The Wave

None of us actually saw the wave that ended the Søren Larsen's voyage to Rarotonga. Those of us on watch, standing aft by the helm, had automatically looked away when the helmsman Boris remarked “wave coming”. Those in the deckhouse were preparing breakfast and those below were asleep, or catching a few more minutes in the warmth of their bunks.

So the first we knew of the devastation that a few seconds and several tonnes of water had caused was the loud cracking noise, swiftly followed by the sight of various bits of fruit and wood floating by. I noticed a jacket with a bright orange hood, but couldn't see anyone in or close by the jacket. Then we looked forward.

The deckhouse, where the galley was situated, a cosy little shelter against the elements, had all but disappeared. In its place was wreckage. Over by the port shrouds Dave, the newly-recruited second cook, was hanging on to a rope looking shaken. The engineer was covered in blood, Paul the cook was clutching a beam above his head, white as a sheet, and volunteer crew member Andrew was staggering around at the top of the companionway.

My watch hurried forward. We persuaded Jarren the engineer to go aft and get below, and Dave to follow him. Andrew had disappeared down the companionway and purser Amanda was looking up, shock all over her face. The mate, Nic, began calling orders – get the main companionway covered, get lifejackets, tell the captain, get everyone awake and in the port saloon. We tried to get Paul to go below but he kept clinging on to his beam, apparently unable or unwilling to move.

About this time I realised that not only had we lost the deckhouse, but the whole midships section of the starboard rail had vanished. Instead of a comforting wooden bulwark between us and the raw power of the Pacific, there was just slippery deck. I got myself over to the companionway and started helping with the hatch cover. Two of the deckhands, Hannah and Heather, appeared on deck with lifejackets, and shortly afterwards the ship's carpenter Rusty arrived with hammer and nails and we got the covers on.

I went aft after that to find out what should happen next. Amanda came on deck doing a muster – the bo'sun, Cubie, was unaccounted for and I remember looking with horror into the waves and wondering if she had been in the deckhouse when the wave hit. None of the debris was to be seen; we'd already sailed on past it and past any hope for someone swept overboard. Luckily Cubie was shortly found forwards. Voyage crew member Neal pointed out that the gas seemed to be on in the galley, so Nic darted forwards into the wreckage to turn it off. Captain Jim was on deck, calm as he surveyed the scene. Nic called me forward again to hang on to the ropes that had been attached to a destroyed pinrail, while she went further forward to find out what the damage was there. One of the doors on the forward hatch had been torn off, so she and Cubie sealed the hatch with more plywood.

We shifted the mainsail over to turn around and begin heading back towards New Zealand and our hopes of rescue. I got a lifejacket on, and together with deckhand Kent went to fetch more lifejackets from the locker, on top of the deckhouse roof. We got spares, too many to carry, and I never found out if anyone went back for those extra lifejackets or if they went overboard.

The next job was to clear the deck of debris, lash down things that we could use, and throw food and personal items sloshing around on deck into the food net below the deckhouse roof. At the same time we had to get the manual bilge pump (fondly known as Divine Brown for the colour of the water it throws out, or alternatively The Gusher) going. That involved people pumping and someone holding the valve down to keep it primed.

About this time someone pointed out there was smoke rising from the main hatch, just aft of where the deckhouse had stood. Luckily the second mate Ally was below with a radio and a fire extinguisher dealing with it – a small electrical fire in the ship's larder, Botany Bay.

All the while Rusty and Ben the chippies were using bits of debris to cover up places where water was getting in below – mainly where the timberheads, vertical supports along the ship's side, had been torn off.

The biggest job with regards to getting rid of the debris was shifting the aft wall of the deckhouse into the sea. The wall had landed half across the main hatch, all in one piece including the door, so Kent sawed through the frame above the door to make it more manageable and a bunch of people hefted it over the hatch and over the side.

After that the biggest job was really keeping the pump going. On the starboard side, clipped on safely, was a queue of people waiting to take their turn, 50 pumps each. On the port side, also clipped on, was me with a bucket and Ben with a sea bucket, trying to keep the pump primed. Reasonably early in this effort came the sound of an aeroplane from above – the New Zealand air force's Orion, diverting from a flight to Samoa to check us out. It was incredibly good to see the Orion and know that someone was keeping an eye on us.

Mid-morning Nic came around and told all of us to go below and collect any personal belongings we might want to take with us if we had to leave the ship. The request brought the possibility of abandoning ship rather close. Down below the power had been cut due to the fire, and water was sloshing from side to side as I slipped and slid down the saloon to my cabin. The question of what to take was a tricky one – in the end I grabbed my camera and computer bag, already packed, threw in travel documents, my wallet, and my battered old teddy bear that's travelling home with me. Then I slipped and slid all the way back aft and went back to the pump.

It was also about mid-morning that we sighted the MV Tarago, a cargo ship operated by the Norwegian company Wilhemsen Line. The Tarago was en route to Auckland and diverted to escort us; they stuck by us all day, all night and most of the next day until a police launch arrived to take over. The massive bulk was a very welcome sight on the horizon, particularly while the weather remained heavy. During the morning there was also a pod of whales swimming about in our wake; normally I'd have been thrilled but there were other things to worry about!

A little later on I managed to cut my finger on something after a slide across the deck, which by now was covered in oil from the bilge. I swapped places with Cubie and went to find a bandage, and afterwards had a short sit down and a breather. I wasn't sure how much longer the adrenalin rush would last and, having been up since 3.40am anyway, was pretty knackered.

At 11.30am Nic drew up two groups of five people and told us to pump half an hour on, half an hour off, which at least gave us the chance to sit in the relative warmth of the navigation room and eat something. Paul, assisted by Andrew, had retrieved some wraps, tuna, mayonnaise and cheese from the larder and we all munched our way through wraps and chocolate (a seriously large amount of chocolate got eaten that day and the next). I wasn't actually that hungry, but felt I ought to eat something.

