Revisiting The Catlins

Catch-up

With a dose of cabin-fever threatening after nearly two weeks of inclement weather and the forecast promising sun on the horizon, we decided it was time to leave Invercargill. 

Originally we'd planned to head to one of our favourite places, Mavora Lakes, for a couple of weeks but with no internet & a 20km drive to make a connection, we decided we'd head east to the Catlins for another visit instead. Not having the internet wouldn't usually have worried us but during the busy holiday season we needed to be available should anything urgent happen at the cottages.

Fortrose Bluff- where the wind does blow

This would be our fourth visit to the Catlins so you'd think we'd have seen it all by now especially as the previous visits were for several weeks at a time. But I had a few camping sites on the radar, ones that we hadn't stayed at before, & also a few favourite places to revisit.

Toetoe Bay from Fortrose Bluff

Our first port of call was the freedom camping area at Fortrose, right on the edge of Toetoe Harbour, a large estuary and where the mighty Mataura River ends its journey. We've always stopped here for lunch on our way in or out of the Catlins, never staying overnight as our destination (Winton or Invercargill) isn't too far away. 

I'm always fascinated by the dozens of whitebait huts that line the Mataura and the smaller Titiroa Stream, not so much by the huts themselves (although one day I'm going to walk the river bank and photograph every one of them!) but the way the rivers meander back and forth several times before reaching the estuary. And the huts of course do the same so when you look across the river flats lots of  tiny sheds dot the landscape (check it out by clicking the photo to enlarge).

There's a two night maximum stay at Fortrose, the first night we had to ourselves, the second night there were a few more campers as it was the beginning of the weekend. It's nothing like it used to be though, before Covid closed the borders. Then there were dozens & dozens of campers here every night. 

We settled in overlooking the estuary on another gloomy day but by mid afternoon and as promised by the forecasters, the sun finally came out and so did a local rider, conveniently photobombing my shot as I prepared to take photos of the spoonbills.

A flock of fourteen or so Royal Spoonbills spent most of the incoming & outgoing tides sweeping back and forward in the shallow waters along the shoreline, not taking much notice of me creeping along in the mud beside them, and only disappearing  once the tide was fully in.

I love how they move in unison and in line, like mine sweepers moving their bills back and forward through the water as they slowly move forward. I'm guessing any small fish or crustacean disturbed by one flees into the bill of the one next door. 

The odd bird out was a rusty coloured female with no topknot (top right- she was always with a bigger plumed male). I've not seen any this dirty looking before, I'm not sure whether it's natural or she's been feeding in some tannin stained waters somewhere.

And the sun sets on another day....

Fortrose Sunset

While at Fortrose I took myself on a tiki-tour to visit Waipapa Point and Slope Point again, both are at the south end of the Catlins; David having seen it all before decided to have the afternoon off. 

Waipapa Lighthouse

Waipapa Point is a favourite of mine, there's plenty to take photos of; the lighthouse, sealions, shorebirds, including- if you're lucky- Hoiho/Yellow-eyed Penguins and the famous wind-blown macracapa trees.

And it makes it far more interesting when you have an unusual cloud formation above the lighthouse. 

One day I might make it here when the Southern Lights are playing, this is another great place to view Lady Aurora and photograph her with the lighthouse in the foreground.  

The beach below the lighthouse is a popular haul out pad for Sealions/Whakahao, today there is just one big boy snoozing on the sand and looking like a large clump of seaweed. On one of my previous visits there were five or six sealions on the sand and at least two dozen tourists vying for a place to photograph them without getting too close.

Today there's just me and him and he takes no notice of me. Although I saw him open one eye very slowly when a seagull landed close by.

I head up the beach checking for hoiho/penguins, it's where we saw one on our last visit. It came waddling out of the breakers and headed up into the dunes. It was just before their moult and it was probably looking for a safe haven to shelter in while it went through a rather traumatic time of the year for them.  

I didn't see any penguins this time but enjoyed beachcombing and taking photos of all the different seaweeds that had been thrown up in the recent rough seas. 

