Day 54, Jan 20 2010
I lay in bed this morning knowing that I had only a 40km paddle ahead of me to get to Aramoana, a small settlement down the coast where a landowner had been forewarned of my possible arrival by my current hosts. I was in no rush.
It appears that certain farming lands have been in the hands of families for a number of generations, although difficult times of late have begun to see the lands subdivided and the land sold off to various interests. Traditionally a certain family name was associated with lands of a particular region. The Mackenzies here in the valley, the Speedies over the ranges, and the Macallisters by the coast. Lands that was traditionally given over to sheep or cattle are now seeing exotic crops grown or holiday homes springing up.
I was still lying in bed when I heard an almighty thump against the side of the house just behind my head. Upon rising I was informed that a feral rabbit had taken fright when the family dog, still a pup, had chanced upon it. Unfortunately for the rabbit it had launched itself directly into the side of the house, stunning itself and making easy prey for the excited canine.
I watched with morbid fascination as Fred, this mix between a collie, labrador, and poodle lay there on the dew-damp lawn and devoured the hapless prey in its entirety. The flesh beneath the pelt was a pale grey blue colour. The head lay to one side expertly disengaged with a chomp of the jaws. There was a lot of crunching as the limbs disappeared and the torso began to get smaller with every rip, tear and chomp.
There was no blood that I could discern. I could not have watched if there had been as I have a weak constitution. I was surprised at how neat and tidy the whole process was. There were no intestines, no excrement to be seen. The catch simply got smaller and smaller. Just the tearing and crunching.
Soon there was nothing left but the head which patiently lay to one side. This disappeared next. For a moment only two long ears were visible. One on either \side of his muzzle before a quick adjustment and an eye slipped out, held in place only by a white elasticized membrane-like tissue.
Another chomp saw it separated and drop to the grass. The ears disappeared in unison. There was nothing left but the single eye lying there on the green grass.
Fred licked its lips before nosing and sniffing the grass there in front of it, between and beside its front paws. He quickly found the remaining eye, snuffled it up, rose, and moved on. The grass showed not one sign of what had just taken place.
I finished my coffee and the crust of my toast that had been spread with local New Zealand creamed honey. A deliciously satisfying way to start the day. Prue, if only I could commence every day in the same fashion. Thank you, thank you thank you!\
It appears that certain farming lands have been in the hands of families for a number of generations, although difficult times of late have begun to see the lands subdivided and the land sold off to various interests. Traditionally a certain family name was associated with lands of a particular region. The Mackenzies here in the valley, the Speedies over the ranges, and the Macallisters by the coast. Lands that was traditionally given over to sheep or cattle are now seeing exotic crops grown or holiday homes springing up.
I was still lying in bed when I heard an almighty thump against the side of the house just behind my head. Upon rising I was informed that a feral rabbit had taken fright when the family dog, still a pup, had chanced upon it. Unfortunately for the rabbit it had launched itself directly into the side of the house, stunning itself and making easy prey for the excited canine.
I watched with morbid fascination as Fred, this mix between a collie, labrador, and poodle lay there on the dew-damp lawn and devoured the hapless prey in its entirety. The flesh beneath the pelt was a pale grey blue colour. The head lay to one side expertly disengaged with a chomp of the jaws. There was a lot of crunching as the limbs disappeared and the torso began to get smaller with every rip, tear and chomp.
There was no blood that I could discern. I could not have watched if there had been as I have a weak constitution. I was surprised at how neat and tidy the whole process was. There were no intestines, no excrement to be seen. The catch simply got smaller and smaller. Just the tearing and crunching.
Soon there was nothing left but the head which patiently lay to one side. This disappeared next. For a moment only two long ears were visible. One on either \side of his muzzle before a quick adjustment and an eye slipped out, held in place only by a white elasticized membrane-like tissue.
Another chomp saw it separated and drop to the grass. The ears disappeared in unison. There was nothing left but the single eye lying there on the green grass.
Fred licked its lips before nosing and sniffing the grass there in front of it, between and beside its front paws. He quickly found the remaining eye, snuffled it up, rose, and moved on. The grass showed not one sign of what had just taken place.
