Voyage of the Gumotex

by Stanley Mulvany and Simon Marwick

This it the story of a unique journey through the forests and fjords of Southern New Zealand. On isolated beaches and on long forgotten hunter’s track markers nailed to trees scattered throughout the region are curious diagrams. On closer inspection these appears to be of some sort of boat with two paddlers. To the cognoscenti these are the “Signs of the Gumotex” _ evidence of the curious passage of two men with a small blue boat.



The two men were Simon Marwick, a fisherman from Stewart Island and Stan Mulvany, an adventurer/doctor from Invercargill. Their boat was a 3.9 metre blue inflatable kayak weighing a mere 15 kilograms. The idea of the trip had been a long time in germination but it seems Simon’s chance sighting of the Gumotex on a visit to Dunedin set them on their course. A glance of the map of Southern Fiordland shows a nest of long north-south lakes and deep fjords on the west like the spokes of a wheel. There is a lot of water and relatively short portages between them.

February 3rd 2006 saw our two adventurers arrive on the shores of Lake Hauroko ( the Lake of the Wind ). This huge lake, 32 kilometres long lies on the east side of the southern end of Fiordland. The day was overcast but dry. The gumotex was laid out and a foot pump used to inflate it. The curious squeak of the foot pump became known as the “Sound of the Gumotex” and was to be heard in the ensuing days across a vast swathe of country as our friends made their way westwards and then northwards. The boat was loaded so it appeared to disappear under the weigh of these two men and all their gear. A quick kiss from Belinda, Stan’s wife saw them depart towards the headland to the west. A light headwind made for a wet start as water splashed up from the bow waves. Still they made fast time and covered the eleven kilometres to Teal Bay Hut in two and a quarter hours.

Teal Bay Hut is a DOC Hut and is bright and clean. Our two adventurers settled in, kindled a fire and cooked a meal. In their baggage was a 1 kg fruit cake and they appeared anxious to demolish this presumably to lessen the load carrying for the next day. Later in the evening two visitors arrived by jet boat. These were Neville and Wendy who both knew Stan. Much time was spent discussing their proposed route.

Next morning the lads were up early breakfasting on their pre-packaged muesli and tea and then loading the gumotex. The day was overcast but dry with mist lifting off the lake. When they were underway Neville and Wendy started up their boat and cruised over to take a photo and after farewelling them roared off down the Wairaurahiri River which drains the southern end of Lake Hauroko. Stan sat in the front seat with a dry bag between his legs. Simon was in the rear seat with his rucksac between his legs, behind him was the other dry bag and Stan’s rucksac strapped on. They both had long double bladed paddles and wore light weight PFD’s. Near the mouth of the Wairaurahiri they pulled in to the bank and took their gear into the forest to pack it away. Their rucksacs were huge as they shouldered them and set off on a disked track. After half an hour the track arrives at at the Rata Burn a tributary of the Wairaurihiri River where there is a walk wire. From here on they had no track markers and only occasional blazes on trees to follow. There is an old hunter’s track across the ranges to Lake Poteriteri and this was hard to find. Once they reached a deep creek coming in on the right they lost it entirely. From here on they were on compass bearings across a vast lowland forest with a range of high hills to the west. They eventually arrived at a steep ridge with a creek curving around its base and here Stan took a position with his Garmin Map GPS. This showed they were in the right place with the route on the ridge above. After lunch they climbed up about a hundred metres and stuck old hunter’s blazes on the spur.

The climb was very gradual and more open higher up. It curved around high ridges for quite a while before dropping steeply to Lake Poteriteri (Lake of Weeping Skies). This part of the track had new orange disc markers and was very easy to follow. The day wore on and they reached a flat plain where they walked for a long time through the forest to reach the lake. About three quarters of an hour before arriving at Lake Poteriteri hut they heard a helicopter flying low overhead no doubt bound for the hut.

Arriving at the hut they met two Dunedin men, Mike and Allan who had just flown in for a hunting trip. They were surprised to see our two friends and enquired how they intended to make their way north up the lake. Mike was dumb stuck when Simon casually mentioned they intended to go up the middle of the lake and then offered they had a boat in their baggage!!


