So after the excitement of Queenstown, it was time to say goodbye to Al and continue my anti-clockwise circuit of the South Island. Initially I'd planned to mostly use up the free time with the Around the Mountains cycle route but I was just too curious about the parts we'd never seen on the previous trip, so instead I drove slowly on empty roads from Te Anau back down through Manaoupori and then on the Scenic Highway route towards Invercargill through the bottom of Fiordland National Park. It was scorchingly hot and sunny, cycling would have reduced me to a crisp even with Factor 50. The rural road to Clifden was very pleasant, mostly through sheep paddocks and farmland reminiscent of Hampshire or Dorset.
All of the settlements here look to be suffering from rural depopulation though - sheep farming just isn't paying any more. Clifden therefore seemed a bit premature as a night stop, and I eventually drove miles down a gravel track to Lake Hauroko, New Zealand's deepest lake and the start of the Tuatapere Hump Track. Had I but known, I could have joined the 90 people running the track in the annual event that takes place there, but I was oblivious to that and instead set my tent up for the night in a lovely grassy two acre paddock with four or five other families a little way back up the road from the lake. The bush beside the lake is extremely dense - well it's the Rowallan Forest Conservation Area - and quite forbidding, a bit like dense Forestry Commission pine forests tend to be in Wales. The campsite however was lovely and I had a perfect night's sleep, waking to the dawn chorus of unfamiliar NZ birds the next morning.
It's something of a surprise that the weather can be so consistently good after all the reports of the wash-out summer in NZ. After breakfast I spend the day exploring the coast on Hwy 99 and experiencing the winds of the Foveaux Straits for the first time. Other than bungey-cording the Trangia to the picnic tables of the scenic lookouts I stopped at, I have no good solution for making coffee in this area. While other tourists stopped to take pictures of the turquoise sea breaking on perfect beaches far below I'd be chasing the lid of the kettle around the parking area or retrieving the frying pan from the bushes.
Evetually I reached Invercargill in the late afternoon and I have to say, it was the antithesis of the place I was expecting to like on first acquaintance. It's so spread out! It sprawls out for twenty minute's drive in all directions when it could in the UK be condensed to a place the size of Horsham in West Sussex. I gave up on it quite rapidly and only returned for a room after an evening at Stirling Point's Oyster Cove restaurant, watching the ebb and flow of visitors to the famous finger post sign in at the end of State Highway 1.
Tuesday, 9 February 2016
Saturday, 6 February 2016
Made it to Sunshine Bay!
Well what a week we had - still digesting the experience. It's going to take a while to catch up with diary for the paddling bit and it deserves separate entries because each day was so different. Not surprisingly we got the whole gamut of different weather conditions apart from snow. I think there was one day when I forgot to turn the tracker on but for the rest of the days I was fairly dilligent. We were lucky to spend the night with the heaviest rain at Gut Hut, a DOC building on Secretary Island. But as anticipated by the end of the first day we were pretty wet but free from sandfly bites, soon put right by a night under canvas in temperate rainforest.
The kayaking was tranquil and elemental by turns. When the breeze fell, it was very humid, with long white streamers of cloud hanging in each valley we paddled into. When the sun shone onto these, the humidity really made itself felt. Al and I decided that by day three, the closest approximation could be achieved thus:
We had an insect shelter to eat in under a large tarp suspended between ancient beech trees but it didn't make much difference in terms of bites - we were pretty much swarmed within minutes of landing. Individually the bites are less irritating when they occur than those of mosquitoes but the effects are cumulative; it is difficult to concentrate on any task when twenty or thirty sandflies are biting you at once. Fortunately I had long sleeves, sailing fingerless mitts, and a headnet but the latter was pretty difficult to see through.
On the plus side, the group dynamics were excellent and we all worked really well together and genuinely revelled in the experience. The paddling and the isolation were fantastic - we didn't see other people or boat traffic for days at a time. Each night saw us camping in the most fecund rain forest environment environment, with extraordinary biodiversity and tremendous mountain vistas - and wika birds the size of spaniels trying to raid our food supplies.
It was all great - I was particularly lucky to be paddling with Al who has a inexhaustible supply of good stories and expertise in paddling in more challenging environments. The double kayaks themselves were a really good choice for the trip - very reassuring to paddle in terms of stability, pretty fast in the water, and with ample packing space. Even when paddling in force four conditions with the waves being whipped into spray around us, we both felt entirely at home and relaxed as we batted through the waves and bent to the task of keeping the kayak moving efficiently through the water.
Keith our guide deserves a special mention for being such good company on the trip. His knowledge of the area and its history and wildlife is immense and he's an excellent trip leader - never sharing any stress he may have felt when conditions got really rough but very in tune with the environment and our route through it. I'd highly recommend Fi and Keith and Go Orange to anyone contemplating doing a similar trip in this outstanding area of natural beauty - the equipment and organisation were first rate.
And the day after the trip on the water finished Al and I did make it to Sunshine Bay, even finding time to tale in a bungy jump too to round the trip off...
The kayaking was tranquil and elemental by turns. When the breeze fell, it was very humid, with long white streamers of cloud hanging in each valley we paddled into. When the sun shone onto these, the humidity really made itself felt. Al and I decided that by day three, the closest approximation could be achieved thus:
- You'll need a giant waterproof plasma TV showing stunning scenery of course...
- Turn the heater on in your bathroom and get it up to about 25 degrees in there so that it is good and steamy
- Run a cold bath and climb in, wearing all your paddling gear and a 4mm Farmer John wetsuit (handy because it keeps the sand flies off your lower body)
- Empty in all food you'll need for a week and a good shopping bag's worth of garden mulch/compost and stir around
- Now turn the shower on periodically and watch your hands and feet slowly turn white and puffy from immersion
We had an insect shelter to eat in under a large tarp suspended between ancient beech trees but it didn't make much difference in terms of bites - we were pretty much swarmed within minutes of landing. Individually the bites are less irritating when they occur than those of mosquitoes but the effects are cumulative; it is difficult to concentrate on any task when twenty or thirty sandflies are biting you at once. Fortunately I had long sleeves, sailing fingerless mitts, and a headnet but the latter was pretty difficult to see through.
On the plus side, the group dynamics were excellent and we all worked really well together and genuinely revelled in the experience. The paddling and the isolation were fantastic - we didn't see other people or boat traffic for days at a time. Each night saw us camping in the most fecund rain forest environment environment, with extraordinary biodiversity and tremendous mountain vistas - and wika birds the size of spaniels trying to raid our food supplies.
It was all great - I was particularly lucky to be paddling with Al who has a inexhaustible supply of good stories and expertise in paddling in more challenging environments. The double kayaks themselves were a really good choice for the trip - very reassuring to paddle in terms of stability, pretty fast in the water, and with ample packing space. Even when paddling in force four conditions with the waves being whipped into spray around us, we both felt entirely at home and relaxed as we batted through the waves and bent to the task of keeping the kayak moving efficiently through the water.
Keith our guide deserves a special mention for being such good company on the trip. His knowledge of the area and its history and wildlife is immense and he's an excellent trip leader - never sharing any stress he may have felt when conditions got really rough but very in tune with the environment and our route through it. I'd highly recommend Fi and Keith and Go Orange to anyone contemplating doing a similar trip in this outstanding area of natural beauty - the equipment and organisation were first rate.
And the day after the trip on the water finished Al and I did make it to Sunshine Bay, even finding time to tale in a bungy jump too to round the trip off...
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