I type this with an almost full moon above, reflected in inky black water. On each side, the looming hulks of mountains blot out the sky; the strip above, and the visible V of sky between, is punctured with stars. On deck, it’s silent, apart from the occasional cry of a morepork somewhere in the darkness. We’re on ship, aboard the Fiordland Navigator, at our night mooring in a cove of Doubtful Sound. It’s a pretty stunning place to spend the night, and it was a pretty stunning journey to get here.
It started yesterday, in the dark of dawn, and a chilly, quiet taxi ride to the airport for the early flight. Our first view of the South Island was the shape of the north coast and the sudden arrival of mountains underneath the plane. We touched down in Christchurch, the descent being the bounciest, most turbulent bit of flying I’ve done. Even a Christchurch resident described it as ‘a white knuckle ride’. From Christchurch it’s just a brief hop to Queenstown, over the mountains, and the descent there is quite exciting, first skimming over the crests of the golden mountains, then corkscrewing down into the valley between them in order to lose enough height for landing.
Some people say Queenstown is getting spoilt, and certainly there is a lot of building going on, going higher and higher up the hill, and all of it seems to be hotels and motels. However, its position by the lake and still quite a cosy town centre saves it. There is something about it which reminds me of Betwys-y-Coed, with its plethora of outdoor shops with sales on. The position, though, with the lake surrounded by mountains, is very beautiful and must be striking in winter when the mountains are covered in snow. In our numbed dawn-risen state, we had a fairly lazy day, wandering round the arts and crafts market by the wharf and walking along the coast of the lake. The motel was quite adequate, with more room than any of the others, and certainly the best view we have had, looking directly out onto the lake. Moving south, we have also clearly stepped on a couple of weeks in season, as here it is definitely autumn, with the trees carrying autumn hues and shedding their leaves in the wind. There’s also a tangible drop in temperature.
This morning (Sunday, though uploaded to the blog much later in Auckland, after a frustrating outing to a highly inefficient internet café in Queenstown) we were picked up early from the motel to join the coach for the drive south west to Manapouri. This took about two and a half hours, through spectacular scenery, first along the shores of Lake Wakatipu, then across plains of sheep and, interestingly, deer, backed always by the mountains. Skip the driver gave us an interesting commentary, pointing out various natural features, the history of deer farming and recounting the Maori myths about the region. Finally we arrive in the craggy mountains of Fiordland and Lake Manapouri, where we boarded our boat for the hour’s sailing along the length of the lake, to the hydro-electric power station at the other end. Once there, we boarded our next bus to take us across the mountains and over the Wilmot Pass to descend to Deep Cove, at the end of Doubtful Sound. The road goes nowhere else, just running between the two stretches of water, and was originally built for the construction of the power station, to transport machinery, which was shipped up Doubtful Sound and trucked across the mountains to Lake Manapouri. So finally, after about six and a half hours’ travelling by bus and boat, we reached our destination, the Fiordland Navigator.
The steep walls of the Sound plunge into its depths, the tops obscured by cloud, with wreaths of mist snaking through the vegetation. It was chilly, moody, ominous as we set sail across the glassy waters. After about an hour’s sailing, the boat stopped and we were invited either to go out in a small boat to have a guided tour of the vegetation and waterfalls on the rocky walls, or to go out and do the same thing in a kayak. Deborah and Louis went out in the tender craft, while Rosanna, Conrad and I each took a kayak. While the two in the boat had an interesting talk about the plants, trees, waterfalls and animal and bird life, we paddled our way through the mist and along the walls, where the plants and trees cling on right down to the water’s edge. In places, the walls overhang, with waterfalls cascading off, allowing you to pilot your kayak right underneath to watch the water falling right on top of you! Though chilly, it was a great experience, making us reluctant to get back on board, but the spicy pumpkin soup was just the right thing to welcome us back.
The Tasman Sea became the next destination, the water becoming choppier and choppier as we neared the ocean (as evidenced below), but we made the journey to see the fur seal colony which lives on the rocks at the very mouth of Doubtful Sound. With great skill, the captain kept the boat steady in the swell just next to the rocks so that we could watch the seals flopping around. The boat turned back and found a sheltered cove, unruffled by even a wavelet, and this is where the giant anchor was rattled to the depths, a fine and enormous meal was served, and we enjoyed this remarkably peaceful night under the moon.
