I’ve often joked that jetboating must be in my blood. My grandparents, Derry and Shona Mulligan, were exploring the South Island’s rivers in the 1960s and 70s, and my mother Prue joined them, later retelling their adventures with humour and a delightful glint of nostalgia.
But, while jetboating ran through the generations before me, I grew up more focused on sailing and spending time on dad’s many outboard boats. Jetboating experiences were limited to a handful of trips with mates during school and university days.
Later, my wife and I bought the first of our own outboards to make the most of family baches on Banks Peninsula and in the Marlborough Sounds, and we continue to spend many happy days exploring diverse parts of the South Island with the outboard alongside family and friends. Days on the water have become treasured family memories and many of these adventures and destinations have been covered in this magazine.
Life changed the day my eldest son, Hugh, arrived home unannounced towing a 3.4m ‘mini’ jetboat. Powered by a rattly, smoky and piercing two-stroke jet-ski engine, the Hydro Marine-built machine quickly earned the affectionate name Screaming Donkey. It was noisy, basic, and not entirely reliable, but it was also the spark. After a few trips on the Rakaia and Waimakariri Rivers, I was hooked. Not just on jetboating, but on the moments it created.
I joined the Canterbury Branch of Jetboating New Zealand (JBNZ) and was immediately impressed by the organisation’s professionalism, receiving significant resources in the mail and even a phone call from a National Committee member welcoming me to the group which traces its roots back to 1962. I found myself spending too much time viewing spectacular jetboating videos from YouTuber Ollie Sharpe (@Olliesjetboating) and others. I also had the opportunity to interview and learn from some of the sport’s most passionate figures while preparing jetboating articles for this magazine, people including Ollie, Jim Lapsley, Wayne ‘Goat’ McMillan, Joe Daly and Ross Goldsack, each one deepening my appreciation for the craft and the jetboating community.
When Hugh eventually sold Screaming Donkey to help fund his OE, I realised two things, a) I loved jetboating, and b) I needed a jetboat of my own.
I joined a Canterbury Branch trip on the Upper Rakaia River as a passenger and was immediately welcomed, and bombarded with friendly advice about what to buy, what to avoid, and everything in between. I subsequently explored the idea of a new build under the philosophy of “buy once, cry once,” and spoke with several incredibly helpful local manufacturers. However, as I already owned several other boats, it became clear that a second-hand boat was more realistic and appropriate. I began my search and bounced many questions off helpful JBNZ members.
Eventually, as often happens, the right boat found me, and I became the proud owner of a secondhand 4.45m Scott hull running a V8 Lexus engine and Scott 812 jet unit. I spent the next week equipping it with VHF radio, FirstAid kit, push poles (used to push a stuck boat) and toolkit. I also purchased a personalised JBNZ registration (TOM) and subscribed to the Outdoor Access service which provides access to webcams across the country that provide live updates of rivers, lakes and marine conditions. Finally, and most importantly, into the glovebox went one very special item, a small box containing some of my recently deceased mum’s ashes. She would have loved this boat and having her along for the adventures felt right.
Nearby boater and Canterbury Committee member Andy Galbraith dropped by to look over the setup, offering reassuring feedback and advice. I enjoyed a number of early, albeit tentative, outings on the Rakaia and Waimakariri Rivers but then sat idly for weeks as a succession of floods, including the remarkable 5000cumec surge through the Rakaia that completely rearranged the riverbed, kept keen boaters like me stuck agonisingly on the shore.
I’ve learned that jetboating attracts an extraordinary range of people and boats, big boats, mini boats, river bashers, brand-new builds, steel, alloy and fibreglass hulls. There are inflatables, twostrokes, fourstrokes, V8s, sportjets and everything between. I’ve met farmers, accountants, builders, pilots, business owners and bankers and what I’ve learned from all this is simple: everyone is welcome, and no one cares what you drive.
It’s the rivers, the moments, the shared experiences, and the community that matter. For me, jetboating has become more than a hobby or pastime. It’s a connection to family, past, present, and future. And I know now, without doubt, that it truly is in my blood.
My first genuine full-day river run came during the Canterbury Branch’s pre-Christmas trip through the Waimakariri Gorge. The day was magical. Perfect weather, ideal river conditions, warm camaraderie and a sense, deeper than nostalgia, that Mum was right there with me. These were the same waters she and my grandparents had navigated more than 50 years before. Jetboating had come full circle.
Early in the new year, our family ventured south on holiday. The Matukituki River flowing into Lake Wanaka greeted sons Hugh, Gus and I with a bluebird day, the alps rising steep and sharp, the sun high over our heads, and the water crystal clear. We explored the Clutha River, between Lakes Dunstan and Wanaka, so deep, diverse and powerful. The Dart River proved more dramatic with Gus and I battling murky, hard-to-read water in the lower reaches. Then the wind arrived, ferociously. Thick plumes of dust and fine sand barrelled down the riverbed, creating a choking haze. Vision became almost impossible, and we were two very relieved rookies when we finally made it back to the clear, deep waters of Lake Wakatipu.
A later JBNZ run on the Waiau Uwha River in North Canterbury gave our middle son, Will, his first jetboating experience. On a brief trip home from work in Darwin, he was excited at the opportunity to finally give our ‘river monster’ a run and he was astonished to see more than 30 boats arrive at the launch point. I relaxed in the back as Hugh took the wheel from Waiau township downstream to the coast where we enjoyed a magnificent BBQ in spectacular surroundings. Will took the helm on the return trip, quickly getting to grips with operating the 300 horses in the back. As for me, well, I was content to watch my boys share something that had quickly become so meaningful to us all.
As well as the organised club trips, there have been many other magical trips with family and friends, further learning how to read the water, fix small problems and remain humble in my abilities. After all, the river will always be better than me.
