Over the ranges from Chalky to Deep Cove – a month-long journey in Southern Fiordland, February 2021

 

The real story is in Tamatea/Dusky Sound, the jewel of NZ conservation, a world-class biosphere. This is where the action lies and it's been on my radar for some time. We were to go there last year and had prepped Fanny Bay with an anticipatory food cache but then Covid hit and blew that away. By chance, I met Sean Ellis at Deep Cove last October. He is the skipper and owner of the Pure Salt charters along with Maria Kuster. They organise a conservation initiative on Mamaku/Indian Island where they have 240 traps in an extensive network of trap lines and are developing more on Long Island. I said we’d be keen to help.

 

And so on 4^th February, I received a text at 6.30 am from Maria as I was having an early breakfast. It said simply “we’re in Bluff”. I rang back and confirmed the rendezvous time of 10.30 am at the wharf at Bluff harbour.  Then I rang the team and passed on the message. The team was Sally, Reece and Gavin . . . stalwarts from many adventures with me. The sky was a scintillating ice-blue and a fresh Easterly whipped up the sea into a blue frenzy as we boarded the “Flightless”. We were warmly greeted by Sean, Maria and their crew. 

 

We cast off at 1.30 pm and headed out into a boisterous sea laced with white horses and set a westerly course. We sat outside on the afterdeck enjoying the widening vistas and the rolling seas. Mollymawks glided effortlessly in our wake among the troughs and swells enjoying the free ride. We seemed to take ages to reach Green Isles which I knew were only 15 km from Puysegur Point. Later, I noticed the white lighthouse standing resolutely on a headland, like a sentinel before the storm.

 

We sailed around the western side of Coal Island towards Gulches head and into the Eastern Passage of Chalky Sound where finally the seas eased and the westering sun slipped into a darkening sea. At the northern end of Great Island, we ran into North Port and anchored near some other boats. An obsidian blackness enveloped us like a moment of death.

 

It was a calm, sunny morning with an azure blue sky as we got into the inflatable for Brad to take us ashore. Our destination was Fisherman's Bay around Mosquito Point on the mainland. Gavin was keen to see Lakes Esau and Dobson on Great Island so we set off in the packrafts to a beach over there. Leaving them, we climbed up deer trails en route to Lake Esau.

 

 

The next day, Gavin and Reece set off to climb “The Brothers”. Sally and I moved our camp from the dunes into the forest to the west where there were fewer sandflies and where it was cooler.

 

On 7^th we paddled around Mosquito Point to North Port and Little Island where we saw some fishing boats and the wreck of the Stella. Ahead we could see the sun-sparkled waters of Edwardson Sound as the morning sunlight crept down the surrounding forest slopes. Once past Little Island, we turned NE following the coast while off to our right the Small Craft Harbour Islands were shadowed by the rising sun behind on Cunaris Sound. After about 9 kilometres, we had just paddled past a hook of land pointing south, when the wind turned into a northerly. This very quickly increased in strength virtually stopping us. Reece and Gavin, being much stronger, carried on slowly to our campsite, 3 kilometres further along past Mt Inaccessible. Sally and I reached a tiny cove and found a poor campsite for 1 small tent and a small stream close by so we decided to camp there. The next day we made it to the campsite and spent 2 nights there in the rain. 

 

 

On the 10^th we set off for Lake Cadman. A Southerly wind was blowing and pushed us along. Then it started to rain again. The wind rose, the rain was steady as we pushed on into a grey oppressive miasma of malign intent. Ragged clouds wreathed the peaks, a cheerless, uninviting day. I was soaked and wishing it would end but no . . .  on and on, it went. Then we were at the river joining Lake Cadman to Carrick. There was a bit of a current against us but easy enough to paddle through. Lake Carrick opened out, grey curtains of rain spilling from a sallow sky. I made for a beach at the far end and once ashore, carried the packraft into the forest to roll it up. I was soaked and chilled like I'd swum up the lakes. The rain now intensified and our spirits fell as we gained height. After maybe an hour of toil, Purser hove into view. We reached the Oho and went about 100m up the TL to camp on a level place under tree ferns.

 

 

It rained all night, pattering on the fly but we were dry in our tents. I awoke numerous times during the night listening to the sound of . . . running water, the land’s wild music played out in all its glory. I wondered if the river would burst its banks and then what? We spent 2 nights there in the rain before it eased. Then on the 12^th we set off and climbed up the spur to Lake Gumotex at 850m to camp.

