When it comes to holidays, most of us think we must visit distant lands to acquire a taste of new things. But a cruise to Stewart Island – only a short distance within the South Island – offers all of the amazing wildlife and spectacular scenery of the overseas getaway, and it's far more easy to get to!
If you're enthusiastic about nature, chances are you have a very wish listing of animals you have to see in the wild. Maybe you fantasise about visiting Africa to see the famed Big Five? Or are the sights set on 'The Big 15' from the Galápagos Islands? If you are really wild about wildlife, how about looking a little closer to home, and visiting the remote and ecologically diverse Stewart Island/Rakiura.
As New Zealand's southernmost inhabited island, you will find this far-flung rock 30km from the capital of scotland- Bluff at the end in the South Island. Surrounded by the Southern Ocean, the coast is rugged and also the weather conditions are tempestuous – however, you needn't sacrifice little luxuries look around the region, because discerning naturalists travel in fashion aboard the Fiordland Jewel, a 24m, three-deck catamaran operated by Fiordland Discovery.
Prior to starting our seven-day expedition, my son and I spent some time checking the long-range weather forecast. It didn't look too flash, so we adopted the local primary school's motto: 'a choppy sea can be navigated' – which ended up being spot-on with skipper Rob Swale in the helm. A classic fisherman and gold prospector, Rob's roots return to the region's early sealers and, as being a true Southlander, you'll rarely see him out of T-shirt and shorts.
Upon arrival, Rob ushered his 11 passengers into the saloon. “Welcome to Stewart Island, New Zealand's third largest and prettiest island,” he said. Then he instructed us to screw up any notion of a trip since the elements would determine our route.
The bird may be the word
In preserving that component of surprise, before we'd cruised any good distance, Rob asked who wished to fish. Virtually all in our hands increased. Once the local birds got wind in our plan, i was joined by an eager audience of albatrosses, petrels and shags. Such elegant birds, the lot of these – plus they were clearly optimistic about our chances as anglers. These were right too, because it wasn't lengthy before we'd hooked enough blue cod for supper, as the birds tussled within the frames in the filleted fish. In under three hours we'd seen more than nine types of bird and a decent number of fish. After we motored off, the birds continued to check out – barely beating their wings, they soared within the dramatic sky; between us we absorbed regards to one thousand pictures, hopeful of capturing an ideal portrait.
With the weather a little rowdy, Rob took us to Little Glory Cove in peaceful Paterson Inlet – and, because the sun sank low, we gazed in a coastline which had barely changed in one thousand years. But instead of simply gape in the quintessential Kiwi bush straight from the saloon, co-skipper Dave Barraclough mustered the troops for any trip to shore. Delivered to a sturdy wharf, we walked stealthily with the darkening bush, along boardwalks lined with moss, the pounding surf booming inside the distance.
After about 50 % an hour of walking, we emerged on a perfect crescent of beach where Dave swept the sand having a beam of sore point – kiwi are oblivious to sore point – and, as if on cue, a Stewart Island Brown Kiwi was spotted. A serious chap, the bird marched methodically, skewering the sand together with his beak, scouting for bugs. As being a secret society we followed behind the oblivious kiwi, holding our collective breath so they won't disturb him. We caught glimpses of the morepork along with a penguin. Retiring to the cosy cabin that night, my son Theo and i also catalogued all we'd observed on that day – an array of seabirds, several species of fish, a kiwi, a penguin plus an owl. Within A day we'd seen enough to create David Attenborough jealous.
I wasn't sure how the second day could eclipse the very first, however when Rob announced kayaking was around the menu, we didn't need to be asked twice. Rugged in thermals, we set off to inspect the coastline's layered rock formations – but, as we paddled across the bay, a pair of sea lions approached and all sorts of thoughts of geology were abandoned. As they torpedoed between our boats, snorting and staring using their lively brown eyes, it's difficult to state who was simply more captivated by whom. With tails that resembled bull kelp, the rotund duo performed languorous barrel rolls within the crystal-clear water. Interestingly, not just was their flatulence audible, it was also quite pungent and the other animal was put in our wild catalogue of wonders.
