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While waiting in Queenstown for the transit van that would take us to Te Anau, one of our guides remarked that, “the risk of visiting Fiordland is that you will never want to leave.” It sounded like a travel brochure cliché, but Local Matters journalist Jannette Thompson soon learned it was far from an exaggeration as she spent seven days as a guest of Heritage Expeditions on its Southern Fiords Discovery tour earlier this year …
“Kiwis aren’t supposed to fly” I told myself as the small pod we were strapped into lifted off the helipad and headed out across Lake Te Anau. I wondered if anyone would notice if I kept my eyes closed for the entire 45-minute flight to Te Awaroa/Long Sound, one of the remotest places in New Zealand. As well as the pilot, aptly named Snow, there were four other passengers, but it seemed I was the only one who was aware that there was just a thin wall of plexiglass between us and certain death.
But when the helicopter swept out over the lake, turned towards the south and started to climb above the snow-dusted Southern Alps, apprehension suddenly gave way to excitement. Finally, I was visiting Fiordland. Here, I hoped, I might experience a small slice of pre-human New Zealand, perhaps as it was when moa still roamed free and Haast eagles soared in the sky.
As the helicopter maintained its steady course south we flew over the Manapouri hydro dam, and the glimpses of waterfalls, mountain lakes or tarns, and orb rainbows took my breath away. The only sign of life was the occasional red deer track snaking across brown, barren hill sides. Our bird’s eye view of the alps gave us a sense of both their size and grandeur.
As we neared our destination, the helicopter descended into a thick bank of cloud flanked on either side by forested mountainsides. We emerged from the mist into the tranquil scene of Long Sound, bathed in sunlight with Heritage Explorer, our home for the next seven days, lying quietly at anchor.
The other guests had already landed and together, we made a party of 14 – a mixed bag of academics, a boat builder, marine engineer, nurse, teacher, retirees from Australia and other professionals – plus six crew. Luggage and passengers were efficiently loaded onto the waiting zodiacs and ferried across to the Explorer. The journey had begun.
After welcomes, introductions and safety briefings, we were free to acquaint ourselves with our cabins and the vessel. The 30-metre, four-deck wooden yacht was built in Picton 20 years ago and was powered by dual Scania 653 horsepower engines, with a cruising speed of 10 knots. Fitted out with its wood interior and royal blue décor, there was certainly a feeling that this “expedition” was going to be done in style. The dining room provided 180-degree panoramas and the covered decks were the perfect viewing platforms for what lay ahead. A 24-hour coffee machine, plus snacks and fruit, a well-stocked library, open bar and French chef were a much-appreciated bonus.
As the Explorer made her way down the fiord to Rakituma/Preservation Inlet where we would spend our first night, we were captivated by the steep sided fiords carpeted in an ever-changing palette of green, changing in shadow and sunlight, with the occasional glimpse of white mountain tops. It was mesmerising. It was a landscape that formed over two millions years, and we learned that what we call sounds are actually fiords – troughs dug by glacial ice, which later filled with water. The exposed sides were eventually colonised by beech, rimu, miro, kahikatea, supplejack and rata, and of course, later still came an array of iconic New Zealand birdlife including kiwi, kakapo, tui, bellbirds and kereru.
As the bow waves rippled across the mirror-like surface, it felt like we had entered a different time zone where days were measured not by digital devices, but by sunrises and sunsets, with everything governed by the weather. Fiordland has around 200 rain days a year with an average annual rainfall of seven metres. No wonder we’d been told to pack a good raincoat!
On the following morning we rose to find the boat buffeted by a cold and wet south-westerly. Early risers were treated to the site of blue penguins bobbing around in the water like free range corks. But the patchwork of green on the hillsides that had been so evident in yesterday’s sunshine had disappeared into a uniform cloak of ominous green, worn with a ponderous blanket of grey above us. The day demanded thermals and wet weather gear. Thermally-insulated Muck Boots, supplied by the Explorer, were donned and it was down to the zodiacs for a less than graceful boarding procedure. The solid easterly created a rhythmical rolling swell as we landed on the beach where the Puysegur lighthouse oil store was located, opposite Coal Island/ Te Puka-Hereka (The Tied Anchor). The landing proved tricky and, after mis-timing a wave, a few of us found ourselves squelching up the beach with boots full of seawater. A tiny cemetery located beside the building was a stark reminder that the landing we had just accomplished had, in earlier times, claimed the lives of at least six people.
