After the paddling - a family history addendum

After spending the night at Saint Arnaud on Lake Rotoiti, I had a long day’s drive all the way to my father’s birthplace, Port Chalmers, near Dunedin, going via the kayak shop in Christchurch to drop off all the gear. On the way, I listened to the Matinee Idol show on Radio NZ National, as I had a number of times over the past weeks. It was hilarious - great, gentle, understated Kiwi humour: from the hosts but also from the myriad listeners who had written in to explain why they each deserved to receive one of the show's prized t-shirts!

Port Chalmers cat - pat me!

Port Chalmers rainbow

Port Chalmers by night

So I made it to Port Chalmers at around 6 pm. What a great little place - still a fully working port and still plenty of council housing around. It’s obviously not a wealthy place and it still has an authentic feel to it. I walked around the Iona church (where my grandparents were married and, I’m sure, my father christened) and met a very friendly black-and-white cat which reminded me of Ruby. I picked it up and it sat in my arms with its paws over my shoulder, purring. I visited the Old Cemetery - such an Old World feel to the place and I didn’t find it spooky at all, unlike during my previous visit in 2002! I couldn’t find John Buckley’s gravestone. It started absolutely bucketing down while I was there but I stayed completely dry by standing under a thick-boughed larch tree. As I drove off, I saw that the cat had retreated to the verandah of the house and was sitting there on a sofa, snoozing. 

I stayed at a place called The Gables which was just brilliant - found it on the NZ Holiday Homes website and managed to get it for 1 night. The decor was a bit dated in places but that just added to its charm, and it had a new kitchen and bathroom. At around 10 pm, with the last light still in the sky, I drove down to the centre of town and called Nadia from a phone booth in front of the museum - there was a chill wind blowing through the gap at the bottom of the booth the whole time. The next morning dawned bright and clear and I lay in bed for a while as the sun shone through the window into the quaint bedroom. I sat out in the backyard eating breakfast, sipping on my coffee. It was bright, clear and cold! The view from the backyard was lovely - across town to Iona church and its tolling bell. The backyard itself was crowded with flowers and veggie patches. I sat for a long time, watching as the clouds sped across the blue sky, the sunshine coming and going beneath their shadows. What a sense of belonging I had there! And such a cold, blustery North Atlantic feel to the place. How blessed the sunshine was and how beautiful the birdsong! There was simply a quiet, determined, eternal presence there, washing away everything but peace and happiness.

View from The Gables

5 Scotia St - Dad's birthplace - in middle

Careys Bay on drive to Aramoana

I left The Gables and drove into town but the museum wasn’t open yet, so I took the road to Aramoana, at the end of the headland. It was achingly, exquisitely beautiful and I vote it (actually, the whole Port Chalmers area) officially my favourite place in all of this long land. The drive was so scenic - only 10 km but hugging the shoreline of Otago Harbour - and Aramoana with its white sands was just beautiful. The drive could’ve been in Scotland, along the shores of a sea loch somewhere in the Western Highlands (minus the midges).

Old Cemetery, Port Chalmers

Back in Port Chalmers, I dropped in on the museum and got some family history help from the man there. I subsequently found the plot in the Old Cemetery where John Buckley (and his wife Emily Mary) were buried - no sign of the gravestone. I also drove up to the New Cemetery to where my other great-great-grandparents, the Stevensons, are buried, then on to the Scott Memorial at the top of the hill. All-in-all, it’s such a lovely, peaceful, authentic place - I’m captivated by it. I drove out through Dunedin and felt again like I was in Scotland, with its dark stone architecture and Burns statue in the centre of town. Port Chalmers would be the perfect place to live … except for the climate and weather! I drove from there to Lumsden, stopping at Lake Waihola for lunch. At Lumsden I found the graves of great-grandparents George James Hampton and his wife Mary - moss had grown on them since I’d been there last time 11 years ago. Then it was on to Dipton and this time I crossed the river to Dipton West and found the school and the Anglican church - the latter featured in a photo Dad took in 1975 during their trip “down south”.

Anglican church, Dipton

This little trip-within-a-trip was not only a family history quest but also a kind of repeat of 2002, somehow reconnecting with that memory too. It’s been just wonderful - I’ve felt such a sense of belonging in this remote corner of the world, where all of my paternal ancestors emigrated in the latter half of the 19th century.