I finished my coffee and the crust of my toast that had been spread with local New Zealand creamed honey. A deliciously satisfying way to start the day. Prue, if only I could commence every day in the same fashion. Thank you, thank you thank you!\
Fred and friends!
The sun was out and I had to be off. With Rock’s help we carried the unloaded kayak to the sand and then returned for the bits and pieces. Prue informed me that she’d notified people all the way down the coast of my pending arrival and that they were expecting me. Wow! At my next stop, Aramoana, Chip would be there I was informed.
I was watching the surf. This was a real surf. Admittedly not frighteningly big, but consistent and breaking a good way out. The larger sets were possibly approaching 4’ and dumping. I had not had to tackle anything like this before. A set wave badly timed would almost certainly spell disaster.
I was convinced that I’d be washed back to shore but wanted to attempt it anyway. I believe I though that with a couple of attempts I might succeed if some good fortune came my way. I had no doubt that it would provide a spectacle for my hosts and told them so.
Rock stripped down to his trunks and grabbed the bow’s toggle. I’d not asked him to, but he was going to pull me out as far as he could, holding the bow into the oncoming waves before releasing me. Whilst still in the shallows I climbed into the cockpit and secured the spray skirt before he began moving into the deeper water.
To be honest I was not convinced that he’d be able to maintain his hold the craft but he did so. He kept going, far further than I’d expected. As it got deeper, waves were breaking over him but he still held on. He held the toggle with two hands now, backing himself into and under the foaming waves.
With the surging water up around his chest I told him to release me, partly because I just couldn’t see how he could hold on any longer as he was. I touched the rudder peddles and used the paddle to keep the bow pointing into the oncoming waves. Anything less than straight on would almost certainly mean that I’d end up back on the beach probably looking for paddles, pumps and cushions in the wash.
I held back waiting for an opportunity to gun it. There was no sense in paddling hard if waves were only going to knock me back. When I sensed it, which was thankfully almost immediately, I dug the blades in with everything I had.
I lent back to lift the bow over the first few oncoming walls of foam, the momentum of the laden kayak working a treat. I was more concerned about the unbroken walls that threatened to line up out the back and break immediately in front, or worse still, on top of me.
For an instant I thought that I was doomed as I saw the approaching threat, but they held off and the bow rose steeply up the unbroken wall before cresting the peak and slamming down hard with an almighty thump on the other side.
This repeated itself a couple of times but I continued to paddle with what I had left. I could feel the energy draining quickly but knew that the bigger sets could potentially break further out still and I had to make sure I was safe from this possibility.
Finally feeling safe, I stopped paddling. I was shaking with excitement. My heart was pounding from both the excitement and the exertion. Fear had driven me, I have no doubt of that. It was an exhilarating beginning to the day’s leg with the time at 10:45am.
I have to thank Rock at this point. Quite simply, unbelievable. I hope he and Prue were able to get a sense of the excitement that their help made possible. I am looking forward to speaking with them to see how they saw it. Were they aware just how much an adrenalin rush the launch was for me or did it look mundane from where they were standing? Did Rock even get back to the beach to see it… he was quite a way out when he released me?
It was sunny and I had a slight 5 knot north-easterly breeze helping me along. There were none of the depressing thoughts I’d felt at this time on the previous morning. Today I was buzzing.
The fish appeared to be enjoying the conditions today. I noticed a number of swirls on the water’s surface indicating good sized fish as I approached. Then, just after midday, a kingfish of about 1m in length swam unconcernedly past me in the opposite direction on my port side. It was not fazed, being only a couple of metres away to my left. He was heading north as I headed south. We looked at each other on passing, no more.
Half an hour later I stopped to chat to some recreational fishermen in their boat. Pulling alongside I noticed that I had an extremely strong current working in my favour. I had to back-paddle to continue the conversation. They weren’t having any luck. Possibly due to the current I thought. I mentioned the kingfish and wondered whether they might have more luck throwing some lures over the back.
I noticed a heavily populated camping area right on a beach protected by a large exposed reef extending well out from shore. Had I been told there was a camping ground at Aramoana? Could there be two in such close proximity to each other?
