Hmmm…
Ooh!
Nup.
We’re going dolphin-hunting!
And if we’re really good, and the dolphins feel like playing, they might let us out of the boat to play with them!
Yay! (eek… big water…)
We grab some snackage at a little café (toasted sandwiches, yum) and head boatwards. We find ourselves waiting in line behind another couple, also munching on some lunch, who turn out to be from St Albans! We have a cheery chat before the crew let us on board.
It’s not a huge boat, but chunky enough to fit quite a few people on board. The crew are friendly and seem to know their stuff. They are all knowledgeable about the dolphins and they have a trip photographer too. The captain has been doing this for years so he is used to where the dolphins hang out, what mood they’re in, whether the pods have babies, all that sort of thing. We set out, passing the edges of the harbour quickly, and we are soon out in the Bay of Islands, with the salt spume spitting into our faces and the wind drying it into little salty freckles in the blazing sun. It is hot and sunny, but the wind is strong and the waves choppy. Standing at the front of the boat, clinging to the rail, is the most fun with the best view. The motion as we bounce from wave to wave and dip to dip between them is quite impressive and it is rather like riding a bucking horse. You can feel the deck sinking beneath your feet and leaving you a few pounds lighter as it ducks its bow, before bobbing up under your feet and making your knees sag.
The views out here are wonderful, ethereal even. Little islands and headlands emerge from behind each other, appearing and disappearing before your hungry gaze like myths.
The sun is hot, the sea is bright blue and full of silt from the storms last night. We are lucky to be on this boat – the earlier trip was cancelled and no boats at all went out yesterday in the pouring rain.
We see many sea birds. Shags, gulls, I even think I might have spotted a tiny blue penguin ducking up and down in the waves. Whatever it is certainly seems to be small and flat with dark features and a very flat, chubby body, paddling from the rear rather than below… Still, it was such a glimpse it could merely have been a shag… The birds throng around as we look for dolphins. The captain is disappointed, but takes us around looking at the islands anyway, and the birds too. A fellow passenger jokes that the dolphins will turn out to be in the harbour all along and we’ll see them as we get back! Each island is bedecked with fronds and ferns and look like idyllic birdy breeding grounds, every one.
The captain is certainly going to go beyond the promised 3 hours out on the water as he hunts resignedly for dolphins for us. We see one pod, in the distance and he calls the sister ship of the company. Both boats circle around the dolphins. Not too close though as these seem to be quite shy. We follow them for a while and they seem unconcerned by the presence of the two boats nearby, but they are clearly not going to play, so we are not going to force them. The captain is well-schooled and ecologically responsible, saying that there are several reasons we may not be able to swim with the dolphins today. Two of the main ones are that, if the dolphins don’t want to play, he’s not about to go and dump a load of tourists on them, after all, it’s their space. And secondly, there are regulations prohibiting swimming with them should the pod have calves in it in case baby’s routine is upset and he forgets to feed or breathe. Plus, if it’s really choppy (and I thoroughly understand this one!) it may not be safe to swim with them – they are sea creatures and may not understand our frailties in the water. A playful bounce, or over-exuberant swipe could leave the dolphin wondering where its funny little pink playmate has gone and why it hasn’t surfaced again yet…
Still, we’ve seen lots of birds and had a nice day in the su-
!!!
Pod!
This pod circles US. Before we know it, about a dozen sleek, blue- cream- and grey-streaked bodies are sliding through the water around the two boats, puffing and sighing occasionally as they come up for air. Some of the older ones ride the bow wave, dipping and twisting beneath the front of the boat, sighing out of the water and spraying our faces with their warm salty breath. They are obviously older because of the network of scars across their melons and bodies, maybe from boats less careful than ours, or from sharks and other marine animals who are less friendly. I am lucky to be able to sprawl at the very front and dangle carefully out over the edge so as to get a really good look. These glorious marine mammals love the attention and come up to look at us, spraying and slicing back into the water with scarcely a ripple. We wonder if we can swim with them but the captain says no. We soon see why not – with mother and aunt is a tiny baby calf! He is very small and very pale. He swims awkwardly, like a child taking its first steps, occasionally stumbling under the water as he tries to take a breath, only to be buoyed up by mum on one side or aunt on the other. Dolphins usually calve like this – mum will give birth and baby will be caught by an aunt from the pod, who will then help him up to the surface and help him stay there for a few moments until mum can come and help too. This sistership lasts for a good while until baby is confident in the water. We see another young one, clearly a teenager who has found his buoyancy and understanding of the water and just wants to show off, bounding out of the water to show his sleek, patterned sides. He never strays far from mum, but aunt is no longer in attendance.
