Swimming with dolphins in Marlborough Sound

All travellers have a list of 'things to do'; places to visit, sights to see and experiences to be had. Its no secret that New Zealand is full of 'top' things to do and because of this there are plenty of providers and services. This can be seen by 30% of New Zealand's revenue coming from tourism, making a wealth of options available for the travelling tourist.

On top of back country adventures, swimming with dolphins was high on Lucy's list of things to do in NZ. As our migration north takes us to our last stop on South Island, unfortunately the consistent good weather looks like it may have finally broken.

The town of Picton is the SI's gateway to the Cook Strait and the North Island. Nestled in between lush green native forests, Picton has a wide variety of things to see, do and explore, with it's crown jewel being the 78k long Queens Charlotte track, which can be hiked, biked and kayaked. Unfortunately for us, the North Westerly winds have kicked back in and the foreseeable forecast was wet and windy. Not the friendliness paddling conditions. Luckily, dolphin encounters offers a wild swimming experience in the very scenic Marlborough Sounds.

The Sound is a giant sea loch that reaches out towards the Cook strait. It's filled with islands, sail boats, holiday homes and more wildlife than you can poke a stick at. A quick brief from the guide and skipper, informed us of all the different types of dolphins that make their home in the Sound. Truth be told, I only thought that were two types of dolphins before our travels. There were dolphins you swim with and the pink ones in the Amazon you see on the National Geographic channel. But now I know. At least five different types of dolphins can be seen in the Sounds; Hector, Common, Bottlenose, Dusky and Orcas/Killer whale's.

The wildlife must have got the memo from the swimming company because as soon as we left the harbour blue penguins, a seal mimicking a shark, king shag's and gannets seemed to fill the Sound. Cruising through Hector Bay, we were lucky enough to be treated to the sight of a playing pod of Hector dolphin's. As the worlds smallest dolphin's. These little guys look like they needed a hug or two, but fortunately for them, these guys are protected in the Marlborough sounds. This meant no swimming and no cuddling from us. Which is probably a good thing as Lucy probably would have exploded from excitement.

Tiny Hector dolphin

As we cruised further towards the mouth of the sound, I could start to sense a building form of anxiety from the group. It wasn't from the fact that any moment we could spot another pod of dolphins, or the fact that the sea was going to be cold, but the fact that we might not see and swim with any other dolphins. The guide had already discussed that this was a wild swimming experience we were buying into, and that dolphins don't tend to work on commission. So there was a very real possibility that we wouldn't swim if conditions, regulations and fate intervened. The atmosphere had changed on the boat, from everyone gazing hard on the horizon like a gang of wetsuited meerkats, to cold desperate tourists, huddled inside the boat.

Like flicking a switch, from anxious to elated. The guide spotted a pod of dolphins near another boat. As we sailed closer, the size of the dolphins suddenly became clear. They were massive. A pod of bottlenose dolphins seemed to be spread all around us. Under the boat, next to the boat and all over the place, but one thing kept coming back into our minds and mouths 'their so much bigger than I thought they were going to be'.

Due to the wild nature of the swim, it wasn't simply a case of jumping in and playing with these massive, playful beast's. Our guide and skipper had to plan the next move around some dolphin telekinesis, it was all a mind reading game, figuring out where and what the dolphins were up to. Once the guide knew what was going on and the pod was a bit more concentrated and travelling in one direction, it was our time to brave the water.

The tactic was simple. Leap frog the pod, jump in and make lots of interesting and hopefully intriguing noises so the pod would come check us out. Having surfed in the North Sea, I took the water temperature brief of 12°C as tropical. Half expecting that the 7mm wetsuit would be more of a restriction then a necessary... Boy was I glad I was wearing a 7mm. Even the excitement from jumping in with a seemly giant pod of giant bottlenose, wasn't enough to stop the 'OH MY GOD' moment when the frigid water flushed into my wetsuit.

