Exploring the wild Wairarapa

From the borders of sunny Hawkes Bay to the wilds of Cook Strait, the Wairarapa coastline is a mix of fine sandy beaches and raw, untamed stretches.

At Herbertville the beach stretches for 14km, dwindling to a misty haze of saltspray at Cape Turnagain. The expanse of orange sand is as wide as a rugby field and as deserted as a windy hilltop. People living here seem blase about their undiscovered gem. Conversation in the archaic pub is more concerned with shearing than surf.

Like the talk at the bar, the Fibrolite baches and permanent caravans in the campground haven't changed much since the 1950s. And the history of Cape Turnagain is as unimportant as repainting the rusting roof on the woolshed.

The imposing grey headland of Cape Turnagain was named by Captain Cook on October 17, 1769. Cook was under orders from the British Navy to find the great unknown southern continent, which scientists of the day believed must exist to balance the land masses of the Northern Hemisphere, otherwise, the world would surely topple over.

Having sighted land near Gisborne, Cook decided to explore the new land to establish whether it was indeed the "terra australis incognita".

He sailed south and, finding no likely place for shelter or water, decided to sail north instead, so naming Cape Turnagain. Four months later, having circumnavigated New Zealand, he recognised the craggy grey cliffs and established New Zealand was not the great unknown southern continent.

Looping inland from Herbertville you pass huge stations, which form the bulk of the Wairarapa. Occasionally you glimpse the fine homesteads that hide the early European history of the region. Gullied hillsides, mottled with flecks of white sheep, shade lines of willows flanking streams.

Re-emerging at Castlepoint a 15-minute walk leads to the base of the lighthouse perched on the point. It is 23m high, and the cast iron sections were shipped from England in 1913.

Fishermen cast their lines from "the Reef" into the thunderous seas below. Resembling the battlements of a castle, this band of limestone forms a natural barrier to Deliverance Cove behind.

You may see inquisitive yellow-eyed penguins, unmoved by your presence, resting on the rocks. The knee-high residents are inquisitive and blink lazily while nodding their pinkish beaks.

Deliverance Cove is a calm lagoon, sheltered on the seaward side by "the Reef". To the north is a narrow neck of sand connecting the mainland to Castlepoint. To the south, the 160m-high platform of Castle Rock stands sentinel over the spectacular scene.

The next beach south is Riversdale, where the legacy of "Jumbo" is immortalised on postcards in the town store. A wry smile lights up residents' faces when the elephant seal is mentioned. He visited on and off for a few months around 25 years ago and would lumber along the streets and rest by cars.

Nearby, a little-known coastal walk to Honeycomb Rocks arrives at some unusual specimens. The track follows the narrow foot of flat agricultural land between the truncated spurs of the land and the impossibly white pebbles of the beach.

Salt spray and wind have acted to form a weathering pattern on the crumbling grey sandstone resembling the texture of honeycomb. Close examination of the rocks may be halted by the raucous admonitions of disturbed fur seals. They are so perfectly blended with the colours of the surrounding rock, you may not notice them at first. If you do get too close, beat a hasty landward retreat to the top of a nearby rock and stay still until they become accustomed to your company. A closer look and furry bodies appear everywhere. The stench of oily fur and aquatic diets does little to deter enjoyment of lunch shared with a colony of fur seals.

Nearby, the wreck of the Fijian Trader Tuvalu gives testimony to the fact these are treacherous waters and the rocky coastline is unforgiving.

Near the battered coastline around Tora, another unsealed winding road follows an ever-widening river valley to White Rock Beach. Unimaginatively named after the outcrop of white limestone at its southern end, the beach is the ultimate in a raw and savage coast. The black shingle contrasts with the frothing white waves. At the southern headland, the 1000m-high fluted cliffs are partially stabilised by scraps of vegetation. Slips and rockslides have cascaded down their faces in triangular fans.

Surfers flock here when the swell is right to catch some of the biggest waves the New Zealand coastline has to offer. But fierce offshore winds discourage many and even the waves struggle to make it to shore. Caravans are stabilised with truck tie-downs to anchor them against the wind.

The final leg of a pilgrimage south takes you along the road from Lake Ferry to Cape Palliser. A vicious southerly is often accompanied by a south-easterly swell and grey clouds cast a sombre light on the imposing hills. Occasional bursts of sun illuminate distant headlands and barren ridgetops. Rocky promontories glitter in the spray.

The first sign of civilisation is the fishing village of Ngawihi. Lined up on the brow of the beach are a motley crew of rusting bulldozers in assorted colours, sizes and states of disrepair. Similar to aged shunters in a railway yard, these machines are living out their last days hauling commercial fishing vessels up and down the steep gravel beach.

You may pass occasional swarms of quadbikers on the road, the riders plastered from beanie to gumboot in mud. Only their bright eyes are visible through the mask of dirt.

At Cape Palliser, monstrous waves thrash the offshore rocks in explosions of spray. The ferocious wind holds the spray aloft so the whole show resembles an aquatic fireworks display, while a few lonely baches stand firm on the shore.

You can smell and view the North Island's only breeding colony of fur seals from the car window. It's like a safari park, except these hardy creatures are in their unrestricted natural habitat. An excursion into the harsh weather conditions leaves you wishing for a layer of their blubber and fur.

Climb the 258 steps to the lighthouse at Cape Palliser and imagine the South Island behind the drizzle and clouds. If you can't glimpse land, it doesn't matter. This feels like the end of the earth.