A pair of Variable Oystercatchers (who were nesting on the last visit, if they are the same pair) were also running along the froth line checking for food & treats thrown up by the sea. I thought this was a shellfish that he was stabbing & whacking on the stones but it was one of those tuber  things in the photo above.

The Black-fronted Terns/Tara had mostly finished looking after their chicks with only one or two fledglings in the flock; this one was squawking very loudly for some food. I like how all the others pretend it isn't there.

A family had arrived on the beach when I got back to the sealion, they stayed on the rocks...

...while another visitor was warily taking photos of the sleeping sealion from the sand. His girlfriend wasn't having a bar of going down to see it no matter how many times he called out to her. She said she'd be quite fine standing up on the dunes. It's great to see people giving the sealions their space although unless they are in a boisterous mood they are usually quite harmless while sleeping as long as you keep a respectable distance (10 metres) from them. 

I leave the lighthouse & sealion behind and walk the loop track back to the carpark via the old lighthouse keepers house site. 

But it's not the site I'm keen to see (that's just a small overgrown concrete pad, the house long gone) it's the square of macrocapa trees that once sheltered the house from the ferocious southerly winds that blow in here straight out of the Antarctic. They have grown into a strangely stunted & twisted row of trees. 

I smile when I see this photo; the trees look like a row of ladies baring their bottoms after having their skirts blow up over their heads!

From Waipapa Point I head north towards Slope Point which is actually the southernmost point of the South Island. Weird I know but it's because the South Island is on a slight angle. Before I get there though I take a side road to what was once a favourite freedom camping site of ours; Weir Beach.

And I'm pleasantly surprised to see the reserve looking very much like it used to; not over run with dozens of vehicles and people. Selfish I know, but things were changing before Covid, and mostly in a bad way for many camp sites with no restrictions and not enough resources to support the huge influx of visitors.

I carry on down the road to Slope Point and follow the 20 minute track across farmland  to the sign post dodging huge piles of sheep poo along the way. Who knew they could do such monster deposits! I worried for the guy I saw walking in bare feet, actually I worried for his sheets that night if he didn't wash his feet! And then there was the girl in high heel shoes...... 

The cliffs around Slope Point are very scary; high and dangerous if you get too close as they drop away into the wild surf directly below. Although when the sea is rough it's quite exhilarating watching the waves crash in on the rocks and the surge push in through a narrow gap in the land.

Slope Point done & dusted.... for a third time! David would say to me 'Why do you need to walk there again, you've already been twice?'  I'd answer, 'Because I have to, can't come that far and not do the walk'. 

Just like I have to drive further on down the road to check out the sea caves under the Point, but the tide's in and they don't show so much this time.

So I make do with a rocky point that takes in the view looking south (and I hear my mother telling me not to get too close to the edge). It is a long way down, I can imagine a few people standing out there and taking selfies for Instagram.

It's time to head for home before I do do something that needs a search party call out. 

Although it's a slow trip home because there's something like 15kms of 30kph road works and nobody working! They're doing (or were doing until they called it quits for the weekend) the road edges and vehicles are passing me at full speed.  Who leaves all the signs up when there are really no hazards other than speeding vehicles? 1 or 2kms would be fine but not 15!

Moody Mavora & Snowy Garston

Catch-up (early October 2019)

From the DOC camp at Cascade Creek on the Milford Road we returned to the NZMCA Park at Te Anau for a few days. After a week out of range, it was good to have cell phone & internet reception again before we headed to our next destination Mavora Lakes- one of our favourite South Island destinations- which is also out of range. 

The road to the lakes leaves the main highway about halfway between Te Anau & Mossburn and from there, there's 'just' 34kms of gravel to travel until you reach the lakes turnoff which is then followed by another 8kms of gravel to the lakes; past South Mavora and onto North Mavora Lake.

For the first 15kms or so we travel in an unseen grader's freshly scraped track. We not-so-quietly curse as clouds of dry dust billow out behind us. Sometimes you just can't win; another couple of days and the dust would have settled and the road would have been silky smooth. I guess dust is better than being rattled to death by the corrugations although we have them to contend with for the last half of the journey.

