Kayak-Marlborough Sound-New Zealand # 2

It’s January 2003 I have now crossed from the North Island of New Zealand to the South Island and looking for adventure. About ten years ago my son and I made this journey and while on the ferry I met a couple that where going to explore the Marlborough Sound. Their talk of the enchantment of the area never left my pea brain. This couple was going to explore the area by foot power and I my choice would be a sea kayak. It would be a tad bit more dangerous but it would easier on my feet and back.

I arrived in Havelock and got settled into a hostel that use to be a hospital. The proprietor looked like the fella from Faultly Towers the English comedy show. Tom would run around trying to put out all the fires in the way of plugged toilets, and arguing bunk mates over a towel. Tom had just opened the hostel after many months of cleaning and painting. A dripping roof after a recent rain storm, over the office, almost drove him over the edge. I volunteered to go up on the metal roof and have a look see. I pumped a lot of silicon into what I thought might be a trouble spot, without much success, but I did get a bed for free. The town of Havelock is know as the gateway to the Green Lip mussel farms, and a few restaurants in town have there own special way of preparing the little morsels. After checking out a few of the establishment it was time to find a place to rent a sea kayak for a week.

I stopped into my first sporting goods store that advertised sea kayak rentals. As might be expected I had to fill out a few forms and leave a deposit. I had to list the group leader which wouldn’t be to hard, since I was the Lone Ranger. That’s when reality hit me right between the eyes. New Zealand government in all their wisdom doesn’t allow a single person to rent out a kayak. It’s very smart law on the government parts since you have to be out of your cotton picking mind to go out into the ocean by yourself. Except when you can’t find any victims, I mean volunteers to join me. I put a notice up in the hostel bulletin board looking for a hardy soul to challenge the Marlborough Sound. After a few days without any takers, I knew I had to find another way to dare the ocean.

One afternoon I was exploring the country side with my car when I stopped by the sea side and was working my way through a picnic. Within a few minutes the sounds of the rhythm of the ocean waves on the beach was broken by the sound of the washing machine sound of a antique truck. A 1936 Chevrolet truck that had been cut down to a windshield and two seats, pulled up in front of my picnic table. An older couple dressed in clothes that they had made from flour sacks, slid off their seats and started to unload this contraption of a truck. Pot and pans that where hanging from hooks banged back and forth as they came to a stop. A coil of copper pipe hooked to the engine radiator and was wrapped around a large pot of steaming soup. I found out that the couple had bought this truck brand new off the show room floor in 1936. Food products was stored in orange crates that sat on top of plywood that slide out to form sleeping platforms and a table. The couple had been traveling around in their Beverly Hillbillies for years and completely loved their life style. As we shared my table they explained that they had a friend that might rent me a kayak. With a phone number, I talked with my savior. He knew right away that I was a lone kayaker, that was the only people that ever called him since he lived hours from town.

The next morning with all the food that I might need for a few days on the Sound I drove up to Mark’s kayak rentals at Rebel Bay. Mark and I met in his dining room and I explained if it was against the law to rent, I would buy the kayak and then sell it back to him if I survived. “No that’s all right, I’ll make sure you know what you’re doing before you leave my little bay!” Mark said. We carried my yellow kayak down to the shore line and Mark let me spend a few minutes getting all my camping gear and grub in the kayak.

After giving me a map of the area and showing the good spots to camp with fresh water, I got ready to shove off. “Ok now paddle out to the buoy in the bay, if I wave to keep going I know you’re good but if I wave to return, paddle back!” Mark explained. “ By the way I also rent speed boats so don’t try and out run me if I motion to come back to shore.” he said.

Along with the advise about the water sources Mark mentioned I might want to stay close to shore, since it would be easier to swim to safety! The bay where Mark’s house sat was as still as a mill pond as I set off on my adventure on the high seas, hopefully not to high! After paddling for a few hours I noticed the wind had started to pick up. I came to my first obstacle if I wanted to make it one. There was a bay to my left that I could paddle a round safely for a few hours, or just go straight across the neck of the bay and be crazy. I could tell that the sea gods wanted me to throw common sense to the wind, so I decided on the short cut. Speaking of wind it seemed to be picking up with every paddle stroke. The ocean waves where right behind the force of the air current. Half way across the bay my hat blew off. I should have left it to the ocean, hell I should be on a cruise ship with a drink in my hand. After a wave came over the front end of my kayak, I quickly turned the kayak around and within a few minutes picked up my hat. Then I again turned the kayak around and head for the shore. The only reason I risked life and limb was because number one I am crazy and number two I knew that in future the sun would come out and cook my head without my hat.

As I got closer to shore I saw two sail boats tied together bobbing in the ever increasing wave height. I paddled closer and a women came out on the deck and she had a rope in her hand. I found out that they had lost power in their sailboat and her husband had gone to shore in order buy a new battery. As she got ready to throw me a rope, with the offer of warm cup of tea, a wave took me up above their boat and then down again, like I was riding a pogo stick. I thought I was on a merry go around but instead of grabbing the brass ring I would be swimming for my life. I paddled as hard as I could and cut in front of the sail boats and got behind some rocks jutting out from shore, where it was calm. I yelled to the women that I was moving on but thanks anyway. I came around the corner of the land and saw Waitata Bay, my campsite, which put a smile on my salty face.

