 - The lead up

One early Sunday morning in October 2007, while crunching a bowl of cereal I first read an article in a boating magazine about a trip the author had taken with a mate and a group of Jet-boat enthusiasts to the remote Hollyford River in the Fiordland, South Island of New Zealand.

I’d been looking of an opportunity for an adventure holiday and there were 3 aspects of this trip that had me ready to book on the spot. Firstly the adventure aspect. The prospect of ripping along a shallow river at breakneck speed atop a thundering V8 Jet boat, dodging tree stumps and rocks sounded like the kind of adrenalin rush I love. The second attraction was the wilderness and nature aspect. A chance to get out of the city, see a beautiful part of the world, not too far to travel and to appreciate being outdoors for a while. The third and final clincher for the trip was actually presented as a problem for some, but was a bonus in my view that for 4 nights I would be out of range of all telecommunications, save for a VHF radio in the lodge! This to me meant that I would have no option but to switch off mentally and digitally and have no option but to be absorbed by the scenery and the excitement of it all.

In hindsight it does seem ludicrous that while regularly forking out to be connected via mobile phone and Internet access I was now ready to fork out more money for the luxury of being disconnected for a change.

The deposit was paid after confirming that my mate Rob was going to join me. The trip was not one of your run-of-the-mill tourist events. The article made it clear that this was a trip organised for NZ Jet boat enthusiasts and that only 2-4 places were available on application for each trip for those without their own Jet boat.

Having locked it in, the great part then was the lead up, or at least, so I thought. The trip did not start until April 2008 so we had 5 months to look forward to it. As married fellas with kids, this was something out of the ordinary. I later found out there is a word for it;

“Mancation” - A mancation is a getaway for the guys. The term is used for a vacation for men only, doing the kinds of things men like to do without their wives, girlfriends or mistresses. The term was originally used by Vince Vaughn’s character in the movie “The Break-Up”.

While this sounds like the sort of thing that ‘blokes’ should just do, we both knew that freedom comes at a price! Our liberated wives with a keen sense of marital equivalence would undoubtedly seek payback! The prospect of getting away from home and work and having fun was going to exceed the normal amount of ‘fun quota’ that a mid forties married guy was allowed in a year or two. For a while, we both wondered anxiously whether payment currency would be extracted in emotional (made to feel guilty) stress, equivalent time away (a “Womcation”?) or the easiest option of all, money spent on jewellery or accessories.

Rob’s wife Linda struck early (and hard) with an emotional barrage of guilt and probing motivational questions. Rob countered with the purchase of an overdue Eternity ring, which placated his situation for a while. My wife Julie seized the opportunity to take the Womcation option and headed off for a long weekend at the Hunter Valley with a group of girls. She later followed it up with a shopping trip to Las Vegas for a week with her friend Jenny who was on a conference.

A soon realised downside of the long lead time to the vacation for Rob was that Linda’s memory of the Eternity ring soon faded and the emotional barrage restarted. Pretty soon he was re-decorating, had booked a weekend in the city, spent the whole time shopping and ultimately bought his wife a new car. Arguably the car was for other reasons but all up, the women were undoubtedly winning with amassed costs of close to $100,000 and 13 days of Womcation in payback vs. the rather paltry $3500 it was costing each of us to go to NZ on our 6 day Mancation.

When the day finally came, we were like 2 excited kids going to Disneyland. Apprehension of jet-boating was however balanced by the memory of the equivalent price we had both paid to be there. This trip had better be bloody good! We both vowed to give less notice next time.