 

Dawn revealed a sallow, grey overcast sky and to the east, a wrack of purple clouds against a backdrop of pale orange sky. It looked rather portentous so we were keen to move. We set off in an easterly direction following the ‘Matt Briggs’ route to Fanny Bay. At the head of the bay, we found a nice hunter’s campsite among the trees complete with camping chairs and clotheslines so we settled in. The sun was out and with the wind, we had our clothes dry in no time. Life felt good again.

 

 

The next morning, Gavin reported a large white catamaran has come into Fanny Bay and anchored. This was the “Surreal 2” owned and skippered by Captain Allan Boyce. I suggested to Gavin that he ask them for a lift to Cascade Cove if they were going that way. The answer was yes if we could get packed up in half an hour. So we rapidly did that. Their friend Keith Murray came over in the inflatable and took us out to the yacht where we met Allan and Lynn Boyce and their friends, Keith and Lynley Murray along with Amber who was the step-daughter of Lynn. We were warmly received, plied with hot drinks as we sailed off down Cook Channel. They dropped us off in Cascade Cove where we set up a nice camp. The following afternoon the Flightless picked us up and took us to Mamaku/Indian Island where we spent 2 days rebaiting the traplines. 

 

 

On the 19^th we rejoined the Flightless to be dropped off at Supper Cove. From there we went up Henry Creek and crossed over to Herrick Ck. On 21^st we descended Herrick Ck to Wet Jacket Arm and crossed over it to camp at the mouth of Shy Ck.

 

 

 

I had a dreamless, restless slumber so was glad to be up early. We followed a deer trail upwards but this disappeared in steep bush further along. At first, we kept about 50m above the creek but later on, we dropped back to river level. Here we found an old slip on the TL that we followed up and made for easy height gain. A sidle leftwards took us back to the river underneath a cliff line. The going was easy until we reached the top of Shy Creek where it tumbled out of a gap in the cliffs on either side. By malfeasance, we ended up climbing a cliff on the TL at the outlet. It was an acerbic grovel but we made it to the lake. Crossing this we carried on to the open tops ahead. The rain started again so we sat out 2 days up there in bad weather.

 

 

Thursday 25^th was misty at first and then this slowly lifted to a lovely day. We set off for the open tops to the west following a cut track. On reaching peak 1093m, the route continued northwards to a big sidle under peak 1068m. This took us down to a spur which dropped steeply to a valley that ran down to Duck Head Cove. From the cove, we paddled down Broughton Arm into Vancouver arm to its head where we set up camp. It was a gorgeous evening as the wind died leaving a windstill sea, reflecting the shadowy forest under a cobalt-blue sky, flecked with scintillating white and grey cumulous.

 

The weather held the next morning as we packed up in the dark. Today was the day for the Jaquiery Pass. I felt nervous as back in 2006, Simon and I retreated from this formidable crossing. What if we failed again – a return to the “Valley of Sorrows”, Dagg Sound and Crooked Arm? I shuddered at the prospect but then I reasoned if anyone could succeed, it would be this veteran team. We had come through thick and thin – we needed faith – we must stay the course. And we did . . . we had a plan and it worked. The key was an old slip 2 km up the valley, not easy but doable. On the far side, we descended our old flagged route to camp at our old campsite at 500m.

 

 

The next day, we reached Halls Arm, did the 5-highs and paddled into Deep Cove. On Sunday 28th, Alastair and the rest of the crew arrived from West Arm bringing good company and real food. The plan was to check and rebait all our traps at DC so we mostly got this done on Monday. Gavin and I were fortunate to get a lift out with Mike on Tuesday and the rest of the team the next day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Acknowledgments: To my great team of Sally, Gavin and Reece. You were always cheerful (apart from that episode when Sally was hanging off a tree over a humungous drop on the Jaquiery and crying out that she was about to fall off).  You had faith and persevered! To Sean and Maria and their crew who made this possible by taking us from Bluff to Chalky on the Flightless and all the wonderful hospitality on the voyage and the opportunity of working on Mamaku Island. To Alastair and crew for agreeing to meet us in DC and help with our traplines and the Lyvia track cutting. Lastly, to Billy, the caretaker at Deep Cove, to the trustees of the DC Outdoor Education Trust for your support and the vision to turn the tide on introduced predators and save our precious avifauna and biosphere.

 

Stanley Mulvany

13/3/2021