Dingo's log 2011 - part 2

2. Dingo in New Zealand:

arriving in Bluff and cruising Stewart Island

Saturday 19^th February, Ben's Cove, North Arm Port Pegasus, Stewart Island

Dingo cast off from the old Fishermen's Jetty in Bluff after 8 very windy days tied up there. Two metre tides combined with a channel for north-westerlies to rampage down were often setting the tied up boats dancing; if that is the right term to describe a violent hobby horsing that sometimes made it impossible to board or disembark.

Apart from two other yachts, Expeditus and Nakina, both from OZ, there must have been 50 fishing boats along both sides of the three fingers. 'Hambone', Mr Hamilton, a retired skipper, kept his pilot boat on the opposite side of the finger to us and was a source of advice ('turn your boat round so it faces NW') and tyres to beef up our fendering. His boat, built in 1924 in Auckland with massive 4 inch Kauri planks was powered by an original Kelvin diesel. Hambone's  friendly jocular attitude was typical of the locals.

Over the week we met Kevin the bus driver who arranged us the local rate for our several trips to Invercargill (groceries, computer repairs, cinema, etc). He turned out to be Meri's cousin. We went to Meri's spick and span home to render our thanks for her timely advice over the Bluff Fishermen's Radio net during our arrival. She has been the volunteer radio operator for the last 31 years. It turned out that Meri was an honorary police constable with powers of arrest and had also worked for Customs. Only later did we discover that she was a Dame having been honoured for her work, especially organizing search and rescue operations. 

Our VHF radio had been playing up for a while and as Stephen, the local electronics expert, couldn't date the age of the set and the aerial and coax were fine we opted for a new transceiver. Dude at the liferaft agency found us a tiny old Pelican inflateable to act as a spare (something we had been looking for after Rejane had gone ashore and got bushed up the Gordon River in Tasmania last season, leaving me stranded on the boat considering inflating the liferaft to mount a search). Andy, the new owner of the mechanical workshop, arranged for us to fuel up and gave me a sheet of ply to make replacement foils for the windvane as we had broken all the originals in the gales in which we had arrived. As we met people round town most of them knew of our bad weather arrival and it finally dawned on us that most of them kept a VHF set turned on in their kitchens. Such is Bluff, windy and wet, but with a heart of gold.

Mike went off daily and reported on the locals, restaurants, ice cream, pies, birdlife, state of the swell and the walks. The best of the latter being in the pristine forest of Bluff mountain. The mountain itself is a volcanic plutonic mass of a lovely blue granite with fine crystals and the forest a Hobbit world of tangled feathery leafed trees, mosses's, ferns and birds. From the summit, accross restless Foveaux Strait, there was Stewart Island to the south and treacherous Dog Island with its lighthouse on the harbour approaches. Further east lies Ruapuke Island, a Maori stronghold whose chief, recognizing his increasing vulnerablity to marauding Maori clans from the north, made the early British, Scandinavian and American sealers and whalers welcome, arming himself with muskets and cannon into the bargain.

This friendly approach, quite different to the murders and wars in the north, resulted in a rapid blending of the Maori and Pakeha newcomers. Next came crews off different sailing ships, fishing boats and finally a huge influx of foreign workers during the big extension of Bluff Harbour in the 1950's.  Eventually more than fifty nationalities adding to the mix.

Bluff is the oldest continuously inhabited white setlement in NZ and its fascinating to realize white colonization started from the south, not the middle or the north. The first white settlement being a whaling station on Codfish island off the west coast of Stewart. It is also an important busy port with big ships entering carrying such cargo as bauxite and bitumen from Queensland and taking away aluminium from the huge smelter plus timber and agricultural products. The timber goes to China.

