Sorry. Childish title, I know. Couldn’t resist.
It was finally time for our long awaited whale watching trip in Kaikoura, and I was dying to see some sperm (whales)! I’ve always wanted to see a whale in the wild, and supposedly this is the perfect place to do it. There is no specific season to spot whales here – some species, such as humpback and orcas, are dependent on certain times of year, but you are pretty much guaranteed to spot a sperm whale or two at any time.
The reason that whales, and indeed many other marine mammals, congregate in this specific area is the underwater topography. The Kaikoura canyon is a deep underwater trench which drops rapidly to around 2km deep just off the coast, and forms the southern-most point of the enormous Hikurangi Trench. This creates a rare system of currents funnelling an abundance of marine life into one point. This rich source of food becomes the ideal feeding grounds for the larger predators such as whales and dolphins.
Our whale cruise wasn’t due to start until 12:45, so we had a few hours to kill in Kaikoura first. We grabbed some lunch and had a brief mooch around the shops, before exploring the beach. The rocky beaches here are a scavengers dream, with all manner of shells and bones being washed up among the driftwood. We managed to spot the remains of two small sharks and a local Kaikoura crayfish on the foreshore while making our way to Whale Watch at the end of the beach.
I had booked this trip on the GetYourGuide website months before, and we arrived twenty minutes early, at 12:20, just as the instructions said. However, it turns out that GYG seem to consistently get their timings wrong, and we now had another hour to waste before the bus would arrive to take us to the waiting boats. Kate never misses a chance for a quick Power Nap, so as she grabbed a few zeds on a bench, we returned to the beach for a bit more scavenging.
Eventually our bus arrived and we were whisked away to the waiting boat. We were informed that the earlier trip had been lucky enough to spot a pair of sperm whales that had been frequenting the bay in recent weeks, so our hopes were high.
The swells off the coast here are fairly large, and we were glad to finally come to a stop about 15 minutes offshore, just as everybody had started to turn slightly green. The captain dropped the hydrophone in the water to listen for approaching whales, as everyone trained their eyes on the surrounding waters in the hope of being the first to spot a tell-tale blowhole spurting on the horizon.
Within 15 minutes a whale had been spotted, and we were invited to very quickly return to our seats so that we could get to the correct spot. Cue much frantic shuffling from the more vintage passengers as they slowly returned to their seats amid the urgent glares of the already seated younger crowd, eager to spend as much time as possible alongside the surfaced whale, before he disappeared once again. These whales only surface for somewhere between 5 and 15 minutes in between diving sessions to reoxygenate and digest their prey, so time was of the essence. One particularly angry looking chap looked like he was about to sling the shuffliest of the grandmas over his shoulder and deposit her in her seat to speed the process up, but luckily he refrained. With everyone finally safe in their seats, we hurtled across the bay and before long we were within 50 feet of a majestic sperm whale as he lay on the water. These impressive beasts are the largest of the toothed whales, and indeed the largest toothed predator on the planet. This particular one was known to his friends as MTR260. A very catchy name I know: they’re imaginative people these marine biologists! It actually refers to his tail as this is how they recognise the different whales, and it stands for Missing Tip Right (MTR), and the 26th whale they have recorded with this particular characteristic.
It’s incredible to finally see one of these guys out in the wild, gently blowing streams of air and water into the sky as it relaxes in the sunshine. Sadly, it didn’t last long. Within 4 minutes the captain gave us the heads-up that this gentle giant was about to dive, and we should ready our cameras if we wanted to capture the iconic tail shot as he slipped downwards into the briny deep once again.
MTR260 had been hanging out with another sperm whale while in the area, so we waited around for 15 minutes in the hope of spotting his buddy having a breather, but unfortunately without any luck. He had probably surfaced and disappeared again while we were all busily annoying his pal. The dive cycles of sperm whales can last around an hour, so to avoid wasting the rest of our time at sea waiting for a whale that may never show, the crew instead took us up the coast in the hope of spotting a few other marine mammals. There was supposedly a population of around two thousand dolphins living in the area. We very quickly found ourselves in the middle of a huge pod, and I kid you not when I say that it seemed like every single one of those two thousand were out and about, enjoying the sunshine and willingly performing tricks for anyone who cared to watch. There were pods of dolphins everywhere you looked, ranging in size from ten, all the way up to what seemed like hundreds. There were some common dolphins in their number, but most of them were Dusky Dolphins. It was amazing to watch them swim alongside the boat, diving effortlessly in and out of the water in huge groups. And if you looked into the distance, the water was alive with them in every direction. We were also treated to a few fur seals relaxing in the water, casually smashing their fishy catches on the surface to stun them before wolfing them down.