As the pumping shifts went on the deckhouse became creakier and creakier. The starboard side had semi-collapsed when the wave hit, but we were expecting the port side to go at any moment. Piers, the captain due to relieve Jim in Rarotonga, and Cubie cut the seizing that linked the aft davits – metal supports for lifting things – to the mainmast shrouds. If the deckhouse collapsed we didn't want it taking the mast with it. By about 2pm the creaking was bad enough that Jim pulled us off the pumping. We all crowded in the navigation room and Jim gave us an update on the situation: a helicopter was on its way with extra, powerful pumps for us and we should stay out of the way unless needed for the helicopter operation.

The chippies were detailed to go and reinforce the main companionway and forward hatches from the inside, and rig a tarpaulin under the main hatch in case the deckhouse came in and caused the main hatch to give way or for the glass to break. I had no job for the time being, so curled up in a corner in Jim's cabin and tried to get warm. I was soaked to the skin (as was everyone) but there didn't seem any point in getting out of wet weather gear quite yet. The helicopter arrived and deposited its load with several loud thuds on the deck above my head. Others joined me in Jim's cabin and, snuggled damply together with lifejackets as pillows, we tried to get some sleep.

I succeeded and woke about an hour later to find Nic organising people to set the lower topsail and setting four three-hour watches for the rest of the trip. I went up on deck, but there were enough people and I was frozen, so ended up going to my bunk, taking off wet things, and falling asleep properly.

By the time I went on watch at midnight the weather had begun to calm a little, but it was freezing cold. The bilge pumps helicoptered in had worked a treat, but had been turned off for the night, so we got to stay warm with a couple of short stints on Divine Brown again. Then back to bed.

I woke about 10am the next morning to a much more cheerful ship. Everyone had slept, the chippies were constructing a makeshift galley on deck out of the pitch pot and its small gas canister, the sea was significantly calmer, and Nic and Cubie had retrieved the kettles from the ruins of the galley. Best of all, the kettles worked, so we all had hot drinks followed later by hot food – wraps again, this time with scrambled eggs and tinned spaghetti. It was sunny and warmer and we were actually sailing home.

Had a bit more sleep after watch, but not quite enough – I got up on the call of “food”, only to get caught out passing tin plates of curried fish and couscous to others and having to wait 45 minutes for my portion. Slightly annoying, but my own fault and I really shouldn't have been so grumpy about it. The police launch had arrived by this point and was following off the starboard quarter. Nic was still giggling about their request on arrival that we make sure everyone knew how to use our lifesaving equipment – given that we'd spent most of the previous day in lifejackets it was really a superfluous thing to say.

When we were woken for the night watch it was dead calm. The 9-12 watch had taken in the sails once the wind had died. Despite both the middle and main staysails having small tears in them they had survived the whole trip magnificently. The bilge didn't need pumping and we were keeping a watch forward again. I was able to call my parents at about 2.30am as we approached Whangarei Heads to reassure them everything was okay.

The anchor was dropped early the next morning in the river near the dockyard in Whangarei, and the plywood sealing the forward companionway was taken off with much hammering. The cooks had done a big pan of sausages and rescued some oranges and pineapples, and we feasted in the morning sun while waiting for the Customs man to arrive. In the meantime the boat was launched. Nic drove off and came back with the Customs man, Søren's owners Steve and Rosie, Jim's wife Terri and a long-time friend of the ship, Miranda. We all felt enormously sorry for Steve and Rosie as they sighted the damage for the first time and there were hugs and a few tears as the newcomers came aboard.

While the Customs man did his thing we all got a tour of the outside of the ship from the boat. It was sobering to see the damage, and there was renewed relief that we'd all made it. We went ashore after Customs had left, for a wonderful brunch in a Whangarei café, savouring the coffee and good food. Later on we moved Søren upriver, back to the berth she had recently left after refit, her home until she's ready to leave again.

We were initially very lucky for the wave to hit how and when it did, causing no damage below the waterline and early enough for very few people to be in the deckhouse. The early hour also meant we had the whole day to stabilise the situation. However that everything else went so calmly and smoothly is due to Jim, Nic, and the rest of the crew. Jim led from the front – at the helm for hours, and later on cleaning the heads – and was utterly unflappable throughout. His calmness was passed on down and though I think we were all scared at least some of the time, we all knew what was going on, and we worked together to make sure we were all safe. It wasn't an experience I care to repeat but it's one I'll definitely remember.

Søren's now set for several months of repair in Whangarei, but the shipwrights are talking positively of getting her back to rights. I've hung around for the week, which has been mostly spent cleaning and getting food and other stuff off the ship for storage. We also took down the square sails and all the staysails except the upper staysail – some need repairing and the squares need safe storage. Demolition of the deckhouse began today and there's not much left now. Meanwhile the crew is dissipating, and a whole bunch of people left this morning. It's not the ending we all wanted.

Pictures are on Flickr as usual and I'll be adding more videos tomorrow hopefully.

Off we go - again!

We finished our refit today - after a month of very hard work, the awnings came off, the staging came down and Soren Larsen looks like a ship again. At high tide tomorrow we set off for the Bay of Islands where we'll get fuel, a few more people, and clear Customs. On Friday, we set sail for Rarotonga. Again. Hopefully this time, after all the work that's been done on filling in seams and plugging leaks, we'll get there! I'll check in again when/if we do. :)

Almost done

The refit's nearly over; we're working now on getting the ship back together and shipshape before leaving Whangarei. The original plan was to sail down to Auckland tomorrow, but the weather forecast is nasty so we're staying put until Thursday morning. This is good as it gives us a little longer to get things done and dusted. Hopefully we'll then be able to clear Customs in the Bay of Islands and not have to travel further south before heading towards the Cooks. We've all got a half-day off today or tomorrow, so I've been uploading photos again; won't get another chance.

