To the end of the World -- Cape Reinga

I spend the next morning doing my laundry and getting all my gear stowed and my computer charged at the campsite. I then take a walk to the headland that has the memorial for the Rainbow Warrior which is sunk of the northern end of the islands. After getting enough shots I decide that I need to do something else. It is a really nice here but there are places yet to be seen. So I leave Matauri bay and head NORTH to Cape Reinga. This is the northern most point of New Zealand. It is a 120 k drive and the last 22 k is dirt road. But it was worth it.

I arrive just before sunset and have time to take pictures of the Lighthouse and the place where the Tasman Sea meets the Pacific Ocean. It is quite exciting. The water is very big and confused. You can see where the swell from one collides with the swell of the other creating great zippers of white spray that shoots 30 feet in the air ( I discovered this later

). I meet a couple of Irish Lads (what is it with me and the Irish?) that are driving a van painted in wild colors that has the word BONGO painted across the front of it. I have seen this van for the last 100 miles. We have taken turns passing one another all the way up highway 1. I ask if they got the van painted like that and they said that they did it themselves. Most of the vans I see with wild paint jobs are from a couple of rental companies that paint all there vans in a unique fashion. They ask me to take there picture and they take mine (one of the few that I have of me on this trip).

I get some shots of the sun setting but I don’t stay for the sunset as I need to drive another 6 km to get to the campground and possible launching place for tomorrow. The campground is in Tapotupotu Bay and is about 3k west as the crow flies. The bay is semi protected. About the same size waves as you get off of Miramar beach (Half Moon Bay, CA) on a normal day (4-6 ft). I find a nice spot protected from the wind by a tree and still within sight of the water. There are two vehicles at the camp one is the Bongo Van.

My plan is to paddle out of this beach head around the point and paddle to Cape Marie Vann dame which is about 10 km away.

The morning comes and there are light showers. The tide is high and the Bongo has left on it own adventures. After I make my breakfast I walk the beach trying to gage the conditions. This will be a big water paddle alone. I am dealing with my fears about going out alone. I know I can deal with the launch and landing. I’ve done both in bigger conditions than I see before me. I tell my self that I just drove a hundred miles to get here and now I am having reservations. I keep looking for an excuse but finally I realize that I just need to get my shit together and get on the water. I move the van closer to the beach. I talk to a group of guys that has come up on a surfing tour. They tell me that they are going to be here awhile and I tell them of my plans and if I don’t get back in a couple of hours that something is wrong and that they should tell someone. This make me feel a little better. My biggest fear is that I’m alone in water I haven’t paddled in before and it a big water day.

I hop in the boat and launch out into the middle of the bay where the rip is making a nice little hole in the surf. I get about half way through the surf zone when I get hit dead on in the face with a larger set. One of the waves bends me back but I only lose a little ground and recover and paddle hard to get out of the impact zone before the next big one breaks. I succeed and with a few more stokes I’m out. I wave to the surfers who return my greeting and make a left turn to the point.

The swell is the biggest I’ve paddled since coming to the land of the Long White Cloud but it’s by far not the biggest I’ve paddled. I feel comfortable and start making my way to the cape. I take note of the cliffs to make sure I can find the beach on my return not that I think it will be that hard but after misjudging my return location at Lake Taupo I figure it can’t hurt to take a good look. A little further along I notice a little sandy beach that could serve as a secondary landing site if I need one. I watch as the large rollers crash hard against the rough boulders and cliffs that make up most of this coast line. Check all along for places I could land if it became necessary. Well you know what they say, “You can always land you just might not launch”. I get with in sight of the light house and can even make out the joke street sign that point in the directions of various major cities around the world (you see them at many tourist destination). I can even see a few people standing near the retaining wall. I pass the large reef that marks the beginning of the cape. I stay close to the reef staying just outside of the massive mosh pit of white water that it contains. About 200 meters away is where the really scary water lives. This is the Columbia Bank, where the Tasman Sea and the Pacific merge. The two merge in giant zippers of water where the opposing swells meet. Some of these zippers sore 20-30 meters in the air. Between the bank and the reef is a washing machine of chaotic water that oddly enough is the only place that is safe enough. Here the waves come from all directions. They are 3 to 5 meters on average. But they aren’t breaking. White caps but not a real breaking wave. The breaking waves are in the cove behind me.