The tramp to the lighthouse provided us with our first opportunity to experience Fiordland on the ground and we were accompanied by bellbirds and tui, and some very rowdy seabirds. Under a canopy of beech, we found pathways of moss, bracken trampled by deer, tree trunks dressed in lacey ferns and sandstone sculptured by fierce Tasman winds, sea spray and rain. Puysegur lighthouse was first illuminated in 1879 in one of the windiest places in New Zealand, and was staffed until 1989 when it was automated. The crumbling foundations of the lighthouse keepers’ houses – there were three families stationed there at one time – brought back memories of Matakana local, the late Clive Nicholls, who had once been a lighthouse keeper here.
After a delicious lunch back on the boat there was just enough time to cheerfully don our now very wet wet weather gear and visit the abandoned Tarawera silver mine and smelter. A lone seal pup greeted us on landing, showing no sign of being afraid of the interlopers visiting his nursery. After a short hill climb over gnarly tree roots, we came across an unusual brick chimney which followed the incline of the hillside rather than a normal vertical stack. Two attempts were made to mine the lode here, one in 1897 and the second in 1907, but despite initial promise, both ventures failed. One of the surprising discoveries on this trip was just how much human activity had occurred in Fiordland since Māori arrived more than 900 years ago. Although recreation, conservation and cray fishing are now the main occupations, during our after dinner talks each evening, we learned of pa sites, mining towns, forestry ventures, whaling stations and sealing operations.
As we left the sheltered waters of Preservation Inlet for Chalky Inlet and Great Island the following day, we had our first of several encounters with bottlenose dolphins racing beneath the bow of the Explorer. Their speed, agility and playfulness was enchanting, and several phones (and even some people) were nearly lost overboard trying to snap the perfect shot. We visited North Port, the final resting place of the rusting hulk of the GSS Stella a schooner-rigged steamship which was bought by the New Zealand government in 1876. It was used to transport supplies to the keepers stationed at lighthouses around the coast and the hull is remarkably well-preserved, although a satellite dish tied to a railing looked like a more recent addition. We saw a few of these satellite dishes in odd places throughout our journey and were told they belonged to the lobster or cray fishermen who work in these waters. Although the sounds are off limits to commercial fishing of any kind, they provide a safe haven for the storage of cray pots and live catches, which end up in restaurants mainly in China and South East Asia.
As we left the sheltered waters of Preservation Inlet and headed north to Tamatea/Dusky Sound, the largest body of water in Fiordland, we witnessed massive waves hurling themselves against the rocks and cliff faces, sending explosive plumes of water into the air. As I’ve always been a good sailor, I smugly declined the sea sickness tablets that were made freely available. However, the Great Southern Ocean and Tasman Sea conjured up a monotonous ocean swell, which proved too much for my tummy. I retreated to my cabin to sleep away the three-hour voyage, trying to avoid any thought of food that might inadvertently lead me to the bathroom. Although we all made it to dinner that night, there were more than a few pasty faces.
It was dark by the time we dropped anchor in the sheltered waters of Cascade Cove, where we were to become more familiar with Captain Cook’s 1773 voyage on the Resolution. Showing limited imagination, Cook named many of the islands in the sound – Resolution, Crayfish, Indian (where he first encountered Māori), Cormorant and Pigeon, to name just a few. My fellow passengers and I were by now getting more adept at embarking and disembarking from the zodiacs, and we set off to visit the site where Cook and his crew set up camp after their gruelling voyage searching for the Great South Continent. When Resolution arrived in Dusky Sound, a reconnaissance led by Lieutenant Pickersgill identified sheltered waters in what is now called Pickersgill Harbour. It was hard to imagine the three masted sloop in this small waterway, tied securely to trees on either side. But here they spent five weeks resting and making repairs to the ship. A forge was set up for iron work, tents for sail makers and a workshop for the cooper (barrel maker). Cook also arranged for beer to be brewed using rimu and manuka leaves. Rum rations were postponed so the crew would drink the beer, as it was hoped it would aid in the prevention of scurvy. A source of freshwater was close at hand, with plenty of fresh fish and crayfish to dine on. After the deprivations of the Antarctic voyage, the shelter and availability of fresh food and water must have seemed like mana from heaven. Although nothing remains of the camp, there was still a sense that we were walking in Cook’s footsteps.
