Chasing Waves in the Deep South

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Chasing Waves in the Deep South Claire Goldsworthy The intercom crackled advising passengers with vehicles to make their way to the vehicle deck. glanced at my watch - 1.50 am, Boxing Day morning. Ihad to be in Christchurch by 8am but was hoping to make it in time to stack some zzz's before we set off on the long drive to Southland. avid (an ex Tongue & Meat) had left a key out The tide was out by the time we finished breakfast. for me but I still felt like a thief as I crept into The sun appeared - a promising start but we soon the spare room and crawled under the covers. learned that Stewart Island's weather is fickle. A holiday Too soon a cheery voice penetrated my exhausted sleep, mode had descended upon the team though, and the saying that breakfast was ready. had managed less than weather and its idiosyncrasies were not about to spoil an hour's sleep. our party. At high tide we set out for the other side of David stared in horror at the luggage accumulating the inlet. Paddling close to the shore we explored the on the footpath outside his house. I felt inclined to ex- little coves around its edge. The sun made a pleasant plain about my genetic failing an inability to travel change from the previous day's conditions but as we light. To appease him, I left one small bag behind! We pulled into the jetty at Fred's Camp Hut a shower of flashed past Greg's house (another ex Tongue & Meat) rain sent us scurrying inside. and out to the airport to pick up Charlotte. The country- Debs was charged with scoring a fish off a couple of side raced past and by the end of the day we were at the blokes who had been diving in the area. The plan was Southland farm where we would meet the other two cunning: offer the lads a share of our delicious lunch. members of our party. Debs and Gill were waiting for The team considered it a fair swap for a fresh cod, but us and a pleasant evening was spent at their parent's the divers were happy to give away a couple of great farm. looking cod, refusing our offer of lunch. So it would be The morning saw us driving to Invercargill to catch a fresh fish for dinner what a treat! flight to Stewart Island. Everything was going well The afternoon's paddle was shaping up to be a grunt. until we tried to check in our gear for the flight across We hugged the shoreline as we headed up South West Foveaux Strait. After some negotiating we managed to Arm, admiring the rugged beauty - thel bush that grows secure passage for our mountains of gear on the next right down to the shoreline and the abundance of birdlife. three flights to the island. What a wonderful place! The map showed a channel The weather wasn't looking great but then that's not that would lead us to the mouth of the Rakeahua River unusual on Stewart Island. After a wander around where we planned to paddle to the boat landing and Halfmoon Bay while we awaited the arrival of the rest stay the night at Rakeahua Hut. of our gear, it was soon time to prepare for four days' The Rakeahua River was a treat indeed. The tranquil sea kayaking on Paterson Inlet. Last minute instruction waters provided the opportunity to relax and take in the from Innes, who hires outl kayaks at Stewart Island, saw beauty around us. Groundings were common and much us on our way. We had three Southern Light kayaks; effort was required to extract our boats from the oozy these two-person boats were perfect for our party due river mud. Side creeks provided a great diversion and to thel large gear stowage capacity. We teamed up: David David andl were keen to explore some of these. One in and 1; Greg and Charlotte, and Debs and Gills. particular caught our eye and we eased our boat into it, The plan - not a grand plan but achievable nonethe- paddling slowly. It soon narrowed to the point where if less was to follow the shoreline to Dynamite Point we didn't turn around we would have to back-paddle and zip across Paterson Inlet to Fred's Camp Hut at the our way out. We agreed that a careful turn was on. But mouth of South West Arm for the night. It sounded sim- alas, we discovered that at that point the creek was exple enough but the weather gods had other ideas. We actly as wide as our boat was long! With the rudder noticed a deterioration in the weather soon after setting raised we had to turn the boat without the benefit of out to cross the inlet. For half an hour we paddled assistance in steering. With the nose imbedded in one strongly into the southerly front, gritting our teeth against creek bank and the tail in the other we had a slight probthe driving rain and wind. The conditions were tiring lem. But quitters we are not and after much hilarity, a and as the waves broke over our bows we were reduced little swearing and a series of orders barked from David, to a barely perceptible crawl. as rear paddler, the boat was freed and we headed back A change of plan was called for we turned our to the river, great chunks of creek mud adorning our boats around and raced for the safety of Sawdust Bay. A craft fore and aft. 3-sided DOC shelter under the canopy of trees became David and I became adept at cruising up beside one home for the night. What a godsendi A superb three- of the other boats and swiftly and silently lifting their course dinner revived us but the rain continued until rudder out of the water as we passed. This act ensured the next morning. our escape as we aimed a few paddle splashes in their Tramping and Mountaineering 1998