Simon had a swim in the lake while Stan made dinner and then they retired after an auspicious start to their journey. It rained hard and blew that night ( this being the lake of the weeping skies) but grew calm later on.

Sunday saw an early start by our two friends. The hut is nestled in the forest beside a wide sandy beach on the lake shore. There was a light drizzle and the high mountains thereabout were shrouded in cloud. Simon unfolded the gumotex and soon the low pitched “ Sound of the Gumotex” cut through the still cold air. Stan was inside packing up as Simon readied the boat and then it was loaded. Mike came out to farewell them and take their photos. Then they were off paddling northwards for 21 kilometres to the Princess Burn Valley. The day brightened up and the rain died away and the tops came out. There was even the odd ray of sunshine. Near the head of the lake they had a rest stop on a beach and here Stan performed a ritual bathe in the sacred waters. This however was somewhat brief due to the water temperature and the local sandfly population. Then they were off to the Princess Burn where they landed a short distance up the river.

Here the gumotex was packed away and they set off up the creek bed to the junction of the Kakapo Creek coming in on the left. There was a steep climb up a bluff on the true left for about 100 metres and then they followed good deer trails to a small lake which they reached in the afternoon. From here it was another 2-3 kilometres on to Lake Kakapo. There the boat was launched and they paddled 1.5 kilometres to the far end and camped on a grassy bank there. There were some black swans out on the lake. A fire was lit and camped pitched and a pleasant evening was spent there.

Monday saw our two friends up early again and paddling across the still black waters to the south-western corner of the lake. The gumotex was deflated and put away and then they set off, crossing the first creek coming down and then up a good deer trail on the true left of this. This ridge climbed 550 metres to the Richard Burn Saddle. They made slow but steady progress with their heavy packs. Higher up the forest became dwarf and hindered progress but our two friends struggled forward and were eventually rewarded with magnificent views of the top of the ridge from a knoll which was clear. There was literally a highway from deer tracks here. It was hot and sunny and way down below Lake Kakapo glimmered in the sunlight. They crossed some open glades and then into the final bit of bush which was quite dense but eventually they burst through this into open tussock slopes dropping gently to a large alpine lake. Our two travellers were then seen to strip off and swim in the lake. Simon then inflated their boat while Stan prepared a generous lunch no doubt reflecting the vast amount of energy burned that day.

After lunch the gumotex was launched and they paddled off to the south-west. Rounding a corner in the lake they were surprised to see two stags studying them closely, no doubt the sight of a gumotex at 755 metres being an unusual sight. They landed at the far end of the lake and after packing up set off to scout the route down the Richard Burn Valley. This is a long valley about 7.5 kilometres long draining Crescent Lake and emptying into Long Sound at Cascade Basin. It was now early afternoon on a bright blue skyed day as they made their way down tussock clearings between copses of beech forest. Then it was into dwarf forest which made for hard going but later the forest grew taller and deer trails better. They reached the northern tributary but there was no sign of the rock bivi mentioned in Moirs Guide. They eventually found a delightful camp at 410 metres in a clearing made by the deer close to the river.

Tuesday saw them astir early and on their way shortly after daybreak. They found good deer trails mainly on the true left and lost height rapidly on these to arrive at the south branch in an hour. Here the valley flattened out and the river broke up into innumerable channels where the easiest going seemed to be to wade the shallow ones. Below this the river started to drop into a chasm so they veered off onto the true left and followed a ridge dropping towards Long Sound. There was great jubilation when the sea was seen and more so when they waded out into the stream at the outlet. This however resulted in Stan taking a small swim which was unfortunate as the weather was packing up and it had turned a bit chilly.

