There was no point in seeing whether I could improve on the previous day’s fishing achievement. My competition would all have set off for their favourite spots hours earlier and I thought it best not to embarrass myself further. I had a coffee with the Tavern’s managers and ‘Uncle’, a true gentleman raised in a time when the word held true meaning. He’d lived in the area for most of his eighty-two years, which may well have been the reason he looked sixty, and had sharper eyes than I, one who was not far past being half his age.
The day had dawned clear and bright and I was told that it was a far better day than yesterday for fishing. I definitely had to be moving on, suspecting that the gap between my amateur efforts and these ‘professional‘ recreational fishermen would only widen!
I launched at 7:35am and was given a wave and toot by a passing utility as it passed by. I did not have time to see who it was but it left me feeling a little sorry that I had to be moving on. An hour later I had reached the point that marked the southern entrance to Tokamaru Bay, confirming once again how deceptive landmarks on the water can be without some experience in calculating such distances. I was improving and suspect that my estimate of 6km to 7km was not far from the mark. Having damaged my GPS beaching at my previous stop, meant I was unable to confirm this with any certainty.
I’d just commenced a bearing that would see me across to the next bay’s headland when a particularly strong gust off the land threatened to upset my balance as it struck me side-on. It was strong enough to pick water up from the sea’s surface and relocate it further downwind. Further squalls immediately followed and I was immediately concerned that this would put paid to any progress this day - not something I’d have been happy with.
Spectacular headlands.
Not wishing to find myself kilometres from land and faced with a strengthening breeze blowing me away from the safety of the coast, I had no choice but to turn and make for the shoreline of the just-rounded headland. Once I’d made the lee I pointed into the stiffening breeze that was funnelling down the bay’s corresponding valley and followed the bay’s shallow waters. These waters were thankfully void of the chop that would be found further out to sea and I discovered that good progress could be made by angling across the disturbingly fresh wind.
The bays are expansive.
It was a good choice because the day was vivid with colour and a clarity that one might not expect from weather that was blowing from the land. The tide was low and the water matched the air in that there was a precision to everything that I could see below the surface. There were numerous rock gardens covered by various types of seaweed to catch my attention or small fish that jumped and darted across the surface escaping larger unseen fish or possibly even fearing the sleek lines of my own gliding craft. The beach was sandy and without threatening swell I felt in the warm westerly winds that I was closer than ever to experiencing my leisurely vision of crystal clear waters and cavorting dolphins.
I really enjoyed the paddle. It was a simple task to beach and stretch the legs.
The dry wind was such that the evaporating sea water left crystalline deposits of salt all over the place, including even the lenses of my sunglasses. Though the blustery conditions remained I was able to ghost across subsequent bays whilst aiming for protected waters between the mainland and small islands. A larger more open bay saw me again hugging the beach. Dozens of tents, campervans and converted buses made a barrier between the beach and the hugging road. They were all taking advantage of the council approved ‘freedom camping’ and on this glorious day their choice of location was easy to understand.
Towards midday I put to shore at the southern end of the sandy beach and took 20 minutes to stretch the legs and eat a banana and apple. A strolling couple stopped to talk and discuss my adventure and ask questions regarding my kayak. I believe they were considering a purchase of a kayak themselves. Twenty minutes later and I was once again moving.
There was no sense of laborious hours or far distant goals today, and the fact that I was at the entrance to Tolaga Bay by 1:00pm helped serve to confirm why. I had planned to stop here. I had read that the bay was home to the longest jetty (?), in the southern hemisphere at 660metres with a camping ground directly beside it right on the beach. A short but tough 25 minute paddle into the breeze did not dampen my enthusiasm for this day.
I learnt later that the jetty was opened in 1929. In an unfortunate and ghastly accident on that day, four women riding in a truck drawn trailer had their legs crushed against some moored boats.
When three men in their late fifties queued up to carry my loaded kayak up the reasonably crowded beach - everyone was making the most of this day - and over to the campground I had to pinch myself. I warned them of the weight, and yet even when one stumbled and fell, he simply picked himself up and carried on. Maybe they were trying to impress their wives who were in tow? Regardless, I was most certainly thankful!
The campground was the most densely populated I’d yet come across and I wondered if my good luck was about to dry up but with a weary face and quick explanation of from where I’d come, they found a small patch of grass for me behind the office in the otherwise fully-booked campground. The fact that one of the women, and her husband who worked there also were from a very active family which included a son who’d won the famous Coast-to-Coast adventure race, run in the South Island, and known as the world championship of such races, was almost certainly a swaying factor. I was to have the opportunity to meet and talk with this son who’d won the event in 1996 and subsequently raced in Patagonia, France and Australia too. These races can include kayaking, cycling, running and abseiling and can take up to 12 hours to complete.
I went to sleep having enjoyed the day’s paddle more than any other I could recall. I had always planned to use Tolaga Bay as my stepping stone for reaching Gisborne, the largest town I would have come across for some time, even if it would be one of my longer paddles. Was it too much to hope for more of the same tomorrow?