Unfortunately our time was up, and as we returned to shore we were lucky enough to spot a giant albatross soaring lazily above the waves. What a day, and one more amazing creature tucked off the bucket list.
As we left Kaikoura, driving south along the coast road, we spotted several fur seals lounging on the rocks below. When a suitable parking space appeared at the side of the highway, we chanced our luck and explored the rocky shore below. I’m glad we did. The rocks were littered with fur seals, basking in the sunshine, and not a soul in sight to bother them. Apart from us now of course, but we tried not to get too close, so we didn’t spook them back into the water. The beach was also flush with multi-coloured Paua shells, and even the remains of seals who had perished here – although we obviously left those where they lay.
That night we stayed in New Brighton on the outskirts of Christchurch. The following morning we grabbed a coffee and perused the local makers market by Brighton Pier, managing to pick up a souvenir or two while Bam indulged in some free face painting. Hunter and I had been interested in finding a traditional carved greenstone pendant while in New Zealand, and we finally found a chap selling some traditionally carved examples at the right price. Not only that, but he was able to tell us exactly where the stones used to make our individual carvings had been retrieved. Hunters stone was picked from the Arahura riverbed, whereas mine hailed from the Douglas Creek at the foot of the Douglas Glacier in Canterbury.
Next stop was the small and unassuming fishing village of Moeraki. This erstwhile whaling station has one main claim to fame – the eponymous enormous balls from my childish blog title. The Moeraki Boulders, or Devil’s Marbles as they have been colloquially termed, are huge spherical stones scattered along a small portion of the beach just outside the village. They are technically Septarian Concretions, and exist within the clay cliffs themselves. They were formed millions of years ago on the seabed, in a complicated geological process which I barely understand. The “septaria” are veins of crystallised calcite which radiate outwards from the hollow centre creating their turtle-shell like appearance. They have been slowly exhumed from the cliff faces and scattered on the sand below by the process of coastal erosion. Therefore, as the visible ones slowly deteriorate, so more will gradually appear from the mud as the cliffs recede. Even though they are protected as part of a scientific reserve, you are free to climb all over them if you wish.
Once again, it’s refreshing to be able to get this up close and personal with a protected monument, and people seem to accordingly treat them with respect. Unlike in the UK where I guess they would inevitably be placed behind a 50 metre cordon in order to protect them from mindless vandalism.
As we left Moeraki, we were due to head away from the East coast as we made our way towards the dramatic West coast. We decided to make one more wildlife based detour to the Katiki Historic Reserve, where we had been told we might spot some small yellow-eyed penguins. Unfortunately our information was not correct, and there were no penguins to be seen. The good news, however, was that we stumbled upon an enormous colony of New Zealand fur seals on the rocks below the lighthouse, who were perfectly comfortable sharing their home with respectful visitors. There were scuba-clad frogmen searching for shellfish in the water as seals dived for their dinner next to them. Fishermen cast their lines from the rocks as seals swam below. And walkers strolled casually along the unmarked paths, while these furry sea mammals lounged all around and waddled their way from one side of the headland to the other.
I think the official guidelines were to not put yourself within ten metres of the seals, but in reality you’ve got to gauge it on the individual animal. If they are visibly bothered by your presence, then back off, even if that’s at a distance of 25 metres. Some seal mums had their pups around and were understandably less willing to be enclosed by snap-happy tourists. Whereas some of the big old males couldn’t care less if you stood right behind them for a selfie.
All in all, I wasn’t that bothered about the lack of penguins – this was an encounter I hadn’t expected and felt privileged to have experienced.
That was it for the East coast, it was time to head across country to Fiordland, and the towering majesty of the Southern Alps – Milford Sound here we come.