Bluff Ferry Wharf
Sunday 23 February 2020
It was an understandably late start to the morning, with the saloon and cockpit still strewn with items from the day before’s bumpy ride. Rugs, cushions, books, hand tools, plates, and the occasional stray piece of wet weather gear, all were still where they were thrown, or fell, awaiting return to their designated spot. Adhering to the old adage … “a place for everything and everything in its place” … is clearly not always achievable.
Note the light cord attached to the steps to assist in crossing the wet gap between the boat and the wharf
The weather was still blowy, with the occasional passing shower and despite our sheltered location, snug inside two wharf figures, we were still rocked up down and from side to side throughout the night. Mercifully, however, the wind was coming from the bow, enabling us to remain blown off the piers of the wharf, with our lines arrange to ensure minimal disturbance and damage as the 2-3 metre tide came in and out.
Given the choice, we prefer to tie up to anything solid on our starboard side. In this case, given the layout of the wharf, it was clearly not possible, requiring us to tie up port side (left), where we have a large wooden and steel – and rather delicate – ladder structure that protrudes out from our side. Even a quick and gentle “brush” with a solid object, could bend or break this contraption; given our 27-ton weight, traveling at only half a knot carries an awful lot of force.
In any case I was only up a couple of times through the night and so by around 8:00am I was ready for a walk up town to take in the sites.
Being a small town, this didn’t take long, with the architecture, layout and “vibe” speaking of a more profitable and vibrant past. Not to say that present day eco-tourism and other new forms of business weren’t having a beneficial impact on the local economy, but if it wasn’t for the employment stability and activity of the nearby aluminium smelter, which apparently consumes around 15% of New Zealand’s total electricity output, things around here would be even sleepier.
True to her word, Mary dropped by to check on us, sitting on the pier above to chat, her mobile VHF radio poking out of her handbag. Like a mother hen taking care of all her sea-going chickens, Mary passed on lots of local essential information, such as … where to buy groceries and the best drinking establishment and … “don’t hesitate to call if you needed anything”.
Having been here only half a day and hearing Mary talk on the airwaves to dozens of craft, at all hours, then deliver the regular weather forecasts, it was clear that Mary knew a lot about a lot of things. In particular people. Their travels, news and secrets.
“I’d love to read your book when it comes out Mary. It would be full of interesting and adventurous stories”, I suggested half-jokingly.
Mary was quick to reply in her jolly, direct way, “I’m NOT going to write a book. My secrets will die with me. People tell me a lot of things. They trust me and often there’s no one else they can talk to when they’re out there”.
Wanting to find out a little more about Stewart Island I suggested to Mary that the local ferry office should sell topographical maps, like the one they have on the wall near reception. “Don’t they sell them. They should” returned Mary. “I’ll see what I find”. With this, she wandered off and returned a short time later with a colour booklet from the ferry terminal which she handed down with a simple … “there you go”
“You didn’t get me into trouble with the lady on reception, did you?” I asked. “Yes, of course I did” came her reply.
After some more friendly banter, in which I suggested she’d be on double time, this being a Sunday, Mary was off again, reaching for her radio to answer a call from a boatie requesting a radio check of their call-strength. “Copy you loud and clear…”
The rest of the day was pretty lazy, as we completed the clean-up aboard, walked a little further around town. Then had a beer and a packet of Cheezels at the crowded “Tavern”, packed full of local “identities”. It was here we met and chatted with, a well-retired bearded chap who was full of stories about the region and the “wisdom of life”, as only to be found in such an establishment.
“So how many kids have you got?”, I inquired over the noise, not sure of exactly what he’d been saying.
“I’ve got nine children”, he replied, to which John, the father of seven, cheered heartily.
“And I’ve got 27 grandchildren and about the same great grandchildren”, he continued
We’d been here a few hours short of a day, and it was starting to feel like home!
The crowd was thinning a little as we made our way to the door … “see ya fellas!”, yelled the well-built man from behind the bar … “cheers, bro”
It was a short walk across the road back to the boat, where John prepared an amazing fish-dish – from his earlier catch, washed down with a rather cheeky “Summer Breeze, Nelson 2017 Pinot Gris” … P&O eat your heart out!
After this, we were ready for bed, with a possibility of departure tomorrow – south to Stewart Island
Smooth seas, fair breeze and There’s Something (very special) about Mary
Rob Latimer
NZ2020 