Special Broadcast: I saw a Wild Kiwi!!!

Sunday 17th January

I stumbled into a wild kiwi!!!

On my last day of hiking through the forests of Stewart Island.

I was into the last hour of the track. I'd been making good time since the hut. Most of my food was gone- I'd finished the last of my bread for breakfast, leaving me with a couple of cereal bars and an old bag a gummy bears. I needed to get back for lunch, preferably for some of the Kai Kart's beautiful, fresh, fish n chips. I was steaming along. The last to leave the hut, again, I wasn't due to be the last to reach Oban. I kept passing small groups with each kilometre. 5 hours to get to Obam? Nah, I can do it in 3. The route is relatively flat, and much of it is quite straight, if muddy.

Minding my own business, just thinking of stuff, trundling along... then something brown ran off the track and into the bush.

This area was straight for 200 yards. If I'd been looking at the track I'd have seen it long ago. Yet clearly neither of us was concentrating- we'd been a few feet from one another.

And there she was, under a log. I whistled a couple of bird calls- I've been using that trick a few times here, to make the birds think it's safe. Make it sound as though someone else has been brave enough to be the first to emerge after this strange man appeared. 

The she began to look around at the ground. She started prodding her beak into the ground, sniffing for insects in the muddy ground. In truth, at first, I'd wondered if she was a Weka- I've seen plenty of them, and they've a similar size, shape, and colour to a kiwi. But not the nose, they're smart and adaptable, but not so specialised as a kiwi (maybe why there's so many of them), scratching at the ground like a chicken in search of grubs. Once I saw this behaviour from the dark silhouette under the fallen tree I finally knew I was seeing my first wild kiwi.

Becoming more confident she emerged, as I filmed, from under the tree, prodding around for her lunch. Occasionally she would toss her head back, swallowing a delicious find with glee, before returning to the hunt.

Yet as she moved there was something wrong.

The first kiwi I ever saw was in Wellington zoo. Here they have a kiwi that only has one leg. He hops around in a manner that still worries me (he deserves a prosthetic), foraging in his enclosure as the public watch.

Equally I've seen lame chicken and ducks, even treating a few.

My kiwi was walking in a similar manner. Her right foot was swollen and she wasn't putting weight on it properly. Above the swelling was a small metal ring- an ID ring, evidently made too small for her eventual large size. She was quite big for a kiwi.

I would later go and tell the Department of Conservation officers. Next week there's a team coming in to look at the local population and treat any as necessary. Having a rough idea of were she was, and being territorial, it shouldn't be too hard for them to pick her up in the nearby area. 

She looked to be eating well and was still getting about on the foot so I'm not too concerned, DoC will sort her out. 

(NB- normally seeing a naturally nocturnal animal, such as a kiwi, in the day time, means it's in real trouble. Yet on Stewart Island they frequently come out during the day, particularly after heavy rain when the ground is soft and the insects are more active. It a feeding frenzy and they're not energy going to let the sun stop them!)

As time went by she happily carried on eating from a fruitful patch of leaf litter. In my view, however, along the path, appeared a number of my fellow walkers, from either direction. Thank goodness the path was straight here. I quietly waved my hands, put a finger to my lips, mouthed 'Kiwi', before pointing to the little brown fluffy volley ball rustling through the undergrowth.

Getting the message each party gathered cameras from pockets quickly but quietly, tip toeing towards me smiling. Muted gasps followed before cameras were raised and shots taken. Everyone was quiet, slow, and no one used a flash- we were all on our best behaviour to keep the little delight amongst us. She look it all in her hobbling stride, mooching about, scouring the mud for more crunchy snacks. We all shifted as she moved, no one wanting to leave. The group had grown to 11 people all staring in amazement.

Eventually she wandered off into the forest, though not with much grace. A fallen sapling of many branches barred her way. She took a leap at it, attempting to get through the branches. Most of her made it. But not the giant feet. They were lodged for a moment and wiggled, reminding me Yoda jumping head first into Luke Skywalker's supplies the first time they meet, or when the chickens get sent head first into something in Chicken Run. She wiggled through and went off on her way to see what else the damp weather had brought up.

