Kayaking Doubtful Sound

Doubtful Sound is the second largest  fjord in New Zealand, a huge sprawling network of inlets connecting Lake Manapouri and a number of rivers to the ocean. It was named by Captain James Cook, after he stated that it is doubtful whether if he sailed in that he would ever sail back out. So I decided to have a paddle around and see how things went! 

There were many things I had dreamed about doing that encouraged me to journey across to the other side of the world and visit New Zealand. The main being the Fjordland in the South West corner of the South island, an area of towering peaks, steaming temperature rain forest and dark foreboding waters.  I have to apologise for the lack of pictures before I start, a blizzard the previous day on the Kepler Track is to blame.

 

A view down on the dim Lake Manapouri

 

   

The day started early with me waiting for a lift outside the hostel from my kayaking guide Cloudi. I threw me gear in the back of his 80’s Jeep and we cruised down the empty and wild road between Te Anau and Manapouri. I joined up the rest of the group for the day and boarded the boat that motored us across the huge expanse of Lake Manapouri towards the towering peaks of the fjord that emerged vertically out of the cold black water. The peaks capped with brilliant white snow, which soon disappeared beneath a blanket of low cloud that rolled in from the sea bring with it a torrential day long downpour.  

 

We boarded a 1970’s school bus that transported us from the lake up over a high pass and down to the shores of Doubtful Sound, each kitted out with a wet suit and micro thermal top to keep us slightly warm. The second boat for the day ferried us out into the middle of the water away from the tour groups, launching our four double kayaks out onto choppy surface. I was paired with Cloudi to even out the numbers in each boat, and we lead the way out into the main body of water. Once the shore and boat were a distant outlines in the dim light Cloudi informed me of a number of Great White, Bull and Mako sharks that had made their way up the Sound in search of a food over the past few years. I didn't feel so confident in our small craft.

 

 Every island we passed as with the rest of the steep and towering peaks either side of the fjord was covered in beech forest that grew out of a layers of moss and lichen that inhabited the bare rock faces on which soil could not form. As we passed under the low limbs of the ancient and gnarled beech trees and ferns, we ventured around the corner to see a small family of Fjordland Penguins that soon hopped into the water with their yellow striped faces vanishing into the darkness.

The water below was a swirling mix of denser sea water and fresh rainwater layered on top. The murky depth hidden by the brown pigment of tannin leaching from the decaying leaf matter. This unknown beneath us added to the mystery of low cloud and thick wooden slopes. 

 

We headed up an arm of the Sound that was free from all forms of motor boats, enabling us to move closer into the towering peaks and gained a real perspective of how small we were. Something only you can truly experience from just above the water surface. Cloudi guided me to paddle towards one of a number of flash waterfalls (temporary streams of water falling vertical off the mountainside, formed by the high volume of rainfall) cascading straight off the top of one of the mountains, I looked up into the haze of the spray as it collided with face and water surface on the way down. The water was free falling a 1000 metres pummelling us as we passed beneath the torrent. We continued around into another cove with a huge rock cavern cut by the water, the water flowing from above created a curtain that sealed the cave like a glass window. Only on entering through this wall did we finally have a rest bite from the millions of raindrops pounding onto the surface of the Sound.

 

We drifted out Cloudi asking us to stop paddling and close our eyes to just listen and absorb the environment around us. I was inside a gigantic cathedral surrounded by the world’s largest water fountains that created a cacophony that mixed with the lapping waves against the kayak and the never ending patter of raindrops on the water surface. This is a moment I shall never forget and a lesson that even in the biggest spaces a moment of silent can only truly enable you to absorb the small details that make a memory unforgettable.