There’s Only One Milford Sound

Deepwater Basin, Milford Sound

Thursday 12 March 2020

CAPTAIN COOK, Second Voyage, March 1773

Cook’s Journal, Fiordland: “The country is exceedingly mountainous; not only about Dusky Bay, but through all the southern part of this western coast of Tavai Poenammoo (South Island, New Zealand)  A prospect more rude or craggy is rarely to be met with; for inland appears nothing but summits of mountains of a stupendous height, and consisting of rocks that are totally barren and naked, except where they are covered with snow.  But the land bordering on the sea-coast, and all the islands, are thickly covered with wood, almost down to the water’s edge.”

In reading Cook’s journal from 250 years ago, then looking around at the landscape before us, it’s clear that very little appears to have changed.  The vegetation still clings to the slopes and cliffs right down to the waterline and the towering mountains extend up and beyond inland; seemingly forever.

Unlike Cook’s ship, the Resolution (second voyage), however, life aboard Chimere was a tad more leisurely.  Although that said, “up at 6:00, away by 7:00”, has been the familiar mantra of the past few days.  And it’s amazing how quickly it takes for “alarm time” to come around after the head hits the pillow.  Although the body and mind are, by now, pretty much attuned to such things, there is still the dilemma of whether to …

1. get up just before you sense the alarm is about to sound, or alternatively,

2. wait till the alarm beeps, so as to gain the maximum amount of “bunk time”. 

It was still dark – but bathed in moonlight from a clear, cold sky – as we slipped our stern and bow lines, retrieved our anchor and crept past Alice Falls, out into George Sound.  It was then an hour or two of motoring to the entrance, all the while watching the sun’s rays slowly wake up the mountaintops above us.   

Once out at sea, it was a short sail up the coast, over flattening seas.  Past Bligh and Sutherland Sounds to the entrance of Milford Sound and the towering mountains rising shear from the water’s edge.  It was around 12:00 noon that we rounded Saint Anne Point, past Anita Bay and into Milford Sound, for the 8-mile journey to the end and our anchorage for the night – in Deepwater Basin

I’d been to Milford Sound a couple of times, but nothing quite compared to today’s visit.  Entering the Fiord under sail … the sun, the breeze, the blue sky and of course, the spectacular scenery … around and above … the sheer cliffs, the glacier up on Mount Pembroke, Stirling and Bowen Falls and the all-familiar vista looking back out of the Sound of Mitre Peak.

Milford certainly stands out as the most impressive of all the Fiordland’s Sounds, so it’s not surprising it’s also the most popular and accessible, with our arrival greeted by at least ten tour boats, of varying sizes, doing their afternoon run.  First, up the left side of the entrance, then home again down the right.  The attraction for the many visitors is obvious, especially on a day like today.   

After dropping the mainsail, we made our way past the red and green navigational markers and down the short channel that leads into the Deepwater Basin.  Well named, this enclosed parcel of water is 53-metres-deep, shallowing to around 20 metres at the edges, quickly followed by zero metres when the tide recedes a short distance beyond that; making for extreme care and not a little anxiety in placing the anchor.  

Into the Basin, at one end, flows the Cleddau River and at the other end, Arthur River.  Both of which having deposited significant amounts of debris – logs, trees, branches etc – during the recent torrential rains; all making for a fine collection of anchor-snags for the innocent and unwary.

Shortly after dropping anchor in around 20 metres, our stern a short distance from fast drying mudflats, we received a visit from yachties off one of the other two boats moored in the bay.  They were very helpful in pointing out the hazards of anchoring in these parts, and suggested we attach ourselves to the mooring they had been occupying for the past week, when they headed off south in a few hours.

“Who owns the mooring?”, I asked, only to be told that a guy called “Manny” off a fishing boat in the corner of the bay said it was ok.   

“Do you want a crayfish?” the man asked.  At which he handed us a very much alive critter – “re-gifted” from a present to them … from their font-of-local-knowledge, Manny.

