Kayaking across Cook Strait
This is an account of a crossing of Cook Strait that I did a few years ago. It was published in KASK magazine.
Crossing Cook Strait in a wooden kayak with a greenland paddle and a fast paddling partner
On 18 April 2005 two kayakers completed a crossing of Cook Strait. There was nothing particularly spectacular about the effort other than I used a home built cedar strip kayak and a greenland paddle. And who said you need a rudder to cross Cook Strait or to qualify as a sea kayak??
In contrast Dave Fisher, my accomplice, used his partners' Quality kayak: 'Skua' with a rudder and all the sea kayak trimmings. Both boats performed well and if anything I had to dig deep at times to keep up with the ‘fleet’ Dave Fisher. Our crossing took 4.5 hours leaving from Makara and heading West past the Southern Brothers Island then North around Cape Koamaru.
While conditions weren't perfect on the day, the neapest of neap tides and a light sea state left over from a dying southerly, demanded the minimum of navigation and paddling skills. All we had to do was to keep those paddles moving.
Good conditions for crossing Cook Strait are most likely to be found with a large, moderate high pressure cell (1024hp) centered over Wellington. A number of successful crossings by swimmers seems to occur in March. Picking neap tides isn't a bad idea because that will minimize the impact of tidal currents.
Conditions that we weren’t looking for would be: jack rabbiting across Cook Strait before a front (nasty unpredictable systems that are usually preceded by gale force north west winds followed by a strong cold southerly wind. Fronts are best avoided ‘like the plague’) and I wasn’t interested much in any sort of a northerly which seem to only come in the ‘15 knots or more’ variety.
March 2005 came and went with a procession of fronts and as many ‘squirrelly’ ultra high pressure systems (1030hp) taunting us. [An ultra high pressure system can sometimes be as bad as a low pressure system. At 1030 hp, the gradient between the high pressure and anything else seems to produce strong winds].
So we just cooled our heels and waited and waited and waited. Indeed, saying we will have to wait for the next high was starting to wear thin. Then with the passing of daylight saving time, things were beginning to look like we wouldn’t be paddling across Cook Strait this year, at least.
But on the 18 April we got most of the weather forecast that we were looking for and ‘went for it’
Getting to Makara was a blurr of throwing gear together and packing kayaks onto the car early in the morning. The early start still didn’t get us acrossWellington city before the morning rush hour traffic. The usual rat race route to Makara via Aro street and down though a wicked zig-zag and on through to Karori was blocked by street works. A handy detour sign guided us to the left in which seemed to be a likely alternative route. But then the red detour signs took us left again (“ hmmm must be a bit of a gully … it will go right soon”). But then the red arrows took us left and then left again in a huge unnecessary loop. Finally we got back on track, heading to our launch point, but dizzy after a waste of a good 15 minutes driving time.
Sometimes starting is the hardest part.
Relieved to have finally arrived at Makara, our launching point for the crossing Dave stands besides his carbon/kevlar quality kayaks 'Skua' with all the accessories (and more) on deck. In contrast the pirates homemade cedar strip Nick Schade Guillemot Expedition Single was dressed for ocean conditions with the decks mostly clean.
Controversy: NO DECKLINES. The pirate figures that if you can't roll: you drown. If you end up in the water and can't get back into the boat ... you will drown. Decklines might be ok for clipping yourself to the boat so they can find the body. Clasping decklines from mid-ship in rough water: the boat will be dragged out of your clasp espcially if you are cold and tired. Your best chance of maintaining contact with the boat is to hold onto the loops at the bow or stern.
Assisted rescue - holding onto the cockpit is your best chance of helping somebody - clutching onto a piece of string perimeter line anywhere else being remotely better??... please you have to be kidding yourself! [pirate opinion]
Consequently it was a relief to finally get to Makara, unload the kayaks off the car, park the car outside a friends place and then rig up our paddling apparel (today I was wearing a home made tuilik in a suitably high viz red with a dorky but sunsmart white hat and shorts. Dave was wearing a nice paddle jacket with a sensible red hat – I don’t know why anybody needs to know this because the only things that would be seeing us would be a lonely fishing trawler heading south – in the distance, albatross, shearwaters, cape pigeons and a few curious dolphins that came over to check us out as we neared the Brothers Islands).
Starting the journey, we jumped the Makara 'Bar' and headed out to sea. The tip of the South Island, New Zealand is basically straight ahead some 16.5 nautical miles away.
The crossing progressed rather swimmingly (for someone who was sitting snug and dry in a kayak tracking across the ground at 4+ knots). One of the many thoughts that crossed my mind during our crossing was: “bugger swimming this”. It must be a long, long, lonely slog for those swimmers that cross Cook Strait. Those ‘Cook Strait swimmers’ must truly be a hearty breed.
Dave and I shot out of Makara Bay at close to 5 knots gps but deliberately tempered our enthusiasm with a unanimous decision to settle the pace down to a touch over 4 knots (saving something in reserve?). We also agreed to have a rest break every hour to have a snack. This carved our crossing into quarters. With the passing of each hour, we ran down another 4 NM and the Brothers Islands got progressively closer and closer.
