Reality check…

We’d only been away for just over a fortnight; about 16 sun-ups and scarcely 4,749 episodes of Hollyoaks had gone by since we were soaked in Kennington.

Yet so easily had we adopted this life that I was already brushing aside the cobwebs of Heathrow; straining to recall the movements that led to the deserted and almost southernmost point of civilisation, Curio Bay in New Zealand, in our camper called Bazil.

This was the start of our whistlestop tour of the most Southerly points of New Zealand.  It’s a packed itinerary and we’d our work cut out to squeeze it into the 2 days planned. Leaving the warmth of Balclutha and our new friends behind we joined the Scenic Highway and headed for the coast.

It was a sunny day  but we were well aware of the growling clouds westward and how many times Bazil would gobble up the horizon in that direction in search of our photographic prey.  We were in pursuit of the yellow-eyed penguin, planet Earth’s rarest species of the flightless water-scooter.  First stop was Kaka point, and shortly after, Nugget Point.  Both glances over countless miles of ocean into the deep nothingness of the Antarctic reminding me of a crisp Cornwall coastline, lush greens still colouring the vista under the patchy overcast sky.

Further on, Roaring Bay was home to a Penguin hide, so we hid a while.  I guess being as endangered as these chaps are, you’d forgive them for going easy on the theatrics and staying well hidden when the shutter-jockies come tramping down the steep gravel path.  Sadly, hiding at neither dusk nor dawn had ensured our quarry would elude us here.  We took some solace in the beauty of the crashing surf that gave the bay its name.

Still pre-noon we forged ahead, giving up on the penguins for now, seeking a larger and more fearsome subject.  500kgs of angry grey whiskers and blubber were commonly seen basking further West at Surat bay (no not my Uncle Frank, sealions).  They weren’t home either. We consoled the loss of another marque on the checklist with a beautiful beachside walk and some corking pictures of the bay itself.

After two disappointments from New Zealand’s fauna, we thought we’d add some certainty to the day’s activities, seeking out instead some permanent fixtures, and with that we  made beelines to Purakanui, Matai and Mclean Falls respectively.  The walks to each reminding us that we were still in the rainforest.  Temperate (read; cold) rainforest granted, but rainforest nonetheless. Purakanui and Matai falls were beautiful, having seen both Niagara and Victoria Falls we ignored volume and height, concentrating instead on their personalities. Purakanui: stepped, regimental and secluded.  Matai almost prehistoric: strands of water clambering down through the rich green water mosses that clung to the precipice.

McLean was a great final surprise though, 15kms of gravel road and a 30 minute bush walk peeled back the thick forest to unveil the most beautiful of grottos, uncovering the many levels of McLean Falls, each flowing more water than the last.  The coin of a further 100 metre climb was repaid with interest by the topmost cascade of the sequence,  a 50 metre wall of water crashing onto and dispersing across tables of yet-to-be-eroded flat rock forms.  Hundreds of thousands of years of nature’s force went some way to numb the frustration of the penguin and sea lions’ evasion.

Despite missing out on the marine wildlife it was a good day and we headed for Porpoise beach to pitch for the night, the most remote spot we’ve yet stayed, literally on the point of New Zealand.  It was beautiful with each pitch secluded by six-foot spiky plants on 3 sides, a lovely change from the overcrowded parks we’d been in recently.  On checking-in the owner mentioned that there’d been 8 whale sightings off the coast in the last 5 days, “another creature to elude us” I shrugged.

Sensing my obvious deflation the wooden cabin held a pregnant pause.  Then,  as if trying to further convince me that the folded notes already in his hand had been well spent, he glanced at his watch.  “Once you’re set up you should head down the road to the petrified forest at Curio Bay” he said amongst the standard description of the park’s facilities.  “It’s almost dusk and it’s a great spot to see the yellow-eyed penguins”.  I hid the excitement already tingling in my ears.  Curio Bay was just a few hundred steps away from us.  A final chance? Another disappointment?  Who knew?

Unexpectedly, we joined a coach party at Curio Bay’s petrified forest viewing platform.  Much of the fossilised woodland had been taken by the relentless waves , or more recently, over-zealous tourists.  Short stumps of the prehistorically-preserved forest were impressive but mere distractions from our mission.

Other people irked us.  Their noise, their squeaking shoes, their thinking it’s okay to sprint 200 metres across the fossilised plateau to get a picture of the pengu….

That’s right, there was a barely perceptible speck of a penguin, ungainly waddling until his yellow eyes caught sight of the looming black shape sprinting towards him, he froze.  We gasped.  Without the zoom lens of a paparazzi sniper we were stuffed.  Slowly the penguin started to turn seaward and the bus driver yelled out to the hooded black shape. We’ll call him “The Knob”.

Sheepishly The Knob backed away and the penguin, finally secure, trundled shoreward once more. He was still impossibly far away for our feeble compact lens. Our senses rendered acute by the excitement and my glasses cleaned of the light rain, we spotted something.

On the cliff overlooking the opposite end of the bay peeked a short section of wooden fence shrouded in huge spiky plants.  It clicked, we were looking at an elevated corner of the caravan park we’d just walked from, which was directly above the penguin’s path into the undergrowth.

Another stir amongst the bus-plebs.  A second and third penguin had joined the party.  We pegged it back up to the caravan park as dusk was fast drawing around us, giggling and crashing through spiky plants and empty caravan slots.  We found the spot of fencing, penguin #3 and newly alighted penguin #4 were right below us.

This was the point I realised that we need a new camera.  Despite this we crouched and silently chuckled at the penguins manner.  Such a funny little chap to watch.  We got some good snaps and then some terrible ones as the sun was finally doused in the freezing ocean horizon. We slept contently at the end of New Zealand, surrounded by those spiky triffids.

What was the funeral you ask?  Between Matai and McLean Falls we hit a small bird with our wing mirror and I’m sorry to say he probably didn’t make it.

I wish we’d hit The Knob.