When time came for our return later in the day, a southwesterly breeze had sprung up encouraging small waves from the swell. With an inexperienced helmsman and too much speed on, the aluminium craft suddenly went down by the head into a wave and stayed down. I vividly remember the outboard engine being the last remnant of our boat visible before we were left up to our necks in water over half a mile from the shore. With snow on all the mountains about us, to comment on my impressions would be superfluous. I understand that the manufacturers of the craft claim that half full of water, the boat with its built-in buoyancy, will support 4 adults. At the Boat Show that may appear so. In Dusky Sound with 5 adults wearing life jackets, it failed to reach the surface by 3 feet. Another and myself "stood" in the boat and paddled Maori style, while the others hung on as best they could and kicked. Happily, all were determined to survive and after the most arduous physical effort of my life, we reached the shore. Believing that once that was achieved all would be well, we were astonished to find that with one exception, we were suffering from exposure so badly that we could barely stand. Coherent speech was impossible. The forethought of one member in bringing a vest pocket survival kit and the petrol tank which we had towed behind, saved the day. In frantically searching for fuel, I underwent a crash course in the botany of the wet forest. It seems that wood is either alive and green or so rotten that its fibre resembles the consistency of mushroom. Driftwood seemed the only solid fuel in Fiordland.
With a roaring fire we returned miraculously to normal and discussed the situation Both Jill and I wanted to row on. Two elected to remain, being determined to avoid another voyage at all costs. With the possibility of change in the weather we could not leave the yacht unattended, so we pressed our case.
The strongest member of their party, a young forest officer, elected to join us and so we rowed each to an oar with fill calling the stroke. About 8pm we reached the yacht, a more welcome sight being hard to imagine. The others we picked up the following morning none the worse for their long fireside chat. Nowadays, when I see a similar craft departing Westhaven launching ramp with Mum and Dad and four children with no jackets visible, I tend to feel slightly neurotic.
Working our way north through Acheson Passage to Breaksea we sailed to Doubtful Sound, the most beautiful fiord and to the "Wanganella' at Deep Cove the site or the hydro scheme.
In all, we missed only four Sounds, the most important being Preservation, which we had impatiently passed on passage to Dusky.
The weeks spent there, although cold at times, will always be remembered as the highlight of our visit to New Zealand.
From Milford we pressed on post haste, to clear the West coast as quickly as possible, a more dangerous lee shore being hard to find. Through Tasman Bay we anchored in Torrent Bay before going via the narrow French's Pass to the Marlborough Sounds and Picton which in their "developed" state denuded of fine trees, are only a shadow of the Fiordland Sounds.
Across Cook Strait to Wellington on the coldest winter's night was an unpleasant experience more than balanced by the welcome of Graham Moore whom we had met in Dusky on his 50 loot "Altair". Derek Noble displayed the ultimate in New Zealand hospitality in offering to us the keys of his house at Evans Bay while away with his wife and family for a week!
We found Wellington a beautiful city but our awareness of the wind was overpowering. The crane on the Wahine stands as a monument to the strength of the Wellington winds. The Royal Port Nicholson Yacht Club did everything possible to help us. Maurice Crisp, the Wellington yacht broker, an incredible organiser, arranged a slipping to repair damage caused to the paintwork in the severe grounding in the poorly chartered part of Dusky Sound. Another member, Alan Pain, offered us all almost new car in which we toured a good deal of the North Island. Our uneventful voyage up the East coast merely served as an interlude to a continuation of New Zeland hospitality. Homes open to us, transport offered. Even the free use of a car offered-by a used car dealer! I wouldn't have believed it-once.
We recall the thoughtfulness of Frank and Veronica Smith who altered their entire winter family arrangements so that we could have Christmas dinner with them. But then he is a Canadian, so perhaps it's conceivable it could happen elsewhere. Outstanding has been John Reynolds who had generously offered his engineering facilities and experience, which has enabled me to build up a wind vane system, a stainless steel space heater, underwater camera housings for still and 16mm movie cameras and undertaken the marinisation of the new engine.
Cruising as we have done since about Auckland's Hauraki Gulf we have made many friends and have enjoyed every day of it. After the re-engining from 20 h.p. to 70 h.p. diesel with which I am now engaged, we hope to cruise further north, before sailing on to South America and a cruise through the fiords and channels of Patagonia. The anchorage at Beach harbour, Breaksea Sound. In the foreground where the dinghy has can be seen the rock free "sealers run" where the boats of these hardy types were dragged ashore. Their campsites could be easily identified as we cruised about the fiords.