The sea was calm as they set off in the gumotex arriving at Last Cove 11.5 kilometres away at 2.30PM. It was now raining and cold so they decided not to linger for lunch and quickly packed up and set off into the bush for Cliff Cove on Cunaris Sound. This is a two kilometre walk on an old hunting trail and went quickly. They then launched the gumotex and set off for the Small Craft Islands nine kilometres away at the junction of Cunaris and Edwardson Sounds. The weather was slowly deteriorating and the rising wind pushing up a bit of a sea. This began to look somewhat ugly as they neared the islands and they were only ashore when it rose to gale force. Stan was very cold by this stage and they hurriedly threw up the tent and changed clothes and got a warm drink on. It blew strongly during the night and then the rain ease off. In the early hours of the morning the tent was seen to be nestled in a tiny clearing on an isthmus between two islands. Nearby were some native pidgeons and they welcome the grey dawn with much cooing and then set off on foraging expeditions. The wind still blew from the south-west and although it was calm in their cove it was white water over on Divide Point at the junction of Cunaris and Edwardson Sounds. They made a late start and Stan hesitated about going at all but then they decided to ‘give it a go’. At first it was flat but soon enough the waves rose and they surged forwards with the wind at their backs.

The gumotex sailed through this with ease though some water did come in. Once past Divide Point they entered Edwardson Sound where conditions were a bit easier. They cut across the sound to the western shore and landed on a beach to empty out
the kayak as they were both sitting in water by now. Once this was done the boat seemed to have a new lease of life and sprang forwards into the waves. They flew along with the following sea and 20 knot wind at their backs and covered the 12.5 kilometres to the head of the sound in short time. Near the head the wind died and they pulled up near the waterfall coming down from Lake Cadman. There is a track here rising 25 metres up the hillside and then falling back to Lake Cadman. They carried their packs up this and then brought up the gumotex. There is an old aluminium dingy on the lake shore and they had lunch there. This seemed an odd sort of meal served in their plastic plates_ smashed up Pita bread, cream cheese, honey and cashew nuts. Still they must have been hungry seeing the way they scoffed it down.


In the afternoon they had a pleasant paddle up Lake Cadman through the wee river connecting it to Lake Carrick again with the wind at their backs. At the north end of Lake Carrick they rolled up the gumotex and set off into unpleasant forest trying to follow the river coming down from Lake Purser. This was a mistake as it extremely overgrown and scrubby and the better going is well away from the river on the east side among taller forest. Lake Purser is 80 metres higher and it took them 1.5 hours to reach it. There was a lovely sandy beach but voracious sandflies encouraged them keep going. On the other side was a sandbank in the Oho River and they camped there.

It was quite interesting to see them at camp. Simon invariably went for a swim no matter how cold the day was or how bad the sandflies were and then lit a huge fire. Stan usually pitched the tent and made dinner. While Simon wore shorts, Stan was invariably covered from head to toe and wore a bug hat. This of course was in response to the voracious sandflies. There was also a ritual getting into the tent without admitting a zillion sandflies. There was a quick unzipping, dive into the tent and rezipping up. Still a goodly number of Namu entered and these had to be killed off later.

Thursday saw a blue flame stab the darkness on their sandbank at 6.00 AM as Stan lit the gas cooker. Then it was a quick bowl of muesli, hot drink, pack the tent and rearrange the food and dry bags before the lads set off into the forest. Again they sought deer trails and made steady progress up the banks of Oho Creek, taking the western fork to the base of a steeply rising ridge running to peak 1156 metres (later named Sunny Peak after their boat!). The river rose steeply into a tight valley filled with large boulders in the bottom and vertical cliffs on either side. The toe of the ridge was mossy cliffs with trees higher up and looked difficult of access so our two friends carried further up the creek and climbed about 60 metres up a vegetated gully. This was covered in pungas or fern trees and a nasty tangle of scrub higher up necessitating a smash, push, pull and twist technique. The term ‘technical scrub’ was used! However higher up once they were established on the ridge there were good deer trails and better going.

At about 500 metres there was a band of cliffs and this proved difficult to climb with the heavy packs. At one point Simon reached down and hauled Stan up a vertical mossy cliff with just a hand grip. At 750 metres they reached the bushline and were rewarded with splendid views down the valley of the three lakes and the surrounding mountains. The day was bright and sunny after the previous days gloom. It was an easy walk across tussock slopes to a beautiful lake at 860 metres just east of Sunny peak which the lads named Lake Gumotex.