It's been a fun month though tiring and I've come down with a bit of a cold now. I've completely lost my voice, which is a pain because it's difficult asking questions and telling people where the black enamel's gone! :)

On Saturday we all got dressed up in outrageously unfashionable clothes from the opshop and went out to celebrate the bo'sun's 30th birthday. She left quite early but the rest of us had a blast at the Irish pub - including Captain Jim in a fetching yellow Hawaiian shirt! Good fun, but everyone slept in yesterday morning and spent the day nursing headaches. However we all worked a full day too on top of the hangovers.

Anyway, last batch of photos on Flickr. Will upload plenty more from Rarotonga, weather gods permitting.

A week to go

We're planning to finish the refit next Sunday, leaving us a few days to tidy up before setting sail for Rarotonga. It looks like we'll be good to go, which is a relief.

The last couple of days have been fine, a blessing after a week of rain. The sunshine means we've been able to repaint the starboard side and the starboard waterways (the bits of the deck next to the hull) and finish the caulking on that side too. All the new hanging knees are up inside the ship, and we're cracking on with the cabins. It's all looking good.

Today's my day off, potentially the last one before we go (though there's another tentatively scheduled in for a week on Tuesday). I borrowed one of the ship's bikes and cycled up to Whangarei Falls, which are pretty impressive, and then on down to the AH Reed Memorial Kauri Park, a nice bit of bush with a canopy walk through a kauri grove. It's nice to get off the ship occasionally and breathe in fresh air untainted by the paint fumes!

More pictures up on Flickr.

Dolphins and paint

Work aboard Soren continues apace - two weeks until we're due to set sail. After turning around on Monday, we spent a day or so putting up the awnings again and now most of the crew are busy scraping paint off the port side of the ship. The caulking team spent yesterday and today, which were mostly fine, finishing off the open seams on starboard and I helped the mate with painting the side. That involved some amusing manoeuvres with paddles in the ship's boat as well as getting wet feet on the wooden staging things we have to put over the side. Generally I think we're still on schedule, but the rain has not been helpful.

Yesterday there was a huge pod of large dolphins swimming upriver. They swam up about lunchtime and came back an hour or so later. Some were being especially acrobatic. That lifted everyone's spirits (together with the lovely weather). Dolphins are always nice to see, and it's good to see them so close to the ship.

Turned around

A fortnight into the refit, we turned the ship around today. That involved quite a lot of work - taking off the frame supporting the awnings, taking down some of the awnings and tarpaulins lining the ship's side, casting off the mooring lines and weighing anchor (covered in grey gloopy Whangarei mud). Captain Jim turned the ship on a dime, beautifully, and we went back in bow first. We dropped the anchor again only to give the guys who work at the shipyard a heart attack; they reckoned we'd dropped it on their railway that lifts ships into dry dock. Jim disagreed, but we lifted it again anyway to keep them happy and attached a long rope borrowed from the dockyard to the bows. It's shackled around a pohutukawa tree on the opposite bank and should enable us to bring the starboard side out so we can get it painted. The awnings and so on are mostly up again, and work's already begun on the port side. Meanwhile below decks we're wrestling with the appalling paint job that had been done in the ship's larder - it's all peeling, so we're trying to find the quickest way to get it off before repainting it properly. Anyway, all on schedule still, which is good news.

Opshop excitement

It's possible I've been aboard too long - the highlight of today was a trip to the hospice shop in Whangarei where you could buy a whole bag of clothes for $1. Bargain! I got some clothes to trash while painting and thus preserve my own.

Otherwise the refit is progressing well, I think. On deck there are big holes where they're raking out the seams and then re-caulking them, and the holes in the hull are slowly being filled up by other caulkers. I spent yesterday and the day before rolling oakum; oakum is hemp, tarred with Stockholm tar. It comes in bales of ribbons and smells lovely, but it has to be rolled into ropes before you can use it. Rolling is incredibly dull but we need loads of it, so we're taking turns.

Down below the cabins are slowly starting to look presentable, with new paint and varnish. They should be lovely when done.

On Sunday we're turning the ship around to start work on the other side.

A day in the life of a refit

So we're several days into repairs now, and settling into a routine.

At 7.15am the captain comes round and wakes us all up - fifteen minutes until breakfast. At 7.25am he comes round again and tells us it's five minutes to go, in case of snoozers.

Up on deck one of the cooks has put out breakfast. There's always cereal, coffee and tea, and toast, and something cooked too; usually eggs of some description. Just before 8am there's a brief meeting. Captain Jim gives a weather report and any notes, and then first mate Nic assigns jobs to everyone and we go and get started. Currently I'm involved in making over the starboard cabins, which all got water damage during the storm/leak affair and needed a refresh. So I've been sanding and chipping and grinding and generally getting thoroughly mucky.

At 10am the conch is blown and we all down tools for morning smoko - coffee, tea and fruit. By 10.20am we're back at work, until the conch goes again for lunch at 12.30pm. Recently every meal has involved beef as the freezer containing all the beef broke down, so the cooks are trying to get through it. Today we had pasta with a beef and pumpkin sauce.

Just after 1pm we're back to it for a hard graft until 3.30pm, which is afternoon smoko. The cooks try to bake something to eat for this one; today we had mini eclairs which went down enormously well. Then back to work again until about 5.45pm, when it's clean-up time to leave the ship tidy for the night. Dinner's about 6.30pm or 7pm, and we all eat together in the deckhouse or on deck, before settling down to check email, read or play music, and have showers! The ship's currently got three guitars, one ukelele, and two South American recorder/flute things. I want to get a fiddle if I can find a really cheap one. I think the ship needs one.

By 9 or 10pm we're all in bed, ready for the next day.

