Arapaoa in a Day - A non-stop circumnavigation of New Zealand's 13th largest Island by surfski
Standing sentinel, on the eastern approaches of the labyrinth of waterways that form the Marlborough Sounds, is the rugged Arapaoa Island. The sight greeting passengers traveling by ferry across from Te Ika-a-Māui, the North Island, are seemingly impenetrable weather beaten cliffs which tower above boiling waves as their ship approaches Te Wai Pounamu, the South Island. At the last minute a narrow gap in the craggy bluffs opens up ready to envelop the vessel into the relative shelter of Kura Te Au, Tory Channel. Separating Arapaoa from the mainland, Tory has strong and unpredictable tides, capable of reaching up to 7 knots at the heads, making it a dynamic and formidable waterway, worthy of respect.
Having spent a good part of my life looking across Tory Channel at Arapaoa (formerly Arapawa), the island has always called to me. It wasn't until a friend Hilary Hurst and adventure buddy, Ross, stayed with us at our little bach in Erie Bay, prior to completing a sea kayak tour around it last summer, that my mind turned to the idea of tackling it in my surfski. Some research revealed a few reports of multi day sea kayaking trips and partial circuits, but nowhere could I find reference to any non-stop circumnavigations being attempted on this 62km journey around Aotearoa's 13th largest island. I figured that applying a fast and light approach to what was usually a 2-3 day expedition would potentially allow me to reduce this time to a number of hours. To a large extent it would require the stars to align with weather and tides, but with some solid training in the bank I was feeling strong. Always one to fizz about pushing out boundaries, the opportunity to set a new benchmark was too much to resist, the challenge was set.
Starting and finishing from Erie Bay, in the Marlborough Sounds' notoriously tidal Tory Channel, through the ancient flooded river valleys of Tōtaranui, Queen Charlotte Sound, and with around 25km exposed to the open Tasman Sea and the mighty Cook Strait, nothing but a perfect weather window would suffice. So it was that on the 2nd day of 2022 with a massive high centred over the country and a forecast that the national forecaster described as "significantly hot" I bumped fists with my daughter Ruby, called farewells to my family and set out at 7:30am on a sea that was oily calm. For the first 1 1/2 hours I would have the tide helping me as I pushed out in a clockwise direction, around past Point Dieffenbach and into the outer Queen Charlotte Sound. To take full advantage of this current I paddled along the middle of the channel in the main flow keeping a wary eye out for Interisland Ferries.
A light southwester filled in as I rounded Ruaomoko Point and pointed my bow towards Patten Passage, a welcome push from behind. The passage is a narrow strip of water between Arapaoa and Oruawairua/Blumine Island, and with the tide still running I negotiated a small train of standing waves where the water squeezed through into the wide basin beyond.
Here the wind departed, the tide went slack and I paddled a dazzling glassy stretch of water past Matapara/Pickersgill Island and across the wide East Bay. The rocky cliffs of Clark Point brought me close to Arapaoa once again and soon I had a panoramic view of the mighty Tasman Sea as I ventured out into deep water on the open stretch across to Cape Koamaru. Right on cue a dark band of wind appeared on the horizon heralding the arrival of the sea breeze, a result of the inland Wairau basin heating up and sucking air in from all around, a welcome reprieve from the now stifling heat. Pushing into the light headwind I felt fairly small and insignificant as I paddled past a small group of rocks called The Twins and towards the open ocean.
As the tall cliffs of Cape Koamaru loomed like a bastion on my starboard side it marked the half way point and also the most exposed stretch of the journey, through Te Moana-o-Raukawa/Cook Strait, to the narrow Tory Channel entrance. Widely viewed as one of the most dangerous and unpredictable waters in the world, the Strait was thankfully on her best behavior. Planning and waiting reaps rewards. A loud roaring like river rapids grew as I approached this turning point telling me that the north-south tidal flow through the Strait had begun in ernest. The overflow of water around the Cape was a maelstrom of breaking waves and white water, and with heart beating hard I punched the bow of my boat into and through this boiling mess, popping out like a cork on the other side. Adrenaline still pumping I scanned the sea cliffs and angled into a small beach to swap drink bladders for the push through the Strait. From here I pointed my boat way out into deep water to best make use of the strong following tidal stream and as the Brothers Islands passed to my port side I was propelled forward at a rate of knots, further helped by the sea breeze that was now building and coming from astern.
