31 January 2017 - Elaine Bay Reserve , Marlborough Sounds

Despite the fact there was raucous happiness immediately outside our van last night, I fell asleep immediately on retiring and the night passed without event. In fact I would have to say that the one hundred or more campers surrounding us, all about forty years younger than us, behaved very well and apart from the odd soft drink can about this morning and the sight of one urinating behind the builders’ storage container, they really could not be faulted. Congratulations Nelson City Council for being proactive and at least containing this otherwise free-spirited group of travellers in one spot. The port-a-loos had been serviced by the time Chris wandered over to check them out, which was just as well, because they had been at flood level the night before. And as regards the freedom pee-er, we sternly told him off, and when he said “sorry” in his thick foreign accent, we expressed our doubt that he was sorry but told him that the behaviour was unacceptable. I suspect he made some derogatory remark to his fellows about those fuddy-duddy motorhomers!

Morning coffee at Cable Bay

We wandered over to the nearby Countdown supermarket for a few provisions, topped up our water using a jerry can, refilled with gas, dumped, and headed north on the road toward Picton and Blenheim. Just before reaching Hira, we turned north and drove to Cable Bay, the spot where the first telegraphic cables from Australia were brought ashore in 1876. Offshore lies Pepin Island with its high peak of Stuart Hill reaching 401 metres ASL, a geographic feature that looks rather odd in its surroundings. On the eastern side is the sand bank Maori Pa beach which seems to enclose one side of the estuary, and on the other was the causeway on which we parked which also seems to act as a barrier to the sea. In realty there is no such barrier; the rise in the tide during the time we were there, just long enough to have our morning coffee, belied the fact that this was an entirely enclosed body of water. 

Retracing our route we were soon back out on the main highway, which winds its way up over the Bryant Range crossing the Whangamoa Saddle then later the Rai Saddle before coming down into the Rai Valley. There we stopped beside the river for lunch and with cellphone access once more, returned a couple of missed calls. We suspected it might be the last time we would have such access for a while, however we found later we were quite wrong. There are pockets of internet through the Sounds after all.

Here we headed north once more, climbing up over the Rongo Saddle, somewhere near the mountain of the same name that stands 801 metres high. The road, while sealed, is windy and steep and does nothing for car sickness, although these days that tends to manifest itself with yawns rather than the more vulgar option. We then dropped down steeply into lovely Okiwi Bay, a little armpit in the narrow inlets that harbour these sheltered spots. A lively discussion about the definition of “sounds” versus “fiords” arose and we allowed google to mediate between us:

In geography, a sound is a large sea or ocean inlet larger than a bay, deeper than a bight, and wider than a fjord…… a  sound is often formed by the sea's flooding a river valley. This produces a long inlet where the sloping valley hillsides descend to sea-level and continue beneath the water to form a sloping sea floor. The Marlborough Sounds in New Zealand are a good example of this type of formation.

So there you have it. 

The wharf below our camp at Elaine Bay

We continued on up and over another range, the Croiselles Harbour below us to the west and Mt McLean at 725 metres ASL to the east. Soon we descended into lovely Elaine Bay on our right, this which opens out into the Tennyson Inlet. Our DOC booklet advised us that the camp was at the end of the road we turned into, however we discovered instead this little reserve above the wharf, which will serve us well. Perhaps this is the official camp, perhaps not; either way we are settled up for the night, the wind buffeting us and alongside, two little whizz-bang vans and a car, the latter with tenting folk nearer our age than the young people sitting in the ground eating either a very late lunch or a very early dinner. In fact I suspect these folk eat only twice a day and the meals are best left unnamed.