Deluge in Bark Bay

Cable Bay fog

Rain, rain go away! Monday (2 days ago), I got up, had a shower, packed, cleaned up and left by 8:30am. Didn’t take long to get through the mountains and turn off to Cable Bay. The drizzle and clouds became a thick sea fog and meant there was no chance of kayaking safely. I sat for over half an hour, listened to the forecast but it didn’t lift at all so I gave up and left. I made a shopping stop in Nelson - felt strange being there without my darling Nadia. I rang the kayak shop I’d rented the kayak from and extended my rental by 2 days. I didn’t bother launching into Nelson Harbour. I continued on the well-worn route towards Marahau (we'd driven that road a number of times whilst staying in Nelson), got some boysenberries at the farm shop and finally launched from Marahau at 2pm. The sea was smooth, no wind, almost no swell, as I set off. After I rounded the first headland, the wind picked up, the water became ruffled. I paddled between Adele and Fisherman’s Islands and the mainland and continued northwards. The swell increased, as did the wind and it became less pleasant. The “mad mile” was like a washing machine coming up to Torrent Bay but I made it past and the rest up to Bark Bay was a bit calmer.

Bark Bay boats in the rain

So, I made it to Bark Bay OK. There was only a single yacht moored in the bay, which didn’t have an inflatable dinghy, so for a few moments I thought I might’ve been in the wrong place - until I noticed some masts through the trees, behind the sandbar, which looked solid and impassable at low tide. I beached the kayak and went and found Southern Belle. Mark, Tracey, George and Jess, a friend of George’s were keeping dry inside, as the drizzle continued. Tracey made me some cheese and tomatoes on crackers and we sat and talked for a while. I eventually went and set up my tent and got organised. It was all rather a drag due to the wet conditions.

Former bridge, Bark Bay

We spent the evening having dinner and drinking the Crackerjack shiraz I’d brought with me. I somehow dropped the punnet of boysenberries I’d also brought in but we managed to salvage them after some thorough washing. We listened to various forecasts, including the marine one on VHF channel 01. I eventually headed off to bed in my tent after 11pm. At around midnight, the heavy rain started and it didn’t stop until mid-morning, when it reverted to the ubiquitous drizzle. Often, during the night, I woke and lay there, amazed at how heavy the rain sounded, only for it to increase in intensity and become louder and heavier. The rain caused 2 nearby slips on the Abel Tasman Track and washed away the bridge in front of the Bark Bay waterfall. Most of the camping area was turned into a series of rivers, including a minor one under my tent. Somehow I managed to stay dry. At 7 am, after a toilet run in the heavy rain (my shorts were soaked within a few seconds of stepping out of the tent), I went to the boat and spent much of the day there, avoiding the persistent rain. George, Jess and I took the dinghy and rode over to have a look at the broken bridge and later on, when the rain finally eased in the afternoon, Mark, Tracey and I walked around to it.

Much of the talk during the day centred on the dastardly Mr. Jingles - a wee mouse that Mark had taken pity on and they’d all decided to keep on board as a pet. Unfortunately, he managed to leap out of the bucket they had him in and he disappeared into the bowels of the boat, to wreck havoc in the ship’s stores. That evening I drank some whisky with Mark which really hit the spot - after a few shots, I think I'd forgotten the rotten weather. I went to bed around 10 pm and as I was falling asleep, heard occasional rustling in my bags of food, which I always keep inside the tent to stop insects or animals from getting to them. I didn’t think anything of it and besides, I was basking in the warm glow of the whisky! But later in the night, I was woken by the same noise. I turned my light on to see a not-so-cute mouse staring back at me.

The mouse did desperate loops of the tent when I shone my torch on it. I caught it in a plastic container (with lid) which I’d been using as my piss pot (to avoid having to get out of the tent into the rain during the night!). Needless to say, I emptied it out, outside the tent, first, but still managed to spill a bit on my mattress in the process. Nevertheless, feeling rather smug at my hunting prowess, I settled down to get back to sleep, only to be woken by more rustling. I caught a second mouse in my sleeping bag’s stuff sack but that wasn’t the end of them, so I eventually sacrificed the food and put it outside the tent, in the hope that it’d stop any mice from coming in. It was only in the morning that I discovered a mouse-sized hole gnawed in the side of my tent! By now it was about 5 am and starting to get light and the rustling in the bags outside stopped as day approached. I lay there for a while but finally gave up and got up before 6 am and packed up everything ready to leave. The morning was clear and I stood for a while on the beach and closed my eyes, letting the morning sun warm me. I went to Southern Belle at around 7 am and had some breakfast - Mark informed me that they'd caught Mr. Jingles in the mouse trap ... then caught his twin brother! I ended up releasing my 2 captives at the far end of the campsite - I didn't relish attempting to kill them with ... what, my Swiss Army knife? Leaving the mouse plague behind, I launched off into the morning sunshine.