I think things are running generally to schedule; the plan is to turn the ship around on May 10th or 11th to start work on the port side.

In Whangarei

I'd hoped to be in the middle of the Pacific by now, but there you go, life sometimes throws a spanner in the works. A few days out from NZ Soren caught a Force 8, and then a Force 10, and the end of the tale was a very leaky ship. The captain decided repairs needed to be made and turned us around. We got back to the Bay of Islands last Thursday and came down to Whangarei on Sunday night. I'm now hanging around to help with the repair work. So far a sort of stage has been built down the starboard side of the ship, with an awning over the top, and the waterways (scuppers, and other bits) have been taken out. We've also attacked the ship's larder, emptying it completely, and have begun makeovers on the starboard cabins. It's filthy work but fun enough!

Now I just need to sort out my journey home - getting there, slowly.

Last few days on land ...

Back in New Zealand. As little as I like Auckland it's nice to be back – it kind of feels right.

Had a lovely Easter weekend in Sydney however. On Saturday, shortly after I arrived from Katoomba, my friend Jess and some of her friends and I all went off to Cockatoo Island for the night. Cockatoo Island is pretty much in the middle of Sydney harbour, not far from land. When the Europeans first arrived it was used as a prison for convicts transported from Norfolk Island; later it became a reformatory school; and then a shipyard until the 1990s. In 1992 they closed the shipyard down and it's been empty until recently. A couple of years ago they reopened the island to the public and you can get a ferry there during the day. At night you can camp – they have tent sites as well as quite a lot of permanent tents, and there are barbeques for cooking. We got a couple of the permanent tents and pitched two ordinary ones and had a very pleasant evening, first exploring the island a bit and then just hanging out, chatting and playing cards. Slept okay apart from being woken by the rain in the night and the kids doing an Easter Egg hunt at about 6.30am (there were a number of families there. Annoyingly the kids all stole the little chocolate eggs thoughtfully placed outside each tent by the campsite managers – but one of Jess's friends very kindly gave us all Easter bunnies, so there was chocolate after all.)

In the afternoon, after we'd packed up and left the island, we did a walk along the coastline from the Spit Bridge to Manly. It's a good walk, about 10km but not generally difficult, with pretty views back towards the city and even some Aboriginal petroglyphs along the way. There were also some decent-sized lizards, pelicans and lorikeets to be seen. Australia does have interesting wildlife!

Yesterday morning, after dropping people off at the airport and the railway station, Jess and I went to the Royal Easter Show. Sydney has found a good use for its Olympic park, hosting shows there a lot according to Jess, and the whole central chunk of it was taken up with the show. We spent quite a bit of time in the food hall sampling things, but also watched a couple of heats of single-handed sawing in the woodchop arena (seriously – they race to see who's the fastest at sawing through a log) and managed to catch glimpses of the pig racing. We wandered around the smelly enclosures for the alpacas, llamas, cows, horses, sheep and pigs as well as the flower show where there were an enormous number of amazing dahlias on display. We finished up at the food hall again for a lunch of more samples! On the way back to Jess's we had a swim in her local outdoor 50m saltwater pool – it's a lovely pool apart from the salt, which I'm not a huge fan of really. Then the airport, and the flight back to Auckland, arriving at midnight as the Aussie flights tend to.

Today I'm trying to sort out my luggage for sailing, but tomorrow hopefully I'll get a chance for a last bit of sightseeing before leaving NZ. If it's nice, I'm planning to visit Rangitoto. If it's not, I might go to the Antarctic centre or maybe the museum again.

Currently uploading photos after finding a cheap internet cafe with an actual fast connection. Woohoo.

East Coast

Gisborne, Tuesday 17 March (update from the last post)

Spent the late afternoon walking around Gisborne's hill Titirangi and seeing Cook-related sites. There's a memorial up roughly where Cook landed – a memorial and a bit of grass, right next to a logging yard. A container ship from Hong Kong was loading. I couldn't help wondering what Cook would have made of it all now. It was, slightly, depressing. Cook's achievements were such that he rates more than a stone memorial in a logging yard. I think he'd have been happier with the Endeavour.

After seeing the memorial I climbed up Titirangi for views of the town and the bay, and down to the very large marae below it. Back towards the holiday park I paused at the statue of Cook and the one of his cabin boy Young Nick, who first spotted NZ. I bet Nick never realised what he did and how important it was.

Fish and chips for dinner. Mmm.

---

Te Araroa, Wednesday 18 March

When the Lonely Planet said the amenities blocks here at Te Araroa Holiday Park needed an upgrade, they weren't kidding – I feel like I've gone back in time. Back in time with the price, too – just $12 for me and my little tent for the night. The whole day in fact has been a bit back-in-time; the East Coast seems as though it hasn't moved on much from the 60s or 70s. Faded buildings, old vehicles, farmers driving quad bikes around, roads that need improving, no mobile reception and no internet. Instead of modern stuff which you can do without, there's miles and miles of wild empty beaches, green green hills, sheep and cows, and trees. Not much else. The main industry appears to be logging – timber trucks kept passing me all day on those windy roads carrying their cargoes to Gisborne. Apart from that, it's agriculture or road maintenance, apparently. I did a feature on East Coast schools at one point and I remember they were predominantly low-decile, overwhelmingly Maori and trying to deal with all sorts of problems. You can see why, driving the coast. Everywhere's so isolated. I turned down into Waipiro Bay, a ten-minute narrow windy road off the main state highway, and there's a school down there. The town's just a few houses, the church is in disrepair, and yet they're trying to run a school.

Despite the general run-downness of the coast, however, it's stunningly beautiful in a very North Island sort of way. Lots of evidence of seismic activity in the landscape. I imagine it must have looked relatively similar when Cook got here, though there was probably more bush and less grass. My first stop this morning was Cook's Cove walkway, going to a cove he landed in in late October 1769. There's a random plaque on a block of concrete overlooking the cove, informing you that Endeavour took on wood and water and Banks and Solander collected plants. It was a nice walk, first up through farmland and then down through bush, and there was a rather nice hole in the rock to look at as well.

