I started at the Blue Spring near Pūtāruru, one of the sources of the Waihou River. It is incredibly pure and startlingly blue - so pure that more than half all bottled water in New Zealand comes from this single source.
Yet by the time it reaches Te Aroha, the Waihou ranks in the bottom ten in two of the Ministry for the Environment's river health league tables. It has the 3rd worst ranking for nutrient health, and the 7th worst for recreational water quality.
The contrast is marked. At Blue Spring, trout are clearly visible cruising around against the white gravel bottom, between beautiful almost coral-like freshwater plants. Kevin, one of the locals showing me around, has snorkled this section and reckons there are good size koura (freshwater crayfish) in the vegetation near the banks.
But Blue Spring emerges in farmland, and the water flows into one of the most intensively farmed catchments in the country. As we followed the Waihou downstream by car and then kayak, it became increasingly discoloured.
Heavy rain on Sunday morning had washed all the crap off the land and into the river. By the time I launched my kayak from the Te Aroha boat ramp with Bill, another local, the river was solid brown, full of sediment and dotted with great mats of weed. At times the stench of cow effluent hung over the river.
After marvelling at the clarity of the Blue Spring source, I now tried desperately not to get any water in my mouth.
The swollen river meant a good speed down the river, with branches and plastic bottles zipping past. Willows along each side - a snagging trap to be avoided at first - gave way to grassy banks and livestock.
The fencing out of stock was intermittent at best. Permanent fences were present in some places, but often fencing was limited to a single wire. Still more had no fencing at all.
The recent presence of stock right up to and even in the water was evident. One cow was actually in the river as we passed. Most of the limited fences were set right up against the river bank, which was heavily eroded at times. Occasionally, the fence dropped right into the river.
It was clear fencing was doing little to prevent direct effluent and erosion from the animals.
The absence of natural forest cover was frankly depressing.
Here and there a few kahikatea could be seen, a mere scrap of the once great kahikatea forest that covered the Hauraki Plains. A few flax bushes were visible where someone had taken the trouble to do a bit of riparian planting. But a bit of real forest shelter would have been welcome as the rain squalls passed!
About five years also, the Matamata Piako District Council included a rule in their district plan for a 20m wide kaitiaki (conservation) zone on either side of the river, a zone which would allow stabilisation of the banks through re-vegetation.
Of course Federated Farmers opposed this, and challenged the rule through the Environment Court.
The negotiations continue, and while they do, the Waihou benefits from precious little riparian vegetation other than low lying shrubs and grasses.
Two and half hours after setting out, Bill and I pulled out under a bridge on the Paeroa Tahuna Road, and scrambled up to the road..
As the traffic rushed passed I thought how too often, we don't even see our rivers.
Rivers like the Waihou have become almost invisible. Instead, we race over the top of them on bridges. Our cities and towns are rarely oriented towards rivers. Instead they are tucked away from the town centre, out of sight and out of mind.
And it's no wonder - they are in pretty bad shape. Full of waste, agricultural and industrial pollution, and rubbish, lacking the abundance and diversity of fish, birds, shellfish and crayfish that once filled them with life.
It doesn't have to be this way. Imagine instead a corridor of kahikatea from the Blue Spring to the Firth of Thames, restoring some of the massive lowland forest we have destroyed. Imagine a cycleway through it producing jobs and enjoyment. Imagine swimming in the Waihou safe from the risk of contamination.
We can restore some of our lost rivers, and we can do it in our lifetime, bringing back absent birds and fish. But we need to start now.