Half way across Cook Strait with Arapawa Island (eastern tip of Queen Charlotte Sound) dead ahead. Cape Koamaru, our target is the point to the right. The Swell forecast was "1m swell easing" .... YEAH, RIGHT!!!!!!
A light-moderate stern quarter wind made conditions slightly lively and slowed our pace a little. It was actually fun bobbing and swooping about and for once I could really say that I was a ‘sea kayaker.’ But the conditions were otherwise comfortable. Timing our run to be halfway across at slack water seemed to be working excellently. A transit of theBrothers Island light with Cape Koamaru indicated that we were hardly being pushed sideways off course and everything was on track. I stopped monitoring my gps only to check our speed over the ground every now and then.
Instead I kept a look out for imaginary sharky fins that I didn’t see. I saw plenty of suspicious looking bits of seaweed though. There was a good variety of seabirds including a few albatrosses to test my bird identification skills. One little cape pigeon flew right across my bows several times and then almost clonked himself on the bow itself. Gee that wouldn’t read well and I wouldn’t even begin to know how to tell the designer, Nick Schade, that among other things his “Guillemot [expedition single] had skewered a cape pigeon in the southern ocean”.
Approaching the Southern 'Brother' ( we were most of the way there!) things started to liven up - dolphins visited us, the seashore gull species joined the oceanic albatross that we had been seeing and currents started to affect our progress. We encountered a big rip doing the best imitation of a grade two rapid at the southern end of the South Brother. Evasive manouvres (paddling to the south - left of the picture for 5 minutes to skirt around the worst of the rip) had to be taken before heading to round Cape Koamaru (to the right, background).
The sea life picked up as we neared the Brothers with the oceanic bird species being joined with the more seashore gull species. Just as things began to get boisterous, dolphins came to visit us as well. In all the excitement, I heard or rather felt a buzzing through the hull of my kayak: ‘mmmmmmm’. WHAT WAS THAT? Possibilities raced through my head: dolphins? Sharks? Earthquake? Sharks? Did I say sharks already? ‘mmmmmmmm’ there it was again. Could it be …. A cow? Out here? Mooing????
Then I realized it was my bloody cell phone. I can’t stress how annoying having a cell phone in a kayak can be. I once caught a kahawai on a fly rod from my kayak in Evans Bay and it was the angling thrill of a lifetime. It was a big kahawai on a very thin ‘tippet’ trace. The battle raged for what seemed like 20 minutes. But the experience was marred somewhat by my freaking cell phone ringing at least 3 times.
Then and there I had vowed never to take a cell phone kayaking with me again. However, in my rush to get away I had left my cell phone ‘on’ and in the pockets of my shorts. The cell phone was ringing in my shorts pockets, wrapped up in my gear, in a drybag, jammed somewhere behind me down the aft hatch. Yet it still managed to vibrate against the kayak hull and baffle me with its cow like baying in the middle of the Strait. Later on, I found out that it had been a call from work, but there was no way I could get to the phone and answer it or do much from a kayak in the middle of Cook Strait. Darndest thing though.
After a straight forward crossing, the land fall was the exciting part. The currents around the Brothersthemselves slowed us down at first. There was a fairly impressive tidal rip running off the south end of the Southern Brother. The rip was making its best impression of being a river rapid. With the occasional 2m plus swell marching through as well, we decided the best strategy would be to skirt around the rip rather than barrel through.
Here is the pirate - we have safely passed the rip at the Southern Brother (behind me) all we had to do then was head off down wind and a bit to the right for the final run to Cape Koamaru to complete the crossing. With tide and swells behind us, the last leg to Cape Koamaru was a rush, surfing at 6 kts before coming across a counter current at the point and having to duck for cover close to shore to finally round Cap Koamaru.
So for a very short while we paddled south against the wind and away from Cape Koamaru itself. Then when we deemed that we were beyond the worst of the rip we swung off down wind heading for Cape Koamaru. With the following wind and seas our speed over the ground lifted to a good 6 knots. We were smoking and it was exhilarating.
But the crossing was not over yet. We hit another rip about 200m short of Cape Koamaru. This slowed our speed over the ground to only 2 knots. That wasn’t any fun, so we ducked close to shore, out of the rip, and soon after rounded Cape Koamaru with the shore only 10 m away and without further ado.
It was at this point that I said, “Dave, we can swim from here – well done, that was a Cook Strait crossing”.
We Paddled around Cape Koamaru and into Queen Charlotte Sound and then straight up wind for about a further half hour to a landing on a likely looking Bay on Arapawa Island. For an old (46 years) fart, I was in pretty good shape. I did get a bit of a twinge from stomach cramp when I leaned forward to pull off my spray skirt. The old arms were a bit stiff but the only thing I had to really show for my efforts were some blisters on my left hand. A small price to pay.
A landing on the Western side of Arapawa Island a short time after rounding Cape Koamaru completing our crossing of Cook Strait. Dave stretches his legs after sitting in his kayak for roughly 5 hours - 4 1/2 hours across the strait and 1/2 hour paddle up wind to our likely landing spot. Not bad going.