I paddled towards the shore up alongside the reef. I could see a boat in the more protected waters having some fun with a rope and board. I put the question to them and was told Aramoana was the next bay around. This correlated with where I’d marked it on my GPS, indicating just another 4-5 kilometres. I turned back out to sea and paddled around the jutting reef and the waves that marked its shallow depth.
Shortly thereafter I turned into the bay that was home to Aramoana. A strong outgoing tidal flow was obvious after the favourable currents I’d experienced earlier in the day. Here it was causing the water to stand up and I had to keep a wary eye on proceedings with shallow reefs causing waves to form and break.
Aramoana.
Having learnt my lessons, I halted to pack away my camera and anything else that might be at risk if I was dumped coming into the beach. There was a decent surf funnelling into the small well-defined bay and it was being encouraged by the tide and a fresh breeze.
I lined myself up with two large triangular markers on the shore believing them to be a guide to the line I should take into shore. Was there a small river there and the line was for boats marking a channel for them to enter safely?
I sat there for a while attempting to gauge the pattern of the swell and resultant waves before making my move towards the beach. Watching over my shoulder I got a fright to see two waves walling steeply up and threatening me from behind.
I immediately stopped paddling and attempted to halt my momentum and paddle in reverse. The weight means that the result of my actions is not immediate and I thought for a moment that I was doomed. I’d only just halted my forward motion when the first wave rose beneath me picking up the stern. For an instant I was looking down at the nose of my kayak thinking I was to be pitched down the steep face but the swell passed safely underneath.
By the time the second wave met me I’d started to move slowly backwards but again it was a near thing. For a moment I was looking down the length of my foredeck wondering if the lip would catch me a drop me. When it released me I watched it pass I noticed the crest beginning to break just metres further in towards the shore. It was a near thing.
I kept paddling backwards and reassessed the situation. There appeared to be less waves forming at the northern end of the bay alongside a jutting reef. Was there an outgoing rip there indicating deeper water? It looked more likely so I moved towards it and then made my run for it. I noticed a vehicle pull up and a gentleman wade into the water in the area I was headed. Was he there to greet me? I wasn’t sure. A small wave formed under me as I paddled in but on this occasion I was able to keep the kayak straight before touching upon the sand.
It was Chip waiting for me, and with him he had two friends to help! Chip mentioned that he’d been impressed with my arrival. I told him that it usually ended very differently. I mentioned the markers and was informed that they indicated the boundary of a marine reserve. They had nothing to do with indicating a safe passage!
My help!
With one person each holding the bow and stern and the other two holding one side of the cockpit each we carried the kayak up the beach and onto a well manicured grassy area alongside a public ablution block.
Camping was not strictly allowed but Chip had informed the neighbours and I shouldn’t expect any difficulties. There had been a campground here in earlier times I was told. I was pointed in the direction of a separate block for a warm shower. I thanked Chip and his friends for their kindness and hospitality. I was in again in debt to these wonderful New Zealanders.
Aramoana appeared to be a compact, tidy settlement with a small number of smartly designed homes fronting the beach, a large and impressive wool shed, and land behind it given to cattle and sheep grazing and avocado farming. I sensed a degree of affluence.
The wool shed.
Having had a warm shower I pitched my tent on the lush grass under some large Norfolk pines and cooked a meal of rice on my stove. I then topped up my water bladders having been informed that the water was drinkable despite the signs warning otherwise. I was concerned that the stretch of coastline that would take me to the southern-most tip of the North Island would offer little opportunity to acquire either food or water so I made use of the water bladders that has mostly been ignored until this point.
Having had a warm shower I pitched my tent on the lush grass under some large Norfolk pines and cooked a meal of rice on my stove. I then topped up my water bladders having been informed that the water was drinkable despite the signs warning otherwise. I was concerned that the stretch of coastline that would take me to the southern-most tip of the North Island would offer little opportunity to acquire either food or water so I made use of the water bladders that has mostly been ignored until this point.
I pitched my tent on the lush grass.
I turned in. There was a pattering of rain during the night but on the occasion that I did step outside the sky was clear and the stars shone brightly. I had paddled 44.49km at a moving average of 7.9km/h. A very good speed without any serious wind behind me. It was thanks to the favourable current.
