New Zealand by Mick & Linda Fitter

A DOUBTFUL EXPERIENCE

A wonderful sense of freedom was felt at the start of The New Millennium. Having recently been made redundant, husband Mick decided to join me in my happy life of leisure by taking early retirement at the beginning of anuary. Now the opportunity was here to do what we wanted, when we wanted and for as long as we wanted.
New Zealand quickly beckoned and on March 2nd we flew out to Auckland. Our general plans were to explore both North and South Islands having pre-booked a campervan for 6 weeks. This was to give flexibility of campsites and freedom camping. Additionally we had highlighted three spectacular areas where we intended to hire sea kayaks and camp in, hopefully, complete isolation.
A baggage limit of 20 kg each caused us some consternation. Our sea kayaking, camping, snorkelling and walking gear left little leeway for anything else. It's surprising what can be additionally squeezed into large bum bags and coat pockets to surreptitiously boost the cabin allowance. We positively sagged under the weight at Heathrow and Kuala Lumpur Airports!

We arrived in late summer. The weather was extremely pleasant - very warm and sunny. Care needed to be taken not to burn, as we were winter- white and the ozone layer is very depleted over New Zealand. Our initial direction was northwards to the Bay of Islands, named thus by Captain Cook in 1769 when he anchored "Endeavor" here in these beautiful clear waters. Natalie at "Coastal Kayakers" at Waitangi agreed to hire us two singles on an independent basis for a couple of days. We were to find there was always a degree of reluctance to hire, singles and not a double. On our part we were to always be reassured by the briefings and maps given for our suggested routes and the quality of the equipment on offer.
Two days later saw us loading our spacious "Puffins". After signing disclaimer forms and applying a liberal application of Factor 25 we launched. Oh joy to have a rudder!

Linda's joy stems from her recent experiences with her own new Pintail with a problematic skeg against a ackground experience with a ruddered boat. Natalie had been brilliant with provision of laminated charts, a written summary of the weather forecast for the next two days, tide details and local information on winds and sea conditions. It was ideal paddling in F2 SW wind and a slight sea as we paddled out to Tepeka Point through a series of reefs with a prominent navigation light. As we turned the point to go south we immediately lost the protection of the land and now faced a larger swell due to the change in wind direction from the SE. Navigation was however straight forward and we had a magnificent open crossing with views of islands all around. At about the half way point we became the attraction for tourist cameras as a splendid looking schooner passed us in full sail.

Our lunch stop was on Motuarohia Island. Captain Cook landed here and took his first steps on N.Z. soil. Following a slight skirmish with the resident Maori tribe, he was allowed to explore.
We followed in his footsteps to the top of the hill, squelching in our neoprene boots. The views in every direction were spectacular - steep rugged cliffs open to the deep blue Pacific swell; distant islands in the subtropical haze; sheltered bays with white sandy beaches leading into a glorious gently rippled turquoise sea; calm, circular lagoons and the green mainland across the strait. In fact, things that dreams are made of. Both of us felt incredibly privileged to be standing there.

We stayed too long! By the time we were back on the water the predicted afternoon wind had got up and the next three hours were a laborious slog into a force 4 wind with a choppy sea and a growing number of white horses. We stayed well off shore from the string of islands - it was a toss up between a bit of protection from the land or a shorter distance. A concerned fisherman motored up to us to make sure we were all right.

Camping is strictly controlled in the Bay of Islands by the D.O.C. [Department of Conservation] and only permitted on Urupukapuka Island. A thriving Maori community once lived here and numerous archaeological sites are visible. The camping area was delightful. Totally empty, a grassy stretch straight off the beach and just a tap and an Honesty Box to pay our site fee.
The presence of giardia in the water is unfortunately very common in all the National Parks in N.Z. so we had brought plenty of water with us to avoid the need of having to boil it and waste fuel. No one is allowed to camp here unless they bring a loo with them so Natalie had supplied us with a "poo tube". This was a short section of plastic drainpipe with screw ends, which she said she had never yet opened on its return to her and never intended to! It did seem empty on shaking it but we never opened it either to find out!

This was camping at it's best. Mick aired his whole body in the last of the sun, the evening meal was eaten ravenously, the notorious sand flies kept their distance and as darkness descended, the Southern Hemisphere Heavens displayed its half of the wonderful magnitude of what is above us, the equivalent of which is no longer seen in England due to light pollution. Even Mick leaving the beer behind in the campervan didn't spoil this. We slept very soundly.