We paddled on our way heading steadily towards Bluemine Island, the likely place that we would be spending the night. I had packed some food, a fly tent, sleeping bag and sleeping mat etc and would have been comfortable enough. However I was starting to regret not putting a bucket more of food supplies.
Dave was keen on getting a water taxi to pick us up and whisk us off to Picton, the ferry and then home. This option wasn’t looking too good because it was Monday and pretty much into the off-season. There didn’t seem to be any water taxis to be found.
Finally Dave talked to a chap that was doing the last run of the day, stopping off atBay of Many Coves at 6 o’clock. We did the math and with the persisting headwind, that wasn’t going to happen. We asked if we could persuade him to come further north to Dryden Bay and he said “Yup, be there at 6:15”.
We landed at Drysden Bay just on dark (opposite Blue Mine Island, to the west) with 15 minutes to spare before the water Taxi arrived to pick us up. Dave looks in pretty good nick for an old fart after having paddled for the best part of 9 hours solid across a significant water way.
Indeed our prospects were looking up. Instead of dry bread, vegemite and ‘noodles in a cup’ we were looking at Blue Cod fillets in cognac sauce, with sautéed vegetables all washed down with Monteiths Black ale. The very thought was enough to dig deep into our reserve energy stocks and we managed a turn of speed that brought our average speed back up to a touch under 4 knots for the days (8.5 hours) paddling.
We reached Dryden Bay wharf just on dusk with 15 minutes to carry the kayaks to the end of the wharf and change before the Water taxi came around the point. Then it was off to Picton and catch the ferry back to Wellington (after the blue cod and cognac sauce of course) by midnight to cap off a grand adventure.
Dave looks on at the kayaks at the Picton Ferry Terminal, waiting to board the Cook Strait Ferry back to Wellington, where we had left that very morning.
The pirates' Nick Schade Guillemot Expedition single snugged down on the Picton-Wellington Ferry on the return home. Taking your kayak across Cook Strait by ferry is the easy way to go. All you need is a trolley and a $15 sports good extra fee on top of your passenger ticket. And you don't have to wait nearly so long for just the right weather.
Things I would do differently next time?
go a bit slower and enjoy the moment – Dave set a fierce pace which enabled us to literally fly across the Strait in double quick time. But we didn’t have to go quite that fast and we didn’t really have enough time to enjoy the experience. I put this down to first time crossing nerves and we should be a bit more relaxed next time.
Daylight saving would give you more options at the end of the crossing to set up camp and celebrate the auspicious occasion.
Summer would be warmer for the ‘après crossing’ activities.
Take more food so that you don’t have to rely on water taxis and then the crossing could be followed by a bit of a Sounds cruise.
The end of the adventure ... and all I had to show for it was a couple of blisters on my left hand!!!
Strategy:
I was fairly familiar with the area, having sailed across Cook Strait on numerous occasions in small keel boats and done quite a few dive surveys around the outer Sounds.
The plan was to leave Makara and head for the Brothers in a dying Southerly. If the southerly persisted and stayed light, the way around Cape Koamaru would be tolerable. And this is what happened on the day.
However if the Southerly were to die out and a Northerly kick in, Cape Koamaru would become a clapotis cross-chop mess: The Northerly chop bounces back off the steep shore/cliffs and combined with strong currents, the area becomes an uncomfortable cauldron for a kayak.
The plan B, should a Northerly kick in would be to run off for The Tory Channel Entrance to the South. In a Northerly, there is reasonable shelter close in under the Bluffs and a bit of ducking and diving close to shore might help overcome the 7 knot tides that flow in and out of Tory Channel entrance.
I guess if the Southerly were to kick in, Plan C would be to run off back to somewhere up the North Island Coast around Titahi Bay or Plimmerton.
So the Strategy by heading for the Brothers, enabled us to keeping our options open. We intended to review our situation when we were midway across the Strait, which we did = no brainer, keep on with plan A.
Another Strategy is to paddle from Titahi Bay and stand reasonably well off-shore when rounding Cape Koamaru. This route would take you well away from the strong near shore currents that we experienced around the Brothers and Cape Koamaru. Standing off-shore would reduce the chance of being too disrupted by clapotis off Cape Koamaru too. Additionally the route would take you well clear of the 'throat of the strait' and clear of the cauldron known as the Terawhiti Rip lying to the South. Going that way, you could still comfortably run off for Tory Channel just after the mid-way point if you needed too.
However, you would have to paddle a bit farther taking the Titahi - outer Cape Koamaru route.
So that was why we left from Makara and headed for Cape Koamaru via the Brothers - that route was certainly the 'scenic route' as passing the Brothers was both exciting (with the rips) and spectacular (being so close to the rocky Islands).
A few random [but interesting] Cook Strait Crossing Websites:
Conrads Public Cook Strait Crossing site: Cook Strait Sea kayak Crossing
Paul Caffyns notes for Crossing Cook Strait: Paul Caffyns Crossing plan
Steve Gurneys Cook Strait Crossing: Gurney across Cook Strait
Lyall Bay junior surf Strait Crossing Challenge: Lyall Bay juniors cross Cook Strait