The impressive cliffs on this side of Arapaoa rise to over 300m in places with massive slips intermittently tumbling all the way to the foaming sea. Following a direct rumbline to Perano Head, at times I was more than a kilometre offshore and I was thankful for the settled conditions to allow this. The North Island looked remarkably close with the wind farms of Makara whispering of future adventures across this stretch of blue water. Rounding the Head another tidal rip of confused white water focused my attention as I took a line around the outside of Raukawa Rock and pointed my bow towards the Tory Heads.
Here, the tidal assistance ceased and I found myself pushing into the wind, which dropped down off the cliff tops high above. As East Head loomed close a small aluminium powerboat slipped out the entrance and nosed towards me, my family had come to see a bit of my latest shenanigans and welcome me back into the relative security of Tory. A few pics taken and a bit of banter across the water in what is usually a wild piece of water was a novel interlude, but the challenge wasn't over yet. At only 500 metres wide at the heads, Tory Channel drains the entire Queen Charlotte Sound on an out flowing tide. With the tide still running out at over 5 knots the narrow gap between East and West Head concentrated this flow further. I chose a small channel between large rocks on the east side and paddled like mad into the rushing current, the water swirling under my hull, heart racing, muscles burning, before popping out the other side and through a patch of boiling water. Eventually I found my way into a sheltered cove surrounded by spectacular cliffs and deep sea caves, a pause for breath before my final 10km effort up the channel.
Pushing on up Tory into a strong westerly headwind I hugged the coast, proceeding to eddy-hop up the Arapaoa side of the channel, using the circulating water in the bays to help me against the fast flowing tide. At each rocky point I was pushed out by thick kelp patches into the racing current, having to up my stroke rate to break through the swirling water, but dipping back into the bays I was then propelled further up the channel by the strong eddies and closer to my goal. Here I started to come across recreational boats out for an afternoon of fishing in the deep green water and it was great to share nods of hello in what was otherwise a fairly isolated journey. Tucking up the inside one of the large salmon farms which dot the coast, a friendly seal took a break from sunning its flippers, rolling on its back and cruising close to check out the sleek hull of my boat. A nice connection with nature as, on rounding Tokakaroro point, the beautiful sight of Moioio Island greeted me from across the channel. This little island, once a Maori pā site, guards the mouth of Erie Bay. I was nearly home.
To gain the bay I now had to cross Tory against the outflowing tide, and I angled my boat across, in what was a long ferry glide pushing diagonally across the current. The strong flow slowed my forward progress significantly but with my goal in sight I was able to muster a surge of energy. Turning into the bay and towards our beach, calling from the far side, the wind now swung around behind me and I powered my way across the gap. Small figures materialised on the shore and I whooped as I ate up the last of the distance. My daughter Ruby, had swum out to meet me, her smiling face a fitting welcome to how I felt. After pausing to share a moment with her I continued to the beach, closing the loop and stopping the clock. 6 hours and 38 minutes after I had set out on my journey, my circumnavigation of Arapaoa was complete.
In an effort to stay true to my goal of a non-stop circumnavigation, at no time did I step foot on dry land, save for the start and finish of my journey, with just a couple of shallow water pauses to answer the call of nature and swap out hydration bladders. I was unsupported and carried all of my own supplies for the entirety of the trip. The only company was a quick sightseeing visit from my family at the Tory Heads, but I received no assistance of any sort, only well wishes.
Part of any adventure is a solid safety plan and along with doing my research and ensuring favourable conditions I carried the following:
PLB, smoke flare, portable VHF radio, waterproofed phone, large heavyweight windproof Neoprene top(big enough to pull over lifejacket at sea) windbreaker, emergency blanket, small first aid kit, duct tape, rudder repair gear, emergency food.
While my approach was fast and light, there was still plenty of time to pause and take in the magic of my surroundings. I always come away from these trips with a fresh appreciation of just how lucky we are to have these wild places. We have an obligation to guard and nurture these taonga so that our children inherit a world where this is not lost.
Tim Sutton January 2022
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