Day 41-43: Stewart Island 3 day hike

Friday 15th-Sunday 17th January

My three days (well, nearly, didn't take that long) around the forests of Stewart Island with some really weird, annoying, people.

Distance: 42km

Total Distance: 5175km

Ok, what's that racket? How can you all be such terrible people? It wasn't so bad in the morning or the evening when you were all just grumpy and unsociable. But now...

Is that ticking? Who TICKS in their sleep. Seriously. Ooh, they've stopped. No they've started again. They're like a human metronome. It would be impressive if it wasn't so F!@£?ing annoying.

And not one but two snorers? One normal, rhythmic, quieter snorer, the other an occasional hippo impression thrown in for good measure.

Then there's someone whispering in their sleep. Some how load enough to hear, but not enough to understand.

And evidently you can't sleep through this either, eh? The man apparently sleeping under 3 sleeping bags, made of alternating layers of tin foil and crepe paper who insists in turning over every 5 minutes.

Add screams and gnashing of teeth and this would be a soundscape for an Hieronymus Bosch painting. I'm tempted to complete that ensemble...

Sod it, I'm going to the toilet. Maybe the cool breeze outside will refresh me.

Stewart Island's a lovely place. There are plenty of birds here- many that are rare in the rest of New Zealand. The terrain and forests aren't all that so different from many other parts of the country though- maybe muddier in places, but that's about it. Hence, if we're honest, I'd suggest not doing the long 3 day "Great Walk" here and instead staying in the lovely hostels and hotels of Oban and doing some day walks, or going out fishing on a boat. Two older ladies just came into the hostel having caught 20 blue cod and a shark between them in an afternoon!

But I'm probably biased. Here's my "Great Walk" experience.

Day one was cold, slightly windy, and pretty wet. I wasn't really in the mood, but the walk was due to be short so I could wait until lunch time, when the worst of the weather would be gone. 

As I started out from Oban the skies were grey and dull. Over roads and along beaches I headed for Lee Bay where I'd start the true walk.

From here it was just all forests, small hills, and coast line. Plus sand flies. I hate sand flies.

Not much to report, I'm afraid. 

Tired and wet I was glad to get to the first hut, Port William. Up on the white board there were reports of Kiwi sightings nearby- this is the real reason to come here. There are supposedly a few that appear around the hut, as well as on a beach 20 minutes north. 

A few small groups were sat around the communal tables as I entered. I smiled, said hello, made a joke about how grateful I was to get away from the sand flies... And was met with stoney faces or grumpy boringness. What a crowd. I miss the hostel.

I read for a little while, wrote a little, ate some bread and cheese, then went to bed. Not much else to do.

At midnight I awoke and went out to brush my teeth. On the higher land where the grass met the sand 4 young Germans sat in the dark, waiting for Kiwis to appear.

"Seen anything yet?", I whispered.

"Just Possums", they moaned.

As I made my way to the sink I realised what they meant, damn things are everywhere, right by your feet. Doubting I'd see any kiwis I went back to bed.

The next morning I had less than 6 hours of walking to do. Thus, unlike everyone else, and unlike my usual morning, I had a long lie in. It didn't matter when I left.

As the rest exited I began breakfast (bread, cheese, nutty cereal bar), repacked everything, filled water bottles. Once set I ran outside, slammed on my boots and gaiters as the sandflies descended, then took off before they began to bleed me dry.

A simple muddy stumble over a hill into the forest today.

I do like walking at these times. When one learns to let go of trying to control everything, realising one can't think it all through- my spinal cord kicks in and my legs tell me that they work better on auto pilot. They create a rhythm of their own, I don't have to think about it. I'm orchestrating events, but not controlling them. A rider, not the steed. The world goes by as my legs pound along and my mind is free to think about other things.

By 4 o'clock I was at the second hut, having passed a few groups on the way, climbed a fallen tree, done a little sunbathing, taken photos, seen old timber mill sights, watched the birds, and eaten the last of my jelly babies.

Hmmm...6 hours until bed time. What to do?