A barge working on a Green Lipped Mussel farm was at end of the bay. Long ropes attached to floats and covered with longer ropes hanging in the ocean where covered with mussels. Men and women where on the deck of the barge and the ropes were being pulled into machines that stripped the mussels. I gave a quick wave as I steered my kayak into the bay that would be my home for tonight. The wind was behind me and it was time to become surfing boy, as my kayak rode the waves to shore. After a few minutes I heard and felt the sound of sand under my vessel. I stood up for the first time in hours and I thought I might be having a religious experience as blood flowed to all body parts. I stepped from the kayak as a strong wind picked up my kayak and sent it rolling along the beach, like a child’s beach ball. I grabbed the front of the kayak and pulled it up on shore and behind some trees. I had some hot water on my stove and within a few minutes I had warm beverage inside of me. I set up my tent back in the trees away from the angry winds. As I sat in my tent thinking about how lucky I had been all day I heard he sound of a boat and a anchor chain being dropped over board. I got out of my tent and saw Mark my kayak owner in his motor boat. He had visions of me being swallowed up by the seas. I gave him the same signal that he had given me, early today. I motioned for him to leave and yelled that everything was fine. After dinner the wind died down and the sea was calm as I sat in front of a large roaring camp fire.

The next morning the wind must have slept in, since my water world was calm. I paddle along the shore line and even the kayak seemed to enjoy the silence. By lunch time I noticed a road leading down to the waters edge. For a little diversion I decided to hike the road to see where it lead. The road was a like a rope laid on a mountain side as it worked it’s way up to the top. From the summit I could spy French Pass and Admirality Bay which I would paddle through some time today.

After exploring on foot, I was glad to see my little yellow kayak and it was time to do some more exploring by sea. Within a few hours I came to my next camping spot, but with plenty of time I decided to paddle on. Around the next bay lay a huge fish farm. Two football size fields of fishing nets covered the ocean surface. A board walk built around the nets had the nets attached to them. A two story house for the fisherman factory workers to live, sat on one corner. As I approached the boardwalk a scuba diver surfaced and I could look through his glass face mask as he checked me out. Another worker was dropping a round hoop with a long net attached into the nets and was bring up flopping fish to the surface. “These are Chinook Salmon.” explained the fisherman. “These babies are sent all over the world!” he said. I found out that the diver was bringing up dead fish from the bottom of the net. “Does the owner of this fish farm live in the house?” I said with a chuckle. “Right mate, the Japanese owner has a yacht, the size of Auckland!” he said. I stayed around the factory for a few more minutes before heading to shore and looking at all the nice homes along the shore.

At dinner time I paddle back to my camping spot with fresh water. Before dinner I started a drift wood fire and was able to look through the fire to see my objective for tomorrow. I had to paddle across Waitata Bay to Kauoroa island. I was thinking in the back of my mind, I hope the wind gods sleep in again.

At the campsite there are two things I had to contend with was Stinging Nettles and Brush Hens. Stinging Nettles are a plant that have their leaves and stems covered with hairy surfaces. A stinging poison covers the hair and when you rub against it, the memories of the dentist chair with Novacain comes to mind. The plant loves to live along wet areas like where one would bend down to get fresh drinking water. Then your arm or leg is numb for a few hours. I heard that the plant can grow to the size of a small tree and can kill small animals.

Another nuisance is the Brush Hen, these critters look a lot like a brown chicken and run like a Road Runner-beep-beep! They love to steal anything and all things that are shiny. They love to carry sun glasses into the bushes and then while holding the object under their feet will peck the living snot out of the glare. You can’t take you’re eye off the camp spot for a minute with out these chicken’s from hell carrying objects off.

The next morning I sat in my kayak as the sun made it presence known. With three kilometers of open water in front of my bow, I didn’t want to have any strong winds to make my crossing a living hell. I could see the island before me and with every strong stroke I got a few meters closer. By the time the island was with in a few inches the wind did make it’s presence known but I was past it’s blast. I worked my way through a small channel and paddled up to a yacht anchored off the shore. A family that share the boat each year was sitting on the deck consuming breakfast from the sea. Fish and mussels made up most of the food items. The father had a good plan for me, if I wanted to dodge any big wind storms in the future. I could cross the island by carrying my kayak over a low pass called Piripaua Neck.

As I entered Forsyth Bay there was numerous mussel farms dotting the horizon. Mark my kayak owner mentioned that if I wanted a meal of mussels, the farmers didn’t mind if a few where harvested. As I pulled up the rope supporting the mussels, I could look down in the water and see a rope twenty feet long covered with mussels. I grabbed hold of a rope that looked like it may have a some juicy mussels for my lunch. I was sitting in my kayak and as I pulled in the rope my kayak sank deeper in the water. I came to realize the only way to get this meal was with flippers and a knife, which I didn’t have.

A high wooden dock jetted out into the bay that must have been used for loading sheep at high tide. I parked my kayak and walked past the docks to a old farm house on the hill side. No one was at home and I found the front porch to be the perfect stop to eat my lunch of peanut butter, not mussel!

