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!

Weir, Waipapa & a Coal Pit

Catch-up (this may be the last post for a week or so, we've been at the Cavalcade in Omakau the last few days and will be off to another one of our must re-visit places; Poolburn Dam tomorrow, where there is no internet.

The weather once again foiled our attempts to enjoy a leisurely summer in the Catlins. After 4 days of rain and no internet to keep us occupied, we pulled out of Niagara and carried on south, heading to a favourite freedom camping site, Weir Beach Reserve, which is just off the Slope Point Road.

Who should be coming over the rise ahead of us, not far from our turnoff but our two friends in their Ultima who we'd last seen at Hinahina. We'd been playing leap frog all the way south- we both flashed our lights & tooted but couldn't stop and talk as another vehicle came up behind. They'd just spent the night at Weir Beach. We saw them yet again a day later near Fortrose.

Weir Beach looked a little worse for wear (no pun intended), we dodged a few thick mud holes and squelched our way over to the far side... 

...where, because of our height, we had a view over the estuary from our front door. We didn't know it until a couple of campers told us, but we parked in exactly the same spot as our friends did the night before. The campers did a double take when they glanced over to see another Ultima there.

As the day drew to a close, a steady stream of cars arrived for the night, 35 vehicles before night fall, 35 and at least 70 people but probably more, as some had 3 or 4 occupants. Most of these vehicles were not CSC (certified self-contained) but that's OK. The Southland District Council have set aside a few areas around the district for freedom camping where you don't have to be certified because they provide facilities. Or they should. 

It would be fine if they had sufficient facilities to back it up, but Weir Beach has just one filthy stinking long-drop toilet. So it's no wonder, when I go for a walk, I find we're actually parked in one huge cesspit. Campers have been peeing and pooing in the grass surrounding the reserve, on the tracks, in the dunes and even on the beach, either because the toilet is in such a disgusting state (or they are too darn lazy to walk the distance).  

This lovely reserve was once a special place to stay, a hidden gem few knew about and few abused. How can one inadequate toilet service so many people and not be a health hazard. The least Southland District Council could do is bring in a bank of Porta-loos and have them serviced regularly over the busy summer season. This is the sort of camping that is ruining our countryside and the non-CSC campers are not altogether to blame for it either, although the rubbish they leave behind is definitely in their lap.

ETA- this article is timely, thanks Rachel- The Ups & Downs of Freedom Camping

I was up early to see the sun rise over the estuary...

...but the weather sooned turned to custard again and David was keen to move on. The forecast was for rain and high winds, I'd wanted to revisit Slope Point and Waipapa Point Lighthouse if it stopped raining and I was reluctant to leave the Catlins behind because this was quite possibly our last visit to the area. 

We decided to stop at a CAP (cost apply parking) I knew about not far from Fortrose. If the bad weather didn't eventuate, we'd shoot back up the road to Waipapa Point and maybe Slope if it was really good the next day. 

The Ashers Lignite Pit Cafe & Garden has a large gravel area for campers (tents can be pitched on the grass) and at $10 a night, a little more for power, it's a good sheltered place to park- the wind picked up just after we arrived. 

We had a unusual welcoming party as we drove down to the parking area; over a rise in the lawn came a fast waddling line of quacking ducks. They were so funny, you couldn't help but smile at their antics as they checked out our parking spot and had a rest under the van while we unhitched.

Eventually, when no food was forthcoming, they settled down in the tussock grass beside the van. quacked gently at each other and nibbling on the flower heads. I so wanted to get out the loaf of bread, but David kept scowling at me each time he passed by the door. 'Don't you dare'.

There's us over the far side of the pond. This was once a large open coal mine pit. When the mining stopped the diverted water was allowed to run free again, filling the hole and creating a large pond with lots of little nooks and crannies. Trees and gardens were planted, birds welcomed back and a cafe opened.

There's a lovely walking track through the informal gardens right around the outside of the pond...

...where remnants of the coal seams can be seen in some of the pond banks.

I knew the ducks were sent to make me laugh, I was over the far side of the pond when they spotted me and came paddling as fast as they could across the water. I thought as they stumbled single file out of the water and up a bank that they'd come just to see me, but no, they waddled straight past and headed for an ice plant covered bank where they promptly set about demolishing it!

They'd been here before, you can see the nibbled line above their heads. About 5 minutes later they waddled back past me and back into the water. I reckon it must have been dessert. Really weird.

We thought we'd better do the right thing and support the cafe by having a coffee and maybe share a muffin. Yeah right. We left not needing any dinner that evening! The spare ribs and mash sounded just too good to miss.

It was interesting ready the history of the pit and what lignite actually is (click on the photo to read)

The next day dawned very cold and windy with rain threatening, we decided on a quick trip back up to Waipapa Point, hoping it might clear. It didn't. 

When you see people standing around like this in the Catlins you can be sure that there's a sealion nearby.

And there he was, a smile on his face and blocking the main track down to the beach. The only solitary sealion on the beach today, unlike the last time we visited when there were four big fat boys sunbathing on the sand (and double the amount of tourists trying to see them).

I skirted around the outside of the people finding another way down to the beach, I had bigger fish to fry, from the lookout beside the carpark I'd seen a penguin coming out of the breakers making its way towards the cliff edge. It didn't take me long to locate it, another moulting juvenile penguin looking more worse for wear than the one at Porpoise Bay.

I willed him to carry on up the rocks and out of sight, I could see more people making their way along the beach towards us.

He carried on, heading to clumps of grass and clay that had fallen down from above, he slipped and slid and tried...

...until he found a spot to stand and look miserable. 

I left him alone and thankfully out of sight from all but the curious of visitors. I felt sad for him as the rain started (that's a rain spot on my lens below) but I guess he's used to water and the cold. He just looked so lonely. 

I walked nback along the beach, stopping briefly to watch the never ending line of White-fronted Terns ferrying food back and forward from the ocean to their hungry fledglings waiting on a rocky platform.

Back in the carpark, I had one last look over the edge to check on the penguin below (he was hidden out of sight) and then we were gone, the beautiful, rugged Catlins, a nature lovers paradise, done for probably our last time.