Manapouri and the Overnight Adventure

Lake Manapouri (meaning mournful heart) is the second deepest and fifth largest lake in NZ. It is surrounding by snowcapped mountains with the majestic Cathedral Peaks as its centerpiece. We are staying on a rise about 200 ft from the water’s edge with a 180 degree view of the mountains and quite a full view of the lake. The winds have been relentless and there are white caps over the entire surface of the water.
The very first thing we did here was the laundry knowing that dry clothes were essential in the days to come. We then drop on down to the rocky beach where acres of blue and purple lupine rim the lake in full bloom. We find a nice hike through beech forests along the water’s edge to Pearl Harbor where we will be departing by boat for our next adventure into the fiords and rainforest. The word “beautiful” seems so inadequate these days.
We repack everything to take a small overnight bag for the trip. The next morning we catch a boat that takes us across the lake to a landing on the Western Arm of the lake—this takes an hour. We have our first encounter with the much dreaded sandflies—they are attacking from everywhere. We then transfer to a 4 wheel drive shuttle that takes us through the Wilmot Pass on narrow, gravel, curving, steep(scary) roads with waterfalls cascading all about us and breathtaking views. This takes about 45 minutes.(On the shuttle is a young German woman who is wrapped in a big white scarf, hair in a tight pony tail with her glasses migrating down her nose, motion sickness patches behind her ears, wearing spanking new hiking boots and rain gear and a big puffy coat, chomping on an egg salad sandwich. Joel cracks the window a few millimeters to clear the condensation forming on the windows and she immediately asks that it be closed. …she is chilled. WTF! Why is she here???? I feel my jaw clench and my hackles up, and then I have to just calm down and feel sorry for her. I am going to be in tight quarters with this lass.) We then board our final vessel—a 60 ft craft with a deck below for sleeping and the main deck with galley and seating and above that by ladder is the skipper’s perch. After crossing the gangplank (in the rain) we are greeted by Jess, a 23 year old from Portland (!) who has been in NZ traveling and studying since she was 17. She will be the cook and chief bottle washer. Then there is Bill, first mate—a skipper with much experience who has had management positions in the seafood industry throughout NZ, primarily in the Marlborough Sounds. And then there is our skipper and fearless leader, Daz Pettus, who is an American expat who came to NZ in 1976. We are 9 passengers and 3 crew. We decided on this excursion rather than the big 70 passenger vessel because we wanted a more intimate experience. Jess already had challah bread dough rising and was elbow deep in flour making fresh chocolate chip scones for our little snack. Everybody is given the very grim and serious talk about emergency measures should you find yourself thrown overboard or in the midst of a cabin fire or have crashed into another vessel. We are told to go downstairs and claim a bunk and Joel and I are thinking along same lines: Not with that ninny! I grab a woman from San Diego (and her husband and teen age son who will be going to U of O!) and herd her into the bunk room. Now if you are envisioning bunks like you had as a child, think again. These are sailor’s bunks that measure the width of your body and if you are taller than 6 ft you will be sleeping in an embryo position. Head clearance—well there is no head clearance! You realize that you will be sleeping in extremely tight quarters with perfect strangers with habits that are yet unknown to you—but you know will be revealed as the night goes on. Phew! Disaster averted. We get underway and push off from the dock. It is warm inside and the skipper is chatting to us over the PA. Within minutes I find out that Jess has been on the crew for 2 weeks, Bill has joined 4 days ago and the skipper had been manning this boat since October (of 2009!!!!) I feel just a little pinch inside . . .but hey, they all seem so confident and able.
