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.