I finished my present book, read two more short ones, and started another, whilst finishing my cheese and most of the bread. There were a few less grumpy and boring people around, a mature family having joined us, but it wasn't much of a change.

Eventually I went to bed.

Hut beds are just two large platforms between three walls, one above another, with mattresses for each person, most usually with each having their head closest to the edge.

I'd secured a spot next to the wall, so I'd only have another person on one side, leaving me near to the well insulated wall and ceiling, as well as giving space by the wall for my necessities- light, kindle, phone, Walter Knitty.

Here I slept in my thermals, too warm to need my sleeping bag, listening to the cacophony that was my neighbours. 

In the morning there was only "5 hours" to do back to Oban. Again I was the last to leave the hut, but I passed many groups as I ranked up the gears on the flatter ground, heading towards lunch, a shower, and clean clothes.

Then I stopped.

Kiwi!!!

As documented in my previous post, I stumbled, with every bit of luck I could conjure, upon a kiwi. Well done me.

So in the end it was all worth it. I'd been hoping to see more of the island's birds, and whilst this wasn't true for much of the trip in the end I got my kiwi.

Some say it's the journey, not the destination that's important.

This weekend the journey wasn't fun, but the destination was worth it. 

I've seen a kiwi that lives wild and free.

That's good enough for me.

Day 23: Lake Mahinapua, I'm Gandalf, Poo Pub, and swimming again

Monday 28th December

Lemon scented trash bag Gandalf visits the Poo Pub

Distance: bus, 151km

Total Distance: 3866km

Our first trip today was to the Pancake Rocks and Blowhole, a formation of limestone on the coast which has a strongly striated pattern horizontally, and is also being eroded to create blowholes. These are much more impressive at high tide, but we were there half way to low tide, still good to see though.

We then stopped in Greymouth for bin bags. Why? Because we were off to a party at the Poo Pub? Where? It's a pub once owned by an old man who loved having KE to stay, but died a few years ago. The pub was bought by the founder of KE, revamped, and is now where everyone goes for a party. Out near a beautiful, if brown, Lake Mahinapua, where we would go for a quick swim with photos taken by Flea, missing the few eels present.

The bin bags were for the party. That was the theme, so we all made costumes out of plastic bags and tape. 

I was to be Gandalf the Grey, with grey, lemon scented bags for robes, a white bag for beard, a random Mexican sombrero covered in grey bags for hat, a drift wood staff, and my inflatable camping lantern at the tip of the staff. It wasn't going to win fashion awards, and Weta Workshop would never be proud, but in the pub it worked really well. Everyone guessed who I was straight away and raved about the light on the end of my staff.

We had a great party that carried on until the early hours. I gave up the beard, hat, and staff after a few hours as I sweated through the evening. Yet as people began to leave I went to find it again. Between the pub and the lake is a side trail that takes 30 minutes instead of the 8 minute route straight to the lake. With the lantern on my staff I decided to have a quick evening stroll through the forest. It's a much different place in black and white when all you can see are the plants either side of the track. 

Eventually I reached the lake, turned round, and took the 8 minute track back to the hostel. Here the light was switched off. In the undergrowth next to the road were multiple tiny points of glowing light. Glow worms! Like the ones I had seen in the caves on the North Island, but living in the bush. They were present all the way along the track, like the lights along an aeroplane's aisles. It was bizarre, quaint, and beautiful. 

Day 22: Hitchhiking, KE back together, swimming, Westport

Sunday 27th December 

Hitchhiked for the first time with the power of positive thinking, before being reunited with friends from the Kiwi Bus, and on to building a drift wood beach fire at Westport

Distance: Walk 2km, hitchhiking, 13km, bus, 240km

Total Distance: 3715km 

Early start to start the walk back to Kaiteriteri where the Kiwi Experience bus was. 12km to walk. It wasn't far having done Abel Tasman, but then it was far having just done Abel Tasman. Another 12km by 11:30am? Only if I have to.