Our plan is to head out through the main channel (the Malaspina Reach) to Doubtful Sound exploring a few arms as we go. The land masses rise 3000 ft straight up out of the water and the rain is increasing so the water falls are exploding all around us. I lose count at 200 hundred and give it up. The wind is heavy and the rain drenching, but we are undaunted. My rain pants have paid for themselves three times over. However, they do not make camera pants and that proves to be a problem. We move from stern to bow, back and forth depending on the level of rain and wind. Joel and I are so excited to be out here. The young woman and her female friend and a young Austrian couple immediately start playing cards. Tea and scones are served and Jess is roasting lamb and chicken and is cleaning huge bunches of cauliflower and broccoli (uh oh) and boiling big pots of potatoes. She’s punching down the dough and cleaning dishes in between and then running up to the skipper’s perch to man the PA and gives us educational information regarding geology, flora, fauna, etc. We are battling the wind and the rain for a couple of hours and then it happens. I am on the bow with a couple of other people and the wind shifts dramatically and takes on such incredible force. I feel something primal in me respond. We are pushing to get back in while the wind is pushing us toward the rail and the boat is pitching and lurching. The rail is so low to the left of me that I don’t dare grab on to that because it was once at waist level, but is now at knee level. I grab onto something on the right—don’t know what, but thank you. I’m pushing these two other people in the door and Jess runs to grab us and pull us in and latch the door. The tone is a little more serious as the skipper tells us that we must turn around and find shelter in one of the arms. The wind is tunneling from the ocean up the channel and we turn into Crooked Arm but as we go deeper into it the wind is also tunneling from the other end and sheets of rain are coming down and Bill and Daz and Jess are all up there poring over maps and trying to make a determination as to where to go. Daz is relying solely on sonar at this point because he cannot see out the skipper’s window. The wind has picked up—40 knots—that’s approximately 65 mph—and the rudder is inadequate for these conditions. There is no deep keel on this vessel to steady us. We all have questions and Jess is talking to us in studied calming tones. We could hear Bill calling out to the other ships and every vessel is forced to return up the channel. Then we lose signal and cannot communicate with others. I remind myself that Daz has raced in Auckland and skippers boats in the Mediterranean and the Pacific and that Bill knows the seas surrounding NZ. However, their tone is urgent and we realize that they feel their responsibility to keep their passengers safe. We head back into the main channel and into Hall Arm where we will search out a buoy to anchor for the night. At this point we had been on the water for about five hours. We are anchored at the base of a waterfall in a little crook for some protection and the plan is to stay here, have our dinner and then for a few of us who don’t mind the rain and wind, fish off the bow for grouper. There is disappointment for many that we won’t be going out as far as hoped, but you cannot predict the weather here and I, for one, feel fortunate that we have a skipper with good, sound judgment. The meal is a feast and we used left over lamb roast as bait for fishing. The teenager, his mom, Joel and I are out there fishing. I stink of lamb and fish and am dropping a line 90 feet down, standing in the pouring rain and looking up at these tall peaks covered in green and waterfalls everywhere and feeling pretty damn good. We didn’t catch grouper, but caught Jack Stewart fish which are spiny. It is getting dark and I am alone out there. Finally come in and clean off and we have dessert and tea and in talking realize that Daz grew up a couple of miles away from Joel and is also a jazz drummer. We plan to try and meet up with him in Spain and maybe sail off of Palma. Everybody gets ready for bed. There are smells and sounds during the night that are unfamiliar. I hear Joel say Shit! every time he turns and hits his head on the ceiling. I cannot sleep and climb up the stairs to the main deck to get some earplugs. The carpet is soaking wet in places and my mind starts to imagine that the boat is leaking. It is leaking from the top and dripping in places. There is the sound of water sloshing against the boat and the buoy bumping the bow. I am longing for sleep or the morning—which ever comes first. I finally get a couple of hours and then a little of the first light comes through a porthole the size of a saucer. I throw on my clothes and jacket, grab the camera, and head for the deck.I am alone in the morning until the UCSD transplant from the UK joins me. It is raining gently but the sun is rising over the mountains and the water has calmed. I wake Joel and just the three of us have the morning on the stern for quite awhile. Later, after everyone rises, has breakfast and we cruise through the channels we return to Deep Cove to jump back on the shuttle. It had rained two inches overnight! We do everything in reverse and the last boat ride in is in glorious sunshine—I stretch out on the seats like a cat in the sun. We land, load our stuff back in the car check in for the night. After a much needed nap, we take a walk through the beech forest at sunset and stay out there until dark. Tomorrow we hike part of the Kepler Track between here and Te Anau and then on to the town for two nights with various hikes.After that we will drive up to Milford Sound and lodge for several nights to cruise the sound by boat and hike some trails. Happy Thanksgiving to all. Eat lots of turkey and stuffing and pie for us.We miss you all. Much Love, Linda