We had four 'drops' in which to swim with the dolphins in the water. The first pasted in a blur of cold confusion, not a dolphin in sight. The second was better, heads down, breathing better and I even spotted a couple underneath us. The third was the best, with a plan sorted, we linked arms, with Lucy's and Amy's eye's down with me looking up at the guide pointing in the direction of the pod and relaying that via pointing under the water. Three dolphins past underneath us just metres away, obviously I love rock n roll hasn't reached the dolphin world yet, and they had to check out the tune. The last swim was a nice chance to admire the clearer shallower water, with its deep greeny blue water, boasting the nutrients that bring in the wildlife. The pod had maybe heard one too many classic rock songs and decided to skip the show, but gave us one last swim past as we bobbed up and down during the last swim.

Although it wasn't the jumping and playing experience I considered we would get. The experience was reinforced by the guide, explaining that there is no captive dolphin in NZ. That sustainable tours promote the 'wild' experiences, which will mean that there will never be a captive programme. This coupled with the fact that captive dolphins tend to live for five years compared to the thirty five plus in the wild, made for an easy argument.

As we tick our way through the list of things to do in NZ we seem to find a never ending supply of things to do to top up the list. I've already said that NZ has a lifetime worth of exploring to be had, but our time is limited and unfortunately we have been forced to start tactically picking what we can fit in against what we will have to leave out. This was our last experience of South Island, which capped off the skiing, tramping, work and feralness, with a big fat tourist feel. An all round experience to a fantastic island. One we'll have to came back to one day.

New Zealand Kahurangi National Park: putting Sam Owen on Mt Owen

The classic Mt Owen photograph

A long gravel road to the trail head, a thousand metre ascent approach and a fantastic hut perched in between giant limestone outcrops. I don't think anyone could throw together a kiwi tramp as classic as Mt Owen, even if they floated a kiwi bird and a half pint of Speights in.

Although Mt Owen is well known by caving circle's, trampers, Lord Of The Rings fans and the fact it's the highest hill in the Kahurangi NP. Our push to the summit had a more ironic twist than most other trampers. Our goal was to put an Owen on Mt Owen.

Standing at 1875m, Mt Owen isn't actually one of the big guns of NZ's South Island. It is however, surrounded by a lot smaller hills and stands over farm land, Nelson bay and the West Coast, giving it a similar feeling of other higher hills.

Having Read about the danger and almost, certain chance of death from the Department Of Conservation's (DOC) brochure. We had come to understand that this was again a back country route, that required good weather to enjoy.

Fortunate for us, we had two days left of fine weather before a slow moving weather front made its way up the country.

Whether its the dopamine high after previous trips, my brain blocking bad memories or something else. I seem to always forget how hard and unpleasant hiking up hill can be. I must have spent days worth of time dragging my body uphill in NZ. Yet every time it comes to the first hill of a trip, my body and sometimes my mind feels like I've just jumped into my first boxing fight against a semi pro. This was no different. A long, sun kissed ridge made a hot, thirsty ascent to a valley that is hidden from the start. This is probably where the dopamine set in and I will forget all that hard work and remember my first view of Mt Owen. Obscured by cloud, the summit plateau sat high above the fantastically carved limestone valley, drawing a colourful contrast between the forest green and rocky greys.

First view of Mt Owen

The knowledge of Mt Owen being a classic tramp must have been around for a while as on our way up we spoke to seven folks, who had been up Mt Owen the day before and ended up spending the night with five others in the the twelve bed hut. And luckily we decided to head down late after our summit day, as we met fifteen people heading for a long weekend up Mt Owen. I guess that's the price of a quality tramp, popularity.

Due to DOC labelling the non marked (but incredibly well travelled) route above the hut to the summit as, almost certainly going to kill you. I was a little undecided and cautious to what laid above the hut. A short conversation with a Dutch couple on their way out confirmed my suspicious side, the track was well trodden, cairned and even had little bit of pink ribbon tied to small rocks. It looked like the certain death was postponed.

After the trip, the three of us categorised the sections into; hardest, lesser and easiest legs. The hardest was the walk into the hut, lesser was the ascent of Mt Owen and easiest was the walk out.

