This part of the larger trail is not a destination itself, so much as the 8km or so that walkers have to traverse to get to the Duke's Nose summit trail. That is a somewhat misleading characterization, because this part of New Zealand is nice everywhere. Had the Duke's nose not been at the far end, it would still be a jolly nice trail.
What turned out to be just as entertaining was the interactions we had with others that we encountered as we hiked.
It seems that the vast majority of people going up the Duke's Nose (see what I did there?) get there via the long walk, while a much smaller minority get dropped off by organized tour boats where Maryanne and I landed. Those people, who are presumably short on time, all take the left for the short, but steep climb to the top.
Kayak ashore on for a walk off towards Totara (and back)
This means that everybody we encountered on the access trail as we were walking in the direction of Totara North automatically assumed Maryanne and I were early risers who were already on our return trip from the Duke's Nose. That last bit of the trail from our kayak landing to the summit of the Duke's Nose is one crazy-steep section of trail. In places, it is necessary to climb vertically using fixed chains and railings. Since we had suspected all along that we were going to skip that bit, at least for today, we were not kitted up for any serious mountaineering.
Maryanne, who usually walks in front when we hike together because it is much easier for me to see over her than the other way around, was wearing Crocs. Not only that, but her Crocs were the same shade of blue as a Blue-footed Booby's feet. It's adorable on her, but it also ensured that almost every person passing us noticed her footwear and could not help but to inquire as to how she had made it to the top with such inappropriate trail shoes. Since our explanation that we came by kayak didn't seem to make sense to anybody, most eventually discarded it and decided she either has mountain goat climbing skills, or that she is just really lucky.
More confusion ensued when we started encountering some of the same people on their way out, while we were headed toward the Duke's Nose on our return. I told one couple that we decided to do a second trip because we weren't tired enough from the first one. Maryanne broke the spell by re-explaining the kayak thing to them until they got it.
We got a couple of comments from people who thought we had just started. They were worried about our late start in addition to our footwear choices. It's true that we didn't see any other Crocs, but there were at least four people we saw who weren't wearing any shoes at all. Land of the Hobbit, eh?
We also couldn't help but notice that a lot of the walkers were really clean. It hadn't rained for a few day, but still, there were several sections of the trail where we had no choice but to skirt muddy areas that left at least our shoes and lower legs streaked. One guy on the return leg had clean, white sneakers. The next set of clean white sneakers was being carried by one of the barefoot guys. That made sense, but his feet and legs looked like he hadn't even started walking yet.
One guy passed us and Maryanne whispered to me that he smelled like he had just got out of the shower. Yup, he sure did. It wasn't cologne or strong deodorant. He smelled like soap and springtime, like he was wearing clothes that he put on warm, straight out of the dryer. Perhaps he had just parachuted in beneath a giant fabric softener sheet. Maryanne and I, after doing a moderate walk on a cool day, must have seemed like zombie movie extras by comparison.
At the widest water crossing, it is possible to cross by doing a very careful balance-beam routine atop a series of stones placed by other walkers for the purpose. The big problem here isn't the water, it's the muddy bank that has to be topped to get to the dry meadow above. It's about chest high with no footholds or trees to hold onto. On the way out, I was able to push Maryanne up, then she turned around and pulled me up behind her. We both knew that would be the easy direction, because on the way back, somebody was going to have to slide down the mud to be in position to catch the other.
Lucky for us, that's when we encountered what appeared to be a mother and daughter going the other way. Maryanne had scouted what she thought was a good non-mudslide way to get to the water. Then she would get into position at the bottom of the mudslide to help me down (I hadn't expected that!) Meanwhile, I extended an arm as an offer to pull the other two women up.
The daughter popped right up. Two quick steps and she was standing in the grass behind me. Mom, who was not significantly different in size or shape, got most of the way and then gave one quick pull, presumably in an effort to make sure she made it all the way. At that point, I was doing my best human impersonation of a stout tree. The karate move at the end threw me – literally. Next thing I knew, we were both in a muddy heap in the grass. How am I going to break the news about us to Maryanne? Luckily, the consensus seemed to be that the whole episode was amusing and we all parted with smiles and good wishes for the rest of our respective hikes.
Since I was muddy, I now had the freedom to dispense with the whole stone hopping routine and just splash through the middle of the river to the other side. That was actually quite refreshing. Now I just need to find the dryer sheet vending machine and I'll be good to go.
Back at the kayak, we met other kayakers who didn't seem to understand how we got our kayak there. We weren't staying at the DOC hut, we weren't on one of the boats in the anchorage, we hadn't been dropped off, where had we come from? I dunno, we'll just paddle toward the ocean and see…
The next day, while it was undeniably a good day to go up the Duke's Nose (I'm never going to tire of it), we instead opted for a long paddle in the kayak as far up the estuary as the high tide would allow.
Poking about in the Kayak at high tide
We actually ended up making it all the way to the crossing from two paragraphs back. The funny thing was that there was a whole family crossing just then. They had stayed overnight at the DOC hut by Rere Bay and were carrying heavy packs. They were all concentrating so hard on their feet during their river crossing that none of them saw that we had nuzzled up so close that they practically had to step over the tip of our bow. When the kid at the back noticed us smiling up at him, he almost jumped out of his shoes.
"Where did YOU come from?!"
"Oh, we've been here the whole time."
Once we explained that we had originally come from our boat, he asked if we were stuck. How were we going to get back?