It was really nice spending time with the McGills - Mark is as I remember him from 9 years ago - a little older of course. Tracey too. George has become a really nice young bloke - shy and quiet but that makes me like him all the more. Jess was a great 15 year old girl - sensible and considerate and coping well with living in the confined space of the boat.

Something was a little different for me, though: 9 more years have left their mark on me. Not in some terrible way but enough that I feel a bit jaded at times - as if everything’s a bit meaningless. Up until November 2012, I'd spent 5 years working solidly as a software developer: I've never done it for anywhere near that long before without having an extended break to travel or do something completely different and "recharge the batteries". I think my batteries are only now slowly starting to fill up again!

Tracey said they thought Nadia was beautiful and lovely and they were all quite taken with her. I agree! And she said they could see I was quite smitten! I was slightly tipsy with wine and beer when she said that, and replied “she’s the … (long pause as I tried to think of something meaningful to say) … centre of my life”. And all I could think of for a response to "smitten" was to repeat the word!

I met some of their fellow boaties whilst there - they were mostly friendly and welcoming, although the wife of one of the other men took it on herself to advise me all about the South Island. When she heard I was planning to travel down to Fiordland to walk the Routeburn Track, she said with a frown that that was a very long way away. I said I had plenty of time to get there (3 days) but she said “oooh, I don’t know about that!”. She also informed me that it’d be wet, as wet as it’d just been in Abel Tasman and the sandflies would be terrible. I tried to say that I’d been to Fiordland before and knew what to expect but she just raised her voice and talked over the top of me. Then she asked me if I was going to move my tent to a drier part of the camping area … except that there were no “drier” parts! Later in the day she said again she thought I was having a strange holiday - up in the north and then all the way down in the south for the Routeburn. By that stage I couldn’t be bothered trying to explain any further. It was all a bit strange but perhaps she didn’t like Australians, who knows. It's been strange being thought of as Australian over here!

Those 9 years. I think the interval is just such a powerful reminder of mortality and the passage of time. Quite sobering. I last saw Mark and Tracey in 2004, when I was 38 and Mark was 44. Now I’m 46 going on 47 and he’s 54 going on 55. If it’s another 9 years until my next visit, I’ll be 55-56 and he’ll be 63-64 ... help!

Leaving on a sunny morning, Bark Bay

So, I paddled off and waved to Mark, Tracey and George back on the beach. The paddle was easy - less than 2 hours but the sun disappeared for most of it. I got back, loaded everything into the car and set off. I decided along the way to head to Saint Arnaud and Lake Rotoiti and it took about 2 hours to get there, after a stop in Motueka to buy some duct tape to seal the mouse-sized hole in my tent. I had raspberry ice-cream on the way - made from fresh fruit grown locally - yum! It was a lovely drive along the Motueka valley and into the mountains. I arrived in the early afternoon and, upon stepping out of my car, was accosted by swarms of sandflies - horrendous! I smothered myself in GoodbyeSandfly spray which seemed to work but I went and bought some Off! spray to make doubly sure. I put up the tent, had a look at the visitors’ centre then got ready to launch the kayak on the lake. There were spectacular views up the lake to the snow-clad peaks at the other end. As I paddled off, the wind picked up, it clouded in and my constant companion, the drizzle, started. Even on a lake the conditions were grey and foreboding. I paddled for about an hour but turned around as the wind started becoming quite strong. So, my last paddle in the kayak was over.