Mum and aunt bring baby across the front of the boat and we can all see him well. Maybe they are telling him that these big yellow floating things are full of fun pink animals to play with… Or maybe I have attributed them too little intelligence, and they are showing him that this is fragile man, who comes to visit in his big boats, that we were originally grown from the sea too, and telling him legends of how dolphins once saved a man just like us in Greece who played music to them many years ago…We are happy and contented as the dolphins leave us, sighing and rolling themselves elegantly through the waves, playing and frolicking as they depart. We head slowly back towards the harbour in the afternoon sun, salt-sprayed, spiky-haired and at ease with world. We also each clutch a voucher for swimming with the dolphins, which will never expire, so we can go back and do it again one day… One man came back twelve years later on this plan, bringing his 12 year old son! J
We head back through a flock of seagulls, guillemots and shags, who give us a moment of amusement. Most of them see us coming and, spreading their wings almost in comedic supplication, begin to run as fast as possible on the water.
Paddle, paddle, paddlepaddlepaddle, flap, flap, flapflapflap, heave, flap, soaaaarrrr…
And they’re off, only to skid to a halt in the relative safety a few metres away, bobbing up and down and in and out of sight on the blue waves.
Except one.
Who is clearly looking at his mates, being a little slow on the uptake and thinking,
‘What…? Come back! Eh? A who? Where? SHIT!!!’
That was some frantic paddling and flapping I can tell you…
He he.
We head back to the pier, salty and happy, and meander back towards the car Mike has so kindly lent us. We have a few tourist moments first though, looking for postcards, stamps and pins… We are also sucked in by a gelato shop… Mmmm… They are very organised and allow, in fact encourage, tastings before you buy a cone or cup. I am keen on the maple and pecan and the mint stricchiatella – so I get two flavoured dollops in my waffle cone. Andrew has two different flavours in his – lots of chocolate as I recall.
;)
However, wonderful ice cream though it is… I still manage to end up looking like a sticky six-year-old. I have to beg Andrew for a pause as we walk as I’m clearly not eating fast enough…
I have green ice cream on:
My nose
My chin
Both hands
My left leg
My right knee
And most of my toes…
We stop at a little grassy patch overlooking a few rocks on the steep shore. I have no tissues, so now I have not only green ice cream, but also grass and sand on most of my limbs… Ah well – tis good ice cream and I’m sure I’ll find something to wipe it off on eventually!
I giggle…
We get into the car and also have a bit of a chuckle about a shop sign which reads:
“Turn back now if you’ve forgotten your beer!”
New Zealand feels so different from Australia culturally. It feels older, longer-settled – there are many more Maori place names here than there are Aboriginal ones in Australia; they were here first and, unlike the Aborigines, managed to hold onto most of the rights that accompany that. They are a proud people, as they were back then, and they have retained that pride, honour and dignity. The Australian subjugation of the Aborigines was cruel and heartless and damaged their way of life, destroying the essence of a once-proud and noble people, making it a tourist trap instead of a thing of anthropological interest. The Maori were sufficiently self-aware and empowered to repulse the colonial advances of the West to a sufficient degree so as to retain their individuality and absorb such changes as there were. Maori culture does make for interesting tourism, but it is on Maori terms and respected as such. They have their land rights and, as one would expect, they can grant or refuse permission as they choose, regardless of the Western settlers and their descendants.
Winding S-bends take us onwards, lined with cycads and tree-ferns, so verdant as to be almost unbelievable, yet also incredibly welcoming. The ferns are the emblem of New Zealand, and some of their carvings revolve around it, and the symbolism of new life contained within that unfolding fern frond. The ‘Koru’ (a big spiral inspired by the unfurling fern) symbolises fortune and future, among other things. The carvings are sometimes mingled so it is hard to tell which is which, but the commonest are the Koru, the fishhook and the whale tail. There are others – all earthy, interesting and somehow feeling alive, especially when carved from the local ‘jade’, pounamu, or greenstone. It is actually harder than real jade, and called ‘nephritic jade’. It is highly prized.
Some of this countryside does feel very English, though violently green. It is a little like Tasmania in places, as someone suggested to me in Tasmania, but not so much that you could sacrifice visiting one for the other. A cloud formation on the horizon looks very much as if a traffic jam of clouds has run into the side of a mountain, gone ‘thunk’, and then stopped.
The rest of the drive between Whangarei and Auckland is uneventful, though Andrew is sleepy – I feed him fudge and we stop for a breath of air, some bug cream and a map-read in a little road. It is quiet and peaceful, and there is barely anything here. You’d be stuffed if you didn’t like your neighbours!
We are back in Auckland eventually though, safe and sound, if a little tired and hungry, and we are treated to a Malaysian takeaway (I have Tamarind King Fish – it’s quite spicy with tamarind but VERY good) before we head to bed.
As we get drift pleasantly off to sleep after a long and lovely day, I can hear cicadas tweeting and sizzling in the night…
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