Remarkable Rakiura

I'd long wanted to dive Stewart Island simply because she was there. Having rounded up fellow divers crazy enough to ignore tales of frigid, great white shark-infested waters, convinced a charter boat skipper to transport us and avoided the increasing COVID case numbers, we reconvened at Oban wharf.

The Skipper seemed less enthused when greeted by our mounds of dive gear, scooters and warm clothes. We transferred to our expedition vessel, the Strannik, keen to explore the more inaccessible reaches of southern Stewart Island.

Strannik demonstrated her seaworthiness on our blustery passage south. Escorted by swooping albatrosses, we arrived safely at isolated Port Pegasus to view a shimmering sunset.

Port Pegasus, named after the ship that visited in 1809, is a large rock-walled inlet providing shelter from the unforgiving element. The imposing granite domes of Gog and Magog and the undulating Tin range protrude from the dense forest containing the remnants of abandoned tin mining settlements.

Our shakedown dive was at sheltered Scout Bay, where we encountered a pirouetting sealion who happily performed summersaults for us. A circumferential dive around the Micrometer reef followed. The reef’s unusual topography is home to a fish soup of girdled wrasse, trumpeters and butterfly perch. Our day concluded with a night dive, in which we spotted inking octopus, luminescent ascidian and sponge-covered walls.

South Passage Bay treated us to stunningly clear water with unusual rock slabs and a frolicking sea lion to entertain us. One hunter-gatherer demonstrated his spearfishing prowess and was lucky to only lose part of a fishtail to the cheeky sea lion.

Our group split up to go diving, birdwatching or clambering up the Tin Range for panoramic views across Port Pegasus.

Mother nature and an inclement forecast put the kibosh on further exploration of Port Pegasus. Heavily fortified with anti-emetics, we skedaddled up the coast. Unique features of Rakiura’s weather included seeing pelting rain from the port side of Strannik while simultaneously viewing the clear blue sky from a starboard port hole. Any complaints about the weather were generally short-lived as it changed so frequently. Vibrant rainbows which highlighted the dazzling scenery were common.

The swell and wind meant we could not dive at the sites we wished to at Port Adventure as they were on the exposed coast. Escaping the swells, we bailed up the North Arm to the Heron River outflow. Not to be denied a dive, we donned gear and headed underwater. Highlights of this random dive site included being buzzed by a seven-gill shark and discovering an intact whale skeleton.

We continued our meander up the coast, selecting dive spots from areas of the chart that looked optimistic. In an unnamed bay north of Pikaroro Point, we were treated to 30m visibility, schooling fish and a Wellington nudibranch. The amusingly named Chew Tobacco Bay was home to schooling trumpeters, bait fish, and healthy kelp and seaweed populations.

Patterson’s Inlet was our final stopover. The water temperature in the marine reserve was a mind-numbing 9 degrees, and two of our party braved out a one-hour dive in their wetsuits. The diving highlights included the bizarrely shaped southern pigfish, strawberry sea cucumbers, brachiopods and a kaleidoscope of multi-coloured ascidians. The teeming bird life of Ulva Island was admired by those who meandered along its gentle trails.

A trip highlight was a night-time beach stroll under crystal-clear, starlit skies in search of our national icon. The local kiwis obliged, snuffling and pecking their way through the seaweed as we gazed in awe—a unique and memorable encounter.‍

After one more soul-chilling dive in Patterson’s Inlet, where we interacted with a curious octopus, we returned to sun-drenched Oban for fish and chips on the pier. The post-script was a “character building” ferry trip through the daunting swells of Foveaux Strait, leaving us relieved to arrive safely, albeit shaken,
in Bluff.