Stweart Island
Water-proof is a trait, like being tall or being patient. It's something that can't be bought. You either have it or you don't. For a large sum of money you can buy yourself a Gore-Tex suit. That still won't help. With effort you may develop water tolerance, even water resistance, but you will never become really waterproof.
Being water-proof means you don't care if you get wet. It's the ability to walk 8 hours in pouring rain, drenched, with soaking cloths and still embracing the idea of taking a cold shower in an icy water fall on your path. To be water proof you have to be a seal, or a penguin. You can also be born in Stewart Island.
Stewart Island is the third largest island in NZ. It is located 60 km south of the south island, and it's very close to Antarctica. You can feel this fact in every icy breeze. The entire Island is a national reserve. It inhabits only 380 people in the small township Oban. Most of it is untamed wilderness. Sandy beaches, rocky cliffs, thick woods and plenty of bays.
Being so remote it's a bird sanctuary, and therefor one of the places where one is most likely to cross path with a kiwi.
Sounds like paradise? It is exactly that - well, the wet version of it.
When we were visiting Stewart island, it rained non-stop for 14 days. If there were still any doubts, they were all gone. We two were certainly not water-proof.
Getting to Stewart Island is another challenge testing ones relationship with water. Crossing the rough Tasman Sea would give a fare competition to any Disneyland roller coaster. It is a rough sail that can only be done in a special ferry (a catamaran). The ferry swings violently in the high waves for the entire 60 minutes journey. A sturdy captain veers the vessel as his female assistant perfumes the occasional smell of vomit mixing with the aroma of free coffee she offers.
Hilly was glued to the window the entire way, gazing at the horizon, combating her motion sickness and winning.
We never got to dry land. When we got to shore we were greeted with more water. Dropping from the sky, blowing from the sides, peculiar enough it was even raining from the bottom up. Not realizing yet how un-waterproof we are, we set out for a three days hike in rain that doesn't stop. Wrapped from head to toe in nylon suits we were ready to give the weather a good fight. For three days we strolled in the woods soaking the drops, we strolled in the beaches swallowing the sea spray. It was so wet the ground couldn't retain all that water. We were walking in mud.
The Rakiura track - one of the Great Walks - will be remembered for the mud. There was mud everywhere. Lots of mud. Sometimes just a shallow puddle, other times more than knee high. It never stopped raining, and we never stopped walking in mud.
Before we started the track we were given one useful advice: "embrace the mud, love the mud".
We did just that. We embraced the mud, we loved the mud, even more - we became one with the mud. That meant we got really dirty and it was nice. We felt like children deliberately splashing in mud. < "Mud Nechmud">
Using sticks to test how deep the mud is. Pushing our Gore-Tex shoes to the max.
Still we are not water-proof. 5 hours of walking in the rain is our limit. The sixth hour is no longer fun. Our nylon cloths give in to the water. When they do, we do too.
We walked for three days in non-stop rain and mud. The only time it wasn't raining was when it haled. By the end of each day we got to a warm cozy hut. Took off our wet cloths, changed to dry ones and cuddled next to the fireplace. It was a proof that for us the natural place for water was in a boiling cup of tea.
Stewart Island experience was an achievement and a lot of fun. We are no longer weather dependent, meaning we don't have to follow the sun. We are not seals, nor penguins, nor Stewart Island natives, but over time we sure became water tolerant.