After lunch I followed the dirt road that lead up to the top of the mountain. I could see across the bay to Titirangi Bay which would make a nice camp site. In order to get to the bay I would have cross Sugar Loaf and then slip through Allen Straits. The Sugar Loaf part was pretty sweet-“sorry”, without any wind to speak of. Then came Allen Straits with ocean currents meeting at three different angles forming a witches brew. With one eye on the boiling water form the brew I made it past with thoughts of never having to tempt the witch and her boiling pot. I could head around the next island and I wouldn’t ever have to come back this way.

I just had to cross Anakoha Bay and then I could follow the shore line to my camp site. As I entered the bay I noticed the waves and wind picking up a tad. By the time I got half way across the bay waves where coming over the front of the kayak and making me a little nervous. I wasn’t afraid but I sure was thinking about my future! I was paddling at a angle to the wind like you’re suppose to do. Just then the wind shifted directions and gears and really started to cover the kayak with water. I instantly just turned the kayak in the direction of the wind and the kayak and I acted like a surf board, going in the wrong direction. I just let the wind do what ever it had in mind with me. I realized pretty fast I was going back to the witches brew. I stayed as far a way for the churning waters as I could. Within a hour I was back at the place I had eaten lunch. The Piripaua Neck, the low spot on the island wasn’t that far away, for tomorrow’s adventure. I would camp out in front of this old farm house and then in the morning I would climb the pass carrying kayak and gear.

I just sat on the front porch of the house waiting for the sheep rancher to make a appearance. As the sun said good night, I set up my tent and laid in my sleeping bag reading. I must have fallen asleep when I heard a truck pull up to the farm house and then head lights flashing across my tent. I half way expected a farmer with a pitch fork, to show up and wonder what in the world I was doing.

I laid there waiting and finally fell asleep until it was morning. I rolled up my gear and paddled towards my corridor of freedom. I pull up to the steep slope of the pass. First thing I did was carry my gear to the top of the pass. When I reached the top the wind was so strong coming off the ocean it blew my hat over the pass and down the other side like a kite. I crawled back down to the kayak and started the job of dragging the kayak up the mountain. I had rope that I hook to the bow of the boat and wrapped the rope around my waist and started to pull. Half way up the rocky hill my feet kicked out and the kayak and myself went racing down the hill towards the water like a toboggan. I was able to grab hold of some bigger rocks and I came to a stop without much damage to the kayak or myself. I continued the journey and made it to the other side.

From years of the wind and waves washing this that and other things into this Beatrix Bay, thousands of pieces of drift wood covered the beach. The wind was very strong and I decided to wait for a shift in the wind. I built a few modern art forms out of plastic bottle and dead logs, until I got bored and decided to challenge the wind. I pushed off and had my hand full fighting the wind. Mark had mentioned a camping spot on this side of the island and I was able to turn the kayak towards the site. This time the wind was working with me and with in minutes I was landing my vessel on a sandy beach. A herd of wild goats and Brush Hen’s where my welcoming committee as they fled to the protection of the forest as I landed.

Sitting on a large log and eating my lunch I had a perfect view of my next mission, Pelorus Sound but that would be tomorrow.

After a night of sleeping with my tent being blown back and forth from the never ending winds, it was morning. I had plans of crossing the Sound and paddling into Nydia Lodge that might be a great place to wait out the stormy clouds that where forming. I paddled over to Whakamawhi Point with plans on crossing this narrow passage to Tawero Point. Mostly because I couldn’t fight the winds coming across the windy bay. Even the short distance across the point was too much because of the strength of the wind. I turned the kayak around and hugged the Maud Island that was plastered with
“NO LANDING ALLOWED” signs since it was a sacred site. I could put up a white flag to surrender but it might be blown out of hand to Australia! I needed to cut my plans short and head back to Mark’s place and the safety of my car.

With Maud Island on my left I headed to Apauau Channel, and the water was calm. I could see Camel Point that I would be my lunch spot. Mark had mentioned that I wouldn’t see any dolphins, because of the time of the year. The pod of dolphins that where swimming by my lunch spot must not have heard Mark. I got up and watched with fascinating as the pod blew air out of the spouts as they pasted. After finishing my lunch and thinking I wouldn’t see this pod of dolphins or any other pods I got back in my kayak. I noticed a mussel farm ahead of me and the dolphins where swimming around the floats. I paddled the kayak hard and then let the kayak coast up to the mussel farm. I sat right in the middle of the pod, as the dolphins where swimming in circles. One dolphin came to the surface and looked me right in the eyes. Within a minute another dolphin came back to the surface with a jelly fish on it’s snout. The playful dolphin threw the jelly fish and another dolphin came to the surface and hit the jelly fish with it tail. I just starred at my own personal Sea World act with disbelief, but I did clap in appreciation.

Within a few hours I made it back to Mark’s beach and my car. Mark wasn’t there, so I put the kayak back where I found it and loaded up my car. As I drove back towards civilization I could see the wind forming large kayak wrecking waves in my rear view mirror.