Sunrise on the range

Having been awhile since we spent some time above the bush line, the open snow grass covered hills and limestone peaks was a welcomed change. Soon after leaving the hut we were filled with nostalgia of walking in the Yorkshire Dales, just these hill's were on steroid's. The snow grass soon gave way to limestone pavements, outcrops and sinkholes that could swallow a car. This terrain gave some very pleasant scrambling, which seemed to pass the time very quickly.

Typical terrain above the hut

Looking up at Mt Owen and it's bluff's

Walking across the summit plateau of Mt Owen was like topping out on a 2000m peak due to the land around. The rush of joy, excitement, pride and wonder, striking everyone of us into wide eyed tourist, who stare out onto the view, trying to take it all in.

I have no idea how long we spent on the summit. During the ascent a local kiwi caught us up and we had a good old chat, sharing stories, tips and places to visit. Maybe it was fate that during the ironic ascent of Mt Owen, we meet a kiwi who has also climbed Poland's iconic Mt Giewont. It got me thinking, maybe there's a Mt Sulowluski, waiting for an ascent too.

Looking south from summit

Looking north from summit

On the way back down, the cracks and crevasses in the rock seemed to be much bigger, especially when walking down hill and looking straight down into them. We soon found ourselves back on the grass though and before we knew it back at the hut five hours after we left, not bad for a 7-8 hour time frame given by DOC.

Not spending a second night in the hut, as we had originally planned because of an increasing number of people turning up and Amy preferring not to walk out on her birthday. Happened to be a lucky break. The new Granity Pass hut is very nice, but even eight people made the cosy one room hut feel busy, and I'm glad we swapped a late walk out for a crowded hut. We defiantly felt lucky to only share with five others on this seemingly popular tramp.

Heading back a long the summit plateau

Having spent the last two weeks wrapped up in the touristy Great Walks in the area. Mt Owen has rekindled the beauty of the lesser well known walks that are hidden in all corners of NZ. Showing us that we really don't have to travel far to find rewarding back country trips and friendly kiwi hospitality. Although I might give DOC a hard time on over playing certain danger's, the track up Mt Owen has got some serious danger's. Deep cracks, crevasses and sinkholes litter the hill. It's home to a 54k cave system which happens to be the largest cave in the southern hemisphere. Mt Owen in bad weather or snow covered ground maybe wouldn't be the best choice for a relaxing weekend tramp. But with challenge and danger comes reward and fulfilment, this is a classic tramp which needs common sense when planning.

A big thank you goes out to Al who offered accommodation which we unfortunately didn't take up as we came down so late, and Dick for leaving some trail magic in the form of dehydrated hummus labelled 'for team YORKSHIRE'. Legend's! 

New Zealands Heaphy track: my experience with the most varied great walk

Heaphy a long the West Coast

At 78.5 kilometres long, the Heaphy track is the longest of New Zealand's great walks. With one end starting in the foot hills of Golden bay and the other on the wild West Coast. This great walk is said to pack the most variety of NZ environments into one enjoyable tramp. Even though this is our last great walk to complete on south island, it still had a handful of first experiences to throw at us.

460 kilometres of road separate the two trail heads. This, in itself can be a logistical nightmare. To solve this nightmare, a handful of companies offer services from one road end to the other; four connecting buses, car relocation, helicopters, plane's and the old fashioned hitchhiking. Lucky for us, cheap back flights and good weather favoured our very first light aircraft flight!

Golden bay take off

20 minutes in clear blue skies and we had flown the track that would be our home for the next three days. Our pilot pointed out the local highlights; farewell spit, a gold mining dam, Mt Perry, most of the Heaphy huts and the long, slithering Heaphy track below us. Even with Lucy as 'co-pilot' (as she put it), the plane journey easily lowered us into a sight seeing tourist mode and we had to reality check ourselves back with the 17k of wild West Coast track.

West Coast

Heaphy river

Lucy in 'copilot' seat

Landed!