Before departing, we made the short trek to nearby Astronomer’s Point, the site of a temporary observatory set up by William Wales, of the Board of Longitude, who was travelling with Cook to test the accuracy of a copy of John Harrison’s chronometer H4. As a consequence of the observations made by Wales at this point, New Zealand became the most accurately located place in the world at that time.
The Department of Conservation is involved in an ambitious restoration plan in Dusky Sound with the goal of eradicating pests, re-introducing missing species and filling biodiversity information gaps in the area. The project area includes Te Puaitaha/Breaksea Sound, Acheron Passage, Wet Jacket Arm and Dusky Sound itself, which has more than 700 islands including Resolution Island – New Zealand’s seventh largest island. The vision is for Dusky Sound to be one of the most intact ecosystems on Earth, as well as New Zealand’s largest ‘bio bank’ – a source of endangered native species that can be sent to pest free locations throughout the country.
We awoke the next morning to an iconic Fiordland scene – Jamie, our skipper, had manoeuvred the Explorer into a narrow branch of the fiord where we were sandwiched between mountainsides rising from the dark depths of the fiords to the sky, with waterfalls weeping from rock crevices and forests woven together by mist and imagination. Our boat, our travels and even our very existence seemed insignificant compared to the timeless grandeur we found ourselves observing. It felt as if the mountains themselves had granted us the privilege of sharing the dawn with them.
The walk to Moose Lake later in the morning took us through a wonderland that would not have been out of place on the set of Lord of the Rings. I would not have been surprised in the least if we had stumbled across Gandalf smoking a pipe under one of the many ancient trees, festooned with moss and ferns. We meandered through this fairyland accompanied by the music of a nearby creek, stopping to identify bird calls which became more plentiful as we neared the lake. The ground underfoot was spongy in many places, boggy in others, and several walkers found their boots trapped in the mud. But the effort was worth the prize of reaching the tarn and viewing the serenity of a landscape just as nature had intended it to be. The slender body of water was home to ducks but, sadly, we did not lay eyes on the hoped-for whio. Nor did we see any of the phantom moose, which some people believe still wander through the forests of Fiordland, after being brought here from Canada in the early 1900s. We were rewarded, however, with a visit from a leucistic/white tomtit/miromiro, which we were told had been at the site on and off for about a year. He was a friendly little fellow, darting from ground to branch around us, and chirping his greetings.
After another ocean stretch, we reached Patea/Doubtful Sound and the next morning we did a short walk on Secretary Island, one of the few islands never to have been infested with rats and mice. An inquisitive weka joined us as we beachcombed along the stony shoreline, but a wine bottle of a recent vintage was about all that we discovered. Thankfully, we came across next to no litter on any of the beaches we visited. Next there was a chance to kayak or do a zodiac tour, and we got to see Fiordland’s version of Queenstown’s The Blanket Hotel.
By afternoon we were anchored off the Camelot River, which had been timed to catch the tide. Again we boarded the zodiacs to meander up the river that has its headwaters on a saddle between the sound and Te Anau, a reminder that our tour was coming to an end. The zodiac skimmed over crystal clear water where we could identify the mix of freshwater and salt water. This part of the sound is a receiving environment for discharge from the tailrace of the mighty Manapouri hydroelectric power station.
All too soon, we were making our way to the wharf at Deep Cove where a bus would take us over Wilmot Pass to the West Arm visitors centre, beside the power station. From there it was a short boat and bus trip back to Te Anau. Although we hadn’t seen moa or Haast eagles, or a kakapo or kiwi for that matter, we did sense their presence. Majestic Fiordland reminds us of just how magnificent Aotearoa must have been in a time not so long ago – every two-legged kiwi should make the pilgrimage at least once in their life.
A massive thank you to Heritage Expeditions, the Heritage Explorer crew and my fellow expeditioners for the trip of a lifetime.
Enter here: https://www.heritage-expeditions.com/matters/