As soon as we had got our 'land legs', which took a good 48 hours, we went on Kevin's bus to Invercargill a 30 minute drive away, first  accross the narrow isthmus and then the reclaimed swamps and low country.  This large town has several attractions, the world's best municipal toilets at the visitors information center, worthy of a five star hotel, a central back packers with internet, car hire and an eatery with sofas on the pavement. Next there is Hayes hard ware which has a huge range of products, very helpful staff and best of all the 'fastest Indian in the world' (If you want a flavour  of South Island see the film starring Anthony Hopkins) on display along with lots of other old motor bikes including Velocettes. The cinema was showing the Cohen brothers "True Grit" and the center of town still had many of its original buildings with their grand facades. What more could you want after 14 days on a boat?

Dingo sailed at 0800 hours, slack tide and no wind after taking on diesel and fresh water at the industrial jetty. We motored for 5 hours down to Port Adventure to anchor in beautiful Abraham's Bosom. We spent two nights here walking the beaches and catching up with ourselves. On the second afternoon Rejane and I explored Oyster cove and, arriving back after a hard row into a rising wind, found we had company. Tim Taylor had arrived in his sea kyak and Mike had invited him aboard. Just 24 years old Tim was two months and less than half way round his solo paddle around NZ and had just  rounded Stewart island. He reckoned on paddling 30 to 40 nm on a good day and was looking at another 3 months to get home to Turangi (see google tim kyak new zealand)

One of his escapades so far included being chased around a beach and out to sea by an angry male sea lion. He accepted our invitation for dinner bed and breakfast and we talked late into the night. In the morning he headed north, a rapidly disappearing speck and we headed south with a tail wind and big swells for a 5 hour sail down to Port pegasus.

We entered by South passage and anchored and tied off (three linesto shore) in Evening cove's bay of islets to a welcoming cavort from a couple of seals. The next day we climbed Magog returning in seven hours after a hard slog and difficult route finding. Rejane and I had attempted this walk in 1990 but had been turned back twice by gales. Granite land scape, huge boulders and monolithic rock walls with views west into the Southern ocean.

On return we went aboard and American boat 'Nine of Cups' a 14m Liberty design and had tea with Dave and Marcia, eleven years into their sailing life. The following morning we had them aboard and Dave kindly showed me how to clean the carburettor on our outboard that had finally packed up after 10 years of neglect. We then motored around several neighbouring inlets and bays eventually anchoring/tying off to a fixed stern line in Disappointment cove (renamed 'Peace Haven' by yachties for its all weather characteristics!). Thence walked through to Ocean beach where I tried to sit on a sea lion thinking it was driftwood. We both ran, in opposite directions.

Following day saw me alone on anchor watch in rising winds in Billie's cove as Mike and Rejane shot up and down Bald cone, with its fixed ropes, in just over two hours. They rowed back in 30kn (downwind) and we relocated back to bay of islets in williwaws of 40kn and tied up in nasty squalling wet conditions that calmed down and dried up as soon as all was made fast. As it does aye.

This morning we untangled our knitting, which made for some acrobatics getting up overhanging shore line peat hags to untie from trees at the bottom of a 3 m tide and went up Acheron passage into the North arm of Port Pegasus. We looked into snug Water Lilly bay but with three boats already in there, two motor boats and Nine of Cups, we settled for Ben's cove, a bit more open  to the NEast but we have now snuggled in behind a rock outcrop and with two anchors and two land lines are sitting nicely just out of the wind which at times is raising white caps just alongside where  Dingo lies.

So now we are heading back to Oban to pick up a new SIMS card for the sat phone. The Telecom one never having worked perfectly and with the usual appalling back up we have changed providors.  From Oban we intend to round Puysegur point onto the west coast of South island and start in on the Fjords but the weather forcast has us holed up here for three nights with gales and yet another storm warning for sea area Puysegur.

Fanny, Cove Dusky sound 25 March 2011

We left Port Pegasus in windless low cloud and drizzle and made our way up to Abraham's bosom arriving in half a blow, happy to anchor. Next day we hauled into Half Moon bay and the village of Oban picking up Fluff's fishing boat mooring, perfectly placed  by the ferry wharf. We bought stores, read the news papers on the Christchurch earthquake, picked up the new SIMS card and went for walks. It was 21 years since we last showed up in Half Moon sailing a Collin Archer ferro, Katafigio.

