Winter diving at Rakiura

The difference between diving in the nearly sub Antarctic seas of Rakiura Stewart Island and summer up north turns out to be far less than I feared.

But unlike up north, for the south it’s important to first dunk your wet suit in hot soapy water before squeezing into it. With that taken care of, the cold is a waste of worry, and the first of my preconceptions goes pop.
Of course getting a supply of hot water requires you to be on board a vessel larger than your average runabout, and for this mid-winter diving I was fortunate to be on the liveaboard Flightless enjoying the buffer of one of their custom 7mm Wettie open cell wetsuits. With the hot water and thick wetsuit diving for 30 minutes or so in water around 11 degrees C at 10 metres is very doable, and exceptional, for even the most recreational of divers.

But surely getting in and out of all that gear needing to stay warm is something of a struggle? To be truthful, getting fully loaded with gloves and weights (I took 13kgs), then climbing into and out of the tender can be a mission for an older person like me, but here another preconception pops. Because there’s these amazing crew people. Help is what they do. They pretend, and really they are convincing, that they like getting us suited up and in and out of there.

Next, the big question: Would the weather hold? After a blow through on the first night the wind died away. Scarcely a breeze above 10 knots for three days. Temperatures as warm as Auckland’s and, I thought later, in Auckland you might get a lot colder in the summer months, as well there, or not.

Leftover weather worries got lost in the squawking of the mollymawks constantly reeling off the stern, wheeling away arc after arc.
While waiting at first light to see what the sea and wind might do, we headed to Big Glory Bay then out and around to anchor in the lee of a ridge overnight. There for a time the wind was sharp as. The ship heeled several times but Skipper Brad reports next morning he was very pleased with the anchoring. Our general position didn’t budge, though it was instructive to see on the GPS read out how far we swung in the night, back and forth. Screens for every purpose. On them we scout what weather we might expect in the week ahead, and check that against the previous week and the forecast then, just to see if the forecasters previously had got it right. Co-skipper Matt notes the data these days is at a whole new level, (and the data never lies!) That morning he dives off the wheelhouse roof from six and half metres up, a ritual apparently he practices most days.

I ask my fellow liveaboard guests what they want from a trip such as this. Same as me turns out; an adventure or several, diving, snorkelling, deer hunting, kayaking, walks in the bush where few people go, and where people lived and worked perhaps in the past. Two families make up most of our group, one with their teenagers in tow and the other with two young boys. Another preconception popped on who comes on excursions such as these.

As the weather stabilises we take the tender to head off on a walk to Ocean beach. A couple of sealions asleep in the long grass rise up expressing their displeasure at our cameras. But the open sea swell rumoured at 11 metres is no more than your everyday breakers, the wind dead flat. On a snorkelling shake down 15 year old Max spears five butterfish over an hour. The conditions remind me of Makara near Wellington back in the 1970s where you were always reasonably certain to secure butterfish. Here, now, in the south, there’s many more. I click away in the kelp on my Paralenz camera trying for the best results (get closer!) without enough success.

For the day’s scheduled dive we load into the tender, five of us plus boatwoman, or man and in Paterson’s Inlet off a point we tip ourselves in. Once in the water, effort drops away and I check out the visibility. Not so amazing as I had hoped. In some places to be sure it may reach 30 metres, but mostly about 20 metres though possibly much clearer elsewhere in these parts, and after any storm disturbance settles
At seven metres or so several big blue moki show up. A school of trumpeters tag along, and right away we are in formation with the usual trail of smaller fish of many species - wrasse, perch, terakihi, and blue moki - against a backdrop of giant kelp, and rock walls covered with blue and pink sponges.

The dive plan is to catch as many crays as we can or are allowed to, with the proviso we eat everything we catch on board. At 10 metres or so the twitching antennae of lots of crays announce themselves under many crevices. Paul collects five of good size. Crisp water limits our enthusiasm to about 30 minutes.

Later we take Paul and Max to where they have booked their hunting permit. They’re after a white tail deer, the species released in these parts as a gift by US President Teddy Roosevelt in 1905. This time there’s no luck with that. While they’re away we stop off at three likely spots to fish off the bow; mollymawks take some of the undersized blue cod we try to return, but along with a couple of small sharks and a barracuda, too soon we have enough blue cod for the following night’s dining. Markos, our Argentinian chef, does such a fine job.

Outwardly the 27 metre Flightless looks sturdily functional, a workhorse as you might expect from an ex-Navy coastal patrol vessel. But inside and below decks it’s warm, and comfortable and smart as any hotel, and as private or not as you may wish.
A heater in every cabin, with the showers another small surprise, responsive to hot and cold better than most high end accommodation. Everything works precisely.

Out on deck with ample heating to ward off any stray cold air we dine on venison steaks left from a previous voyage. Then its into the hot tub to soak beneath the stars. The following day’s dive yields a further three good size crays before the cold begins to bite.

Later that day we land at Price’s Inlet where a Norwegian whaling station flourished for a decade in the 1920’s. On our final full day our attention turns to paua. To remain legal for this the ship’s crew evacuate from the ship to shore all SCUBA tanks and BCDs
Then we head to a rocky ledge where I could have stayed far longer than needed to bring in our full bag limit. Besides abundant paua it was such a pleasure to laze above families of giant starfish, the discarded shells of their meals scattered nearby, and to hover over colonies of blue lipped mussels. The curl of the giant kelp … the seas here are so very alive. For our dive that day we settle on a reef mid-stream offshore from the main island and, once down, somehow head away from where the crays might have been (!) We managed to miss the reef, and ended up meandering for 25 minutes at 14 metres or so.

The next day called for a walk on Ulva Island, always a must do. Dinner is again superb - crayfish cooked in the lightest of batters, and heaps of cray legs, along with potato wedges, a parsnip/bean salad and much more

A last kayaking expedition beckons for a leisurely hour on the last day to inspect the local boat fleet and coastline before the flight out.

The Ship - MV Flightless

MV Flightless is a 27m ex Navy adventure/expedition ship with full international survey and safety equipment based in Fiordland catering for up to 12 guests. Pure Salt takes her to Rakiura for about a month each year. She has a crew of four, two tenders, fresh water-makers, ice maker, laundry facilities, ventilation and heating throughout, five bathrooms, a heli-pad and a large heatable back deck. Guests have access to two piece 7mm Wettie wetsuits, dive cylinders, BCDs, fins, masks, snorkels, gloves and booties, weights, and two compressors. (We bring our own regulators). Several crew have advanced dive qualifications.
Floats and 20m float lines are on hand for free divers, as are fishing rods, yoga mats, a library, kayaks, bean bags, paddle boards, and the hot tub.

Getting to Rakiura

Rakiura is easy to get to by plane or ferry. The connection at Invercargill airport can save the cost of an overnight in town plus the cost of the trip to the ferry at Bluff which means the plane ride over Foveaux Straight may cost no more than the ferry. But passengers on the plane can only take 15kgs of luggage with them so if you want more then maybe you would take the ferry.
Pure Salt advises ”every adventure for us is as unique as the people onboard - we simply follow the rhythm of sun and tides.”

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