Just back from my latest adventure on Rakiura (land of the glowing skies) aka Stewart Island. Now where to begin? I guess the best way to get you all to imagine Stewart Island, would be if you think back to the TV series; Fantasy Island. The place is remarkably similar in so many ways, right down to the little aircraft landing strip carved out of the rain forest.........in fact I think the only thing missing is the Boss man and Tatoo shouting "Da plane is coming"

I left Invercargill in high winds and torrential rain aboard a little prop driven 10seater light aircraft , which was kind of like being on a roller coaster without the tracks, but looking down at the white caps I was glad I took the plane and not the ferry as the swell was well over 5 metres that day! I spoke to a couple of Irish girls whom had taken the ferry, and whom I had met previously up at Arthurs pass, and they said there where a lot of green people on board
:-0 ===#

By the time we approached the Island, the weather started to break and the Sun apppeared, revealing a vast, primeval rainforest with a rugged coastline interspersed by beautiful golden sandy beaches and turquiose waters. As we touched down, almost sideways (didn't know it was possible till then) the hail started....... and it was big enough to hurt you! They say in NZ you can get all four season in one day, well on Stewart Island you can get them all in 20minutes.

We were then shuttled down to Oban, the only real settlement on the island (population ~ 400 including pets), which is located at Half Moon Bay near the entrance to the Paterson inlet on the sheltered East side of the island. Now I wouldn't say life here is a little behind the times, but check out the telephone box.

A quick visit to the Dept of Conservation info centre (DOC) was required to fill out all the necessary notification forms and to pick up a map. The forms basically say that if you haven't made it back in so many weeks they'll notify your next of kin and maybe even form a search party if they can get enough guys out of the South Seas bar ;-). I'm also now pretty sure that the cartographer responsible for making the map has never actually set foot on the island.......I suspect he approached on the ferry, took one look and decided his boss was taking the ****, so he just went back to the office and made it up from there.

Next stop was to find some accomodation for the night as I was due to set off first thing in the morning. Oban was rather busy that night and I had to settle for a bed at Innes' backpackers....a total dump with threadbare carpets where the owner lived with the backpackers amongst his accumulated junk. I'm afraid to say Innes was a control freak who watched and corrected everything you did the whole time...... a classic example of the dangers of breeding within a shallow gene pool. (Warning to Innes back home, this is what happens to Hermits who don't keep in touch ;-)

I set off in the pouring rain early the next morning and spent the rest of the day slogging up and down hills, thru mud and gnarled roots like I've never seen before, over and under fallen tress and pulling branches out of my eyeballs, finally arriving at Bungaree hut in the late afternoon. There I found a couple with six kids, including a 12 year old girl, who had been hunting and fishing their way round the NW circuit, which was very impressive as this is a serious undertaking even for experienced adults. If I had known then what I would know in 4-5 days time, I wouldn't have believed what they had done was possible, as in later sections (they were heading in the opposite direction) the mud would have been up to the neck of the youngest!

The "track" then continued North up the relatively sheltered East side of the Island. Most of the day being spent slogging thru increasingly deep mud and roots, but every now and then it dropped down steep slopes to emerge on stunningly beautiful untouched golden beaches which wouldn't be out of place in the tropics.

However once the track reached the North of the Island the weather and the coastline had became increasingly hostile and by the time I crossed the Ruggedy mountains (photo left) at the NW corner things were positively savage. Here the sea boiled and churned with the onshore gails that brought 3metre waves throwing spray up to 20metres into the air when it crashed on to the rocks..........the same rocks the track happened to cross. A temporary break in the weather created a good photo opportunity and a chance to safely cross the beach



At this point you've been going for about 4-5 days and you're carrying the mother of all packs, but once this rocky shore is crossed you will reach East Ruggedy hut and hopefully the chance to dry out......

........well not quite, as I discovered there was still a 30metre wide river of quicksand and something akin to a sandstorm to negotiate. The photo of the sandstorm was taken about 1minute after the crossing the quicksand....thats how fast things change!


Finally arriving at East Ruggedy and feeling pretty strong all things considered, I met an old French Canadian called Guy. As it would happen we would meet up several times as the journey continued. He was a nice old fella and I think he could probably walk forever without getting tired. I also suspect he was Santa Claus on his holidays!

Now then, if I thought things had been interesting so far, the hardest 2days were yet to come as I headed down the West coast from the Ruggedy mountains to the vast sweeping expanse of Mason bay. In places on the section from East Ruggedy to Hellfire pass, the mud was nearly a metre deep and it could stick to slopes that were more than 60 degrees in pitch; beneath all the mud was a tangle of tree roots. If you're wondering why stay on a path like that, in many places the bush is impenetrable and with a pack on you'd be hung up every step of the way.

