63) Land of a Thousand waterfalls - Doubtful Sound

We left Cape Foulwind to head down the west coast - we knew we were heading in the right direction when we saw signs of strange and wonderful NZ fauna....






Wekas are sweet, curious little flightless birds. In several instances, we were investigated by a weka that just couldn't bear not knowing what we were doing, resting by the side of the trail in his or her "neck of the woods." We read that Wekas have a well-developed homing ability, similar to pigeons. One Weka walked more than 300 km to return home, a most cruel and unusual punishment for such a dear bird! They also are known for "borrowing" things (like watches and teaspoons, and food), so we were careful to keep items out of reach of inquisitive little Wekas.



Near Punakaiki are the Pancake Rocks and blowholes.They are right off the road, which snakes along next to the coast, and they are, indeed, a geological mystery.

"The layers of resistant bands of limestone are separated by softer, thin, mud-rich layers. This type of layering, found in limestones worldwide, is called stylobedding. Although the origin of stylobedding has been debated, it is mostly agreed that this layering is not original bedding, but a secondary feature caused by compaction. Erosion by water, wind and salt spray near the coast has etched out the stylobedding, forming the distinctive ‘pancakes’." (http://www.teara.govt.nz/EarthSeaAndSky/Geology/GeologyOverview/6/ENZ-Resources/Standard/5/2/en)

The local maps show some fabulous-looking multi-day tramps up into the mountains. The Lonely Planet guide describes Punakaiki as being located "on the doorstep of the sensationally unkempt Paparoa National Park." Definitely a place to spend a few days, if we had had them to spare! Maybe we'll just have to come back.


We hung around for high tide, to hear the "intimidating" booming through blowholes as the ocean surged into the caverns. It was impressive, although a few storm surges would have added to the overall effect - at high tide with a good nor-wester, the water geysers up through the blowholes most impressively!


























We don't know how these start - tourists (maybe even a local or two) stacking rocks in piles. Other places it's big driftwood 'sculptures'. Humankind's need to build something even in the most beautiful places...









The Fox glacier helped remind us that there is still some ice in the world, though it was melting away even as we watched--ice fell from the face and washed mini-bergs downstream. We were bad tourists and went up close to investigate the terminal face of the glacier, despite the numerous warning signs. But they advised only the non-experienced to view from a distance--and hey, we're experienced with glaciers! (We were even able to point out the rouche montanees (rocks abraded and formed by glaciers that resemble a grazing sheep (mouton). Terribly apropos, here in the land of the sheep, wouldn't you say?!







It was glorious to stand in the cold air off the glacier. Not only was it was cold - it was DRY. No more of the constant humidity that we live with in AU. Reminded us of the high places of CO, NV, CA - up in the alpine where movement does not trigger an immediate sticky condensation of humid air on your neck. Glorious! But then humidity is good for the skin, yah?













Arrowtown is an old gold mining district near Queenstown. We stopped in on the reconstructed Chinese camp - laborers had a difficult relationship with the locals, and so even then, a "Chinatown" was segregated. This is one of the reconstructions of a Chinese man's dwelling. Arrowtown itself is almost too cutely quaint with faux 'original' rock walls on new buildings, multiple tourist shops and a few original buildings from the 1860's.





We were heading into the Fjordlands - known for their endless supply of sand flies. When this museum had some specimens on display, Dirk began to wonder if our 'natural' bug repellent would work! Maybe we would need the 100% DEET stuff, you know, the stuff that melts your sunglasses and your plastic ballpoint pens when you're doing fieldwork!










We faced a choice of visiting either the famous Milford Sound or the less-trafficked Doubtful Sound in the Fjordlands. We opted for the "exquisitely peaceful" and "remote" Doubtful Sound, heeding well-intentioned advice that an overnight trip in Doubtful Sound was not to be missed. The deluge of rain created thousands of spectacular waterfalls cascading over the steep rain-forested walls. Although named a 'Sound' it is technically a fjord - cut by glaciers.