Pulling in the anchor, our then the avenue for call was Ulva Island – a 266-hectare pest-free sanctuary. Once we disembarked at Post Office Bay, i was struck in what a racket nature might make. Huge trees creaked inside the wind as a gale blew within the canopy. Well as over everything, a cacophony of boisterous birds – one of them kaka and kererū, tui and weka, saddlebacks and robins – all vying to be heard. How a nocturnal birds have any sleep, I don't know. Once we left Ulva shortly before losing light, we motored out across a dark gray sea, the top ruffled by winds gusting around 50 knots. With this hopes of circumnavigating the island dashed, we set a training course for Oyster Cove in Port Adventure – the sturdy catamaran making neat work from the waves. Sometimes low cloud and rain reduced visibility but, when you are snug inside a luxury vessel with the mod cons, dramatic weather beats blue skies and calm seas hands down.
Out within the cold
Waking around the fourth morning – or possibly the 5th; the times were built with a practice of blending into one another – we found it had snowed at night. In spite of the snow, or maybe correctly, Kate, Rob's wife, decided we ought to paddle because the sky was clear. Investigating another incredibly beautiful bay, we spotted yellow-eyed penguins, spoonbills, oystercatchers, and shags. We even saw a solitary seal lazily ambling across the seashore, seeking shelter in the snow – or refuge within the paddlers, who are able to say? Company, it had been cold, but knowing we'd warm showers and dry clothes awaiting us back aboard – as well as a warm tub next to the helipad – it absolutely was simple to embrace the sun and rain with comfort so close at hand.
Later that very same snowy day, Rob's Southland roots were more evident than ever before as he and the son Jack told us they'd dive for pāua. Seriously? Snorkelling? Even though it was snowing? Shocking me much more, my son's eyes illuminated. “I wish to go too,” Theo exclaimed. In spite of having reservations about sending my only son to the frozen sea, I had been mindful of something Kate said earlier: “A jersey is a thing a young child puts on when their mother is cold”.
Taking her homily to heart, I watched Theo wrestle his distance to a borrowed wetsuit. Gloves on, hood up, in to the tender boat he went, my not so tender teen. Because the trio plunged in to the sea, Cleaning it once a to not shiver on my small boy's behalf, especially when it started snowing again in earnest.
When Theo returned to the boat he was glowing with happiness. “I'm not cold,” he declared proudly – and, as he performed the wetsuit, his warm skin steamed in the frozen air. “I got four pāua, and that i saw a parrotfish and Jack demonstrated an infant crayfish. And also the kelp forest am dense.” He later described the seaweed to become like 'writhing, rubbery blades'. “You can use that in your story if you would like,” he offered generously.
Another paddle saw us venture up North Arm. Paddling hard, I separated myself from the herd and imagined that we was the very first human to ever navigate the meandering waterway. Dense green bush reflected around the glassy water, along with a yellow-eyed shag perched daintily on a branch as if posing for any painter. Ferns and foliage dripped atmospherically when it started to snow once more – great intoxicating sheets of white. And merely once i thought our wildlife catalogue was full, back included, a set of bottlenose dolphins graced us using their presence. Playing within the bow wave, we braved a biting wind to watch them let you know their acrobatic repertoire.
That night, while using the hot tub on top deck, the snow returned for a final encore. Great flurries of frozen flakes swirled and billowed, settling within our hair, rendering us giddy using the sheer novelty of it. The following morning, the beach was trimmed with ribbons of white – a frozen souvenir in one of the coolest times of us.
Like the snow, the days slowly melted away – until finally the time had come to go away our beloved Fiordland Jewel. Our fellow passengers, the human wildlife – initially we'd appeared as if disparate bits of a mismatched puzzle but, by journey's end, we'd assembled right into a picture of affability. People who wanted adventure were more than satisfied and people who craved leisurely comfort were also completely content. Walking and paddling, chatting and fishing, lounging within the saloon while being plied with exquisite food – the only difficulty, no-one was wild about going home.
Sail away
Husband and wife Rob Swale and Kate Rollason own and operate Fiordland Discovery, a tourism business offering unrivalled use of Milford Sound and Fiordland using the Fiordland Jewel catamaran. An identical seven-day scenic cruise departs 1 August, 2022. To learn more visit fiordlanddiscovery.co.nz