By now you might be thinking that moral and supplies might have been getting low..........well if someday you should find yourself between East Ruggedy and Hellfire pass in some of the worst Autumn weather Stewart Island has seen in a while, don't despair, cos by happy coincidence you are now entering Kiwi country :-)
Kiwi Korma (serves 1 for a bloody good while)
To prepare 1 Kiwi Korma;

1) Begin by locating tracks of said bird. This may take several days, be patient!

2) Once located confuse the Kiwi by singing softly and performing a slow mesmerising dance all the while cunningly circling behind it.
3) Despatch the bird with a swift blow to the back of the skull. This technique has the advantage that if a second blow is required the Kiwi can't run away as your first blow probably impaled its beak well into the dirt.
Now for the culinary bit
4) Lightly sear 2 Kiwi breasts in a pan with any oil or fatty substance you can muster, earwax works surprisingly well. Don't overcook!
5) Meanwhile sautee some reconstituted dried onions and stir in the Korma sauce. All hikers carry these in NZ.
5) Add some powdered milk as a creamer and any cashew nuts or almonds you might find lingering in the bottom of your pack .....don't worry if they're a little soft all will be good in the end.
6) Add the Kiwi breasts and simmer for a further 5-10 mins.
7) Serve on a bed of freshly boiled rice (about the only palatable thing you'll have left in your pack).
8) Oh yeah, don't forget to pluck it! And yes, they are genuine Kiwi feathers.

Foot notes
The Kiwi is a satisfyingly meaty bird and one decent specimen should see you thru to at least the next yellow eyed penguin colony - for penguin recipes see "Cooking with endangered species" by the former Kazakstani conservationist, Buggeritam Starvyn
At Hellfire hut I bumped into Guy again and there were also three Aussies (2 guys and and woman) who had just arrived from Mason Bay. The woman was in shock and possibly suffering from hypothermia as she had been caught in the surf trying to cross the rocky headland which seperated the boulder beach of the Northern part of Mason bay from the sandy Southern part. Although the surf here was probably no more than 3-4 feet deep if it caught you, the rip was so strong that it was rolling boulders as big as footballs. Fortunately her two companions had pulled her out. On an earlier section I met a Canadian woman who had been washed a little way down stream whilst trying to cross a swollen creek. Apparently in NZ the greatest number of outdoor fatalities occur when people are making river crossings.
Although Hellfire to Mason bay was tough, it wasn't as bad a the previous section and in fact crossing the headland where the lady was caught out the p

revious day was all just a matter of timing ......and as you all know my time keeping is immpeccable ;-). When I arrived at Mason Bay Hut there was a lovely fire going in the stove. I was going to tag on the easy section across the swamp to Freshwater landing that evening but once I got near that fire the thought of being dry for the first time in 6 days convinced me otherwise. Well, that and the fact someone at the hut told me the track across the swamp was now flooded to well over waist deep. Despite heavy rain again that night, the next day I discovered that accounts of the track condition were exagerated, as at the worst it was no more than groin deep.

Mason bay seemed very busy (on one occaission I saw no-one for a couple of days) and I must have seen 6-7 people that day as many hunters get dropped of here by bush plane. I got talking to some hunters who where camped nearby and they told me that earlier that day one of the planes was just taking off when it was caught by a strong side wind which spun it 90 degrees and dropped back onto the beach stopping it in its tracks. No one was hurt and they just turned the plane round and tried
again.........its a different world there.........love it!!!!

Around Mason bay I felt a little twinge in my back and I think I might have thrown a vertebrea out ......Dawn, what would be your professional opinion on this?
Actually this one belonged to a nice, tho rather chubby fella called Moby .....so I gave him your number and sent him round to see ya ;-)
The final leg across the Thompson ridge was a bit of an anti-climax as reports on the web from people who have done it claim it to be a killer section......actually it wasn't even in the same league as some of the other parts of the track, and that was after a week of solid rain. As I ascended thru the forest towards the ridge, the sun finally made a reasonable appearance and by the time I had crossed it and dropped down to the Paterson inlet things were pretty pleasant.

That was good for me as I had to Bivi that night. The weather held till about 4am then the heavens opened and it didn't stop till about and hour after I finnished the track the following day. Luckily the bivi held firm and I was toasty warm sleeping on a stomach full of fresh mussels collected from the nearby bay. Yep you guessed it, the mussels were served in a sauce made with powdered milk and dehydrated onions....quite tatsy actually

Finnishing the North West Circuit as I started........ in the rain. Not everyone makes it!!!


After arriving back in Oban I washed up in the DOC toilet as I smelled like the wrong end of a dead rat after 8 1/2 days in the mud and rain. Then it was into some dry, fresh clothes I had stashed and off to the South Seas Hotel bar for a well deserved lunch of Fish and chips. While I was eating lunch I noticed this builders van pull up out front. The humour seemed lost on everyone else as I choked with laughter on my fish and chips. Personally I think that's just bragging!!!!


Left: Leaving Stewart Island (Russ you'll know what kind of plane this is) and Right: Less than 5minutes later flying thru another storm just after take off.


See you all for the next installment. Cos till then I've...................