The weather the following day was cloudier with a strong F4 SE causing many white horses and a one metre swell between the string of islands and the main land. Our 22 Km route back to base showed our surroundings from a different perspective and Linda and I made very good time surfing all the way to our lunch stop on Longbeach near Russell. The surf was a bit tricky with larger than preferred dumping waves and during lunch we found that we were fixated on the wave pattern trying to figure out how we were to have a dry re-entry. The launch was timed to perfection and we headed out to Tepeka Point, looking different to yesterday and very intimidating. Large breaking waves and a heightened rolling swell were now crashing over the reef making the route between the headland and the reefs impossible. A character building experience was "enjoyed" in skirting the reefs in seas that we had been told could be lively, before entering the calmer water in the bay leading to Paihia. With a following swell we surfed and made fast progress.

As we came into land we viewed the headland on our right with its flagpole marking the grounds of The Treaty House. It was here in1840 that Maori chiefs and Captain William Hobson, representing the British crown, signed The Treaty of Waitangi. Maori rights guaranteed by it have seldom been upheld and the constant struggle for recognition continues.

In the grounds is a Maori war canoe carved out of two kauri trees and capable of carrying 80 warriors. Kauri are one of the world's largest trees and can grow for 2000 years. European loggers cut down most of them but those that survived are now protected.

Two weeks further on and we had crossed The Cook Strait on the ferry to South Island. The guidebook describes Abel Tasman National Park as having a coastline with a succession of idyllic beaches backed by a rugged hinterland of native beech forests, granite gorges and waterfalls and inhabited by a multitude of wildlife. Ocean River Adventure Company were about to let us experience it all with their "Sea Kayak Freedom Rental". This stunningly beautiful area has an international reputation for walkers and paddlers. Apart from Sea Kayaking Symposiums, we have never seen so many kayaks out. Most were doubles in groups and most actually seemed to be resting on the beaches! 

The day had started at 0800 for Linda and me with a very commendable obligatory kayak handling and safety briefing for anyone hiring kayaks irrespective of experience. We launched at high tide with a F2 SW wind and decided to make the maximum progress along the coast of the Park by taking the open crossings between the many headlands. The coastline was stunning with rocky cliffs and sandy bays appearing very frequently. Some of the larger bays had sand bars and at high tides enabled entry to tree and mangrove encircled lagoons. The going was easy with little wind, slight water and minimal waves at the headland reefs. With so many landing spots available there was lots of flexibility in choosing a lunch spot and fortunately, as we paddled further away from the base at Marahau, there were fewer fleets of kayaks about. Further along, a cliff marker indicated the boundary of The Tonga Island Marine Reserve, famous for its fur seal colony, seabirds and plentiful protected fish. The lure of seals prompted a decision to make the 3Km crossing to Tonga Island but we soon found that we were facing a blasting head wind of paddle snatching force and wave chop that made progress exhaustingly slow. This local off shore afternoon wind was indicated on the chart. We were surprised to experience its suddenness and intensity and as a result we decided to abort the crossing. A heavy slog bought us into Tonga Quarry bay, which was to be our campsite for the night. About an hour later we were amazed to see two kayaks making good progress on the same crossing out to Tonga Island. Later they came into the bay and mentioned that they had not experienced any of the "local" winds illustrating just how localised these winds can be.

The D.O.C. camping area was an extension of the beach i.e. pure white sand, but under the trees. There was a self-composting loo and a couple of taps and picnic benches. Initially disappointed by this latter sophistication we were actually grateful as we could cook and eat away from sand level. 
The sand flies were very persistent here. I covered up, tucked everything in and wore my Scottish head net. Mick went for a snorkel amongst the rocks to escape. The clocks had gone back the previous night so it was completely dark by 7 p.m. We went to bed with the whisky. Needing a pee some time later I crawled out of the tent only to come face to face with a possum brightly illuminated by the full moon. Similar to a cat with a fox's brush it was totally unconcerned by my presence. Possum were introduced into N.Z. to try to deal with the out of hand rabbits, that, surprise surprise had been introduced into N.Z. Guess what! The possum are out of hand along with introduced stoats and feral cats [discarded pets], all of which are predators of the poor little extremely endangered native kiwi. We had been advised to put all our food in our kayaks overnight as many a tent has been bitten through by possum or mouse in search of a tasty morsel.

No wind next morning so Linda and I had an easy paddle out to Tonga Island.
We approached within inches of numerous fur seals that were positively lapping up the attention of a group of about a dozen single kayakers.
The seals almost seemed to be posing for the photo shots and their tameness was very different to the seals seen in Scotland and Wales. What a treat to smell their fishy breath!
With such a continuous performance it was difficult to tear ourselves away but we wanted to hug the longer coastline route. A scenic paddle close to the cliffs took us into numerous deserted sandy bays up to lunch.
Time was passing and we had to be back for 1600 so from here we took the open crossing route. We made good speed with a following SW wind and surfed along the infamous water of The Mad Mile, which was nice and bouncy (very different from the calm of yesterday). On the final reach past Gilbert Point we were overtaken by a raft of four sea kayaks being blown by a colourful square sail. A single kayak was also being pulled along at speed with a kite. They had obviously been here before and had the kit available. Food for thought.