Had lunch by the Tolaga Bay wharf, the longest pier in the southern hemisphere, built in the late 1920s and rather run down now. It's long out of use except by fishermen.

I'd planned to stop a lot more than I did – I missed the turnoff for Whangara, where Whale Rider was set and filmed, which was a bit annoying. I thought I'd stop in Tokomaru Bay, after Tolaga, but there wasn't anything to stop for. Waipiro was a nice little diversion and I'm glad I did it, though was puzzled by the road back to SH35 which was sealed for a bit, then unsealed, then sealed for about 50m, then unsealed, and so on. Made no sense whatsoever.

After that I planned to stop for an ice-cream in Ruatoria, but even the Lonely Planet was being rather kind to what turned out to be a very depressing sort of place, and I turned round and got out of Dodge.

Once I'd arrived at tonight's holiday park (and had pitched my tent away from the pig and two piglets that were nosing around) I went for a nice walk on the absolutely deserted beach and watched the surf for a bit. That was lovely. Then it started to rain, and absolutely chucked it down for a while.

---

Awatiri, Thursday 19 March

It seems like today's been a long day, but I'm ultimately chilled out thanks to 40 minutes in the hot pool attached to tonight's holiday park and some lovely Hawke's Bay rosé. Blogging offline while sitting outside (mainly because that's the only way I can a) sit and b) have the computer plugged in to recharge) and it's warm and sunny. Lovely.

Woke up at 6am and wondered what I was doing getting up before dawn, before remembering that I wanted to be the first in the world to watch today's sun rise. I was a bit late leaving according to the timeplan the holiday park guy gave me, but the road was fine – only partially unsealed – and it was getting light by the time I reached the East Cape (having successfully avoided running over one rabbit, two unspecified birds, and a large dog en route). I was worried I'd missed the best of it, so hurried up the stairs to the lighthouse. It's supposed to take 25 minutes, I did it in ten. Up there were six or seven people who'd been more sensible than me and had camped by the roadside at the bottom of the hill, and together we watched a beautiful sunrise by a very well-maintained lighthouse. It was all rather lovely.

Had breakfast back at the park, packed up my things and hit the road. I wasn't sure how much I'd stop – there seemed to be things of potential interest on the map and in the Lonely Planet, but things that say they're interesting aren't always and vice-versa. In the end I didn't stop much at all. Some things that seemed interesting weren't signposted, and by the time you notice them they're gone. Others (the church in Tokere, for instance) were somewhat dilapidated and I didn't bother stopping. I did however pause in Ruakorere[CHECK] where there's a beautiful little church built in 1894 by the shoreline. Definitely worth a look. Their graveyard was a family one, for many generations of Stirlings, and a sign asked you not to go in. Also I had to take my shoes off to go into the church, to protect the carpet.

After that, I didn't stop at all until Opotiki apart from a coffee at Te Kaha. Nevertheless it was a great drive, with more stunning East Coast scenery – deep green bush bordered by the bright blue Pacific. The interior looked pretty mystical and spooky, cloud-clad and dark. I'd like to go and look at the Ureweras at some point. On the way I passed loads of little marae, all beautifully carved and well looked after. In fact the marae are a lot better looked after than the churches, which says a lot for community spirit and not much at all for religion out here. It would have been wonderful to get a look inside the marae, but unfortunately – unlike churches, which invite you in for a wander around – marae are the sort of places you need invitations for. There's clearly a strong Maori spirit that still influences the East Coast, and with slogans adorning a lot of the vehicles around people are evidently proud of who they are and where they've come from.

Around lunchtime I arrived in Opotiki. I'd planned to stay the night here but it was way too early and the town way too small. I had a wander down the main street, looked at the old buildings and the nice church, put more petrol in the tank for tomorrow's drive to Auckland, and carried on! I paused at the nearby Hukutaia Domain, a small space devoted to native plants and trees, where there's a half-hour bush walk through some lovely bush. Lots of tree ferns and so on. There's also a puriri tree which is estimated to be well over 2000 years old (!!!) that used to be used as a “burial tree” by the local hapu. They dug up bones a few years after death and re-interred them inside the hollow trunk. There was an earthquake some time ago that exposed the bones, so the iwi moved them and lifted the tapu on the tree and now you can go and see it. It's an extraordinary old tree, all gnarled and knotted, with a great hollow bit inside. I wished I'd had a tripod; my photos are all a bit blurry. Anyway I liked the walk and the domain and the tree and was glad I'd made the detour.

As I was so early I decided to carry on past Opotiki and cut down tomorrow's drive to Auckland. After a bit of Lonely Planet and map-consulting I settled on Awatiri, just off the road north towards Rotorua, where the holiday park has hot springs. It's a nice holiday park and the hot springs pool, a proper swimming pool size, was wonderful. I soaked and relaxed for a while. $15 well spent!

---

Auckland, Friday 20 March

Finally in Auckland after a sloooooow drive up this morning. Lots of traffic, lots of slow traffic. However I didn't get lost in Auckland despite the diversion in place and got the car back only half an hour late (which wasn't a problem).

Have repacked my bags for Australia and I catch an early flight to Melbourne tomorrow. :)

Flickr all updated.

Sunshine in Gisborne!

For the first time in a few weeks, I'm boiling - despite waking to rain this morning and having to pack the tent up in the rain, the sun finally came out by the time I got to Gisborne and it's now pretty hot. It's supposed to be sunny here so I'm pleased, and am camping again. I missed out on Te Mata Peak however, there was no point visiting a lookout when rain was all that could be seen.

