Stewart Island: Natural born thriller

On the eve of Stewart Island becoming a national park, CATH GILMOUR recalls a voyage to this timeless land.

Pioneer botanist Leonard Cockayne was right when he said, almost a century ago, that it was impossible to describe Stewart Island's scenery without a superabundance of superlatives.

It still is, especially when that scenery is seen from the sea, with daily expeditions to hidden treasures
by small boat, on foot and kayak.

Treasures like the Tin Ranges' sculpted granite boulders, the Jurassic Park-style forest, and the resident Hooker sea lions.

Magic like the daily ritual of sunrise and sunset, colouring the world intense shades of pink and
lavender, even orange. The call of kiwi on the beach and a kaka up close, using its curved beak as an extra leg to climb towards a juicy miro berry.

Twenty-eight of us board Fiordland Travel's Milford Wanderer at Bluff to explore New Zealand's third island. The cruises only run in winter because that's when the island has its most settled weather. We have six days with barely a ripple or a swell.

Cape pigeons, mollymawks and the odd sea lion playing off our bow accompany our journey south to Port Adventure, as does the soft Scottish brogue of Ron Tindal, our island-based guide, as he points out every sign of life on the ocean's inky blue surface.

Before we even reach that day's destination, there's a mellow sense of camaraderie. Everyone on board has chosen to cruise in the southern seas rather than the South Pacific. We're all keen for the experience these latitudes bring.

It's an experience that is predominantly natural. Of tall Dicksonia tree ferns unchanged since the dinosaurs roamed 175 million years ago, 1200-year-old rimu shaped by centuries of Roaring Forties winds and the entangled vegetation that has grown in shelter. Of red-crowned parakeets and kaka sporting red feathered undies, seeking forest food. And seals and sea lions cavorting.

But it's also about the impact of man. Of land bearing the scars of fires started by early Maori. Of isolated and barren sites where man has hunted for seals, fish, tin and even cats, with varying degrees of success since the earliest days of settlement.

Of forests, especially rata, fuchsia and kamahi, devastated by introduced possums. And granite that bears the graffiti of men whose boats were hauled up nearby. Each day is packed with gems, each with its own story to tell via Ron.

Arriving at Port Adventure, we experience the rich, earthy smell of the bush, bush incredible for its density and variety, from filmy fern just one cell thick to ancient rimu hosting several other species on their trunks. Someone spies a male kiwi, fossicking for food, and we all see plenty of kiwi footprints and beak probes.

That night's talk sets the pattern, as Ron dims the lights and turns on his slide projector, to explain further what we saw that day and what we'll experience the next.

The Tin Range, where kakapo were rediscovered in 1975, is visible in the distance as we motor south to Port Pegasus after our first glorious sunrise. Like these spartan hills, the coastline we're passing is gently rounded.

Sharp cutting glaciation played no part in the landform here. Strong westerly winds have been the main
shaper, pruning forest dense and short, contouring it with an eastward lean. Rain, the break up of the granite bedrock and tectonic plate shifts have had minor roles.

After several hours motoring, we arrive at Port Pegasus where Britain's takeover of the island was declared soon after the Treaty of Waitangi was signed. The lighter shade of manuka regrowth reveals where early settlers felled original forest as they struggled to make a home and living in this isolated place.

During our days in these bays, we visit sites of old settlements and fish factories and the beautiful Belltopper Falls. We climb ethereal Bald Cone and kayak in the intense green of merging sea and trees, with translucent blue cod swimming beneath us or a fur seal frolicking at our side.

We investigate alpine species without having to climb a mountain, as stunted manuka and dracophyllum adopt high-altitude tactics to survive the exposed moorlands.

The Hooker sea lions' hangout is the highlight for me. Centuries of these huge mammals - up to 600kg - have flattened the forest's undergrowth. The light is dim, filtered out by the wind-thickened canopy of rimu and kamahi towering above us. Moss and lichen at our feet are an intense blue-green, to better capture what light they can.

After 10 minutes stalking, we're all staring enraptured at four sea lions as they loll about their terrestrial home. A large bull has emerged from the sea, still steaming in the solitary beam of sunlight. The young female approaches us, at a faster pace than we feel comfortable with. We beat a tactical retreat. She stops, beautiful in her silver-pink, smooth skin, and watches us.

The Hookers mark the trip's turnaround point. Over fresh fish penne, we head north again, enjoying
the shelter of Port Pegasus' outlying islands. I stand on deck, listening to the bow wave surge and fade. Time to absorb, contemplate and enjoy the sea air and solitude as we leave this primeval paradise, haunt of Hookers and fishers.

* The six-day cruise that leaves Bluff costs $1100, all inclusive. Contact: Fiordland Travel, 0800
656502