Immersing ourselves into the first of the environments. We hit the Nikau palm tree forests, which gave a very tropical feel to the surf battered coast. The track naturally splits itself up with Crayfish Point. At just under half way and the only point that gets covered by high tide, the headland reaches far enough out into the Tasman sea to give great views down the coast. With the sun beating down and a haze blown in off the sea, the West Coast wouldn't look out of place in any of the Jurassic Park films. Coupled with the scattered shells of giant carnivorous land snail's, the environment really does create a wild place.

Snail shell's

We were glad to finally arrive at the newly built Heaphy hut. 26 beds perched by the mouth of the Heaphy river, with cracking views up the valley and out to sea.

Sunset from the hut

Not the best night shot but there's some stars..

Our first 30k+ day of the trip soon had us heading uphill and out of the tropical feeling palm trees. Steadily climbing from the coast the palms gave way to beech tree forests where the climb never seemed to end. We obviously weren't the only ones feeling the strain of the hill and the desperate messages scratched into the dirt asking how far the hut was gave us a giggle or two.

Reaching the new James McKay hut marked the start of the Gouland Downs. This was the third environment for us to pass through. Starting with dwindling beech tree patches and opening up to grassy moorland, this plateau of land gave a very Scottish highland feel to our trip. The older Saxon hut was our home for the second night. With only two other people to share it with, this rustic hut had a very cosy feel and thankfully didn't smell of bug spray.

One of the wire bridge's

Rainbow

Whether it's a primordial brain function, social normality or something else, thunder and lightning gets the blood pumping. Waking in the middle of the night to a light and sound display, might even get the odd bit of adrenaline going too. All I can say is, ' thank God we decided not to camp!'. The short lived storm passed in ten minutes, but rattled the Spanish couple enough for them to move from the top bunk to a lower one...

We had spotted the shell's of the giant carnivorous land snail already, but none with a living snail inside. So, I had already concluded that these creatures would probably look more like a dragons head poking out of the shell. With horn's as antenna and big sharp dinosaur like teeth, ready to devour any and all flesh that stood in its way. Of course, all of this was based on the single fact that it was carnivorous.

As we set of for our last and second 30k+ day, the dream of this magical snail was destroyed. It just so happens, they look like almost all other snail's... just slightly bigger.

Carnivorous land snail...

This day was always going to be a wash out, as the weather had predicted rain all day. We managed however, to duck and dodge the rain until we arrived at another new hut at Perry Saddle. This was the fourth and final environment to experience on the track. The sub alpine shrubs gave a nice open view, which on a clear day would have been spectacular. For us, the hut gave a welcome lunch spot and the final rest stop before the end. At this point, the posts that mark one kilometre to the huts had become beacons of hope. These popped up out of the forests and informed us that there would only be ten more minutes or so to the hut. I've never liked little green wooden posts as much as those posts that appeared out of the rain beaming hope and warmth.  

Beacon of warmth and joy!

Damp

Four hours later, and three very wet bodies arrived at the Brown hut at the end of the track. I always found walking in the rain to be very therapeutic, but after the second hour, my therapy was done and the end couldn't have come soon enough. Luckily, folk's had already got a fire going and ushered us in and next to the warmth in the rustic hut.

All in all, the track gave a very nice end for us to the South Island great walks. Being one of the two great walks to make it into the lonely planets top 20 things to do, I was expecting the experience to be on par with the other South Island walks. The Heaphy however, has completely different landscapes than the others and because of that I personally don't think they can be compared side by side. I love the mountains, glacier's and deep cut valleys, so I would always side towards those environments of the mountainous regions, but the Heaphy, has something different. It has differing environments every 20k, a combination of rustic and state of the art huts. It has numerous limestone caves, arches and rock formations to explore, unique giant snails and of course it has the wild West Coast.

The Heaphy, simply put has four walks stacked on top of each and offers a fantastic trip through some of New Zealand's unique environments and wildlife. Another must do.

