According to contemporary Māori legend, the demigod Māui pulled North Island out of the sea (the fish of Māui/ Te Ika-a-Māui) from his waka, South Island (the canoe of Māui/ Te Waka-a-Māui). The prow of the waka is at the top of South Island, while stern is at the bottom. We spent a few weeks in the stern—while nature did Her very best to swamp the canoe.
Coordinates
On the edge of Fiordland
After leaving Lake Wakatipu at Kingston, and shortly thereafter crossing over into Southland, we passed through a red tussock (Chionochloa rubra) conservation area alongside State Highway 94/ Southern Scenic Route, near to Mossburn. Endemic to NZ with a preference for waterlogged or frosty flats, this type of tussock landscape was common throughout Southland when European settlement began in the 1850s:
We arrived in Manapōuri to find the Wee Bookshop—now Two Wee Bookshops—closed for winter (it was mid-autumn, but “winter” seems to start early hereabouts). S had read and enjoyed the owner’s memoir “The Bookseller at the End of the World“:
Fjords, Fiordland and sounds
Manapōuri township sits on the edge of Fiordland National Park, an extensive remote area to the west of the Manapōuri and Te Anau lakes. Formed from some of the oldest rocks in the country, the landscape was heavily dissected during the last ice age to carve out the characteristic glacial lakes, U-shaped valleys and fiords we see today. It remains heavily forested and mostly uninhabited.
It has been noted “fiord” appears only in the names of the arms of Lake Te Anau—whereas the inlets akin to “fjords” (in a Norwegian sense) are called “sounds”. A fjord is a “long, deep, narrow inlet of the sea with steep, often mountainous sides, originally eroded by glaciers.” whereas a sound is “an inlet of the sea or a narrow channel of water, such as a strait.” Thus, Milford Sound (for example) in Fiordland is actually a fjord; the sounds in Marlborough at the other end of South Island are accurately named.
🧭 Exploring
Entering the national park, we took the Kepler Track from Paradise Reach to the edge of Lake Manapōuri. This is NZ’s second deepest lake at 447m. The Waiau River (upper river shown below) is dammed, so now the lake mostly drains west into Doubtful Sound, with the new outflow passing through the underground West Arm power station.
The glacier-formed Moturau wetland (first and second photo) was stocked with Canada geese (third photo), paradise shelducks, and dragonflies (final photo):
Moturau Hut was at the end of an easy 7km walk through beech, to the beach (first photo). There is also an offshoot track to Shallow Bay Hut, which we preferred (remaining photos):
There was considerable variety in the many examples of fungi to be seen trackside. These included the purple pouch fungus/ Cortinarius porphyroideus (first photo); crimson helmet/ Mycena ura (second photo); Hypholoma australianum (third photo); Panus purpuratus (fourth photo); Phellodon sinclairii (fifth photo); Ramaria samuelsii (sixth photo); Stereum versicolor (seventh photo); and—albeit sighted some time later—a very tasty barley “risotto” incorporating button mushrooms/ Agaricus bisporus, served with Parmesan for dinner 😉 (final photo):
Te Anau is regarded as the primary the gateway to Fiordland National Park. Lake Te Anau covers 342 square kilometres, has a shoreline of 483km, is 202m above sea level and is 396m deep. The town’s waterfront commemorates the re-discovery of takahē (Porphyrio hochstetteri) nearby with a painted concrete sculpture (first photo). Reflecting its role as a transportation hub, there is a water taxi stand (second photo); jetty for tour boats; a helipad (third photo); and a dock for South Island’s only seaplane (final photo):
We set out again on the Kepler Track, this time from Te Anau control gates. There was little to see of Dock Bay (near the gates) due to dense morning fog (first photo). With limited visibility beyond the track we set ourselves the challenge of spotting a fungus we’d not yet seen; say hello to Tremella fuciformis (second photo). The canopy mostly beech forest, but the endemic piupiu/ crown fern/ Lomaria discolor was dominant on the ground (third photo). We walked for 1.5 hours along the lake shore to Brod Bay—also shrouded in fog, so here it is three hours later on our return (final photo):
From Brod Bay we climbed steadily through fog (first photo) a further 1.5 hours towards Luxmore Hut until we reached a limestone bluff. The fog abruptly dissipated as we climbed, but occasional glimpses through the canopy confirmed that Lake Te Anau was still enveloped (second photo). The bluff (third photo) served as a lunch stop before we began descending again through the forest (final photo). It took us 2h 20 min to return to the control gates:
The track map shows our two walks on the Kepler Track, as well as the full 60km/ four day circuit:
Deeper into the “Deep South”
How deep does the rabbit hole go?
That’s a fair question, Alice. There is apparently no consensus answer to the question of where the true/ proper/ deep south begins. For some it’s the Southland region; others would draw the line further north at Dunedin, or add in all of Otago. Or perhaps much further south—into the sub-Antarctic islands? Perhaps it’s more of an idea (culture) than a defined physical place? There is only one certainty: it’s a relative term.
Te Ara notes “Southland proper lies east of the lakes. It is a series of plains built up by major rivers, separated by upland blocks, which have been shaped partly by faulting.” These southern lowlands are second in extent only to the more northerly Canterbury Plains; they mainly serve to graze sheep and cattle.
