William Pike: A Passion for adventure
You hear of trips being planned on Sunday arvos, over a few drinks, at club nights, in a tent, or simply over a phone call. But I haven’t heard of trips being planned whilst in hospital. Minutes before I was wheeled away to the operating theatre to have some minor panel-beating done on the #8 wire holding my left patella together, I mentioned to James, ‘we should paddle around Great Barrier Island’.
James and I were on Mt Ruapehu in September 2007 when it unexpectedly erupted. Luckily James was uninjured, however I wasn’t so lucky. My legs were crushed under snow, rocks, mud and water. James made a heroic dash down Mt. Ruapehu that unquestionably saved my life. My right leg was crushed so badly it needed to be amputated.
After numerous Hauraki Gulf trips, an awesome trip to Cape Brett, we felt the need to truly venture off shore. You often hear about extended trips away in the wilderness taking considerable time to plan. It’s true. Weeks of list making, research, and a few get-togethers; it looked like we might actually get to Great Barrier Island. We needed a fairly good weather forecast, but we’d have the option of paddling either the east or west coast depending on the wind. For $120 return an adult and $60 for a kayak, I booked three tickets for the Sea Link ferry.
Day 1
Departing Westhaven, Auckland, it took us 5 hours to get to Tryphena. James, Scott and I arrived in Tryphena at 11am. We’d need to be back here in 9 days time to get the ferry back to dreaded civilisation. An easterly 3.5 metre swell was forecasted; the long-range forecast was great for settled weather so we headed up the east coast first. For 2 and a half hours I was seriously wondering if we would be able to land anywhere without encountering some massive surf. Note - Sandy Bay near Cape Barrier looked like a nice spot. In the centre of Rosalie Bay was an exposed reef taking a thrashing from the biggest waves I’d seen in a long time. We managed to sneak into the northern side of Rosalie Bay, close to rocks and land easily on the rocks. The afternoon saw an unsuccessful and suicidal attempt to body surf the massive waves. A free dive for crayfish wasn’t a success either due to the poor viz and surf. Still, it was a great start to our trip. We were on Great Barrier Island, we had the bay to ourselves, a priceless view, and the pounding surf was music to our ears.
Day 2
At 7am we emerge bone dry from our tent with a cloudless blue-sky overhead. Just hours before we had been in the most intense thunder and lightening storm we’d ever been in. That’s New Zealand for you - if we had those perfect Californian summers, where’d the excitement and challenge be? After porridge, packing, planning and negotiating our way down the steep boulder covered beach, we had our three kayaks ready to be launched into the dumping breakers. James and Scott manhandled my kayak into waist high water and steadied it in the 10-15 second lull before the next wave attempted to fill my cockpit to the brim – just enough time for me to get seated! With my skirt done up and heart racing, I hooned through the surf to relative safety, out of the white water zone.
Glimpsing to shore at Scott and James in their fully laden kayaks on the steep beach, they looked to me more like bobsledders about to launch themselves into a frozen white hydroslide. Except they were in kayaks, about to skid uncomfortably down the boulders into the dumpers – and that they did….the beauty of plastic kayaks!
We met beyond the breakers and made sure nothing was missing off our kayaks. Heading out of Rosalie Bay into a 3 metre swell that every-so-often ‘walled-up’ and threatened to break until we were well clear of the bay and into deeper water – was epic. Towering cliffs were the dominant coastline feature until we reached Medlands beach. Medlands is a beautiful beach with a fully equipped but very popular DoC campsite where one could spend a week exploring walking tracks, the coastline or simply enjoying the seaside. Over soggy cheese, salami and Pita bread we discussed our options for paddling. After consulting topo maps and marine charts, all were in favour for the more remote and unknown option to continue paddling north to Haroataonga Bay (but open to options along the way!). A 15 – 20knot south easterly assisted us north, passing Awana Bay that also has a fully serviced DoC campsite. We made the assumption that the surf would be pounding into Awana Bay making landings difficult, so continued. We passed roughly 1km east of Lion Rock that was visually and audibly taking a thrashing from the easterly swell. The display of the ocean’s raw power reminded us - Poseidon was in charge.