Lake Rotoiti

All-in-all, the kayaking has been a bit disappointing, but only because the weather has been pretty bad. If it'd been good, I would’ve camped 2 more nights in Queen Charlotte Sound instead of sheltering in Havelock, and would’ve been able to paddle up to the seal colony at Tonga Island when staying at Bark Bay. I would’ve paddled further around the point at Kaikoura, further up Lake Rotoiti and might've paddled at Cable Bay and Nelson Harbour. But that’s kayaking. It is far more weather-dependent than hiking or cycling and in that way is probably more like paragliding - sometimes, you just have to wait and sit things out. It’s certainly been a good learning experience for me and a reminder that you can’t dictate terms with the sea. Ideally, if I were to do this again, I’d probably set aside a longer time, perhaps buy a kayak rather than rent one and just choose the right times to go paddling. Or even come later in the year when the weather isn't as warm but things are more settled.

Get off the water!

Morning red, Cannibal Cove

Morning at Cannibal Cove

View to ocean after leaving Cannibal Cove

Crossing to Motuara Island

Mike was nice enought but I’m a little disappointed that I didn’t have that magical place all to myself - I probably wont get another chance like that on this trip. The rest of Friday evening remained fine - Mike and I both kept to ourselves, he read a book and I wandered around the place, admiring the views in the evening light. I tried to work out what to do next. Went to bed at sunset, 9 pm and slept well enough. I woke in the middle of the night and got up briefly to admire the "wondrous glory of the everlasting stars". I woke pre-dawn the following morning, with the eastern sky a menacing, deep red. Great. Had breakfast, packed up, said farewell to Mike and set off - aiming across the channel towards Motuara Island, a bird sanctuary. As I paddled further out eastwards into the open water, things got increasingly unpleasant - a moderate swell from the northeast, strongish wind (around 15 knots) form the northwest, whipping up little choppy waves at right angles to the swell. The sun disappeared and I started feeling rather small and vulnerable on the high seas! Eventually I decided to play it safe, so I turned southwest and headed for Ship Cove. Once I was past the head north of that cove, conditions improved dramatically. I landed and found I had the place all to myself. I walked 15 minutes to the waterfall - beautiful, and easy to imagine that the first Europeans were just pulling into the cove behind me in their great tall ships. 

Ship Cove waterfall

View from Blumine track

WWII gun emplacement

 I continued on around the shoreline and decided things were calm enough here, a bit further in from the open ocean, to consider crossing the sound to Blumine Island from Resolution Bay. Things ended up being, predictably, much rougher out in the channel than they’d looked from a distance, and rougher still at the north end of Blumine. I made it, though, and paddled into the relative shelter of the northern-most cove on the island - and found the iron posts that Mike from Blenheim had described, marking an abandoned campsite and a track to the WWII gun emplacements. I landed, tied my kayak to a tree, and walked 15 minutes or so to the gun emplacement - there were wonderful views of the wind whipping the waters of the sound from where I’d come. I decided to play it safe again and not paddle back around the northern end of the island, so I continued down the shoreline heading south to the campsite - a lovely spot with a tent already pitched. It turned out to be a lesbian kayaking couple I’d spoken to at Camp Bay and who’d lamented the awful conditions that had kept them there for the previous 3-4 nights. The conditions at the campsite were just stunning and made a mockery of the struggles I’d had during the morning getting there. I don’t understand how it’s so sheltered there but perhaps it faces west enough to avoid the NNW winds. I walked around the new, ugly scar of a track to a viewpoint further north but shouldn’t have bothered - my earlier walk had been better. I had a leisurely lunch accompanied by a weka trying to pinch my food and got ready to head off as the couple got back from paddling at the north end of the bay. 

Lunchtime on Blumine

I still wasn’t sure what to do next, I’d been considering the options: 1. paddle around the south end of the island to Wharehunga as planned, 2. paddle back across the channel and stay at Schoolhouse Bay campsite in Resolution Bay for the night, 3. paddle back to Punga Cove and get off the water. I chatted to the women when they landed and they said they’d just heard a marine forecast - wind increasing to 35 knots for the rest of the day, then 40 knots tomorrow, Sunday. That forecast decided it for me - paddle back now or be stuck out here for 2 nights, unable to move and probably stuck in my tent due to miserable conditions. My fourth possibility had been staying at the Blumine campsite but only if the conditions were so obviously poor that I doubted I’d be able to get anywhere else safely. So, I set off NW to the entry of Endeavour Inlet. Boy, did it end up being tough. The NNW wind was extremely strong - gusts were certainly well in excess of 25 knots. The swell from the NE was moderate and often confused. And it didn’t improve when I got into Endeavour Inlet - in fact it got worse. I battled my way slowly around the shoreline and landed at Mahana lodge because I noticed vehicles there and thought I might be able to get my car down to the water. I shouldn’t have bothered. John, the owner, in a long-winded and at times illogical spiel basically said he couldn’t/wouldn’t help me cart my kayak up to the car park. He said the road down was only suitable for 4WDs … a 4WD with a trailer was parked in front of the house. If I’d been in a group and there’d been something in it for him, it would’ve been different. He didn’t say it in so many words, of course, but that was his meaning. So, I continued the battle around the corner, finally landing, relieved, at Punga. I ended up asking one of the workers there if I could pay to have my kayak and gear carted up to the top car park. He, dreadlocked and with a Swiss accent, said they could do better than that and do it for free. I left notes at Camp Bay and the desk at Punga Cove resort to say I’d returned early then followed the Swiss Bob Marley as he carted the kayak up to the car park. Awesome! 

