So why, standing in the stern of the Milford Wanderer, does this moment resemble a scene from The Perfect Storm? A glimpse of the occasional muttonbirder's crib on land, then the horizon disappears and in its place is a wall of water, the 30m steel-hulled boat is airborne and there is a thunderous bang as it hits the water again.
As we head along the east coast through Lords River passage to Port Pegasus, chased by mollymawks and an albatross, the gods are playing with us, sending 50 knot winds and 6m swells. Two of the crew even race out to make sure the stabi-craft (an 18-person aluminium runabout) is doubly secured.
It is a wild, wild time and far from being scary, it's great fun.
Only yesterday, leaving Bluff on the tail end of a gale for the 27km voyage across Foveaux Strait (with mere 3m swells) I managed to decorate the kayaks from the top deck.
But I reckon skipper Ray Facer has us through the worst. It's true I was a little suspicious when nature guide Ron Tindal, in his soft Scottish lilt, told us we could expect it to be "a bit lumpy".
Ron, who also holds a skipper's ticket, turns out to be a master of understatement. And of the worst crossing the Milford Wanderer and its crew have ever experienced.
Oblivious to this, I'm kitted out in full wet-weather gear and after the sea sickness tablets of the first day am experimenting with ginger tablets and a plug of paper in my left ear as I'm right-handed (this latter tip given by one of the Bluff ferry skippers who happens to be a passenger on this trip) to quell nausea.
After a couple of hours I'm drenched and bleat pathetically to crew member Carol, who has been a little unwell herself, "How much longer?" When she tells me about 45 minutes I surrender and head indoors where she wraps me up in a duvet and gives me a hottie.
Alas, 40 minutes later I discover willpower is not enough. My companions though are made of much sterner stuff - one even slept through the storm.
If all this sounds a bit grim don't be put off because the beauty of this trip is that you get to areas of Stewart Island that most others can't. And once we anchor in calm waters, queasiness is just a distant memory.
This is day two of a six-day trip run by Real Journeys, aboard a boat adapted from the early sailing scows which once plied the coast waters of New Zealand, and that cruises the east coast of Stewart Island only once or twice a year.
On board are 22 passengers (normally they'd take about double that number so we have plenty of room to spread out). Most, apart from an Australian couple and a Canadian, are from the South Island and even this early there's an easy camaraderie.
The food, which is described as hearty, is fabulous - homemade soups, roast pork with perfect crackling and scrummy puds - thanks to chef John and the galley staff who believe in taking their work seriously. Kay to bridge: "Can you go half speed Ray? The scones aren't ready yet."
When we're not scoffing to our heart's content, we're taken ashore in the stabi-craft to walk through rimu forests and are shown by laird of the forest Ron where kiwis have been prodding for tucker and the site of what was New Zealand's most southern pub - the Pegasus, which grew out of tin fever.
It was the discovery of the mineral in 1888 that brought a flood of miners in to stake claims, but in less than three years it was clear no one was going to get rich from diggings here. The pub limped along for many years, serving the small community at Port Pegasus until last orders were called in 1914 when the fishing station and freezer at nearby Belltopper Falls closed.
After one of our jaunts we return to the Milford Wanderer and spot a southern right whale cavorting in the shallows. The stabi makes a quick detour, and for the lucky few there is the chance to touch this once endangered mammal - a moment made all the more poignant because in the days ahead we will see the remnants of the base at Prices Inlet where, from 1926 until 1932, the whale chasers for the Ross Sea Whaling Company were repaired.
In those years the company would have taken up to 1000 whales a season.
We also make sorties to see where rare Hooker sealions, some up to 400kg, haul themselves ashore to rest up and, though they all seem to have gone fishing for the day, we are able to walk through an enchanted forest of vivid green moss and delicate lacy lichens amid great twisted trees.
As Ron says "All it takes is a bit of imagination for the forest to be an exciting place."
Even though the sealions' fairytale sleeping hollow has been deserted we are lucky enough to spot a large bull, roaring defensively on a beach, and later a friendly female does a star turn playing hide and seek under the runabout to the delight of us all.
On another little recce we visit the bird sanctuary of Ulva Island in Paterson Inlet. Greeted by a chorus of birdsong as we dock, we have high hopes of seeing a kiwi.
We don't but we hear kaka up high in the trees cracking miro berries, meet lots of nosy wekas, see saddlebacks and Stewart Island robins up close and learn about the intrepid blue penguins, who feed up to 10km offshore to fill their bellies with squid and crustaceans and then make the long march through the forest to nest.
For me the best walk is the 300m climb to Bald Cone. Tramping boots are best for this but I've only brought gumboots which are all very well for the first bit of stomping through 3m high undergrowth.
The granite face, though, is something else. "Stand up, Barbara," Ron commands as I start doing that ape like thing. As I plaintively cry "but I'm still evolving," Ron shakes his head good humouredly and grabs my hand to help me across.
From on top of Old Baldy the Milford Wanderer looks like a toy boat in the big pond that is Port Pegasus far below.
Getting down is much faster - more of a muddy skid slalom - but we all make it down safely and are pretty chuffed at our great adventure.
Later in the wheelhouse, where skipper Ray has an open-door policy, Ron and I get talking. He came here from Scotland just over 30 years with his New Zealand wife Elspeth, who used to come to Stewart Island as a child. Given his work with the forestry service, Department of Conservation and as a nature guide, the island seemed the perfect place to call home.
"Stewart Island still has that real wilderness. People have walked the North Track for 10 days and not seen anyone."
Ron who describes himself as having an "odd-job brain" and says he's just "trying to show people the little things that can amaze" has achieved more than most. He's been involved in the kiwi programmes and also in the kakapo transfer from Stewart Island to Codfish Island.
What strikes me is that when I hear Ron talking to others he wants them to understand how precious this place is.
I get a glimpse of this the next day. Kayaking in clear water, the colour of deepest pounamu, with forests at its edge that are home to 1000-year-old rimu, this rare and wonderful place almost looks primeval. "The true work is to make sure the island is looked after," he says. "I'd like everyone to have this availability to New Zealand wilderness."
On the homeward stretch to Bluff we're all hanging over the bow watching a pod of half a dozen dolphins race the boat and I think back to what Ron said when I asked him gave him the biggest buzz from being a guide on trips like these.
"Some will leave here and look at the world differently."
CHECKLIST
Stewart Island cruises: The six-day (five-night) Stewart Island cruise runs from July 22-27. It includes all meals and return coach transfers from Invercargill and costs $1700 each.
Further information: See realjourneys.co.nz or call 0800 62 62 76.
Barbara Harris was a guest of Real Journeys.