One of the helpful crew from the local Canoe and Kayak shop suggested we check out Korotiti Bay as a campsite. On the map it showed mediocre shelter with current weather conditions (well sheltered in a N, NE and all W winds). From our kayaks at dead low tide it looked as though we’d need to take a short hike to high ground for a dry and pristine campsite. With a fair amount of rocks in our way, heavy kayaks and my leg not performing at 100%, we stuck to our plan. 30mins after leaving Korotiti Bay we passed close to Whakatautuna Point; our kayak handling skills were thoroughly with waves reflecting off cliffs causing confusing and unpredictable breaking waves. After paddling for hours in sweltering conditions, entering the flat watered Haroataonga Bay was hugely satisfying. The great feeling was topped off with the beauty of islands, beaches and unique landscapes surrounding us. We decided this would be our home for the next two nights. Keeping true to the moto: ‘Leave footprints, take only photographs’, we agreed to wash dishes and excrete at the DoC campground facilities nearby.
Day three
I was awake at 5am to watch sunrise and make the most of the morning light for photography. Except it was raining, so I shoved my ear plugs back in and went back to sleep. The mighty thunder and lightening storms seemed to be following us around the island. An hour later I awoke thinking I had teleported into a sauna. I quickly put my leg on and staggered out of the tent to find another clear blue-sky overhead. I wasn’t the only one who could really get used to this weather pattern! We felt like the luckiest people in the most beautiful place in the world.
Waking to the therapeutic sound of rain on our tent, dozing peacefully back to sleep, waking again in summer’s warmth. Then wandering with a blue-sky overhead taking less than one hundred steps, to stand before crystal clear water with small clean breakers; is actually paradise. Happily frolicking in paradise, picturesque sights stretched as far as the eye could see. I strolled back up the beach with a deeply satisfying grin on my face and happened to notice I was the only one on the beach. Life was good.
Using paddles, split paddles and walking poles we erected James’s fly to shelter us from the intense 8am sun (it was burning us!). I fired up the stove for porridge and green tea. Yum. Scott had made plans before we’d finished breakfast: to dive along the coast to put fresh meat on our plate for lunch. Scott was the chief hunter and gatherer. A skilled spearfisherman, free diver, crayfish catcher, surf lifeguard, and now uni student. He was a fine and talented member of our trio.
We all geared up and started our dive at the eastern end of the beach. That only lasted an hour or so because visibility was very average and the flat rock bottom wasn’t home to any crayfish.
So back to camp to lie in the sun, go on short walks to the campground and to the tops of the neighbouring hilltops. A few photography sessions and countless swims filled the rest of our day at Haroataonga Bay. Add Haroataonga Bay to your ‘to-do’ list.
Day four
Every day we broke camper faster than the day before. This morning it took us 2 and a half hours…pathetic! We paddled close to shore heading north with a strong off shore breeze. Arid (Rakitu) Island to our right looked enormous and untouched. The temptation to paddle around it was huge, but the offshore breeze, and long day planned made us put it on the ‘to-do’ list.
Each day we radioed Great Barrier Radio on Channel One or Coastguard Radio on Channel 82 with a trip report. Who we contacted depended upon our radio reception, which seemed dodgy from day one. Still, this is a fantastic service and should be mandatory for anyone about to head to sea on any craft. The VHF reception north of Whangapoua Beach was non-existent. The closer to sea level you are and the closer you are to the coast, means less VHF reception. Naively we were relying on our VHF for weather forecasts and we only just received our last transmission from Coastguard at Whangapoua beach: ‘Colville: Today: South West 15-20knots, tomorrow: South West 25 – 30knots, gusting 35knots’. Based on that weather forecast that came through broken and barely readable, we assumed it was correct. Past experience’s in the outdoors has confirmed that; assumption is the mother of all stuff-ups. But it was all we had. A group decision based on the information we had and present conditions lead us to a group decision of stopping at Rangiwhakaea Bay with the intention of camping at Minors Head on the west coast.
We spotted a large launch near Kirikiri Bay and decided to ask them for a concrete weather forecast. The relaxed response we got was ‘Ah sorry, we’re not too worried about the weather with a boat this size, and don’t know what is, and can’t get reception here. Would you like some snapper for breakfast?’. Thinking of the crap fishing we’d had, we gratefully took the snapper, thanked them, and landed at Kirikiri Bay (situated at the north end of Rangiwhakaea Bay).