I headed off in the car, feeling so safe and dry and warm and cosy - so easy, just steer and apply brake or accelerator. Often, on the water, I’d thought about our little home together in Bonbeach and wondered what the hell I was doing out there! Away from the water, it wasn’t a bad day, albeit still very windy. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do next, so I planned as I drove the long, windy road back towards the main highway. I decided to park myself in or near Havelock for a couple of nights while the worst of the weather blew through, then to drive to Marahau, via brief paddles at Cable Bay and Nelson Harbour, and paddle in to Bark Bay in Abel Tasman National Park, where Mark, Tracey and George were now moored. I’d stay there a couple of nights, then paddle out and spend a final night either back in Kaikoura, or at one of the mountain lakes, Rotoroa or Rotoiti. Then drop the kayak back on Thursday morning, before heading south, way south, for the next part of my trip - some family history exploration in Otago and Southland, followed by the drive through to Queenstown in time to walk the Routeburn Track. 

Car and kayak in Havelock

So, I arrived in Havelock just before 6 pm, rang around a few places and ended up at Ligita’s Homestay - a lovely little self-contained flat owned by Ligita and Bob who were the friendliest and nicest hosts imaginable. Shortly after I arrived, they invited me to join them for a BBQ steak and a beer. And it was a leisurely start to the day today - coffee and cereal for breakfast, then organising my stuff, followed by a walk into town.

Misty mountains from Havelock

The strange thing is, New Zealand is perhaps even more beautiful in the rain (as long as there’s not too much wind!). Misty mountains, bird calls, patter of drops on leaves. I’ve loved my little break here - really peaceful. I drove to Pelorus Bridge this afternoon and didn’t end up putting the kayak in anywhere. Gave a hitchhiker a lift - a local guy who just decided to spend a few months travelling around NZ. Had a cuppa with Ligita and her local friend Silvia, then Bob joined us. Really nice. I walked along the Motuweka trail then into town in the afternoon. Made dinner for myself - pasta with veggies, plus I got a nice yoghurt from the supermarket and an excellent local porter ale and sat and watched Kevin McCloud’s cabin in the woods program.

Cannibals and Mussels

Click here for a GPS track of the day's kayaking

Approaching Cannibal Cove

Well, it’s official, I’ve arrived in paradise … and it’s called Cannibal Cove! I’m alone here and it really is perfect - helped by today’s unbroken sunshine. The wind has picked up since this morning and is currently NNW - will shift to NW for the next 2 days and continue to increase. The paddling today was great - pretty easy and no swell, chop or waves of note - except from passing boats. I saw numerous penguins - cute! Ship Cove was really interesting - a well-balanced account of human history there. It was less than 30 minutes paddling from there to here.

Cook memorial, Ship Cove

Maori carving, Ship Cove

Penguin

Company in the outer sound

So, I’m planning to enjoy this place today … and maybe just stay here. If the wind shifts NW and strengthens, Wharehunga and Blumine Island will likely be exposed. I’ve just checked - Wharehunga is north-facing, as is Blumine. It’s a difficult decision - things mightn’t be much fun here either, if it rains and the wind gets really strong.

The cicadas here are really loud! It’s nice though. It’s now 3:15pm - I’ve just managed to get a radio station using my phone’s FM receive - there’s a forecast at 5pm. If the forecast is for light to moderate winds tomorrow, I’ll probably go. And perhaps the other campsites are as nice as this.