Mike now had to jump ship to make his way home to West Virginia. He departed on the early morning ferry to Bluff, a small figure waving on the stern as we farewelled him after 10 weeks stay with us.

With gales forcast  we went round into Patersons inlet and sought shelter in Kai Pipi cove. It blew 40knots but we were fairly snug and only dragged a few feet over the next 48 hours. We met Mike and Jane and crew Anthony from ChristChurch sailing  Fyne Spirit, a Ron Holland freedom rigged schooner. They had missed the earthquake by a week and luckily their home was undamaged. Anthony was seventy and sailing alone had lost his yacht two years ago off Staten island S America while trying to make it into the Beagle channel,Tierra del Fuego in bad weather.

We fitted in a couple of good walks on national park tracks then got a VHF call from Bluff Fishermans radio that Mike had just been robbed and all his gear stolen. We managed to sat phone Collin, curator at Invercargill museum who had taken Mike in, to arrange a 'rescue mission'. Next day Rejane went ashore and walked the bush track 6klicks into Bluff for the Foveaux strait ferry and thence the bus to Invercargill to sort out cash for Mike to make his way home. Happily a week later his gear was found and returned to him by the police as he departed Wellington airport, with only his NZ cash missing.

Our next move was onto the north coast of Stewart island and attempt to cross Foveaux straight, with the intent to round Puysegur point. Headwinds and a short hobby horsing chop turned us around and we ran back into Port William to wait for better conditions.

Onshore we came upon a large group of blokes on the annual hunting fishing diving holiday. They had set up a sophisticated camp with palatial tents, dive compressor and were a mine of information, also a good source of fresh oysters. Port William was the site of Maori villages and an ealry attempt to settle it with Orcadian Scots which came to naught due to the damp and the failure to learn the new fishing techniques needed.

It took a cold and uncomfortable overnight passage, motoring in light head winds and a two meter swell, to get us round Puysegur point and into Preservation sound.  We entered at dawn with an epic blood red sunrise painting the light house and the perpetual surf breaking on the cliffs either side of the narrow entrance. Always a relief to slide into calm sheltered waters. Pressing on we motored for another thre hours to the very head of the inlet some fourteen miles up the longest fjord to cascade basin. We spent three nights here, taking on water from a hose pipe rigged up to a waterfall and meeting up with Mark from Riverton on Takapu a sixty foot motorboat, on his fourteenth season bringing groups into the sounds, Peter and Kate from Aukland on Gunner a restored seventy year old wooden motor boat. Preservation was the scene of sealing and whaling and we visited Cuttle bay, Isthmus cove and Weka island cove. The latter we tied up alongside Takapu which was tied up alongside Southern Quest which was tied up to a huge barge, if you get my drift. Takapu had two deer  gutted and hung from its helipad. Quite a sight for the vegetarians moored alongside them.

It was in Preservation inlet we heard snatches of news on our hf radio about a tsunami in Japan.

Leaving Weka cove we followed Takapu down the passage out to sea and rounded the cape into Chalky without difficulty and proceeded up the longest arm to Lake basin anchoring in deep fresh water next to steep underwater bank. The head of the fjord is surrounded by steep rugged hills with a fair bit of decent rock showing thru the ever present thick temperate rain forest peculiar to these parts.

This forest has maybe 7 to 9 species of tree including antarctic beech and  rimu. The canopy is complete and underneath the introduced deer have cleared out the undergrowth making it reasonably easy to move around compared with say the west coast of Tasmania which is virtually impenetrable. Beneat the canopy all is given over to ferns large and small and various mosses of the deepest luxuriant growth speaking of monumental rainfall. If you have seen the film Avatar then you get an inkling of what its like to walk through this forest, espcially on a sunny day when the everything is backlit and pristine.

We coulnt get up to the lake as the river we needed to ascend was in spate after 48 hours of rain so we deprted and went to North port and tied astern to a small island and spent a couple of days exploring the beaches and nearby Cunaris sound.

