The Dusky and Doubtful Sounds are home to seals. Photo / Bevin Marriner
Isobel Marriner gets a maritime history lesson amid the spectacular scenery of Fiordland.
It's no wonder Captain Cook thought Fiordland's Dusky Sound would be an excellent place for a harbour town. He must have been enchanted by the sheer beauty around him.
He certainly liked the place he called "Dusky Bay" enough to spend six weeks there on his second voyage, overhauling his ship, the Resolution, making use of the abundant native timber for his repairs. The crew smoked fish for the onward voyage and brewed beer from rimu and manuka leaves.
Luckily, those early notions of settlement came to nothing; Fiordland's splendid geographical isolation means it remains serene and pristine.
Our ship, the Silver Discoverer, is resting here after a morning cruising through the Sound, all eyes on the majestic mountains ahead, the magnificent bush-clad walls of the fiord - it is actually a fiord, rather than a sound, carved out years ago by glaciation - the deep calm waters below.
We're in Pickersgill Harbour. It has a Yorkshire ring to it, because it was named after Cook's Yorkshire lieutenant, Richard Pickersgill - apparently much admired by his captain as a grand scout of moorings and other important things. (He came to a sad end, but that is another story.)
Close to the entrance of Dusky Sound, the harbour is a beautiful spot, sheltered by Anchor Island, and here, as Cook's crew did, we take to smaller boats - our Zodiacs - to explore.
First we head through a narrow passage that leads to a secluded pool, in an inlet so well-concealed it is almost like a grotto. There's a strangely marked rock in the middle that looks for all the world like a taniwha guarding this enchanting place.
Cook's crew named this Indian Creek, and photographer Richard Sidey, a Kiwi who's part of the expedition team and is steering our Zodiac, tells the story of a Maori family, on the run from another tribe or hapu who were befriended by Cook's crew in 1773. They exchanged gifts (medals, glass and beads, apparently) and paid visits to each other, until the Maori suddenly disappeared. The sailors surmised the natives had finally been caught by their enemies, with fatal effects.
As we approach Astronomer's Point - where the latitude of New Zealand was calculated by astronomer William Wales, using the latest chronograph - we are shown an overhanging branch reputed to be the the very one Cook moored his ship to. Keeping clear of the tangled supplejack, we walk through native forest that has changed little since his time and discover stumps that could have been trees felled by his expeditioners.
Cook didn't bother going into Doubtful Sound; he didn't think it looked a promising harbour, hence the name. And when we arrive the sea is wilder, the waves higher and the rocks more menacing than at hospitable Dusky Sound.
There's a little bit of wave action in the Zodiacs, as we head around the rocks and islets; but this is what most of our group have come to see - wildlife on the water. Getting close-ups of diving shags, spotting baby New Zealand sea lions and juvenile Fiordland crested penguins huddling on the rocks or making a hurried exit into the kelp, it's glorious natural theatre.
Beyond its lively entrance, the Sound itself is breathtaking. Steeper and grander than Dusky, the mountains and tree-covered slopes are reflected in its mirror-like surface, and miniature waterfalls trickle from impossible heights. We're lucky enough to be experiencing a clear day, but it's easy to imagine those rivulets turning into torrents in the region's notorious rain.
As we traverse Thompson Sound with the scarlet southern rata already beginning to flower on its flanks, we are at the end of our wilderness journey. Fellow guests tell stories of their Fiordland tramps and the ridges and valleys we can see from the boat hold the promise of a different adventure. But for now it's back to civilisation.
Messing about in Zodiacs
I must admit I was a bit worried about the Zodiacs to start with. I'm not the most well-balanced person, physically, and the thought of stepping off the Silver Discoverer on to this bobbing raft of rigid black rubber had me a little anxious.
But the expedition staff taught us how to step confidently aboard with a a firm wrist-to-elbow grasp. Once afloat (and they are really stable, though there are handholds if you need them) you're in close contact with the water and its inhabitants; seals and dolphins dive directly underneath. Penguins approach at close quarters.
The ride can be bouncy sometimes and you might get wet - and if you're like me you'll make a wet exit in the wrong direction and end up with a gumboot full of freezing seawater.
But these superb craft can manoeuvre into tight spots, navigate sea caves and haul themselves up on to a beach so you can get close in and take pictures. The expedition team, who drive the Zodiacs, are masters at finding photo opportunities. And on the odd occasions those drivers took us up to speed, it was a really exhilarating experience. So, with apologies to Ratty from The Wind in the Willows: "There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in a Zodiac."
Wild South
If you really feel like getting away from it all this festive season, Silversea's 14-day Auckland to Dunedin cruise, departing on December 20, should fit the bill. From Auckland you will visit fiery White Island and Napier, before heading out to the Chatham Islands and then into the Southern Ocean to explore New Zealand's wildest outposts. Expect to get very close to nature, including penguins and albatross, rare parakeets and sea lions and the unique vegetation of these windswept places. I visited the sub-Antarctic islands last summer and would challenge anyone not to be moved by their wild beauty.
The writer travelled as a guest of Silversea Expeditions.
Three ocean swims over three days? How hard could it be?