I don’t have anything else to write right now - no philosophy, no feelings, no spritual epiphanies. I feel quiet, at peace, untroubled. A kereru’s wings beat as it flies away.

Cannibal Cove

Cannibal Cove

Happy times at Cannibal Cove

Tent site, Cannibal Cove

Afternoon, Cannibal Cove

View from Cannibal Cove to Arapawa Island

A couple with 2 dogs in a speed boat parked at my beach here earlier but left after a few minutes. I’m sharing this place with 2 sooty oystercatchers.

I picked some humungous green-lipped mussels from the rocks here a little while ago - the biggest one was about 12cm long! So that’ll be dinner, or perhaps just an entrée.

Just for the record - even on the final leg around to here, there was no noticeable swell coming in from the open ocean.

Dinner!

It's 6 pm now and I’ve just eaten the mussels - boiled them in salt water - without a doubt, the best I’ve ever had. Another kayaker, Mike from Blenheim, has just arrived from Waikawa for an overnight weekend trip, so I wont be alone.

Camped at Camp Bay

Nadia and I had spent a wonderful fortnight together in the northern parts of the South Island, so it was with a heavy heart that I drove away from Christchurch airport, having seen her off on her flight back to Melbourne. I was staying for another 2 weeks to do some kayaking and hiking, so headed straight for the kayak shop I’d been in contact with on the south side of the city. Eventually, things were sorted out and my rental sea kayak was safely strapped to the roof rack of my car, with all the necessary gear thrown in the boot. I headed off north in the middle of a warm, sunny January afternoon - my stop for the night, Kaikoura. Nadia and I had spent a couple of nights in Kaikoura when we first arrived. I remember feeling it was almost the perfect place for me - mountains, sea, marine life, interesting coastline, Maori history and culture, friendly people. Finding myself suddenly back in New Zealand after a 9-year absence had generated such a wellspring of emotions. Even though I grew up on the North Island, so many things in the south are also so connected to my childhood - the blooming pohutukawa trees, skylarks, the soft accents and kindly sense of humour, the cabbage trees, road signs, toi toi bushes, iron sand beaches, the mountains, the coastline. It’s all been such a strong reminder of how life has continued on and of how what’s in the past can never really be regained. It leaves a sense of yearning or longing, a heartache, a melancholy. 

Kaikoura range from Nga Niho Pa

But then, I’ve also felt such excitement, happiness and deep peace at being here. I remember sitting at the Nga Niho Pa above Kaikoura the second morning we were in New Zealand - looking out to the mountains and the sea. Then later, wandering around the market in the school grounds while a local singer strummed his guitar and sang. Looking for seals around Kean Point on the Kaikoura Peninsula. Eating seafood. Sitting, having breakfast on our balcony with the million-dollar views. I wondered whether, if we lived in Kaikoura, I’d miss Melbourne … people, certainly, but the place? Perhaps that too - I’ve grown fond of our local beaches and wetlands and places like the Mornington Peninsula and Phillip Island. 

The feeling of melancholy I’ve had here in my country of birth is something I’ve felt in other places too - at Wilsons Prom in November last year, whilst walking in the Wonnangatta area before Christmas, even on day trips. Having time alone like this means I’m more aware of deeper feelings and that’s OK. They’re ultimately good feelings that foster love and kindness in me - I don’t want them to go away. And at the same time, I get to experience all this beauty and wonder. 

Nelson by night

As I drove north I went over in my mind what we’d done over the past 2 weeks. Following the 2 nights in Kaikoura, we drove through to Nelson via the Marlborough Sounds. We spent 6 nights in Nelson and visited Mapua and Ruby Bay the first day, before going to see The Hobbit at Nelson’s lovely Art Deco cinema - in 3D and at 48 FPS! We then had a couple of lazy days around Nelson, before visiting my cousin Mark, his wife Tracey and son George on their trailer-sailer yacht at Torrent Bay, in Abel Tasman National Park. Then another day in Nelson, including a visit to lovely Cable Bay. Then we were off again, via the Nelson market in the morning and a few hours of driving through the mountains to Hanmer Springs for 2 nights. On our full day there, we visited the springs, enjoyed some woodland walks, ate at a gluten free cafe then left the following morning for the short drive back to Christchurch, where we stayed at a B&B in Redcliffs near the beach, with stunning views of the city, coast and distant alps. 