New Zealand's Abel Tasman great walk: A paddle and hike

Paddling the Abel Tasman coast

New Zealand's nine great walks are said to showcase the separate and unique tramping and hiking experiences the countries landscape has to offer. So once we reached the warmer weathers of northern south island, we couldn't ignore the endless options available to complete this classic trip.

The 55.2km trail can be hiked, kayaked, water taxied, sailed and even probably swam, although they don't advertise swimming it. So with the lonely planet guide highlighting kayaking in the Abel Tasman as one of the top 20 things to do in NZ. We decided hiring some boats for a sea kayak expedition was a must do. Unfortunately, due to the powers that be, hiring kayaks without a guide for the whole of the trail is a no go for all the companies we found. This meant a compromise of two days paddling and two days walking.

Three days of sunshine and one of showers and rain, made the blue bird start very promising. After the short but informative brief out the way, it was us, two boats and the Tasman Sea.

Straight from the off, we broke away from the pack and headed in the opposite direction. Probably, worrying the hire company into thinking that they just lent boats to three people who can't tell their left from their right.... Twenty minutes in the opposite direction of the start of the trail, hides the peculiar rock formation called, split apple rock. This fifteen foot rock is amazingly split right down the middle and perched onto a small outcrop some distance from the coast. With our sight seeing tour started, we began our journey north along the coast.

Split apple rock

I'm not sure if it's the primordial urge for competition, but when there's a clear marker in front of you, this time it was the paddlers we set off with, all I want to do is beat that marker. Just like when out cycling and a cyclist appears in the distance, the challenge of chasing them down and overtaking them is the only thing that starts to matter. This time was no different.

With the trail being so popular, even as autumn starts to show, dozens of people took to the water the same day we did. Hire groups, guided groups, it didn't matter. They were all now silhouetted challenges on the horizon.

As we crossed Sandy Bay and our start point, we had an opportunity to marvel at our position; blue sky, calm sea and the flooding of muscle memory as we fell into the rhythm of paddling. That's when the urge started to fail, and as soon as we pulled up to our first golden beach to have a quick snack and drink, it fell away completely.

Short crossing to Adel islamd

With the competitive urge gone, we fell into a steady pace that seemed to pass the time quickly. A visit to the seal colony on Adele island and an early lunch, we quickly found ourselves on 'the mad mile'. One of the more exposed bits of coast, and luckily for us a sea breeze had kicked in, causing wind

over the tide and giving a mile of standard British sea conditions. Arriving in Anchorage at 3pm with big Cheshire cat grins and slightly damp clothing, we had loads of time to set up camp and enjoy the fantastic Torrant bay. Golden sand, blue skies and lush green forests, there's no surprise this camp spot and many along the trail have a two night maximum stay.

Anchorage

The second day of paddling was the day we were looking forward to; caves, bays, rivers and rock arches, tons of exploring. Packing the boats with calm seas and a warm sun rise was a perfect start.

Our trip managed to coincide with the biggest tides of the year, with high tide bang on in the middle of the day. This gave us easy access to French and Falls river's where we managed to spot a kingfisher and have some chilled out moments away from the sea. Paddling round the second bit of exposed coast 'foul point' was anticlimactic with the calm seas, but made paddling through a small rock arch enjoyable.

First tracks

Packing up

French river

Arriving at Onetahuti, our weather luck finally broke. The rain kicked in and looked like it was staying. Luckily, we had managed to unload the boats and pack our bags before the rain started properly.

We didn't need a psychologist to read the emotions of the other ten people sheltering in the cramped cooking shelter. Everyone missed the sun, already.

It took twenty minutes of walking in the rain before Amy voiced what all three of us were thinking, 'I miss the kayaks'. However, the two hours and a tidal crossing to the camp spot for the night passed quick enough. So when we rocked up to the camp spot which didn't have a cooking shelter, I took great comfort in drying off and getting dry warm clothes on in the tent.

A comforting end, to a contrasting day.

