My very own island

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Before I start, an apology to subscribers to my blog. I've just published about 11 entries, which means your inbox has just been clogged up. I've already lost one of you from the ranks because of it, and I like to look after my subscribers, so sorry about that folks. If you're reading this and aren't a subscriber, why not? And now to the main course.

Do you remember back in Uruguay, when I went to Fray Bentos purely because of its name? Well I'm at it again. You see, just off the bottom on the South Island exists New Zealand's biggest "other" island. It's Maori name is Rakiura, but far more important to me is its English name. Stewart Island. One thing I've always believed in is that if you ever have a chance to go to an island with your name, you should grasp it with both hands. In this blog, you will read how I lived that dream.

It didn't get off to a dreamlike start though, as I missed my bus to the port in Invercargill. Fortunately, I comprised half of the entire busload, so a quick phonecall got it to turn around. Once checked in, there was a slightly bumpy hour long ferry ride across the Foveaux Straits to Oban, the main town on Stewart Island. Sadly, I wasn't met by a welcoming committee, ready to pronounce me king, but I figured thats because I hadn't told anyone I was coming, and they'd get round to it eventually. I stayed at Bunkers Backpackers in Oban, which was a lovely spot, a far cry from many of the identikit hostels you find in New Zealand.

It was probably at this point that I realised that I probably should have spent some more time working out what I wanted to do on Stewart Island, rather than just giggling at the name. I went up for a chat with one of the tour operators, who explained to me the various things they do, such as deep sea fishing, and kiwi spotting. She also explained that it was the middle of winter, thus unless they have a group of 5 they won't run. Therefore, I decided to tackle a bit of the Rakiura Trail, one of New Zealands Great Walks, and do a bit of fishing while I was at it. This necissitated a trip to the supermarket, where I was amused to see that outside, they have a bit chalkboard with birthday messages for the towns resident. A nice touch I thought. I emerged from the supermarket armed with a fishing line and bait. The sky was armed with grey clouds and rain, so I changed my plans, and went on a shorter stroll to Ackers Point.

On my way to Ackers Point, I stumbled across Fishermans Point. This seemed like a good place to fish, so I made a pitstop. It was not a good place to fish. There is a bucketload of kelp underwater, and the place is a graveyard for fishing tackle. Lesson learnt, I retreated to the main path, and followed it all the way round to Golden Bay, and eventually back to Oban. It was a good little walk, and I looked forward to getting a bit further afield the next day.

The evening was spent chatting away to people in the hostel, until the 2 guys who had been helping round the place reappeared with a girl who I assumed was a friend of their from the village. She was, but also turned out to be Liz, the hostel owner. They got a few of us involved in drinking games, which involved first nipping to the pub for a takeaway. Sadly, there was no discount for people called Stewart. I did manage to ask the fishermen for a good spot to go tomorrow then, so it wasn't all bad. And of course I got beer, which also improves things. A fun evening ensued, although perhaps not so fun for the guy who ended up missing his first shift at work the next day because of it.

I was in luck, as the sun shone brightly the following morning. Whats more, Liz had popped round, and said she'd give me a lift to the entrance to Rakiura National Park, saving me about 2 hours walking. From there, I had one of my favourite days walking of my entire trip. Unlike a lot of places on mainland New Zealand, Stewart Island feels completely untouched, and I walked along through the bush, and across beautiful beaches accompanied by nothing but the sound of birdsong. At a place called Little River, Liz had advised me to leave the track, and wander up following the river into the island. I feel I've been using the word beautiful a lot recently to described New Zealand's scenery, but with just reason. And quite frankly, the area around Little River took a bit chunk of biscuits. Almost as good as seeing the Aussie batting lineup crumble in the 2nd test. There was also the evidence of some kiwi activity up there, so I took a break for a late lunch hoping one might scuffle out. It didnt.

When I eventually got up the energy to leave Little River, I headed back towards town, with a detour around Horseshoe Point for some more picture perfect views, and another spot of fishing on Dead Mans Beach. Scary name for a beach, but it didnt intimidate the fish, who refused to believe that the squid on my line was worth eating. Therefore, all I was left with was a nasty smell of fish on my hands. Unpleasant for me, but even more unpleasant for the poor lady who I hitched a ride back into town with.

I had a relaxing final evening on the island, then as morning broke I sneaked out to get the ferry back to the mainland. Not before I'd paid for my stay in the hostel in a most bizarre way though - hidden in a secret location in the hostel. Nice that they trust their guests that way, and I hope noone ever abuses it.

So, Stewart Island - I consider myself very lucky that its moniker is how it is, otherwise I might have skipped it. And if I'd done that, I'd have missed one of my favourite places in New Zealand. Well, apart from the fact they never made me king.

Stewart

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Photos

Rakiura National Park
The chain linking the island to the mainland

Comments

[Viv]

Stewart Island
So glad you made it to the country of your birth!