Keen to get up to Dusky we took a weather window and six hours of rocking in a big SW swell and little wind we slid into Dusky sound making our way to Pickersgill harbour, our last anchorage in the sounds 21 years ago. After a false start where anchored and tied up in the wrong cleft we finally secured ourselves with anchor and two stern lines ashore in the correct rocky inlet exactly one week before the 237^th anniversary of captain Cook tying up his ship Endeavour for a two week stay for water, wood, smithying, cooperage and astronomical observations, after 124 days at sea from Tahiti via the southern ocean having sighted Antarctica.

 When we here last the weather was foul but we found the tree stumps, crudely axed, of the clearing made for the astro observations. Today there is a board walk and the area is well tramped and all the stumps have disappeared though we think we found one.  At least the weather was good, in fact it was brilliant and we had a five day spell of high pressure, warm sunny and windless with which to visit Luncheon cove (Cpn C ate lobster here) Ear shell cove (he remarked on a shell strewn beach), Cascade cove, Fanny bay (a popular ladies name in Cpn C's day!) and finally Supper cove (you guessed it) which is where we are now.

This is as far as Dusky goes inland 24 nm from the sea with epic mountains all around. In 1990 we  befriended 4 young american walkers at the Dusky Park hut, who had traveresd the southern alps taking them aboard for a couple of days look around.  One of them, Tom, stayed on with us long enough to sail back accross the Tasman to Coffs Harbour, but thats another story.

Yesterday we did a bit of the Dusky tramping track, tough going even without a pack. Makes you realize why the Kiwis are such fit bastards in the hills!

Its blowing hard from the SW with plenty of rain to freshen the moss. We are moored, such luxury, to charter  boat Pembrokes' big red bouy. Derek the skipper has just had his passengers flown in by helicopter, via the tiny pad on the stern, and kindly had an emergency anti scurvy box of veggies (cabbage, carrots and mushrooms) flown in for us. Cpn C resorted to making 'Spruce' beer from the Rimu tree as an anti-scorbutic, a trick he no doubt learned from the indians when he was surveying the gulf of St Lawrence.

From the depths of Dusky sound we came out as far as Acheron passage, a six nm fjord that connects Dusky to Breaksea sound and half way up that passage Wet Jacket arm runs inland. We spent the night in Stick harbour, a tiny cove right on the entrance to Wet Jacket, perfectly sheltered while anchored  and tied off astern with two lines. Next day we motored up to the head of the arm and tucked in behind a small promontory backing up to a fixed stern line. Ashore we climbed the hillside through thick forest on deer tracks.

Moving on again in fog, using the radar, we crept back down the arm and turned north up the rest of Acheron passage into a sunny Breaksea sound, passing several deserted fishing boat depot barges.  In perfect weather we ventured into Broughton arm and what turned out to be something very special with 2000m mountains dropping steeply into the the black perfectly reflecting water. Twisting and turning we finished up at the very head of the valley making use of fixed stern lines. We stayed two nights and the second day it rained hard (snowing on the summits) and the waterfalls open up on all sides in spectacular fashion, the force builds up very quickly in heavy rain and drains away with equal rapidity when it stops. The other aspect of this heavily temperate rain forested steep hillsides and the high precipitation (400 inches per year) are the tree avalanches which scar every hillside. Huges narrow slices of hillside, some a thousand meters or more high, are swept clear to bare rock when the weight of water in the moss and scant soil overcomes the roots and the whole mass heads into the water.

Leaving Broughton arm we are now at the head of Vancouver arm anchored in 12 m of water for a couple of nights. There is an extensive beach, lots of deer track, a huge valley curving round to the north and two small boats with hunters in them have been and gone after the red deer that once introduced have become a 'pest'. The sun yesterday has been replaced by mist and rain which has cleared the snow from the tops. 

When the next weather window opens, hopefully in the next day or two, we will make our way out into the Tasman sea again for the twenty nautical miles up the coast to Doubtful sound. From there  Rejane will make a trip by coach and ferry to Te Anau for provisions and to email big items like this up date that cannot go via our HF radio.