Grey skies over the coast

Waking up to drizzle on our first full day of walking was the motivation we needed to get up, packed and walking towards the next camp spot and a cooking shelter. Walking into the giant Totaranui camp, we were slightly blown away by the size of the 870 space camp spot. Once under a shelter we cooked, ate and dried off a little and by the time we set off again the weather was looking up again.

Apart from the Pacific NZ tree's, the coastal track had a very Cornish feel about it. The golden bays, light blue sea and granite cliffs dropping into the sea. Time seemed to flow from one bay to the next and before we knew it, we were at our final camp spot of the trail. Whariwharangi bay couldn't have been a more perfect final night, even if we tried. A dozen cheeky Weka bird's exploring our tents for food, a big golden bay and more mussels than you could dream of. This opportunity couldn't be passed and despite the grimace from the two vegetarians, I enjoyed maybe the two freshest steamed mussels I have ever had.

A friendly Weka

Mussels...

Waiting to open

Waking on the final day, we knew we had the toughest challenge of the trail ahead of us. It wasn't the 200 metre high hill, or the 6km to the car park, but the 21km hitch we needed to get back to the car. Luckily for us, our third car was a local dairy technician and kindly took us all the way, even though it was slightly out of his way. Another show of human kindness, despite our obvious four day hiking smell.

The final bay

All in all another fantastic experience on one of NZ's great walks. Although we would have loved to have completed the coast just by sea kayak, the walking gave us the contrast experience and by the end, we felt we had completed the Abel Tasman inside and out. A very diverse, flexible and varied track that has endless possible ways of enjoying the coast. 

New Zealand's West Coast: the tourist highway

West coast scenes

It doesn't take five minutes in the height of the summer to realise that New Zealand is full of touring tourist and they're all looking for the same thing. To travel the most spectacular areas of New Zealand and do some funky things on the way. This is where the west coast of the south island steps in. Alpine beauty into dense jungle into a rugged sea scape.

With almost hundreds of options along the coast of things to do, we had to pick and choose which one's got our time and which we'd have to pass by.

Stopping at Fox and Franz Josef glaciers were always going to be on the list. Two giant glaciers, reaching down from the highest peak in the Southern Alps, both with short easy walks to the terminal faces. Although lots of providers offer heli trips onto the glaciers and scenic flights, we settled for the short walks with the masses.

Franz glacier

Driving north and passing Arthurs Pass without a visit could never be an option for us. The 924 metre pass, the home of countless Kea has a tiny township and boasts a fantastic DOC campsite in the centre of the town. With more day walks than you can shake a stick at, Amy picked the classic 1833 m Avalanche Peak and Lucy and me decided to take some of our climbing gear for a walk up Mt Rolleston. Unfortunately for us, we had failed to find out just how chossy the rock was in this area of New Zealand. After reaching the end of an increasingly crumbling ridge line at a round 1900m we called it a day. Not all was lost, the views were stunning, we tried out the new camera and we saw the most Keas we've seen yet.

Cheeky Kea begging for some food

Thee head of the valley Mt Rolleston is the highest peak in the middle

Pleasant compact rock on the way up

Just before the rock turned to loose for us...

View down to Arthers Pass and towards Canterbury

Kea at the camp spot in town

A kea on the pass

Devils punch bowl

Another must stop location was the pancake rocks blow hole. Producing its best water features at high tide meant that we needed to visit around 8:20pm. Tent up, a quick snooze and a modest feed, we headed for the pancake's as the sun started to dip towards the Tasman Sea. An easy way to spend a pleasant evening; sun, sea and roaring, spurting water...

West coast stacks

Sun set near pancakes blowhole

Onwards and upwards, our last stop was Buller Gorge with NZ's longest swing bridge of 110 metres and a flying fox (zip wire) back.

Tandem zip wire

On the NZ longest swing bridge

110 metres....

With its scenic coastal roads, the West Coast has truly turned us into the travelling tourist. Cameras at the ready, asking for directions and never leaving the lonely planet book behind. We've taken the step and who knows when we'll stop.

A flower in the sun, in front of Nelsons Cathedral