🧭 Exploring
Still skirting Fiordland, from Te Anau we took the Southern Scenic Route towards Tuatapere. Manapōuri Control Structure sits at the confluence of the Lower Waiau and Mararoa rivers, where it regulates flow to support wildlife habitats and manage flooding:
The Rakatu Wetlands project was a gem of a find further down the road; within them are the Speight Wetlands, seen here during our rushed transit stop:
Our destination was Lake Monowai, where we expected to find a DOC campsite. However, the only parking area was adjacent to “No camping” and CCTV monitoring signs, so we didn’t feel welcome and moved on—despite the lake appearing scenic as dusk fell:
We made a further visit to Rakatu Wetlands, a restored habitat beside the vestigial Waiau River and bordering Fiordland National Park. A path over Little Creek (first photo) leads to the bank of the Waiau River (second photo); the Takitimu Mountains can be seen beyond. From the Speight Wetlands (third photo) we followed the track via a lookout (fourth photo) for views of the Low Creek Wetlands (final two photos):
During our wander we sighted the papango/ NZ scaup (first photo); Australasian shoveler (second photo); pihoihoi/ NZ pipit (third photo); bellbird (fourth photo); swan (final photo); little pied cormorant; paradise shelduck and various other birds:
Lake Hauroko (in Māori, “the soughing of the wind”), just inside Fiordland National Park, is NZ’s deepest lake at 462m:
Access to the demanding 8–10 day Dusky Track is by boat across to the northern end. The Wairaurahiri River drains the lake from it’s southern end, emptying into Foveaux Strait with a drop of 200m elevation over 20km—making it the steepest boatable river in New Zealand. Near the jetty we saw a kārearea/ NZ falcon (Falco novaeseelandiae) dispatch a mouse in front of us:
Thicket Burn Campsite, 7.4km back east along Lillburn Valley Road, became our 103rd and westernmost overnight spot for our 6-month vanniversary.
Clifden has NZ’s longest wooden suspension bridge (111.5m), spanning the Waiau River since 1899. Designed for horse-drawn traffic, it accommodated traction engines followed by cars and trucks until it was superseded in 1978:
Big Totara Walk in Dean Forest is 17.3km down Lillburn Monowai Road (mostly gravel). A short track leads to several large podocarps, including this 1000 year-old giant, which we visited on a very wet day:
Afterwards, it seemed appropriate to warm up with an all-day breakfast in NZ’s self-proclaimed “sausage capital”, Tuatapere. Protocol is to leave your gumboots at the door! Sorry, but only a 2/10—and that’s for the service and chocolate fish:
Coastal Southland
The tide at Gemstone Beach (near Orepuki) may yield semi-precious gemstones (less rare or valuable than true gems, but nevertheless pretty). For example: garnet, jasper, quartz and nephrite. We found that fossicking with a foot was an effective way to reveal multicolour pebbles (first and second photo). We’d seen super-saturated pictures online, but merely wetting the stones is enough to make the colours pop (third photo). Even the sky decided to add colour to our morning—until the rain arrived (final photo):
There is a curious building (with some rather odd signage) nestled in the cliff above Gemstone Beach:
Monkey Island/ Te Puka o Takitima (a monkey-free rock that becomes an islet at high tide) was a traditional Māori lookout for whales; it can be accessed when the tide is out (first photo). It is debated whether whales were actively hunted by Māori in waka (canoes), or opportunistically “assisted” into a beach stranding (second photo). Riverton/ Aparima is known as a centre for pāua (kai and art); it felt rather desolate (third photo). Invercargill was likewise fairly bleak in cold and wet weather—despite the colourful murals (final photo):
Slope Point, within Southland’s bit of The Catlins (a rugged coastal area), is South Island’s southernmost point—thus making it as far south as most visitors to NZ will get. From here it’s 4,803km to the South Pole (first photo). Waves smash vigorously against the rocks at the cliff bottom (second photo). A navigational aid supports ships in Foveaux Strait (third photo). The forceful Antarctic breeze gives nearby trees a windswept look (final photo):
Curio Bay is the site of a petrified forest: wood grain (first photo) and concentric growth rings (second photo) can be seen in stone logs that were once Jurassic trees that fell 170 million years ago—that’s over 100 million years before the extinction of dinosaurs, and before birds/ flowering plants made an appearance! The trees were fossilised by silica contained within volcanic ash-filled floodwaters. Here you can also see what tide washed up (third photo); watch kelp battle the pounding waves (final photo); or maybe—depending on your/ their timing—glimpse a hoiho/ yellow-eyed penguin (one of the world’s rarest penguin species):
Although not especially fond of kaimoana (shellfish), we tried Bluff oysters at Fowler’s shop (first photo). Six oysters, a blue cod and chips cost $NZ34 (second photo). The Bluff variety are dredged from the wild seabed in Foveaux Strait—one of the few remaining natural oyster beds, between March and August. Those in the know value them for their distinctive flavour, size and succulent cream-coloured meat (third photo). While enjoying our meal, it felt like we were being watched (final photo):
The Bluff/ Motupōhue (265m) is the eroded remains of an igneous intrusion. It offers views over Bluff (founded in 1824), to Oreti Beach and the Takitimu Mountains beyond (first photo); also to Rakiura (second photo). An 8km/ 2.5h unhurried loop from the Bluff lookout to Stirling Point (the southern start/ end of 3,022km Te Araroa trail; third to fifth photos), along Foveaux Walkway to Lookout Point (a prime location for whale spotting; final photo) and back up the hill via the Millennium Track:
So, where next? The anchor chain sculpture in the fourth photo above is a clue…
Join us on future away missions
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