I turn southwest and start to head to Cape Maria van Diemen. I get about a kilometer when I look across at the huge lines of breakers that stretch between Tarawamaomao Point and Motupopao Island which is about 4 km away. They are much bigger and extend much further out to sea than they did last night when I check them out from the point. I sit there and do a little risk management. I look up at the light house and discover that the entire rail is filled with people. I wonder what is going on and then realize they must be looking at me. I decide not to land at Motupopao Island. It’s doable but I feel uncomfortable doing it solo. As I have already accomplished the primary goal in paddling to the Tasman Sea I see no need to continue on to land at the Island. If I had some one else with me I may have given it a shot. I turn the boat a round, no small feat given the size of the swell and its omni-directional nature. I paddle closer to the Bank and try and take some video of the violent merging of the two bodies of water, again no small feat. The horizon is coming and going with each passing wall of water. I start heading back anticipating a fine following sea and a little surf action as my reward. But the conditions are a little too chaotic to allow a good ride.

Once around the corner the seas quite a bit and oddly enough I kind of fall into a daydreamy state where I am on auto pilot. This is abruptly ended by a unexpected wave that cause me to throw a brace and I remember that the waves here are still very big and this is no place to slack off. I guess after dealing with the Banks I had let my guard down. I paddle back toward Tapotupotu Bay and when it comes in sight I notice two very un-nerving things. First the size of the break has doubled. There no longer is a nice little hole in the middle. The second is that the beach is crowed with tourist. I see three large tour busses parked at the picnic area. My first though is “I’m whucked” ( use Maori pronunciation of the WH: hint its F). But I recover quickly and realize that I’ve landed in much bigger conditions safely and that I don’t have to get off this beach by boat! So I continue to paddle to the middle of the bay all the time gauging the swell. It turns out that I just caught a large set and that my initial thoughts were a little exaggerated.

I wait for another big set and follow it in. Unfortunately I miss counted the number of waves in this set and the last wave catches me just before the impact zone. I catch the wave and go screaming toward the beach. Righteous! The wave starts to broach me to the left and I rip along it face toward the reef on the east side of the bay that cause the wave to stand up extra tall. I know that I am going to be folded up into this bad boy and as it breaks on top of me I go into a hard high brace and keep saying to myself “I AM NOT GOING OVER, I AM NOT GOING OVER….”. In my head I see pictures of Greenland kayakers competing in the Walrus Pull where the participant is dragged by a rope and is literally dragged under water ( not a really good descriptions but I have no words to really describe what it looks like). My boat and head are buried under water and after a few moments I lift my head up out of the cloud of white and look at the fast approaching beach. By this time I am back surfing a little with my UNRETRACTABLE rudder pointed toward the sand. The wave has spent most of its power and I am able to sit up a bit (still in my broach landing mode) and get the boat pointing bow first. The boat and I slide gently onto the sand and I hop out and pull her up out of the surf it then I notice 20 or more old people come toward me on the beach. What now? Well as it turns out these folks were with the tour group that was at the light house standing along the rails when I looked up from the water. They were all looking at me down there wondering if I had some sort of death wish or ask if I was trying to commit suicide. They were all full of questions and crowed around me taking picture and eager to show me there photos. They all had them. I asked if any of the folks had large cameras (the ones with the big telescopic lenses ). One of them states “I told you it must have been a bloke, who else would do some thing so dangerous”. I tell them “Oh really” and proceed to tell them about Justine and her friends circumnavigating Tasmania. They take my email and promise to send me copies of their photos. Well I don’t know why my helmet didn’t just split in two my head had gotten so big. I told them that I was a trained professional and that they should do this at home! One of the ladies actually thanked me for thinking that they would actually be up to something like that. I figured that it would be a loss to try and explain that it was a joke. They all head back to their bus and I get out my little cart and haul the boat back up to the van and call it a successful day. After cleaning and loading up I start the long trek south. To date I haven’t received any photos from these folks. Oh well at least they had something interesting to talk about on the way home.

I get as far as Cooper's bay where I pull into a picnic area right on the beach and open up the slider and watch the near full moon dancing on the waves.