Bobbing and weaving
We're rocking. Four two-person sea kayaks are bobbing and weaving among the rock towers beneath the stupendous sea cliffs at the south end of Kapiti Island.
Summer must be close. Morning cloud has burnt off and the sun is already intense as we bring the kayaks together and dig out sandwiches and drinks.
Kayak guide Anthony Norris points south, through the deep channel of Cook Strait. On the left the North Island coast extends towards Wellington. On the right D'Urville island, Rangitoto, rides up out of the horizon towards us.
"Three hundred years ago," begins Norris, "a woman named Hinepoupou came from Rangitoto to live with her new husband on Kapiti. But her husband abandoned her and went back to Rangitoto, saying she was dead and that he wanted a new wife."
Norris turns to this inhospitable flax covered, wind buffeted headland. "Hinepoupou followed him. Tying bundles of flax around her waist to help her float, she caught the strong current that runs from this point direct south to Rangitoto, swimming for several days back to rouse the anger of her family."
We look again, making brief mental calculations of the distance and degree of suffering involved. From here the closest cultural equivalent must be some kind of exteme sports event.
Norris points to two rocks, Ngā Kuri a Hinepoupou, the dogs she left behind. History. It's everywhere, but when surrounded by sea, rocks and flax, it doesn't take much to send yourself into another world.
But though the past seems more tangible than usual out here, it's not because what we're doing is any kind of edge-of-the-envelope activity. Safe and easy to learn, sea-kayaking's popularity is quickly increasing. Nelson’s Abel Tasman National Park now has 13 kayak companies operating.
That kind of population isn't about to happen at Kapiti. Include that contact with the past and the prolific bird life that's apparent even from the boats, and you get an experience that – yes, believe the hype – is unique in New Zealand's adventure tourism.
Most of Kapiti is nature reserve, but other parts like the three small islands at its southern end are still privately owned by Māori. Tamarillo Sea-Kayaking is based on one of those islands, Motungārara, once the home of Te Rauparaha. The kayaking will create jobs for the iwi, as will an arrangement where Māori take over the guiding role on the island for visitors to the DoC reserve. For Norris Tamarillo Sea-Kayaking fulfills a dream. He grew up in Pukerua Bay, and says he's always wanted to live out here. He's also spent the past eight years working as a kayak guide.
It's starting to rain further up the coast on the mainland and we make our way back, checking out some korora, little blue penguins, and followed by several fur seals. We circle Motungārara a final time before the launch arrives to take us back to the mainland.
A flock of maybe a dozen kererū, native wood pigeons, erupt out of Kapiti and fly above us into the karaka forest on Motungārara. Even at the end of winter, they look fat and well fed. Us too.
– A version of this story appeared in City Voice newspaper in 1997.