It had been a windy and conversation-less paddle and now it was decision time. Going on an adventure in a group can be awesome fun, or it can be a drag. Good communication, careful preplanning/planning, flexibility, and a transparent agreement for sharing thoughts and emotions increase the odds for a successful adventure. Sitting on the warm stones at Kirikiri Bay, the uncertainty of what lay ahead with the predicted tidal streams running around the Northern tip, and isolation required our group decision to be the right decision.
A south westerly meant we would be paddling into a head wind once we passed the top of the Barrier – not a bad option. If we waited the following day it might be impassable due to the weather, and we might be stuck for a few days. Kind of a bad option since camping is banned at Kirikiri Bay, but good that the surroundings were pristine, wild, and looked rarely visited by man. (I wouldn’t be surprised if they secretly filmed Jurassic Park at the northern tip of Great Barrier Island, leaving a half dozen Dinosaurs roaming.). After sharing thoughts, worries, and lunch, unanimously we decided to head for Minors Cove, and possibly push on to Katherine Bay.
When leaving Rangiwhakaea Bay I had that nervous gut feeling you get when heading into the unknown that’s guaranteed a certain element of risk. We all agreed the first gap off the mainland looked passable on the topo and marine map. Upon arrival waves crashed through the gap making it a ‘no deal’. The next gap, showing slightly larger on the map looked like a-go. After passing a small Hammerhead Shark we had the gap in view. Large swell rolled through the gap and looked like it was breaking. We sat impatiently in our kayaks watching the gap for 5 minutes. Although the tide was going out, the swell wasn’t breaking yet, so we paddled hell for leather with the rolling swell hoping they wouldn’t break. I could clearly see the rocks and kelp below me zooming past. We paddled as fast as we could. I turned around when James yelled my name to see a wave walling-up behind Scott and James. They hitched a ride short ride, but thankfully it receded and didn’t break, otherwise that could have thrown a spanner in the works. A wet exit would have surely ended up on the rocks, with kayaks and bodies in pieces.
We paddled into a serious head on gale once on the western side. At a guess (an inexperienced paddlers guess) it was blowing 35knots +. With my bowl disappearing into every wave and holding my paddle with white knuckles so it didn’t blow out of my hands, it occurred to me that kayaking was similar to mountaineering when the weather packs in. Worse actually. If you’re exhausted and cold in the bush or on a mountain, at least you can crawl into a Bivvy bag, pitch a tent or dig a snow cave. When there’s no shelter whatsoever, the wind is howling, you’re getting cold and you’re arms are barely turning over – there’s no stopping and crawling into safety. 10 hours after leaving Haroataonga Bay, three exhausted kayakers paddled into Katherine Bay.
We ate fresh mussels (thanks Scott) and Snapper for dinner and reflected on our day. We were fortunate to not be stuck around at Kirikiri Bay. Maybe we should have turned around in the wind. Maybe we did the right thing. Lucky we weren’t drifting towards South America. We slept well on night four.
Day five:
Day five dawned with the ocean in charge. Metservice was correct, it was blowing 35knots out there and there was no way we were going anywhere. Our camp was sheltered and the sun was out - quite convenient really. A day of short walks through the bush, lots of snorkelling, lots of swimming and appreciating our beautiful surroundings. That afternoon I managed to paddle out into Katherine Bay and only just receive a weather forecast. We had a small ‘weather window’ the following morning to zip around into Port Fitzroy before the wind picked up and the weather turned real nasty.
Day six:
Thankfully we were in our bombproof tent because it rained heavily and the wind blew all night long. At 5am we put our wet weather gear on and begun our day – we didn’t want to miss the weather window (that’s if it came). By 8am we were back in our tent waiting, and waiting. I shared James’s MP3 player, and boy that made the time fly. Almost at the flick of a switch the wind dropped significantly. We launched into clean surf at 10.30am. I mustn’t have done my skirt up properly because a wave popped my deck, filled my cockpit to the rim, putting a smile onto Scott and James’s face. As we paddled out of Katherine Bay the wind speed increased and the swell was randomly breaking. It was awesome; we had our wet weather gear on, we were in challenging conditions, we felt like we were on an expedition in the middle of nowhere. Between breaking waves and the stiff breeze, an intermittent discussion on ‘gear’ got started between the three of us. We agreed that we had brought a truckload of gear – was it all necessary?