Click here for a GPS track of the day's kayaking

I stayed at a motel for the night in Kaikoura, right opposite the grey, pebbly beach on the north side of the peninsula. The next morning, I drove to the sheltered south side and put the kayak in the water for the first time - I spent an enjoyable hour or so paddling around the rocky shoreline towards Kean Point and the seals and penguins. The Seaward Kaikoura mountains looked spectacular from the water and it was topped off when a lolling seal surfaced not far from me. 

Paddling around Kaikoura peninsula

Seal, Kaikoura

For safety reasons, kayaking is generally a pastime best enjoyed in the company of others, a bit like hiking. But sometimes, I feel it’s worth the additional difficulty and risk to do it alone. It means one must be extremely well prepared and also very conservative in one’s decision-making. So, when I noticed that beyond the point, the seas were much bigger and the wind stronger, I turned back instead of pushing on. I’d also invested in a PLB (Personal Locator Beacon) before Christmas - one that is waterproof and floats! In a worst-case scenario, I would be able to call for help. 

My next stop was the Marlborough Sounds, more specifically Queen Charlotte Sound, where I was planning to do a 4-night kayaking trip, mostly in the outer sound, where most of the places of interest are. Kayaking is a pastime that’s very weather-dependent, so I listened to forecasts on national radio and checked the internet whenever I had access. The outlook wasn't good. Extremely high winds were forecast for the Sounds, which are the bane of the kayaker. Rain is almost incidental - one tends to be a bit wet when kayaking anyway! High winds can lead to bigger or confused seas, even in relatively sheltered waters like the Sounds. And for every 5 knots of headwind, a kayaker tends to slow down around 1 knot, which means, if a typical kayaker paddles with a top speed of around 3 ½ - 4 knots, that any wind above 20 knots is going to be extremely difficult to paddle into. The forecast was for 50+ knot winds! 

I did the smart thing and got a cabin at a camping ground in Waikawa for the night - not relishing the idea of being in my tent with the wind trying to blow it flat. I managed to get internet access there and spent some time trying to work out what to do. The forecast improved for a day or so, then went bad again for a couple of days, then improved again. Talk about 4 seasons in one day - I was discovering that the weather in New Zealand was more volatile than in famously fickle Melbourne. So I settled on a plan - rather than starting the paddle in Picton/Waikawa, I would drive on the narrow, windy road out to Punga Cove, which is towards to outer reaches of Queen Charlotte Sound, work out some way of putting the boat in the water there, camp the first night around the corner at Camp Bay, then paddle out to the wonderfully-named Cannibal Cove while the weather was good, paddle the next day south and east to Wharehunga on Arapawa Island, batten down the hatches there for a couple of nights while the bad weather blew through, then paddle to Blumine Island for the last night, before paddling back to Punga Cove and leaving. 

The next day was pretty miserable - strong winds and lots of rain, so I hung around Picton in the morning and checked and double-checked the weather forecast. Eventually I decided my plan was doable and set off on the 2 hour drive to Punga Cove. I ended up having to carry the kayak and all my gear from the car park above the resort down to the water in a number of trips and in pouring rain. I was well-and-truly soaked by the time I was all packed and ready to go and to top things off, my phone slipped out of my pocket and its screen smashed just before I was ready to set off. Luckily it still worked because I was planning to use some digital marine charts I had stored on it to help with my navigation. Being soaked was fine - my thermal-lined kayaking clothes kept my warm, if not dry. 

Damp evening, Camp Bay

It was only a couple of minutes paddling around to Camp Bay campsite for the first night. I arrived to find the cooking shelter packed with sorry-looking walkers doing the Queen Charlotte Track. The rain didn’t let up but I pulled my kayak up above the high-water mark and started sorting out my stuff. Eventually, I put up my tent in the rain and got changed into dry clothes and a waterproof jacket. The rain stopped a couple of times but then started again - so annoying! But at least the winds died down totally by the late evening, which meant I’d hopefully be OK to set off. Huddling in a tent, trying to stay dry wasn’t much fun … 

So, tomorrow, I’m paddling to Cannibal Cove - a bit under 20km by the looks of it. A similar distance the next day to Wharehunga, but I’ll see what the winds are doing. I’m feeling somewhat daunted by this and am feeling like a bit of a novice. From what I saw today, though, even when there are very high winds, the swell and chop in the sound is still relatively small. It may be different further out, though - will see tomorrow!