Rakiura!

After being in Tuatapere we made our way South.  More South.  Through the Scottish-influenced Invercargill to a deep coastal town called Bluff; famous for its self-titled oysters and being the place you go to Stewart Island from.  And the latter was our business.  Still haven't bothered with the shellfish.  I've tried mussels on two occasions so far and felt like I was ingesting part of the alien from Alien.  That movie traumatized me.  So I avoid shellfish.

Stacy wondering where the sun went

We waited patiently in a cozy waiting room lounge just off the dock with a mess of other folks.  I judged most of them to be hotshot photographers based on their humongous cameras with bazooka-sized lenses.  We were going to be down on the island for four days.  Our mission: the Rakiura Track--a 30something km loop from the tiny port-town of Oban.  Checking the weather forecast made our hearts sink: rain with some clouds and a bit more rain.  And maybe some sunshine on the last day?  No turning back though.  We already had our next WWOOF host lined up after the little trip.

This photo was used in a Rakiura Track pamphlet but I hear they photoshopped blue skies and sunshine in. Not really.

We all shuffled onto a boat fit for about 30 or 40 people and listened to the wizened old captain crack terrible jokes about safety on the sea and where we could find life vests and vomit bags.  Then we were off!  As predicted, those previously mentioned pro-level photographers were out on the deck firing photo-shots in frantic unison at birds flying over the water.  All was good and well unless someone walked near them and they would shout angrily about their personal space needed to continue capturing nature's beauty.  Kind of ironic.

Stacy enjoyed the waves and the wind outside while I clutched a table and chewed a gnarly little bit of ginger to avoid seasickness.  On our trip between the North and South Islands I experienced my first ever bout of seasickness.  I puked and didn't enjoy it.  This time I came prepared and put all my hopes and dreams into that awful-tasting raw ginger.  That and I locked myself in conversation with a German couple who were going to attempt the Southwest Circuit (I think...), a 10-12 day hike around a larger chunk of the island.  It was mostly mud from what I heard so we decided we'd get our extremely-South fix on the Rakiura.

The boat bucked with each wave and I'm honestly surprised I didn't fill up that little paper bag beside me like the bags of Halloween candy I used to get as a wee lad.  We arrived in port safe and sound, collected our bags--which were many pounds lighter than they were on our last backpacking venture, and then stocked up on a few last things at the town grocery.  402 people call Stewart Island their permanent home, and it was awesome to see how different life must be down their for them.  There was a grocery, a few restaurants and a tavern and a couple odd shops and tourist agency-type places.  And everything generated from the port itself.  These people were entirely dependent on boats coming in with everything that they would need.  Like the old days.  Or I guess like any island.  I haven't seen much of the world, so this was all a revelation to me.

Dock where we arrived is in the background

There were also tons and tons of B&Bs and backpackers.  Really it seemed like almost everyone's house was also jointly an accomadation business.  I know that's not true, but it would make sense as to what 402 people do for jobs other than the few restauraunts and whatnot.  We saw most of this on our 3km walk from Oban to the start of the track in the national park.  It drizzled rain the whole way, then the sun teased us for five minutes as we began the actual hike, and then I believe it drizzled rain or stayed cloudy for the rest of our stay (except for the last hour or two on the island--that's when it got legitimately sunny).

Not a kiwi-bird! So close!

Also not a kiwi-bird! Gahhh!

The track itself was relatively easy.  I was surprised, but then not surprised, at how many people we met doing half the track for the day then heading back to town, or even one Irish guy who was plowing through the whole thing in a day before he had to get to Australia for work.  32km is not long.  There were three tentsites, and to get our fill of time on the island we stayed at all of them.  This led to a really short middle day.  Overall though, it was nice.  Very beautiful island, filled to the brim with birds.  We were so sure we would see kiwis (birds, not people) here: this was the best spot in all of NZ we had heard, with a kiwi-bird population of over 20,000...  But alas, the closest we got was just hearing them scream in the middle of the night.  Mating season.

This was the closest thing we saw to a real kiwi-bird..

Weird bird

We did see plenty of other cool birds though.  Tons of different species of bird reside on Stewart Island and no where else, in addition to all the other migrant birds or birds you'd find on the main islands.  It was a real birds' paradise.  Their words, not mine.  And the landscape was very much that of a jungle rainforest.  While popping into one of the fancy huts on the track, we read up on how the English settlers duped Scots into moving to the island to work in fishing only to find themselves in some bitter end where it didn't work out.  I don't remember exactly how, but it had to do with how much it rained.  That's too involved of a story for me to tell here.  So I'll move on.

There were tons of old lumber mill artifacts on the track

Arriving back in Oban after a few days, we pigged out on some of the best bread we've ever had while waiting for our ship to arrive and return us back to Bluff.  I had been fantasizing about good artisian bread while we hiked, so that's how that came to be.  The weather was pleasant.  Everyone that we had met on the trail and in the town had been so friendly and talkative, and it was honestly a bit sad leaving such a unique place so soon.  But, we had a crazy lodge to work at in Te Anau the next day, so the waves carried us back and away.

Until next time.  That is all.