Back at base we were brought tea and biscuits on a tray with a traycloth. Well, we were on holiday.

Another couple of weeks later and we were in the region of Fiordland, one of the world's last wildernesses, much still unexplored by man. It is the largest National Park in N.Z. and takes its name from the deep-sea tidal fiords, or sounds, which have been carved by glaciers. The walls of rock rise sheer from the water, in some places up to 3600 feet. An unbelievable 250 inches of rain fall here annually and as there is virtually no soil to soak it up, it all flows over the top as waterfalls. It is the second wettest place on earth. Mick and I were interested in Doubtful Sound. Captain Cook spotted it in 1770 but didn't enter, as he was "doubtful" of his ability to sail out again in the face of strong winds buffeted by the steep walls. Jo at "Adventure Charters" accepted our ability to cope in this difficult environment, one that was not to be taken lightly. The only way into the Sound from the land is by boat across Manapouri Lake to the massive hydroelectric power station and then by 4 W.D. over Wilmot Pass, so transport costs are unavoidably high. Self-sufficiency is essential here. We called into the office during the afternoon before we were due to go to find Jo distressed. That morning a local helicopter with five American tourists on board had flown straight into the power lines at the hydro plant and all on board had been killed. Her partner Reg had witnessed the accident and had spent the day helping with the dreadful clear up operation. The area was out of bounds while the power lines were repaired. Our expedition now seemed doubtful. However, that evening Jo kindly took the trouble to come and see us at our campsite. Things now looked more promising and we rescheduled everything for three days later.

At 8 a.m. we loaded gear and kayaks onto Reg's boat under clear skies. Five local paddling friends from nearby Invercargill were to share our transport and additionally they shared their knowledge of the Sound with us, which was later to prove invaluable. The two-hour journey to our starting point at Deep Cove was a pleasant one but it was drizzling by the time we launched in Doubtful Sound.
For the first time we needed to wear full waterproofs including our new and rather expensive Gortex "OR" rain hats purchased in Boston while visiting our son Graham.

Linda and I received strict instructions from Reg on the local weather and water conditions to be experienced in the sound. He required from us a detailed itinerary of our plans. The water exiting from the hydro plant was to be avoided at all times and the charts provided gave more useful information on water conditions to be found under certain wind directions. It was not long before the drizzle turned into proper rain and gusting winds were experienced as we rounded headland points within the sound.
The mountaintops on either side of the fiord were shrouded in fast moving cloud and the sky was all grey. Waterfalls appeared to descend from the clouds and it was fascinating to get so close to them at water level. The side of the fiord is rock coming almost vertically out of the extremely deep water in typical glacier created fiord structure. The sides were covered with broad-leafed trees whose roots cling to moss that in turn clings to the rock. This co-operative growth style is a characteristic of the fiords and due to the precarious nature of their existence, tree avalanches are frequent and leave long vertical scars up the sides of the mountains. Following a circumnavigation of a small island we paddled into Hall Arm and it continued to rain. 
Fortuitously at the last moment we had nabbed a tarpaulin from Reg and this was soon pressed into service at the lunch spot. We had experienced the use of a tarp during our kayak expedition to Newfoundland in 1999 where our guide Richard had undergone a "week long" course on tarp construction and deployment! His imparted knowledge on this now became invaluable. For a short while, a small, dark, dank, slimy, stony beach became a dry shelter during our sarny stop. 
We were to confirm that there were few landing points in the arm and we could not be choosey. More wind, rain and waterfalls characterised the paddle down to the end of Hall Arm with a sighting of a single seal. It was obviously not the right weather to entice the expected dolphins and other seals to surface. Shame, but if it were dry there would not be any waterfalls.

