When we bought Near River, we had river frontage, could hear water flowing day and night, and assumed water for farming would be straightforward. It wasn't. What followed was a crash course in water licences, uncooperative neighbours, and the unlikely genius of a water diviner who rolled up on a Sunday afternoon looking like he'd stopped at the pub on the way. This is the story of how a hole thirty-eight metres deep became the most valuable thing on the farm.