Feature: Kayaking in Doubtful Sound, New Zealand
“Looks Doubtful,” said the great explorer Captain Cook when sighting the dramatic sound on his explorations around New Zealand in 1770. The famous voyager, Cook was unsure that his ship would be able to sail through the long inlet and make a safe exit back to sea, so he decided to sail on past, naming the area Doubtful Harbour, later renamed Doubtful Sound.
I was here in New Zealand’s Doubtful Sound, luckily not here to sail a gigantic ship through, but to kayak down. A ‘sound’ is a large sea channel or inlet that is like a fiord, only wider and deeper. I looked around me at the deep brooding dark green cliffs that rose majestically on both sides, and the cavernous dark water that lay as flat and still as a sheet of glass, except that I could not even see an inch below the surface.
At 421 meters deep, Doubtful is the deepest of New Zealand’s sounds and is 40.4 kilometres long. It is unusual in that it contains two distinct layers of water that scarcely mix. The top few meters is fresh water, fed from the surrounding mountains, and stained brown with tannins from the forest. Below this, is a layer of cold, heavy, saline water from the sea. The dark tannins in the fresh water layer means that light cannot penetrate through, causing many deep-sea creatures to live in the shallow depths of the sound.
Maori legend says that this colossal sound was created by the godly figure Tu Te Raki Whanoa. It is said that four young sea gods assisted him by carving the fiord’s long, sheltered arms. I looked around at the rolling mountains on either side, soft and carpeted in thick rainforest, thinking that they did seem to caress protectively around the channel just like arms.
It was early morning when we silently slid our kayaks out into the cold dark water, cloaked in an eerie mist and rising steam from the surface. I could definitely see why it has been nicknamed ‘the Sound of Silence’, nothing moved and there was an unnatural quality about the quietness that enveloped us.
My friend Tom and I stepped into our bright yellow two-person kayak and followed our group of about five kayaks and leader Emma into the water, our paddles dipping and splashing around. “You need to keep time,” shouted Tom, his voice seeming to echo off the cliffs from all directions. “One, two, one, two,” he yelled like some kind of army sergeant. “Sshhh,” I whispered not wanting to disturb the revered silence of the sound. “Listen”.
Out here among such natural beauty I began to feel so small and insignificant. The mist had cleared now and the sun was rising above the mountains, hot and strong, we were skimming the surface now with speed, our paddles effortlessly slicing through the black glass abyss.
“Although it may not seem like it now,” shouted our guide Emma, from in front, “Doubtful Sound is teeming with life. It’s home to the southernmost populations of bottle-nose dolphins, fur seals, penguins and even whales, so keep your eyes open.” I felt a large Humpback whale wouldn’t feel out of place here, gracefully arching its body like a sea serpent from below, catching you unaware, its fluke majestically painted against the craggy tops of the mountains.
We continued on with ever increasing speed now passed gushing waterfalls and bottle-green rainforests when I noticed a dark flash pass below my paddle. Was it a dolphin? I thought to myself or something stranger. I image that the Loch Ness Monster would feel very at home here. I heard shouts from in front from the other members of our group. “Look, what is it?” and “There it is again”.
We all stopped and as if right on cue a long wet brown furry face popped up from the depths below. “This is a fur seal,” said Emma proudly. His curious button like eyes stood transfixed staring at us. After a few minutes we continued on, grabbing our paddles and working our muscles once more. Soon we noticed that we were still not alone, the little fur seal had began to follow us, darting in and out of each kayak, jumping over paddles then hiding deep below the surface, only to reappear again somewhere else.
As we reached the end of our trip we were to transfer onto a large boat for lunch, the seal had decided to lose us, continuing on its way. On board we were served with sandwiches and drinks and set on the deck looking out at the awe-inspiring view of the sound. It was then that we noticed a dark shape arching out of the water and swimming towards the boat. Was it the seal again? But not this was bigger. As it approached I could see it was a lone bottle-nose dolphin, diving and jumping, cutting through the mirror-like surface. Having been silently wishing for a dolphin to appear ever since Emma mentioned it to me, this moment was the pinnacle of the trip for me until Emma said ‘Anyone for a swim?”
Swimming in one of the most beautiful bodies of water I had ever seen, with a dolphin, did I ever. Almost as soon as she’d said it Tom and I and a few others in the group had stripped down to our swim suits and we preparing to dive into the unknown. I couldn’t see a thing, but decided to take a leap of faith and dove straight in head first. The water hit me like a million needles poking into my skin; it was the coldest I had ever felt in my life. My lips began to chatter and my nails turned blue and the dolphin was nowhere to be seen, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t in my kayak anymore it was just me in Doubtful Sound. Me, a small inconsequential person in a great vast world.