The power of positive thinking is a great thing. No, I'm not turning into a hippy. Well, maybe I am. Anyway, as a Briton hitchhiking seemed like such a strange concept. As I walked a few cars passed me and I sheepishly put out a thumb. Nothing. Fair enough, I wouldn't stop either. Then I remembered how far it was. Hitchhiking is something that happens a lot here, a few people see the whole country that way. I deserved to be picked up. Plenty of people would be going my way. Stand tall, put out a thumb and grab a ride, easy.

As soon as I'd decided on a positive attitude the next car to pass picked me up. That simple. See, The Power of Positive thinking. I'll stop being a hippy now.

They were a German couple in a rental car exploring NZ. We had a chat about living here and their travels before parking in Kaiteriteri. We said our good byes, Merry Christmas, and my thanks, then they went off for breakfast. I went off to the hostel and to find the KE crew.

The Europeans I was on the north of the North Island were there! I never though I'd see them again, the times weren't going to match up. But with a few extra days they'd reached this point just before Christmas and stayed. It's been great being back with them, catching up and joking around like we did a week ago. There's also a solid Northern British contingent here so I've had a good few chats with them too, catching up with home news and views, as well as the usual crap Young British lads talk.

Our new bus driver is called Flea (aka Felicity), and has been driving for KE for years. She now has a photography business, but takes a bus or two at busy times of year, as well as doing the promo photos for KE. Hence she has a great camera and was always looking for perfect shots of us all.

Today we were travelling to the ex-gold mining town of Westport, famous for surfing. On the way we stopped off at a Lake. Here we all jumped off the jetty as its a great view, getting Flea a fair few shots of us jumping.

Then they attacked.

There was a colony of BIG eels hiding under the jetty, in the shade. One of the Danish guys was trying to climb out of the water onto the jetty when he kicked one. Three times. Idiot. The eel sunk its 3 rows of teeth into the top of the inside of his thigh. It didn't take a full bite, just a nip. Enough to draw blood, leaving a nice mark in a nice place for him to show off by lifting the leg of his swimming shorts in a worrying manner.

After that everyone was much more careful, keeping away from the school near the jetty. Well, everyone but moi. I took my waterproof camera and went down to get some blurry videos of them sitting around. As I had seen done in the Waitomo caves I also splashed the water surface. They all stared at me. 2 big ones began to move towards me. I backed off.

At the end of the day we got to Westport, once one of New Zealand's largest towns, during the years of the gold rush. However some fool decided to put all of the spoils from the mines into the harbour, blocking it up, leaving Westport with minimal gold and no port. It's now a little town with a large coal mine, which was mentioned to us as they recently had one of NZ's largest mining disasters there, with over 30 men killed, but due to the poisonous gases down there their bodies have still not been recovered.

We stayed in a nice hostel, finding our beds and having a spot of dinner before taking our KE coach down to the beach. Here we saw the sun set and a golden full moon rise whilst sat around a drift wood fire. I shared a box of beers with the Danish guys, chatted some more with the Brits, and caught up with the friends I'd started KE with. It was a good night, finished off with a quick trip to the local pub.

Day 8: Cape Reinga (Most Northerly Point on NZ), Sandboarding, and 90 mile Beach (Dead whale too)

Sunday 13th December

Tonto and I took a bus tour north to the top tip of NZ

Distance: 450km

Total Distance so far: 1718km

The morning began at 7am with a bus full of young people and a middle aged Australian who was hard of hearing- who had his dog with him! She was very well behaved until told not to be and let off the lead- at which point she'd travel up the bus for pats and cuddles, or to run in the surf when at the beach. 

We drove north through numerous townships mostly of historical significance. There was the site where the Waitangi Treaty was signed, the first place Pakeha organised to settle land in New Zealand (they were missionaries from Australia), the resting place of the Rainbow Warrior, Green Peace's ship sunk by the French, and we took a walk through a reminent of native forest using a board walk through the swamp built for Queen Elizabeth II for her 1990 visit. Our driver was amazingly knowledgable about the area and told us more than I can remember.

I'm not going to tell you a great deal about these places at present because

A) Wikipedia has a far better memory than me, as well as maps.