So far I've just been to the museum, which was nice enough though small (they were renovating a bit of it so I missed that, but on the plus side, entry was only $2). Am going to walk up to the lookout point after this, I thought I'd wait until it was a little cooler. I'm debating whether or not to go to the cinema this evening - not sure I can be bothered really! May just chill out with the rest of yesterday's wine. :)

Tomorrow I head up the East Coast, with plans to sleep in Te Araroa and get up to be the first in the world to see the sunrise on Thursday.

Back up north

I'm back in the North Island after my southern travels. Got back to Wellington on Friday afternoon, which was weird because it felt like coming home though I had no home to go to! The flight was wonderful - it was mostly clear, so the pilot took us the "scenic route" and I had lovely views of mountains and the West Coast from my window seat the whole way. (See Flickr for pictures.) I didn't see Mount Cook because it was on the other side of the plane, but we had better views the rest of the time on my side so I didn't mind. It's amazing how narrow the island is - you can see right across.

Once in Wellington I went straight to the aquatic centre, where my club was hosting the NZ masters long course nationals. Friday was all long distance, and I wasn't swimming but did help out on the registration desk. Saturday I swam some sprints and relays, which was fun, and handed out lunches. :) In the evening we had the meet party, also fun as our social occasions always are. Sunday was just the morning and I was mostly timekeeping, feeling terribly official! The meet went exceptionally well and as always at masters' events I was inspired and impressed by the older competitors - we had two 92-year-olds swimming and they're just remarkable. To be still getting in the pool and racing, albeit extremely slowly, at that age, is amazing.

Caught up with friends in town during the afternoon, which was a perfect sunny windless Wellington day. I shall miss Wellington, it's a superb place to live.

This morning I popped into work to say a final goodbye and find out how things were going, which was nice. Oddly it felt rather as though I'd never left, despite me being there in shorts and t-shirt all ready to head off on the next stage of travelling.

After that I picked up my rental car and headed north towards Hawkes Bay. The drive was a bit slow though the scenery was pretty and I didn't arrive in Havelock North until 3pm (via getting slightly lost twice and a stop for groceries in Masterton!) I pitched my tent for the evening before dashing off on a whistlestop tour of three of the local wineries - I'd planned to cycle, but there wasn't time to work out where to hire a bike and I probably wouldn't have made it anywhere before the cellar doors closed if I'd cycled. So I drove, and was a bit careful about what I tasted, and anyway it wasn't far. I went to Craggy Range which has an exceptional location next to Te Mata Peak (I plan to go up there tomorrow morning) and exceptional architecture - really a beautiful building. Good wine too, though they produce wine from grapes grown around NZ and I tasted a Martinborough sauvignon and a Central Otago pinot as well as Hawkes Bay chardonnay, syrah and cabernet merlot. I got a bottle of the latter and am drinking it now - it's yummy, though was far too good for my dinner (a left-over freeze-dried lamb fettucine thing I never ate down south). After that, on to Te Mata Estate and then I just had time for Black Barn before all the cellar doors closed.

The weather's perked up, thankfully; it rained a bit en route but was nice this afternoon and is dry now. Hopefully it'll stay that way until I hit Auckland on Friday!

Chilling in Glenorchy

I really did next to nothing on Wednesday morning. The weather was iffy again, so I just went for a wander around the Glenorchy walkway, which circuits the town. It was a nice enough little circuit.

After lunch I did a horse trek – it sounded like a nice thing to do and I thought it would be an interesting experiment to see whether or not I was still allergic to horses. Apparently I am; it didn't take that long for the sniffles to start. But it wasn't unbearable so I coped okay. My horse was an obstinate beast called Winston who likes to follow the guides and be second in line – when other horses tried to get in front he got snippy about it and it took me a while to work out how to control him properly. We trekked up the Dart River in the direction of Paradise, but didn't get as far as Paradise itself. Lovely views up into the mountains and lots of willow trees (which Winston tried to eat).

Had dinner at the hotel for the second night running and then read a trashy crime novel they happened to have handy – it was really bad, but diverting for a couple of hours.

This morning it was clear, so I hurried out to the lagoon I walked past yesterday and took some photos before the bus back to Queenstown. I've mostly mooched since getting back; done laundry and so on. I considered doing a jetboat trip but I'm not that fussed and would rather spend the cash on something else really.

Tomorrow it's back to Wellington for masters nationals (swimming) at the weekend, a final catch up with Wellington friends and then up round the East Coast on Monday.

The Routeburn Track

Day 1

I spent the night before doing the Routeburn stressing about the fact I'd forgotten to pick up my hut tickets from the Doc office in Queenstown and hoping the bus driver would be happy to stop at the Doc office in Te Anau so I could get them there. As it happened I shouldn't have stressed, because the bus stops at Doc in Te Anau anyway! So that was all all right.

Instead, the weather was the thing to worry about. A short way out of Queenstown it started to rain and didn't stop until Te Anau, when things looked a bit brighter for a little while. But once we got on the Milford Road it really looked bleak. At the Divide, where the track begins, it was still raining and there was a bedraggled Belgian girl there who said she'd decided to turn around from Lake Mackenzie Hut and not go over the top of the saddle. That concerned me and the German girl who were there, but we shrugged our shoulders, donned waterproofs and set out.

In actual fact it didn't matter about the rain too much that first day, because the track is mostly through bush and is relatively sheltered. The sun even came out for a bit just below Key Summit and there were mountains through the mist. All very atmospheric, though the clouds rolled in again by the time I'd climbed the detour to Key Summit and that was mainly a trip to see alpine plants.

Had lunch at Lake Howden Hut, which was packed with walkers on the guided tour. I'm afraid I can't see the point of doing the guided walk unless you actually can't carry a full pack (they provide food and accommodation, which reduces the stuff you have to carry quite considerably). The Routeburn is not a track you could easily get lost on.

