Fiordland National Park, New Zealand - Day Two
LOBSTER!
Greetings again from Fiordland National Park! We have been generally enjoying our time on the good boat, Sea Finn, for two days now.
Technical notes on the boat: it is a 66-foot all-aluminum motor cruiser, with twin 600-horsepower engines. The main living area is an enclosed cabin/bridge/galley room, about 8 meters long and 5 meters wide. There are large windows on all sides. There are six cabins below deck, each with bunk beds. In a pinch, the oat could sleep 18-20 passengers, but a normal group is about 12. There is a large open aft deck, with two bathrooms (including showers). Literally every external surface on the boat is made of brushed aluminum.
Last night we were exhausted, and in the very dark silence of the below-deck bunks, we all slept deeply. I was woken up only once, by a booming noise that resonated through the aluminum hull of the boat. It sounded like thunder, but came from underneath. I found out this morning that it was, of course, an earthquake. Apparently this part of New Zealand has small ones nearly every day.
Slightly confused by the time zones and the lack of sunlight, we thought we had woken up before 8 am. Once we were on deck, we realized that somehow we had slept until nearly 10. We had missed the tides that would have allowed us to go further up into Charles Sound, so instead Chris took us back to check the lobster trap. He was visibly non-plussed, but assured us that the change in plans was OK. We found six giants in the trap, each weighing 2-3 kilograms, and planned on having more lobster for lunch.
As we motored back up the sound toward the Tasman Sea, we stopped several times to fish. Who would have guessed that India, the human-rights mom, is a natural-born killer with a fishing rod? She brought in the most fish, by far, including a blue cod nearly as long as Tallulah is tall.
DEER!
Chris spied three feral deer standing halfway an exposed hillside as we motored past. Even with the binoculars they looked far away, about 400 meters. Chris said that with his big gun, he would have shot one easily. But he had left the big gun at home. To Zola’s almost squealing excitement (Shhhh!) and Tallulah’s horror, Chris decided to shoot at them with the little .243 rifle he had bought. He got off six shots, and got close at least once, but didn’t bring down a deer. They ambled slowly into the deep forest, seemingly unaware that the loud bang! noise should have meant “run.”
We came out of Charles Sound and made another open-water crossing in the afternoon. The sea was much rougher than it was yesterday: with swells running 3-4 meters. Because she had slept through yesterday’s crossing, Tallulah was frightened to be bobbing and pitching in the open ocean like this. She cried as the boat rose and fell, and waves crashed against the windows. To distract Tallulah, we ended up singing loudly and badly together as a family. We stuck with camp-song favorites and studiously avoided the “Gilligan’s Island” theme song. In all of our travels, this was the only time she has really been scared. Throughout our singing, Chris did not smile and Queen continued to play loudly over the loudspeakers, the only time music was played on board.
In the late afternoon, we moored in Deas Cove, and took “the wee boat” ashore. There was a group of men filling scuba tanks from a compressor on the beach. They were camping in a nearby government hut, and we spent 20 minutes talking to them. They are the only people we have seen since we got on Sea Finn. We went for a walk across a flat open area between the cove and the sound. It was perhaps twenty acres across, covered by sandy stone and a forest of ghostly trees. This area was created by a huge landslide during the big earthquake of 2003, leaving an open 100-meter-wide scar on the side of the steep mountain. The sand flies were out in unbelievable force during our walk. At one point, I clasped Tallulah’s head in both of my hands, and killed about 30 flies that were in her hair. Still, it was nice to stretch our legs, and the afternoon downpour waited until five minutes after we got back on the boat.
SHORE LEAVE!
Zola was very clever in asking Chris whether he could take a turn at the helm. He said, “Chris, how old were your sons when you let them drive the boat?” Chris looked over from the wheel and said, “About eight, I figure.” Zola made the observation, “That’s interesting. I’m nine.” There was a long, awkward silence before I said, “Yes, Zola, but you aren’t Chris’s son.” He was unsuccessful, but I was impressed that he approached the question this way.
This evening we will have another meal of fish that we caught, and we are planning to watch Chris’s only other movie: “The Patriot”, starring Mel Gibson. On day two, so far, so good. We are all still sane, still enjoying ourselves, and still marveling at the spectacle of Doubtful Sound.
QUICK, BEFORE IT RAINS!