B) I can't spell all the place names

C) Happy Hour starts in less than an hour

I'll try write something interesting about it all in the future, but for now let's move on to Cape Reinga

At the tip of the North Island sits a little squat light house watching as the Pacific Ocean crashes against the Tasman Sea. The depth of the Ocean gives it a deeper, darker, hue compared to the lighter, greener, sea.

This place is vastly important to Maori culture. From here the spirits of the deceased are released from their mortal body. As a sacred place no food is allowed (as its disruptive to Mana, the spiritual force of Maori mythology).

The day wasn't as bright as one might have liked, but the rain receded enough to allow for some nice photos and a chance to wander around. 

We then moved on for lunch, going to a small cove which was slightly sheltered and inhabited by a roving pack of seagulls. The main road is high up on the ridge of the peninsula so driving down is slightly hairy in a large coach. Coming up wasn't much better, made worse by our having to swerve around a car parked up to help a group- who's rental car had taken a tumble of the edge of the road! It had flipped, but everyone looked well. We got waved at but if the coach stopped on the hill path it wouldn't start again. Therefore we carried on until the driver had radio reception. He contacted head office, the police, and the Department of Conservation. Someone else was able to help them and we carried on.

Just before 90 mile beach are ridiculously huge sand dunes. Probably about 50m high, may be more. 

These we climbed holding onto sand boards (body boards/mini surf boards/ironing boards without legs), before throwing ourselves onto them (keeping faces over the board, not in the sand) and hurtling down, using legs that are off the edge for "control". It's sledding for people who like sun, surf, and sand in your eyes. Swimming goggles or those goggles racing horse riders wear would have been very useful. I just had my glasses.

After 3 attempts our time was up. We patted the sand out of... Well, everywhere... And got back on the bus. After a short drive DOWN A RIVER we got onto the beach. Here, having found a spot the driver was sure wouldn't swallow the coach, we were released, as was the hearing dog. She charged off ahead of us all, storming the waves and scaring young women. The tide was going out, but the waves slid lazily out before crashing back in a far greater distance than the most keen travelers were prepared for. The screamed and shouted as they ran back in, trying to not get swamped, the dog deciding it was a great game.

The beach runs for 90 nautical miles, charted by Captain James Cook in his notes as the "90 mile desert", the beach being so big that from his ship he couldn't see its depth inland. We drove along the 55 (land) miles, at one point taking in the astonishing sight of a dead beached whale. It landed there a week ago and was significantly decomposed at this point. Shortly the Department of Conservation and local Maori will have a ceremony for the Whale. The bones will be taken for ceremonial purposes. The soft tissues will either be buried or allowed to feed the local wild life.

Finally we stopped off at a local "Fush n Chips" shop for the usual fresh fish. Similar to Britain, but fresher fish, smaller (manageable), portions, and far cheaper.

Tonight we'll have some R&R, then tomorrow I get a lie in, before going sailing at 9am.

Day 6: Joining Kiwi Experience with a Kiwi Experience

Day 6, Friday 11th December 

T avelling on the Kiwi Experience bus tour

Rotorua to Auckland

The whole team, plus a new bunch in the KE tour bus

On our way towards Bay of Islands and NZ's most northerly point

Distance: 229km

Total Distance: 981

I left not too bright and early from Rotorua, catching the KE bus going north. There's a random bunch of people on here from all over the world (still lots of English & Germans though). 

Had a good chat with a few before we dropped in at a large Kiwi hatchery. It was advertised as the place where one would get the closest experience possible with a Kiwi. I slightly take issue with that- there's a Kiwi in Napier Aquarium where they have a hatchery. The hatchery isn't on public display, but they do have a Kiwi. There's also a one legged Kiwi in Wellington Zoo- not sure why they haven't given him/her a prosthetic, I'm sure I know a couple of people who could. (Mammal-like bone structure too, including marrow, unlike most birds. Easy as. I'm sure they have a reason, Wellington Zoo has good Veterianry facilities.)

What I will say for the nursery near Rotorua though is that it's the best. The kiwis they have are in excellent enclosures and seemed much more lively than the others I've seen. (Napier Aquarium deserves more funding and Welli has one leg.) The hatchery and nursery were also great to see. 