After lunch the track continued on upwards through lots of lovely bush and past the truly majestic Earland Falls. The falls were, as expected after all the rain, in absolute torrents and walking past them was like walking through an extremely cold shower! Pretty amazing though especially for a waterfall fan like me. I managed to get some shots from a distance when I'd walked a little further.

As I got closer to the hut the rain got harder and it was a relief to see the smoke rising from the stove and the thought of warmth and dryness awaiting. Earlier arrivals had already got the fire going and there were a lot of wet clothes and boots drying by the stoveside. The atmosphere was very convivial and it was nice warming up and chatting to the other trampers. There was a wide range of nationalities and ages and most people were very friendly.

Later on the hut warden, Clive – I think he was probably British by birth, as he didn't have much of a Kiwi accent – gave his famous introductory talk. My companions on the non-kayak trip had already done the track and told me that the Mackenzie hut warden did this talk. He was brilliant, full of mad stories about the track and people he claimed to have seen on it; drily and effortlessly funny. I don't believe his tale about worms that bore holes in the rocks on the track (the holes, seen the next day, are way too large and regular to have been formed by anything except mechanical means) but the stories about the woman walking the track in a bikini and jandals could be true, as could the one about the Japanese guy who wanted to cycle the track and ended up carrying his bike all the way from Lake Howden. Anyway Clive's talk sent us all off to bed in a cheerful mood.

Day 2

When I got up on day 2 it was cloudy, but the cloud quickly began to dissipate to reveal snowy mountains surrounding the hut. Utterly stunning, and it got better as the day continued. I set out all wrapped up though because it was chilly and showers were still forecast; the layers came off gradually as I climbed up towards the Harris Saddle. The path went through a bit of bush and then came out, with views down to Lake Mackenzie and the hut below. It zigzagged upwards before turning a corner, with new views into the next valley and across to the next mountain range. Absolutely stunning. By now I was also at the snow line from the previous night's fall, which meant prettiness right by the track too.

The track basically kept on upwards to the Harris Saddle, where there's a day shelter (and a slightly fancier one for the guided walkers!) It was still clear, and only just past noon, so I dumped my pack and armed with a camera went on up to Conical Hill, a viewpoint above the saddle. Quite a lot above actually – Harris Saddle is at 1255m and Conical Hill over 1500m, and the track is steep and rocky. I puffed and panted my way up there and on the way back passed a lot of other people puffing and panting. But it was worth it, with 360º views around and the mountains all dusted with snow. We were so lucky with the mostly clear skies.

After the saddle the track skirts Lake Harris (I rather liked the name!) before beginning its descent. I don't like downhill very much and not after a morning of uphill, so made somewhat heavy weather of the last 90 minutes to Routeburn Falls Hut. The falls themselves were beautiful and also running full thanks to the rain the previous day.

Routeburn Falls Hut is pretty flashy, with single bunks – none of the traditional Doc long mattresses – and a large kitchen/common room. It was also cold! The stove wouldn't light properly and after a while shivering in the main room I retreated to my sleeping bag to warm up, and then added extra layers to stay warm over dinner.

Spent the evening chatting to some of the other trampers going in my direction – the German girl, Stephanie, who'd been on my bus to the Divide, a French guy who'd also done the Caples Track before the Routeburn, and an Israeli couple. It was good fun, though the Falls hut warden was nowhere near as eloquent as Mackenzie's Clive. I think she may have been new, she seemed rather nervous about the whole talking in public thing. We also spent some time trying to identify the languages on a big sheet on the wall welcoming people to the hut and wishing them happy Christmas, which was diverting.

Day 3

The glorious weather of the previous day had vanished in gales and rain by the time I got up. Everyone going in the opposite direction was looking decidedly miserable at the prospect of crossing the saddle in the gales. We were glad we were going down through bush.

Had an unhurried start because the bus wasn't until 2pm, though I left as much time as the sign said it would take because of the whole going downhill slowly thing I have going. Actually the track wasn't too steep and it was fairly easy walking the whole way to the Routeburn Shelter, through more bush and across a number of somewhat swingy swingbridges. I dawdled a lot but still made it down an hour quicker than the official sign suggested. We were all glad to see the bus when it arrived.

Just outside the car park we came upon the larger bus carrying the guided walkers, which had managed to go off the road and land itself half in a ditch in an effort to stay out of the way of our track transport bus when it was coming the other way. The guided walkers were shivering in the rain while everyone offered opinions as to the best way to get it out of the ditch – eventually messages were put through to the local farm to call for a tractor. We continued on to Glenorchy, where I got off the bus and checked in at the hotel to my splash-out double room to myself, had a hot shower and did very little for the rest of the day!

Safely off the Routeburn!

A quick post from Glenorchy - will post more when I'm back in Queenstown and I can type up an entry before using internet time! The Routeburn was wonderful, despite rain on Sunday and today. Luckily those days were mostly in the bush, so pretty sheltered and survivable in the wet. Yesterday was lovely, mostly clear and sunny with amazing views at the Harris Saddle. Felt very sorry for everyone at the hut this morning setting off to climb up there in rain and strong winds! It's nice though to be in civilisation with a warm room and a hot shower. :)

Ready for the Routeburn

Not a bad day, all told, with a rushed bit in the middle. Slept like a log in my tent but was woken by the fire siren (sounds like an air raid siren) at about 7am – some sort of event going on, apparently. Got up and had a leisurely breakfast before packing up the tent and going to dump bags at tonight's hostel.

After that I needed to take the car back, so I went via Deer Park Heights. This is a private farm on a hill overlooking Queenstown with some really incredible views, a random movie set from an old Disney film, and several Lord of the Rings locations. And a lot of tame animals that are too used to being fed, including donkeys, pigs, llamas, deer and goats. It was worth it for the views though and I was quite glad I'd never made it up there on my bike yesterday as I had planned – the hills could have killed me!