Kayaking really is a luxurious recreational sport, pastime; whatever you call it. Apart from sled hauling expeditions and perhaps rafting, where else can you carry upwards of 200L of equipment and food - and using human power as engine power? As a contrast, with an 80L pack, 8-10days of tramping/mountaineering would be the upper limit with no luxuries what-so-ever. We took luxuries like; small deck chairs, snorkelling gear (inc. wetsuits/weight belt), a spare foot (not a luxury for all), basic tramping equipment, tripod/photography gear, large hot plate for cooking, thick books, fruit, and a pillow – joking. Sticking to freeze dried food only camping and kayaking necessities – it would be possible to kayak for 20 – 30days. Imagine that!
James paddled a plastic Tasman Express, by Q-Kayak. He reckons, ‘Kayak was really good, being plastic. I didn't have to worry so much about running it up on beaches or dragging it when we had no strength to carry the bugger! Lots of storage, and again being plastic you could ram lots of stuff into it’. Scott paddled an old school plastic kayak. It doesn’t have a name, but its got character. Just proves you don’t need a fancy kayak to paddle fancy places. I paddled a Kevlar Southern Skua, by Q-Kayaks. I don’t have a huge amount of paddling experience, but my kayak was amazing to paddle. Plenty of storage, very light, very fast, very comfortable, and of a very high standard; the finish and construction is impeccable. Highly worth a test paddle.
On the ferry I questioned the necessity of the EPIRB that we hired. I wouldn’t have, had I known that we would have very limited VHF reception on the island, especially the eastern side – mental note if you plan on paddling Great Barrier Island. Great Barrier is remote, very exposed, and landing is not always an option. Safety needs to number one.
Snorkelling, spear-fishing, and fishing gear is a must if you paddle anywhere in a kayak – fantastic fun. Our three man Trispace Terra Nova tent is the ultimate three person tent. It was lightweight (under 4kg), simple to put up, bullet proof, had all the bells and whistles, and was really waterproof. A separate fly to use, as shelter from the sun/rain was totally essential.
We paddled into Port Fitzroy after paddling in rain for a few hours, which was a welcome change from the scorching sun. Port Fitzroy reminded us a bit of the Sounds in the South Island – steep bush covered country right down to the waters edge. We stopped at the Port Fitzroy shop to get an up to date weather forecast. We were gutted to find a storm was brewing with 35knot south westerlies forecasted for the following three days. We were stuck in Port Fitzroy. That meant we’d be really pushing it to make it to the ferry in time, and risk being on the island for days if the ferry was fully booked, which is very common around summer. Extra time in paradise sounded good to us, but probably not to our employers.
For 3 nights we holed up at the Akapoua campsite (DoC) in Port Fitzroy. It was pretty styli with cold showers, long-drops, the shop near-by, and rubbish disposal. We made sure nothing was left lying around as the wind was howling across the water. We felt good that we’d made the right decision, and hadn’t tried to be heroes by paddling through nasty conditions.
The ferry ride from Port Fitzroy gave us time to reflect on our trip. Our intention of circumnavigating the island had failed, but that didn’t matter. More importantly to us were the experiences had, or the ‘journey’, rather than achieving a single minded goal of a circumnavigation. The weather and general conditions we encountered put this trip at the upper levels of our ability, and put us at times well outside of our comfort zone. But, if it was going to be easy there’d be no challenge and we wouldn’t have done it. Subsequently we learnt a lot about kayaking, and importantly learnt about ourselves: this is what adventure is all about, as well as risk and challenge. Sometimes the effort to get to a remote and beautiful part of the country can be off-putting. We felt the planning, preparation, and time taken to get us to the island was totally worth it. We had been on an epic kayak trip that would make for a good few stories around the campfire for many years to come.
Fact file:
* Contact for island information (camp sites/general information): Great Barrier Area Office. (Ask for Great Barrier Island UHF radio channel information and schedules).
- www.doc.govt.nz
- greatbarrier@doc.govt.nz
- 09 429 0044
* Sealink Ferry: www.sealink.co.nz
* Paddling time frame: Totally governed by the weather. Depends how much time you have and how long you want to be in your kayak for. It’s such a beautiful place: 4 days minimum – 10 days. Keep a few days up your sleeve for when you get stuck in one place due to weather.
* This paddling trip was at the upper levels of our ability due to the weather conditions