“That’s really great, thank you” we said, as they motored off to prepare for sea.

Sometime later, the folks off the second yacht, made the effort to come over for a chat.  They came aboard for a cup of tea, and suggested we could use the mooring they had been attached to, when they also headed off … in company with the first yacht.   In the course of our conversation they confided that on arrival they’d snagged their anchor on a very big log, swept down the river, after which they spent a day and a half retrieving it.  Not ideal!

They also confirmed that Manny would be a good chap to meet, if only to say hello and pick up any other information we might need – such as who to speak with about getting water and fuel from the wharf.

John and I then launched the large dingy off the foredeck and finally zoomed across to see the fisher-man himself … to introduce ourselves and have a chat.  On arrival and after calling out the universal “AHOY” greeting, Manny came onto the afterdeck, crowded with cray pots, and invited us to come aboard.  There we met him, his wife, plus an older bloke who seemed to be a friend and “helper”.  We talked about life at sea, the fishing industry, and that “yes” it was OK to use the mooring vacated by the other yacht.   As Manny explained… “And if anyone tells you to move – insert lots of expletives here – and also tell ‘em Monkey said it was OK”.  They were certainly a “colourful” trio, with a turn of phrase and vocabulary to match, aboard a very “distinctive and unique” fishing boat,

After maybe 30 minutes or so, as we made our farewells, Manny asked … “would you like a crayfish?”    That would be fantastic, we replied.  “How many onboard your boat?” inquired Manny.

 “There’s five of us” replied John.  To which Manny said … “Well one (insert many expletives here) crayfish won’t fill you.  Here, take these”, as he pulled out 7 from his hold.

“Wow, that’s amazing”, we replied, as John inquired, “do you know any crayfish recipes?”

Well, as it turned out, there was very little about crayfish that Manny didn’t know, to which he provided a demonstration of how to tail and de-shell them, plus a crayfish fritter recipe involving onions, egg, milk and a few other ingredients, all which John memorised.

So, guess what we had for dinner tonight?   That’s right, crayfish fritters.  Or, crayfish hashbrowns, which may seem a bit sacrilegious to the lobster purists, but they WERE yummy.

CRAYFISH FUN FACT: If you’ve been following this blog for a couple of weeks now, you’ll know that we’ve “caught” quite a few crayfish; due to the generosity of others we’ve met along the way.  The total, to date, amounting to … 6 (Useless Sound) + 2 (Breaksea Sound) + 1 (Milford Sound) + 7 (Milford Sound) = 16 Total  

On returning to Chimere, we retrieved our anchor – thankfully without hooking a tree log – and picked up the mooring a short distance away.

It was then down to dinner after which we watched the sun set over the mountains, not to mention glacier, in the distance.  On closer inspection, the glacier, although smallish, wasn’t your pristine white-looking colour, but rather a tinge of reddish brown.  Or could that be an “Aussie” Reddish Brown – the result of good ‘ol Australian smoke and soil from our fires and dust storms; which were particularly bad this year.  Not only had we gifted New Zealand some stunning red sunsets and orange coloured skies, it looks like we’ve shared some of our treasured topsoil as well.

It was nice to retire to bed, without the need to be “up at 6:00” … with Friday 13^th officially declared a “Rest Day” … for doing very little.  That is, apart from filling the water tanks, getting a bit of diesel, and maybe finding some WiFi, or an internet connection somewhere to re-connect with the outside world; apparently there’s lots of “news” we’ve been missing out on?!

Smooth seas, fair breeze and there’s only one Milford Sound

Rob Latimer

PS  I’m still looking for extra crew to assist with the 8-day voyage, from Milford Sound to Wellington, starting on 14 March.   If you or a friend want to join us, please sing out ASAP.  Email me on the satphone at …   msm1@clientsatmail.com.au and latimerfamily4@gmail.com but remember, no file attachments)