They stopped for lunch at a small tarn on the pass above the lake and there it was decided Simon would try to climb Mt Burnett further to the west and would meet up with Stan who was to establish camp down by the lake. Simon left most of his gear and set off. Stan walked down to the lake and put up the tent to dry it and then has a wash. After a while he wandered off to the outlet of the lake and decided to climb the east ridge of Sunny Peak such being his restless nature. It was high up on this that he saw 7 deer mostly stags. He eventually reached the summit which had fantastic views all around and down to Fanny Bay and parts of Dusky Sound. Down below he could see a tiny speck as Simon reached camp and later the gumotex cruising around the lake. Returning to camp Stan stripped off and dived into the lake to cool off. Evening meal was of cous-cous for a change. The night was still and dark and the sky brilliantly lit up by the constellations.

Friday saw our two adventurers up at 6.30 AM and an hour later heading towards the outlet of the lake. They crossed to the true left and descended some cliffs into a hanging valley 100 metres below them. They had planned to descent and sidle to the right towards a less steep ridge dropping to point 149 overlooking Fanny Bay. In theory this seemed straightforward but in actual practice was very difficult. There seemed to be lots of spurs dropping down the face covered in dense forest and not easy to sidle. Lower down the country was exceedingly steep and they plunged down these. Eventually at lunchtime they reached the water where the gumotex was blown up and they took off into Fanny Bay. A yellow sack was tied in a tree marking the site of their food cache. Earlier Geordie, a fisherman friend had dropped it off_ two fish buckets full of food. On top were 6 bottles of beer.

They had lunch here and then set off into a westerly breeze down Cook Channel bound for Cascade Cove. There were small wind waves coming at them and Stan complained of being drenched all the time as they pushed into these. They put in to one spot on the small cliffs on the left side of the Channel where there was a red cloth and found a nice campsite but as it was too early so they pushed on. They went for another hour before deciding to call it a day and pulled in to camp up in the forest opposite Long Island. There was a small beach there and they lit a fire on some small cliffs bordering this. In the evening a boat came up Cook Channel and stopped to fish. They attracted its attention by lighting a fire. The MV Tutoko eventually came over and they asked them to relay a message to Meri Leask at Bluff Fishermen’s radio to say they were in Dusky Sound. Their own VHF radio was not powerful enough to send a message out. They had decided not to bother with Cascade Cove and instead to carry on northwards.

An early start was made next day. They were up at 4.00 AM and on the water an hour later. It was pitch dark and every paddle stroke caused a blaze of phosphorescence. They headed back along Cook Passage and rounded the eastern extremity of Long Island. They steered a course for Passage Point at the entrance of the Acheron Passage. The water was mirror calm. A pod of dolphins saw them and came over shadowing them, diving underneath them and breaching in front and on either side of them. Sometimes they paddled in their peculiar wake. They stayed with them for some time and then were gone. It was lightly drizzling and the tide was flooding down the Acheron Passage.

By lunchtime they had reached Sunday Cove after a 24 km paddle. Here they stopped for lunch and to sort out the buckets of food. Some food and rubbish was left in the buckets on the deck of a barge there to be collected later. Then they carried on up Breakea Sound to Vancouver Arm. It was a long day to reach the head of Vancouver Arm where they camped on a sand bank. This was the longest paddle day _ 46 kms. They had a big meal of new potatoes, vegetables and sweet and sour sauce. They retired at 10PM but at midnight Stan suddenly awoke to find water in the tent, the billy afloat and the seas literally all around them. They had camped below high water mark!. A hasty evacuation into the bush at midnight then followed. Luckily they did not get their sleeping bags wet.

Dawn brought a dismal scene to the upper Vancouver Sound. Rain slanted down upon the now dry tidal flats and in a marshy area on the forest fringe a bleary eyed man emerges from a blue tent. It is mid-day before they get up and then move camp back into the forest to the bank of a river which is high, dry and mossy. Then a fire is lit and brunch made which cheers up the party. In the afternoon Simon went on a recce of the Jaquiery Pass and reported a possible route over this 600 metre pass. Meanwhile Stan had been drying or rather smoking his sodden clothes over the fire. The barometric pressure rose and the rain has eased off. Stan noted an alternative route to Doubtful Sound via Dagg Sound further south if things do not work out on the Jaquiry.

