Stewart Island

This plaque inset into the trail head speaks for itself. Stewart Island is for the most part a true wilderness. However from a naturalists perspective, I was disappointed with the huge expense of time and money that goes into the trail systems and huts. It definitely detracted from the overall wild aspect that I kept hearing about when talking about Stewart Island. Granted, I did not get much opportunity to trek into the interior. We only spent one day hiking the actual interior. The rest of the time was spent near the fringe or on coasts.

This was the last day I think? Hot and sweaty with a thunderstorm brewing.

Halfway point of day two? Night was to be spent on that particular bay just visible to the center right of the large inlet in the distance.

Nothing like a map to tell you where you are not vs where you thought you were. Discombobulation in the jungle is rather easy.

Just one of thousands of cool trees and scenes.

Me harvesting Cockles. The shell that I have in my hand is a scallop. I threw it back. In the bag are Cockles. Clam like bi-valves that are absolutely delicious. I ate Cockles, Katrina ate mussels. This was by far the best meal I have had in New Zealand. Fresh picked off of the rocks.

One of many continuous beds of mussels. Delicious. King of the Cockle shell. Yet again, this area was a shell hunters delight. I didn't pick more then one or two total though. Extra weight on an extended back country backpacking trip just isn't quite in the cards.

Nice contrast. Low tide. We camped just over that hill.

Just another attempt at something different.

Last day. Storm moving in. We got back into town just after it started raining. Typical weather forecasts stated that it would be nice for our ferry ride back to the mainland. Yeah...that was a crock of crap. That night a gale hit and the ferry crossing the next day royally sucked. I make a very poor sailor. Our poor little ferry (I was too busy trying not to puke to take photos) was definitely pushing it. I estimate that the swells didn't get smaller then 10 ft tall and were more along the lines of an average of 14 to 16 feet. Half the boat was sea sick. The other half wanted to be. I have no idea how I survived the crossing without getting sick. This was a great tramp. I would have loved to spend another week on the island...but my feet, Katrina's job and the lack of proper equipment and food for hardcore backpacking sort of dictated that we needed to head back to the real world.