"Oh, we'll just turn around and float home" I said. "Technically this is part of the ocean." I dipped a finger in for emphasis.
When we turned and paddled away, he had the distinct look of not believing us at all, as if he's met just one too many loonies from up north.
Back at Begonia, we climbed aboard and spent the rest of the afternoon lashing everything down tight. An ex-tropical cyclone was on the way and was forecast to take a pretty good swipe at the far north.
Indeed, it did. For three days, we had howling, gusty winds and biblical rain. We had several small waterspouts pass close by or even hit us.
I remember one in particular. I was outside in the cockpit and it was right behind in the space where the dingy rests when tied to the stern. An area a little bit bigger than Begonia was filled with churning water that was being sucked into a swirling funnel and the air sounded not just like it was blowing, but that it was being torn apart. Then it came towards the boat a bit. The wind and rain seemed to come from everywhere at once for a moment, and then the whole thing shattered into a bunch of smaller vortices that staggered off in different directions. The turbulence from hitting our rig seemed to break it up.
Another fun thing we saw was a waterfall that was just to the right of the Duke's Nose from our perspective. Before the storm, it had about as much flow as a kitchen faucet left to run. From Begonia, we had to struggle to find the slick of wet rock marking its presence.
During the deluge, the trickle became a torrent. This was impressive in itself, but what the wind did to it was even more amazing. Only about a third of the time did the water falling off the ledge land directly beneath. The torrent of the falls would be blown in arcs left and right onto the adjacent forest. Occasionally, it would be blown straight up for a few seconds. My favorite episode was when un updraft shredded the fall into mist. Then it blew the whole thing up and behind the waterfall before dumping it there. A few seconds later, the waterfall resumed at double flow. Wow!
Heavy rains created some waterfalls, and the heavy winds had them flying in all directions
The whole storm ended abruptly. In the middle of the night, within a three-hour period, the wind went from fifty-knot gusts to nothing. We awoke the next morning to flat calm water and Maine-style fog that was so thick we couldn't see any shoreline at all. Uyuh!
The calm after the storm
The good news was that we could now safely go outside without getting drenched, at least once the heavy dew burned off. The bad news was that I had a job to do.
During our initial maneuverings in Rere Bay on the day we arrived, our radar suddenly quit. After a few reboots and some more diagnosis, we finally determined that it really was broken somewhere deep in the circuit boards. Ugh! That thing is not that old. We're basically in the same position as a homeowner who replaces a slightly squeaky forty-year-old washing machine with a new, all-the-bells-and-whistles model, only to have the flippin' motherboard fail after a year.
VERY luckily for us, we still had six days before our warranty expired. The bad news was that they wanted us to remove it and send it in. They kept saying it like we had the thing sitting on a shelf in the garage and not bolted to the mast three stories up. Since the weather was now flat and windless, my first priority was now to go up there and get it without dropping anything in the process.
Kyle climbs the mast to remove the broken radar - in super calm conditions
Once that was done, we still had other problems. Where we were, in the Far North District, is about as close to 'out in the middle of nowhere' as you can get on the North Island. Still, it's way less 'out there' than Tonga or Fiji will be. If we need to get our radar to the service center in Auckland, we might have to cancel our Far North plans and high-tail it back to at least Opua, maybe all the way to Whangārei, then rent-a-car or something.
As I was poring through the forecasts, looking for a window to go back the direction we had just come, Maryanne managed to find a courier who deals with collectibles and antiques, who said he could pick up our radar here and deliver it gently to Auckland for us. That would save us time, money, and miles. We moved Begonia to wait out the next blow by the wharf at Totara North, where all we would have to do is row in and hand our baby over. Then we can resume our low-ambition cruising.
That didn't go exactly as planned. The day before, the courier told us that he was going to pick up our radar from Whangaroa, across the harbor. Since it was windy and blowing from that direction, we decided we preferred the idea of re-anchoring Begonia to forty minutes getting drenched on the long dinghy ride over from Totara North. From our new spot just outside the mooring field, it was a quick two-minute trip to the dinghy dock.
That short distance allowed us to time our excursions between cells in the next cluster of rain showers. There are basically two things to do ashore on this side of the harbor. The first is to climb to the top of Saint Paul's Rock. We have done that before, and what I remember from that experience was that the views from up there were very good, but also that the short hike gets a bit treacherous when the ground is wet. That brought us to Thing Two: Have a meal at the Fishing Club.
What a racket they have got going on there. After handing over our radar to the courier, we ducked into the club to avoid some showers over lunch, a game of cards, and the requisite coldies. After packing up afterwards to leave for a walk along the shore, the skies opened up again, which caused us to turn on our heels and retreat inside for more beers to nurse through the deluge.
We finished our walk as more rain approached. Maryanne suggested waiting it out in the pub again, but I demurred on the basis that I was beer-ed out and I thought we could make it back to Begonia in time.
We didn't quite make it. Maryanne was able to dive under the bimini before getting too wet, but I definitely got drenched while stowing the dinghy. I have the distinct memory of New Zealand's weather not being so annoying last time we were here.
Ashore at Whangaroa (between rain showers)
Anchorage location - Bland Bay >> On google maps
Anchorage location - Waitepipi Bay, off Pekapeka Bay >> On google maps
Anchorage location - Off Taotara North Wharf, Okura Bay >> On google maps
Anchorage location - Off Whangaroa Marina, Whangaroa >> On google maps