Monday saw our two friends away by 6.30 AM following rather indistinct deer trails up valley. They soon left the valley floor for a rockfall on the right side of the valley. Their idea was to sidle the face to a slip higher up and further along. The going was very steep and mostly straight up as it proved impossible to sidle the face. The going deteriorated into a vertical vegetated grovel up ferns, mossy cliffs and fallen rotten trees and at 330 metres they could not progress any further. Rather then waste any more effort on this they retreated back to the sea, launched the gumotex and paddled nine kilometres back to the “Valley of Sorrows” as Stan later named this valley. On the way they saw deer grazing on the flats of several rivers draining into the sound. Here they set up camp on a flat area and called it a day.

Tuesday dawned overcast and raining. They were away by 7.00 AM following deer trails up valley. The valley is 10 kilometres long and has a saddle at 6 kms in and 400 metres above sea level. Then it drops 4 kilometres steeply to Dagg Sound. They moved up on the true right and got into some awful country of big boulders, mossy fallen logs and ferns under a dense canopy. All the time it rained and our duo were not happy. Then they decided to drop back to the river and there they found easier deer trails again and moved faster up valley. The hours ticked past slowly and it rained and rained and the river roared in flood. By now they were on the true left and moving through some densely wooded country across swamps and sidling hillsides with only a vague impression they were still gaining height. Stan took some GPS readings and the news was depressing_ another 2.3 kilometres to the pass. On and on they plodded soaked, cold, hungry and weary.

Sometime in the afternoon the land suddenly started dropping to the north, the rains stopped and the sun shone briefly. Needless to say this lifted their spirits and more so when they discovered old track markers on trees and a track in places. It has all the hallmarks of an old deer cullers track. Now they were moving along loosing height rapidly but it was still 4 kms to the sea and it took them all day to reach it in fact 13 hours in total. They threw up the tent, lit a fire, had a big meal and crashed.

Wednesday dawned grey and overcast as the “Sound of the Gumotex” echoed out over the still waters. Shortly afterwards a blue boat and 2 hooded men glided out of the river mouth into the dark waters of the Sound. It was about 2 kilometres across to
the head of the Sound to an isthmus about a kilometre long leading to Crooked Arm, a branch of Doubtful Sound. A huge rockfall occurred here several years ago in an earthquake and there is a track across it which they found straightforward. It is a long way down Crooked Arm and they were paddling towards Turn Point when suddenly a hugh white Real Journeys catamaran came around the corner and stopped. There was a bizarre scene played out as the numerous gaily dressed tourists aboard lined the rails gaping at these two desperate fugitives paddling furiously past in a tiny blue boat. The lads had the grace though to give them a wave.

Once in the main channel they had a following sea and fair raced along. Several boats passed. They had lunch on a rock shore on the left hand side before Fergusson Island. Then it was the last leg to Elizabeth Island and Deep Cove. Rounding that last headland the houses swung into view and then the wharf and all the boats. It was with some sadness the gumotex was run up onto the beach. A chap from Deep Cove Hostel arranged for a lift for them to Manapouri and 10 minutes after arriving our two adventurers boarded a bus with all their gear.








An account of the Gumotex Expedition across southern Fiordland from Lake Hauroko to Doubtful Sound 3-15 February 2006 by Simon Marwick and Stan Mulvany. Total distance 215 kilometres, 170 kilometres paddled, 5500 metres of ascent and descent. First traverse of this unique route in Southern Fiordland

Acknowledgments: Thanks for Geordie Johnston of the Cindy Hardy for dropping off our food cache at Fanny Bay, to the skipper of the MV Tutoko for sending out a message to Meri Leask and to Mark, the bus driver at Deep Cove for offering to take us out to Manapouri.

Text by Stanley and Photos by Simon