Day 69, Feb 4 2010
An unhurried morning saw me talking to guests and befriended locals. The kayak was loaded and waiting for me down by the lake’s edge where I’d carried it earlier. I’d also climbed the hill behind the hotel to make a phone call to a gentleman who’d requested that I let him know when I expected to depart. He was going to fly his aircraft up from Blenheim on the South Island and make a couple of passes. I was excited by this alone!
Last minute adjustments.
It was just before 10:00am when I climbed into the kayak whilst keeping a careful eye on the water at the lake’s entrance. I was immediately caught up in the current and swept along in the opposite direction to that which I wanted to go. I finished securing the spray skirt and dipped my paddles into the water. The tide was coming in and I was unsure of my ability to paddle against the current. I was prepared to simply walk and tow the kayak along the lake’s edge, past the mouth, and onto the open beach if my progress on the water stalled.
I zig-zagged across the lake.
Moments after I’d launched Mr Richard Batchelor flew over me with impeccable timing. With a big smile on my face I watched as he made a couple of passes overhead. On one occasion he stalled the plane when above me… I presume intentionally.
With impeccable timing.
Rather than try to paddle directly into the current I chose to cut across it at an angle of 45° before turning in an imitation of a zig-zag pattern and making towards the opposite side. This way I was able to make reasonable progress whilst monitoring the faster water up ahead. I was close to the point where I was going to jump out and asses whether I could in fact paddle against the tide or whether I’d simply have to walk it around when I sensed an opportunity to dart around the near corner. It was nothing other than a calming of the waters but I decided to make a run for it.
A view from the sky with The GOnz just visible.
My progress felt good but it demanded maximum effort and exertion. I got through the choppiest section and avoided any significant waves but it was some minutes before I felt safe enough to back off and regain my breath. I had however navigated it with a minimum of fuss and most importantly not made a fool of myself in front of those watching from the shore.
Making a run for it with Richard watching from above.
I had aimed for the roughest section despite some earlier advice suggesting otherwise. This was based on a belief that the rougher sections indicate shallow water and therefore less water with less flow as a result. A lot of the advice I receive is based on how motor boats would tackle certain conditions but a kayak is a very different craft. Their main worry is the rough water with the current less a worry due to the power that their motors offer them. For me it was the current that would halt my progress whilst the rough water in this case simply added some excitement. The calmer waters are also deceptive because it is here that the flow is strongest and eddies in the deep water are potentially far more dangerous to a swimmer than water running over a shallow bank.
Richard had still been making passes but now he dipped his wings before heading back across the strait. I watched as the plane disappeared in the distance feeling alone once more as I pointed towards the distant headland that would mark my exit from Palliser Bay. Whether it was break and good food at the Lake Ferry Hotel, the excitement of the plane above, or the early lifting of the heart rate whilst entering the sea again or a combination of all I made good time.
Richard dipped his wings before heading back across the Strait.
This leg was uneventful except for one particular moment of an unexplained nature. It was early on, occurring at almost exactly 10:30am. I was just getting into my groove when I heard a large release of air just behind me over my right shoulder. I turned immediately but all I saw was a large swelling on the water’s surface indicating that I’d just missed something. It prompted some real excitement as I felt the adrenalin coursing through me because I believe that it may have been a whale. The release of air I’d heard just seemed to indicate something larger than a dolphin but alas, there was no indication after that of anything to offer me a further clue.
A sunbaking seal.
I reached the headland and the rocky spit that extended from it at 12:30pm. The GPS told me that I’d covered 19.84km at 7.4km/h. I felt like I’d paddled with a good rating and determined to slow down in case I burnt out early. I enjoyed the variety that paddling around the rocks brought whilst also observing the antics of a couple of seals.
An inter-island ferry, the size of a ship.
One hour later I turned into the entrance of Wellington harbour. I had not seen so many houses since leaving Auckland. Another check of the GPS told me I still had over 16km to go which surprised me. I’d misjudged the size of the harbour and it was far bigger than I‘d expected.
Kelp beds inside the entrance to Wellington Harbour.
I pushed on passing some large kelp beds, watched the large inter-island ferries (the size of ships), on their way to Picton and after some time began to search for a surf club at Eastbourne. I’d been in contact a few days earlier asking if I would be able to store my kayak there. The only problem was that I could not find it and none of the people I asked had any clue either. I knew I was looking for something small because I’d been told at the time of telephoning that they only patrolled on Sundays.
Eastbourne looking like the Amalfi Coast but no surf club.
I thought I had located it when I saw a red flag in front of a small shed near a pier but on beaching discovered that it was in fact Days Bay Boatshed specialising coincidentally in kayak hire. I asked ‘James’ if he knew where the surf club was and he suggested it may be back in the direction from where I’d come however this was not guaranteed.
I thought I had located it when I saw a red flag in front of a small shed near a pier but on beaching discovered that it was in fact Days Bay Boatshed specialising coincidentally in kayak hire. I asked ‘James’ if he knew where the surf club was and he suggested it may be back in the direction from where I’d come however this was not guaranteed.
Days Bay Boatshed. I thought it was the surf club I'd been looking for.
Hearing this from a local did not encourage me to paddle back into the wind on the chance that it was back there so I asked the obvious question. It would be alright to store it there for a couple of days so after removing most of my belongings and placing them beside the road I phoned a taxi and a short while later had arrived at a camping ground. This one however, unlike most I’d been frequenting, this one was not anywhere near the water, if you ignore the fact that it was beside a toxic creek in an industrial area. Welcome back to civilisation.