The mother kiwi can lay 2 eggs per season, but each egg is HUGE. They are the equivalent of a 35lb baby fo a human (5year old child). 

After birth the father takes over (monogamous, so daddy and mummy share a territory for life), and sits on the egg for 80 day. This is how they find the eggs- the fathers are tagged. If he stays in one spot for a long time that's probably an egg. 

Naturally, at this point, the fathe leaves. The chicks squeaks and scratches its way out of the egg (no egg tooth) over the course of a week, making lots of noise for predators to hear. It quite often sleeps for long periods during the process. Each chick has an internalised yolk sack that acts as a feed source for 2 weeks before it needs to eat (a chicken's lasts 24 hours), giving it long enough to mature. Yeh, it's not long- they come out as mini-adults.

After all of this the wild survival rate is 5%. Not really enough. 

Ferrets used to kill 40,000 kiwis per year

There's 75,000 in the wild.

Time to bring in the humans.

Having tracked down the sitting kiwi the egg is retrieved after the fath has left.

It is brought into the hatchery where the shell is checked for cracks and the size of the air sack in the egg is measured- this indicates how old the chick is so gives a guide to how long until hatching.

After this the egg is placed in an incubator. Most eggs go in the large one that does everything- temperature control, air flow, turning the eggs. Similar model to that used to raise farm chickens, but for bigger eggs.

Special eggs that there might be concerns about are placed in slightly older models- still temperature controlled, but the turning has to be done manually. This means someone has to go and look at the eggs and check they are alright.

Eventually the chick with start to hatch. Most birds have an "egg tooth", a little toe bit of extra beak to break open the egg shell. Kiwis don't . They just have to hammer their way out of the egg, between sleeps, over the course of a week, until they emerge fully feathered, with giant feet and tiny wings. (Occasionally birds need help put most are allowed to hatch naturally). They get a dab of iodine on their navel, just like lambs and calves.

The nursery weighs them and puts them in a different incubator for them to adjust to life and eat their internal yolk.

Once they are judged medically sound they can be moved further. They get fed a combination of Hill's Science Plan Optimum Cat Food, with mixed veg, fruit, wheat germ, vitamins and minerals, rolled oats, few other bits mixed in to a soft blend. Yummy.

It's more nutritionally sound than just giving them the kilos of bugs they would naturally have, as well as cheaper and easier that's growing kilos of bugs. Each kiwi gets a wee dish of the mix. Once it finishes its share (some get a little h lo to start them off) they get "desert"- a blend of live bugs! Don't finish your main, don't get to play with your other food. Rules is rules.

They keep track of weights to ensure the little balls of fluff are growing properly. 

After they're sure they can hunt and live in the wild properly they are released to a "colony". Whilst each kiwi has a territory, they try to keep them in a specific area. This enables them to keep track of the kiwis and allows them to only have to look after a certain amount of land (as well as making kiwi match making easier)

In total the process costs NZ$2000-2500 (GB£1000-1250), from collection to release. In the wild it takes about NZ$100 per kiwi per year. They live for around 20-30 years, so per kiwi it's not cheap. Hence many of the kiwis are sponsored by companies. These sponsors are allowed to name the kiwis...but this is before they know the sex of the bird. 

Like many birds these days it is possible to take out 1 feather and do a PCR DNA test to find out if he is a she or she is a he. The test is becoming cheaper, but it's not very fast, taking weeks to get the results back. Hence Miss Steven and Miss Dugg.

At present they have 2 adults on site, a mating pair. Both very lively in their little forested enclosure, running about diggin for grubs and pruning themselves.

Tonto found one to ride into battle

We also had a wee drop into Matamata. The town used to be famous for horse breeding. With the filming of The Hobbit, however, the Hobbiton set was rebuilt nearby. This has given the area a tourist trade, to the point that they've had their information centre converted into a thatched cottage by Weta Workshop.

Tonto made a friend inside

Now I'm on a quiet, sleepy bus heading towards Auckland, watching Wedding Crashers, as the weather closes in.