By about 4 p.m. we'd had enough of being on the water. The light was becoming really gloomy, the rain was sheeting down, we felt decidedly soggy and we were becoming chilled. The one campsite in this arm of the Sound was indicated on the map as being in the area of a long "beach" with a river. This had been definitely confirmed by our travelling companions who had been emphatic about which side of the river we should land. The pebbles were slippery and the tangled bush above the water line was impenetrable everywhere. We searched on foot for nearly half an hour for an entrance in and were beginning to get concerned. Then suddenly we found an opening right next to the riverbank. Under the trees there were small, flat stony areas suitable for pitching tents. With renewed energy we managed to get our heavily laden craft up through some scrub and securely tied them, as instructed by Reg, even though we seemed to be well above the water line. Thank heavens we had the tarp. It took some inspirational thinking to get it fixed up effectively using trees and a log for its anchor points, but once up, the boats were unloaded and all our kit was put under it. The sheeting rain was unceasing and we were quickly aware that puddles were forming everywhere. The river was only feet away from the site but it was only small in a good 50 feet wide channel. By now it was gone 5 p.m. It would be pitch dark by 6 p.m. and there would be no moonlight tonight to help us. The rain falling through the trees onto the tarp was streaming off it in torrents. Still wearing buoyancy aids and spray decks for extra warmth, Mick and I erected the tent without the inner getting too wet. Fortunately our meal was a tried and tested one so it could be cooked without having to think about it. Washing up was easy; each item was placed under a torrent coming from the tarp and the bits were pounded off!

We stripped off completely under the tarp and made a dive for the tent. Horribly damp we squirmed into dry thermals and sleeping bags and slugged at the whisky. Going to bed at about 7 p.m. so soon after a mug of soup and two mugs of tea creates a problem when it continues to pour with rain and leaving the tent is not on. So we just added to the existing puddle in the porch. Several times. Dropping off to sleep I realised something. Possum or mice were at this site because we had seen a bait holder - how they had got to this area is hard to imagine. Mick had taken the food back to the boats but I'd put a cake in the tent rear porch and forgotten about it. I got little sleep thinking about nibbled tents. Every rustle had sharp teeth.

Next morning we couldn't believe our eyes. The river was now a raging white water rapid from one bank to the other and had almost reached the top of the bank. We packed everything in the tent into drybags, relieved that the tent had not leaked. Our Terra Nova geodesic Quasar tent with "bath tub" ground sheet had certainly played its part admirably. As we dressed in our cold, wet clothes from yesterday it continued to pour. The OR rain hats were brilliantly dry and made a wet situation much more tolerable. Surface water everywhere was ankle deep and when Mick returned with our food from the boats he told me they were fully afloat and the cockpits were almost full to the top with rainwater. Thank goodness we had secured them or we may well have lost them on the tide. A substantial bowl of hot porridge cooked with dried apricots warmed us through and we broke camp. The tent had to be rolled up in what was now a lake and completely sodden it weighed a ton - I would not like to have been hiking out of this situation. Although Mick had already pumped the kayaks out they were rapidly filling again as we loaded. The raging river next to us was hitting the salty deep sound but the effect was fortunately minimal and caused no concerns with launching. On the positive side the morning paddle was an easy one and at least our bottom half was keeping dry under the spraydeck.

The numerous waterfalls of yesterday had been awe-inspiring. Today it was mind-blowing. There was now just a continuous cascade falling downward a couple of thousand feet right alongside of us as we silently glided along.
As we approached the main channel, the water surface ahead of us had changed and we knew we were to experience Cook's ricocheting wind.

The chart had warned of rough water conditions in a SW wind at the junction of Hall Arm and the main Sound and provided advise on crossing points. As we neared the entrance of the arm the wind gusting F4/F5 was creating some fierce waves across the arm and we decided to stop at the only landing point to monitor the conditions. The tarp was soon erected to provide some shelter from the pouring rain in direct view of the extremely troubled water. Two hours were spent watching the water and listening to the wind as it bounced off the sides of the sound. Both of us were getting colder and Linda resorted to doing physical exercises to keep warm. All of a sudden the wave pattern improved and we made a hasty departure. Fortunately the broadside waves were no longer breaking and the wind stayed favourable for most of the way before again returning to the SW. A final push enabled us to complete the mile crossing into more sheltered water. The wind and waves were now behind us and Linda experienced an illusion of paddling down a continuous steep hill enclosed on either side by vertical walls of the sound with a distant view of Deep Cove way below her. (Too much whisky the night before to drown out the noise of the rain bombs from the trees above could be a factor here).

The ride in the 4WD over the pass was comfortable and warm. The sun came out as we approached the hydro power station and the boat ride across Manapouri Lake was magnificent with a developing sunset - the very best we saw in N.Z. which was rather ironic under the circumstances!
The guidebook notes that an inch of rain an hour for 12 hours straight is not uncommon. I think we probably got pretty close to that. Mick looks back on our Doubtful Experience as being the highlight of our whole trip to N.Z. I prefer to regard it as the most memorable. There is a difference. 

Copyright © Linda and Mick Fitter 7.6.2000