Cruising on Paterson Inlet Greg Ord direction before paddling furiously away. Our exuber- simple: ditch the climb! Wrestling with our consciences ance saw the other crews maintaining a respectful dis- for a minute or two, we settled down for a leisurely tance. breakfast, casting aside anyl lingering feelings of guilt as Just when we thought we must have passed thel land- the smell of pancakes massaged our nostrils. ing, Debs spotted a signpost. Wel beached thel boats and Loading the boats proved to be more troublesome clambered onto a grassy terrace. The hut was five min- than emptying them the previous evening. David and utes' walk along a muddy track and an advance party Greg exhibited some particularly impressive ballet skills raced off to checki it out. They soon returned with word as they balanced precariously on thin pieces of wood of hordes ofl hairy-legged trampers and not a spare bunk spread across an oozing, smelly bog. Eventually thel boats in sight. Trampers we were not on this trips so the grassy werel loaded and we paddled off on the glassy, dark surterrace became our home for the night. face. The team discussed the weather prospects but was The fresh cod were filleted and boned by the unable to reach agreement on a likely forecast. Depend- Southland farm girls (who are used to that kind of thing). ing on which direction we looked, the options seemed Fresh fish was a treat indeed and complemented our limitless blue sky to the north; patchy blue sky to the dinner menu superbly. Stewart Island's southerly loca- west; dark threatening clouds to the south; and gloomy tion means that it stays light till very late SO we never low cloud to the east. Quite a mosaic! made it to bed before the early hours. This, and our Once back in the South West Arm we discovered that inability to get up early in the morning, usually meant the wind was now at our backs perfect for a bit of that we missed the tides. sailing, we agreed. Rigging up David's tent fly as a sail Another plan was borne over a late night drink: the should have been a straightforward exercise but with team would rise early (at least by 9.00 am after all, three engineers amongst our team, we could have padwe were on holiday!) and prepare to ascend the mighty dled the length of the Arm faster than it took to get ourpeak of Mt Rakeahua. The plan was simple but would selves organised. But they were determined to succeed involve the team stealthily creeping past Rakeahua Hut and eventually we sat back waiting for the wind to catch (in order not to alert the occupants) before launching a our "sail". Ironically, the fickle Stewart Island wind had swift and brutal assault on the appointed peak. Later we almost dropped completely, although we could see it retired to our tents to prepare for the mission. ruffling the surface 100 metres away. There was great Rising early (8.55 am) we realised that our breakfast excitement when a light breeze brought our makeshift menu for the day included pancakes. This produced a sail tol life and enthusiastic shouts when the sail billowed dilemma how could we prepare, cook and eat our and the three boats began to glide along. pancakes and still have enough time to top out on Mt A couple of places on the mapl looked interesting and Rakeahua? There was, of course, the likely mud encoun- we werel keen to explore the many bays and coves beter to add to this equation. The solution was quick and fore heading for Prices Inlet for the night. Suddenly a Tramping and Mountaineering 1998

Debs and Gill heading for lunch at Fred's Camp Hut Claire Goldsworthy small dark creature surfaced several metres in front of Pancakes and maple syrup revitalised the team next ourl boat. "There's a penguin, "Icalled excitedly. It ducked morning and we were soon packed and ready to move below the surface and the others scoffed unceremoni- on. The plan was to return to Thule Bay via the many ously. We stopped paddling and surveyed the area in coves along thes shoreline. Wel headed further into Prices the hope of seeing it resurface. As luck would have it Inlet, stopping to explore an old whalers' base and the the penguin reappeared, this time right in front of our many relics that had been left behind. We ventured a bow. Itseemed unconcerned byour presence andi litwas short distance up a couple of creeks before retreating a real treat when we spotted several more penguins due to shallow water. Crevices in the rockface also pronearby. vided opportunities for exploration and we paddled into The afternoon was wearing on and although it wasn't some, disappointed we couldn't go further. far to Prices Inlet, the headwind was certain to slow us There remained the issue of one last event to comdown. Hugging the shoreline, we left the shelter of plete our Stewart Island sea kayak trip: the obligatory Dundas Bay and battled into the wind and choppy seas. water fight. The rules were discussed and agreed - - there We rounded the point and there before us was the pic- would be no rules although everyone would be given turesque Prices Inlet. Our voices echoed in the peaceful the opportunity to stow their cameras prior to the first surroundings and we beached our boats near the public splash. Wet figured that it was wise to conduct the water shelter. fight before entering Thule Bayi in case Innes was watch- And an impressive shelter it was. Large, open... per- ing from the shore. With a few hundred metres to go, fect for six paddlers and all their gear. We planned to David declared war and the fight began. It was all on! sleep on thel bench seats around the sides of the shelter Direct splashes in thet face were allowed and before long but before long we discovered that the Prices Inlet there was not a centimetre of dry skin amongst the ensandflies were particularly ferocious. Dark clouds of the tire team. beasts descended upon us as we arrived. This would As we entered Thule Bay a solitary figure in white never do, we decided. Thel bush, although beautiful, was gumboots watched from the boatshed, awaiting our arboggy, So Plan B was thrust into action: to erect our rival. Itl had been an excellent trip with a great bunch of tents - complete with insect screens inside the shel- people. ter. So home sweet home, dinner on, and G & Ts all round completed the scene for the last night of our Kayakers: David Humm, Greg Ord, Charlotte Russell, kayaking adventure. Debs Crowe, Gill Crowe, and Claire Goldsworthy. Tramping and Mountaineering 1998