Dropped the car off at the airport and then had to wait for the bus back to town, having ascertained that a taxi would cost me $35. That almost made me late for the 4x4 tour I'd booked into Skipper's Canyon, but I made it and managed to grab a sandwich for lunch too.

The tour – something I'd picked because I was intrigued by the rental companies' edict that rental cars are not allowed in Skipper's Canyon – turned out to be remarkably good fun, helped by a good driver/guide. The road itself is hair-raising, built in the 1880s over a couple of years (it's 16km long), still unsealed with vertical drops to one side. But it takes you into a really narrow canyon with wonderful views and the very very blue Shotover River below. We stopped for pictures a lot, Malcolm our driver told stories in a terribly Kiwi way, and we also paused to pan for gold by the riverbank close to the location for the Ford of Bruinen in The Fellowship of the Ring. Malcolm predictably had stories about getting horses down there, as well as another one from his boss concerning a utilities vehicle driving way too fast down that road in 1999, containing Peter Jackson himself. I found two small specks of gold in my pan, hardly enough to make a fortune! (We also got bitten by sandflies that then invaded the jeep. Grrr.) We had afternoon tea at the old Skipper's settlement, where a farmstead and a school remain, before heading back. It wasn't something I'd have seen alone and the others on the tour were good company, so all in all I'm glad I went.

Now I'm repacking bags so I can carry everything for the Routeburn, hoping I have enough clothes and food. Should be okay. I think.

Pictures on Flickr are all up to date.

Doubtful, but Remarkable

Manapouri, Thursday 5 March

By rights I should be out in the middle of nowhere tonight, camping in Hall Arm in Doubtful Sound. Unfortunately I'm back in last night's backpackers after the kayaking trip got cancelled due to bad weather. There's a convergence of fronts from the Tasman creating storm warnings – today the sound was choppy and swelly, and it's supposed to get worse so they made a safety call and cancelled our trip. Annoyingly they cancelled once we were all togged up in wetsuits with kayaks packed, rather than any earlier. So we got the dawn boat ride across Manapouri – gorgeous – and bus drive over Wilmot Pass, and all the pre-kayak stuff and it was all looking quite positive for a while. Deep Cove, where you launch, is really sheltered so we couldn't see conditions out in the sound and our guide was relying on radio from a more senior guide who was out in the sound with a group. We were all ready to go when she radioed through cancelling our trip, at which point it was action stations to unpack kayaks and change into normal clothes in order to catch the cruise up the sound.

So we cruised instead of kayaking along with a huge number of other people, mostly aged grockles, on a big boat. Some of our group sulked. I tried not to sulk but wished I'd had my decent camera with me as my pictures aren't totally brilliant (and the battery died on me despite me charging it last night). Doubtful Sound is beautiful, but it would have been nicer to see it from a kayak and not a cruise boat. I also think we'd have had fun as a group, everyone was nice and we seemed to be getting along.

The meeting with the guide who'd made the cancellation decision was fractious, with a couple of the guys demanding more than the $100 refund (or kayaking Milford tomorrow) offered. Apparently their demands paid off later as I've now got $150 refunded. I would still go with the company again, and if I've got time when I'm back for World Champs next year I'm going to try and fit in the trip.

---

Queenstown, Friday 6 March

I decided to camp tonight instead of hunting for a backpackers here, which would have been tricky because it's Queenstown and always busy. Luckily it wasn't raining when I arrived so I set up my tent in the dry - then I rented a bike, and it started raining while I was out. It's still going. I haven't yet dared check the inside of the tent, but it should be waterproof if I set it up right, and I think I did for once! Hopefully the rain will stop later, anyway. It's kind of brighter now than it was ...

Not sure what I'll do tomorrow, I think it may depend on the weather a bit. As I start the Routeburn on Sunday (forecast is okay) it'll probably be a chilled-out kind of day.

Kiwis are brilliant

Kiwi-spotting last night was a huge success. It was a lovely night (though a little chilly). The sunset on the boat ride out to the spotting site was wonderful, and we also saw albatrosses flying and landing by the boat. Once at the secluded beach the guy uses as his spotting place - there are three breeding pairs there - we got ferried ashore in a motor boat and then followed him through the bush in the dark with torches. All great fun. We saw one kiwi in the bush and then two on the beach; the ones on the beach were better because we were all able to fan out and watch them for a while in the single light of the guide's torch. So glad I managed to do the trip!

Today I've mainly driven to Fiordland; am staying near Manapouri. It's sunny and very very windy - stopped at a lookout point en route and couldn't keep the car door open, it was so windy! Hopefully tomorrow and Friday I'll be kayaking Doubtful Sound, so won't be updating until Saturday from Queenstown.

Birds, birds and more birds

My day on Stewart Island has been excellent, and luck seems to be holding - I'd thought that I was going to miss out on the kiwis because it seemed impossible to get hold of the kiwi man, and the information office said he was booked. But just now he called and said he can take me, so kiwis beckon!!

I went for a brisk walk this morning out to a lookout point, to see NZ's oldest stone house (it's a little cottage, and it shows that I've been here long enough to be impressed by something from the early 1800s now!) I carried on to the water taxi wharf for Ulva Island - cutting the time a little fine actually, but a bit of running up and down the many steps made sure that I made the taxi at the time I'd booked it.

Ulva is a wildlife reserve, predator-free and packed with birdlife. I saw most of the birds on the little booklet you can get, including kaka, green parakeets, bellbirds, really cute little tom tits and Stewart Island robins, and saddlebacks. Got some moderately decent pictures too, though many came out blurred. Am trying to put a few pics on Flickr while I'm here but it doesn't half slow down the internet.

Anyway, off for a quick shower and then fish and chips for dinner before kiwi watching.