You first catch a boat across Lake Manipouri, then a 'coach' for a 22 km ride to the Sound. The road is one of the most expensive and remote roads ever built in NZ. It was constructed so that the huge and heavy parts of the West Arm Power station could be carried by ship into the sound and then transported overland instead of far more logistically-challenging transport from the nearest port down south. The road is an amazing piece of construction work, now used largely to get tourists out to the Sound. Since the road was started in 1963 it is easy to see how fast the vegetation reclaims road cuts - deep mosses on vertical rock walls in 30 years. This place gets 9 feet of rain every year......




























We were encouraged by our ship's "purser" (or whatever his title was), who was responsible for our welfare, to participate in the myriad "activities" prepared for us. Continually entreating us to position ourselves out on the deck to absorb the unbeatable views, and to partake of the "activities," we would undoubtedly "live fully this experience of a lifetime!" in Doubtful Sound. Gamely, we went for a kayaking jaunt in the pouring rain amongst the innumerable waterfalls, in the deep, dark, cold water, without a sprayskirt. We had decided that due to our recent kayaking in Abel Tasman, we were experienced enough to paddle around in Doubtful Sound. Nancy appreciated the offer of a lifejacket, however. Afterwards, since we couldn't get any wetter, we participated in the "jumping off the boat" "activity." It was a bit disconcerting to jump so high off the deck and to be hurtling down down down into the cold cold inky black water wondering just when the momentum would stop and allow one to make a desperate effort to surface for a gasp of air before the mad scrabble back onto the safety of the deck...
(sadly the photos of that event have disappeared - Nancy made an elegant leap off the deck and was fairly composed as she swam to the back of the boat in the 11 degree C water. I on the other hand felt a rapid numbing in my extremities and hoped that someone was watching should I slowly, helplessly drift into the inky dark depths....)
































Fishermen in the sound wanted a 'base' in the sound. No-can-do said the Gov't, it's a National Park. Ah said the fishermen - the rules say no structures built 'above high tide'. So the built this base with no contact to land 'above high tide'.

The rules promptly changed....















After these 'activities', we headed out to the Tasman Sea (where we were again exhorted to get out on deck to witness the
splendor of the vast ocean) to gaze back into the mouth of Doubtful - it was named by Capt Cook in 1770 - due to its E-W aspect and the prevailing winds he doubted he could sail back out if he entered.

Fur seals basking on the rocks at the entrance..










Dirk had a heyday taking pictures!

















View out our berth window.....










Our ship moored overnight in a quiet cove. The rain stopped, and the moonlight was magical. It was blissfully peaceful, but could have been even quieter, if only they could have turned off the generator for a mere moment.
























Morning was cold but something rare and delightful - clear! The staff said 3/4 of the days are cloudy and they had not seen sun in the last week, so we felt incredibly lucky.


"There are just a few areas left in the world where no human has ever set foot. That one of them should be in a country so civilized and so advanced as New Zealand may seem incredible, unless one has visited the south-west corner of the South Island. Jagged razor backed mountains rear their heads into the sky. More than 200 days of rain a year ensure not a tree branch is left bare and brown, moss and epiphytes drape every nook. The forest is intensely green. This is big country... one day peaceful, a study in green and blue, the next melancholy and misty, with low cloud veiling the tops... an awesome place, with its granite precipices, its hanging valleys, its earthquake faults and its thundering cascades." (Viscount Cobham)

We cruised into Halls Arm - 1000m walls wreathed in vapor, new vistas revealed around every bend. The waterfalls had abated but great swirls of leaves and debris floated in tide-drawn patterns. The ship stopped at the end, found a balance point, and turned everything off. Everything. For 10 minutes, no cameras, no engines, no conversation. We just stood on deck and looked and listened and absorbed the sound of silence. Sound is a sense of place and this was a brief glimpse of what Doubtful Sound could be without humanity's invasiveness......





























Reluctantly, we had to leave the Sound. Heading back to civilization, here's an unusual glimpse of Doubtful Sound from the pass on the road back to Lake Manipouri...


Kiwi humor road signage













Greeted at the power station by a small horde of Kakas - they strutted and begged and then flew off .. to chew on the metal roof of one of the water taxis!












Waterfall and glacier videos below......