Details
Sounds Adventure
by John Booth
Attendance at a two-day national association forum in Queen Charlotte Sound near Picton presented an opportunity too good to miss. So I took leave from work, packed a week’s worth of gear in a back-pack/dry-bag, packed my Incept inflatable kayak in its travel bag, left my car in Wellington and walked on to the ferry. I admit it was a fair bundle. I had a week’s food, camping gear, and paddling gear mostly on my back – and I was towing the wheeled kayak bag. For the forum I had packed way too many half decent clothes and was separately nursing my Pelican case with camera gear and a kayak sail and couple of paddles. On Sunday afternoon after the Anakiwa conference finished, I re-packed into 3 dry-bags, stowed them in my kayak and paddled to the Q-C Sound Mistletoe Bay camp site with a bunch of other like-minded kayakers, 10 km into a head wind. Next day, while the other paddlers headed back towards Picton I managed a lift over the Te Mahia Saddle into Kenepuru Sound with Chris, the very obliging camp caretaker. I launched from Te Mahia after midday into a light northerly head wind which freshened as I got further out. When I left the relative shelter of Te Mahia Bay I crossed over to the north and more sheltered side of Kenepuru Sound and continued west towards the mouth and confluence with Pelorus Sound. There is a lot of developed land on Kenepuru but there were several kilometres of verdant bush along this stretch giving way to a nicely presented homestead set in parklike surroundings followed by bare brown hills and lots of mussel farms. If there is anything to destroy the idyllic image of the Sounds, it would have to be mussel farms. Every sheltered and available bay seems to be occupied with lines of slimed buoys and navigation hazards for the unwary. I kept well clear.
At the confluence the hills dropped away and the strong northerly wind came straight in, whipping up whitecaps and threatening to capsize the kayak which required constant paddle braces. At the same time I was being pushed sideways on to a mussel farm and I had to work really hard to get around it. I knew there was a camp site on the shore near the confluence at Putanui Point somewhere and landed where I thought it might have been. It turned up a couple of hundred metres back, so I relaunched the kayak and pulled in there for the day. Putanui Point Campsite is a DOC camp up the side of a mountain with three or four benches cut out for small tents under Nikau Palms. There is a water tap connected into a spring somewhere and the best modern fibreglass long-drop you ever would see – with skylight, venting, and even carpet. I reckoned the $5 fee was worth it absolutely and after climbing to the top of the headland for views and photos I laid back for a good meal and enjoyed a lazy evening.
The following day the wind had dropped and I went out with the tide in Pelorus Sound towards the open sea. I must admit I had felt a bit vulnerable out there on my own in the whitecaps the day before and since I had recently gained the Marine VHF Radio Operator’s qualification I thought maybe I should file trip reports with Picton Maritime Radio from then on. I was carrying a handheld VHF radio on my life vest so after that I made it a point each day to make contact. I had never done this before and wondered if being in touch with the outside world would change my appreciation of the wilderness or in some way intrude or detract from adventure. It did not. In fact there was an almost conspiratorial feel to this communication and it felt more like I had joined a new fellowship of beings who intimately understood the seafaring way of life and I was now a part of it.
Nydia Bay is an arm of Pelorus Sound, shaped like a hammerhead, 5 km long, 1 km wide and with the head opening out into a 4 km wide bay. Except for private beaches on the left of the head the shores are steep or undercut with hills rising behind to 1,000 m. There is a DOC camp in the right hand corner and I noticed as I paddled up the arm that a serious and stationary rain shower sat over it.
Nydia Lodge is a well developed and attractive campus set back in Kanuka scrub at the opposite end of the bay. Some friends had mentioned once staying there with a group and it was worth a visit so since it wasn’t raining on this side I went over and checked it out. A large group of boys, yachts and kayaks were there and I chatted for a while with one of the supervisors before getting back in the kayak and heading over the other side to camp for the night. It stopped raining in the corner as I approached and things looked hopeful although the temperature had fallen. The tide was out when I arrived at Nydia Bay Campsite so I unloaded and carried everything up the bank including the kayak, looked around under the Kanuka for a good tent site and then the rain returned in force. I hurriedly pulled on my paddle jacket, erected the tent in quick time, scrambled inside and mopped it out. I had bought the tent on the drive south to Wellington on the Friday previous and this was the third night out. Nice tent, bad design. The front and back were both zipped, the zips ran up to the apex, and it was impossible to get in or out without opening the tent to the rain. In addition, the rear zip sat in a hollow and funnelled the water. And the insect mesh on the inner tent allowed 100% of the funnelled water through into the tub floor… In hundreds of nights in the bush under flies over the years I have never been wet and I regretted my choice to go soft. A couple of rubbish sacks taped together and jury-rigged over the entrance vestibule fixed one problem, but the water leakage at the other, well, showers pass. It was still cold in the morning but the rain had stopped so I had a good breakfast and moved out.
The bay was a mirror and the colours intense. Verdant bush came down to the water and reached out over. There were streams every few hundred metres. I paddled back up the arm and explored every bay and cove. Rata was profuse. This was late February and there was a shrubby white-flowered variety everywhere and occasionally a red one with large and brilliant flowers, one of these hanging low over the water. And thousand-year-old rimus. In the clear water were thousands of large translucent jellyfish everywhere performing their graceful dance. And all too soon in late afternoon I paddled out towards the Pelorus mouth, pulled in to Jacobs Bay and made camp. Jacobs Bay was in sun and flat calm. In the distance local fishing boats were passing home to Havelock in Mahau Sound. There is a grassed picnic flat above the beach, tent sites back in the bush and a DOC jetty at the end of the bay. Well tended tracks pass through and link up with the forest network.
I hadn’t stopped for lunch and an early dinner went down well. I set up camp in the trees and was down cooking dinner when I heard a commotion from the direction of tent. I ran up and found the local camp weka inside my tent and frantically tearing at the mesh door at the far end. He did attempt to purloin various shiny bits later on and I was watchful. It was a pleasant evening and I walked the tracks to the nearby headlands and took in the amazing views. Towards dusk I tidied camp, packed all non-essentials for the morning and planned for an early start to catch the tide. I was on the water by sunrise and paddled out towards home. It was again calm and glassy and if any breeze at all it was going my way. I went the 25 km back to Te Mahia Bay in 4 hours with just one comfort stop then spent the next 4 hours unpacking, portaging over to Mistletoe Bay in Queen Charlotte Sd and getting back on the water. I had originally planned on staying there the night but it was only 3 pm and so I made the decision to head out for Picton which was only 10 km away. It was very pleasant indeed paddling down the reach towards the open sound then crossing the 3 km over to the other side, and back east to Wedge Point not far from Picton. As I rounded the point I came across a young seal frolicking in the current off the rocks and I paused beside it. It looked up, dived towards me then came up nearby and began to spin. It drew in its flippers, straightened itself and commenced rolling at about 2 seconds a time, and continued on and on. I circled it while it was doing this and it seemingly took no notice whatever.
As I continued back to Picton and the promenade the seal was still spinning…the local kids were out in their Optimist sailing dinghies training in the bay and it was all very sunny, cheerful and colourful. I checked with some people on shore and there was indeed a 6pm ferry so I went up to the pavilion, washed off the salt and scrubbed up, changed into street clothes, wiped down and packed away my kayak and walked on to the ferry for home. It had been a remarkable, refreshing and thoroughly worthwhile week. I loved the place, especially Pelorus, had it all to myself, spoke to just two people out there and had mostly perfect weather.
February 2009
