Open Writing

Surf's up, flags' up. The life guards, feet propped up on the balcony of the club house, life raft at the ready, scan the sea for signs of sharks, or even whales, and that still, smooth, patch of water hiding the dangerous, lurking, rip tide, which will drag you out to almost certain death, for this is the Pacific.

Intrepid surfers paddle out on boards to wait for the right wave to ride, while enthusiastic young body boarders, with the screeching laughter of underlying fear, crash in on breakers to the sand. Toddlers build sand castles and families eat picnics or fish and chips from the local ' take-away.' It's a summer's day at Kaka Point, on the northern edge of the Catlins National Park.

Kaka Point is named after the almost flightless parrot which glides from tree to tree in the bush. The trees were felled here long ago, to clear the land for farming, but in the bush areas, further down the coast, the kaka will still have his eye on you, even if you don;t see him.

The mighty Clutha river enters the sea at the northern edge of Kaka Point bay and the rugged peninsula, which holds Nugget Point light house, guards the southern end.
Driving towards the Nuggets, the road hugs the coast line, looking down on clean sandy beaches, in little bays, separated by rocky outcrops.

You might like to spend some time on one of these, as we often do, lying in the sun, dozing over a book or taking a swim, maybe joined by the odd seal pup, 'when mum's not looking,' and, in the late afternoon, watching that group of elderly gentlemen, in black tie and tails, waddling up the beach from the sea, as they return from some Masonic gathering or orchestral concert, for the yellow road sign saying 'Penguins Crossing,' which you passed, was there for a reason.

Penguins are beautiful creatures, you see them with their heads bobbing above the surface, for all the world like floating ducks, making sure that the coast is clear before they come ashore, on the look out for that waiting seal who thinks they will make a tasty meal. They climb up the steep grassy banks to their nests with surprising agility and are a joy to see.

But we are on the way to the Nuggets. From the car park, a walk along a precipitous cliff edge brings you to the look out platform above this string of rocky islands, flung out to sea by some legendary Maori giant, like nuggets of gold. The sea is a deep, deep blue against the brilliant sky and the 'tide clean' surf breaks against the rocks.

The coast line, stretching to the south, with its many beaches and bush clad hills stretching down to the sea, looks like a cut out diarama, so sharp is it's outline against the sky, in this pollution free atmosphere. This area is a Marine Wildlife Reserve and on the rocks below seal colonies thrive and young pups cavort, like dolphins, in the rock pools, as their cries reach your ears.

We are off again. Down the road to Cannibal bay, one of the numerous bays in the Catlins. In the old days the Maoris used to fancy a change of diet to moa and fish, hence the name. Stride out along the bay until you come to the False Islet, a series of sandy dunes which divides the headland from the mainland and leads to Surat bay, named after a ship which sank there years ago, but watch out for seals. This is the home not only of fur seals but of the Hooker Sea Lion, a very different animal, as we found to our cost one day.

If you want to know whether there are seals around or not, just breath in. If the air smells of rotting fish they're pretty near, to say they have halitosis is to put it mildly. There they lie, half covered in sand, their answer to sun block, lazing about until they feel hungry, when they will lollop down the beach and head off to sea for a feed.

Don't get between them and the sea, don't get between mother and young, nor a male and his harem or trouble will occur. They are by no means the furry little creatures you think you can pat.

Filming a Hooker sea lion one day, I was delighted to see it advancing towards me in the view finder. 'Great,' thought I, as it reared up. 'Not so great,' thought I, as it roared and I realised it was only a few feet away.

At a rate of knots we tore down the beach with the lion in hot pursuit. Then he vanished. We breathed a sigh of relief, then a gasp of horror, as he emerged from the sea to confront us, clever enough to realise he could swim faster than he could run.

We headed for the dunes, bounding up like four minute milers, and took shelter in the bush under the trees, contemplating our future or lack of it. As time passed and pulse rates dropped, we realised we would have to head for home.

Armed with big sticks and clinging to the top of the dunes, we advanced with caution but he had got bored or hungry and gone for a swim. I will never know if he regarded us as rival males or wanted to recruit us for his harem, but we have avoided going to Surat bay ever since

We recrossed the islet and looked out at the big stack, standing off shore, at the far end of the bay, magnificent. A tractor and trailer moved along the sand with a sheep dog, tail between legs, racing to catch up, as a mother fur seal charged behind him, bent on teaching him a lesson for worrying her pups.

Another peaceful day in paradise, perhaps we will stop at 'The Point' for a bar meal and a drink before we go home.