Never mind, our favourite camping spot is free which isn't really a surprise, only the hardy (or crazy) camp at the lakes at the tail end of winter when the weather swings between bitterly cold & freezing cold.   

North Mavora Lake & Mt Cerberus

That would be hardy people, crazy people or hardy crazy hunter people. There's a hunter's camp up the back of the plateau, tucked into and sheltered by the thick bush. There are a couple of pig dogs in a kennel beside a horse float and down in the horse paddock I can see two horses. 

As soon as they spot me, they gallop over to the fence for a chat & a pat and then follow me along the fence line hoping I have something tasty for them. I don't, there's just dry grass and more dry grass.   

I'm keen to cross the swingbridge and check out the bush for Robins/Toutouwai & Rifleman/Titiponamu...

...but all I manage to find is one lonely robin who watches me expectantly, hoping I'm going to scrape some leaf litter for him. Of course I oblige.

It really was bitterly cold. As night closes in, snow starts to fall and David is not impressed. He's turning into a fair weather fisherman. The snow doesn't amount to much and is gone by dawn. Thank God for our diesel heaters, we're kept toasty warm inside.

The next day I walk up to the plateau behind and disappear into the bush...

...there are a few more Robins up here but still no sign of any riflemen. In fact the bush is very quiet, perhaps it's just too cold for them and they've moved deeper into the bush seeking shelter.

I break apart a rotten log and several birds are very keen to see what I've unearthed. Although not so keen to share as they chase each other about trying to keep the spoils for themselves.

Several more 'crazy' people have arrived overnight, one parked up in the wide expanse of tussock on the lake shore below Mt Cerberus...

...and the other sheltering in the trees near the fire pits. 

David has been reluctant to get the inflatable boat out, it has been very cold & windy, and the forecast is for more wind and heavy snow. We'd also had some unsettling news from family on the way in that had us distracted and with no cellphone reception, we'd started to worry that we really should be in range. 

So when we woke the next morning, and with the weather no better, we made the decision to head on out.  

We'll leave Mavora Lakes for the summer this time. 

South Mavora Lake & the road out

We decided to head to the NZMCA Lowburn Park at Cromwell, somewhere where we could settle for a few days and re-plan our next few weeks. We needed to stay around the lower half of the South Island in case our Southland family needed us to head back to Winton to look after the house & cat if they were suddenly called away.

On the way to Cromwell we stopped for a night at one of our favourite (and 'secret') freedom camping sites near Garston.

Brightwater & Castle Hill, Garston

Although we missed the 'Closed due to Lambing' sign on the way in, seeing it on the passenger side of the road the next morning on our way out. Oops! We'd both been reading the trout fishery sign on the driver's side instead.  We also didn't see any sheep until the next morning, they must have been hiding under the willows at the far end of the paddock.

But we did see the neighbours walking their goats. The goats were having a great time too, snatching mouthfuls of grass, running to catch up, kicking up their feet and racing ahead of the others. 

It was once again bitterly cold overnight, our diesel heaters working overtime until we went to bed. We very rarely need to leave them on overnight due to the van's insulation and our winter bedding.

Sometime during the early hours of the morning I heard the familiar gentle splatter of snow on the roof. I silently hoped we'd be snowed in for a few days but on opening the door the next morning there was just a thin layer covering the ground. 

Never mind, it was still a wonderful sight and a winter wonderland 'Out There'. I love waking to snow, being 'johnny-on-the-spot' and able to step outside in my dressing gown & gumboots to take photos, all within 5 minutes of getting out of bed.

The Mataura River had turned a dirty brown, rain has obviously fallen in the back country.

Here's the stock bridge the afternoon before the snow fall (this bridge is my favourite piece of farm equipment in all of New Zealand) 

Thick cloud gave way to blue sky...

... and the snow started to disappear before my eyes.

And by the time we were ready to pull out the snow had gone and dark clouds had rolled back in.