Marlborough Sounds

Approaching French Pass from Tasman Bay

French Pass, or Te Aumiti as it is also known, is the pinched and reef-crowded gateway between Tasman Bay and the Marlborough Sounds.

It's just over 30nm northeast of Nelson to French Pass, which means about a seven-hour motor at Picara-speed (4.75 knots average, we've stopped kidding ourselves that we average 5).  The pass is treated with much respect by locals, since it's one of the only spots in NZ where the currents really rocket through -- at up to 8 knots on spring tides. 

I know those of you at home in BC will say, “So what? That’s nothing compared to Sechelt or Yuculta Rapids.” True – but it has been a while since we’ve shot through a pass with that much tidal flow.

We did our best to time our trip through the pass at slackish water; according to the current atlas for the area, it is never actually still. As it was, thanks to a gentle adverse current most of the day we were about a half-hour past the optimal (mellow) time and so had about 4 knots of current flow helping us through – but no dramas.

We had officially entered Marlborough Sounds!

South end of D'Urville Island, west of French Pass

Sunset over a mussel farm at Turner Bay, first anchorage in the Marlborough Sounds

Our short transit of the Marlbourgh Sounds was a glory run of fishing for us (since we're lukewarm fishers at the best of times). On our first night at Turner Bay near French Pass, we pulled up strange, pale fish that we think was a small rig shark, also known as a lemonfish: however it didn’t seem too keen on the bait and just let go of the hook as Mike got him to the surface. Too bad, as these are meant to be tasty and are apparently a fish and chips shop mainstay. 

Looking southwards into Pelorus Sound

The next morning we motored in a calm sea with high overcast that gave our surroundings a muted aspect. We trolled with our lucky Buena Vista trolling rod, and just off the Chetwode Islands we got lucky – a long narrow fish with a sail-like dorsal fin and wicked looking teeth, so that at first we thought (in our ignorance) that we’d hauled in a little Wahoo. Now we know it was a Gemfish – yummy but with lots of long bones running near the skin; hard to fillet. On board he came, and once he was in the fridge the rod went out again and in less than five minutes, bang! Another one. But in a moment of mercy Mike hesitated and the second guy got off the hook to swim another day.

Wahoo! Not. A yummy Gemfish

About an hour later, as we were passing Alligator Head, we had another bite and this time Marni pulled up a good-sized Kahawai – a valiant little fighter. I’m embarrassed to admit that fishing, when it happens, is usually a male activity on board Picara, and the expression on my face is a giveaway of what a novice fisher I am – I was shocked how much a dead fish can wiggle!

 Omigod! a zombie Kahawai!

Cape Jackson is a long skinny headland with it’s own substantial current patterns that marks the western opening to Queen Charlotte Sound. By the time we had cleared the point the wind filled in from the north as predicted, the sky cleared to blue and we had a pleasant run down the sound towards Picton.

Log ship anchored at the mouth of Queen Charlotte Sound; many, many raw pine logs  depart the country from Picton and Nelson.

Along the way we passed some of Captain Cook’s favorite NZ anchorages, Ship Cove and Endeavour Inlet, where he found lots of water, fish and timber for replenishing ship stores and doing repairs. We also passed Cannibal Cove where Cook saw human limbs in a cooking pot and the locals mimed chewing on their forearms just to drive the point home: you don't want to be our enemy! Since part of Cook's stay there was spent careening the Endeavour on the beach, he was somewhat on edge with no means of quick getaway and such intimidating hosts.

Yachts coming out of Waikawa for the Tuesday night race

It was evening by the time we pulled into our destination of Waikawa Bay. It is adjacent to Picton harbour and has a large marina where all the local sailboats are moored as Picton’s marina has a height restriction due to a walking bridge. As we sailed slowly downwind into the bay we met a sizeable fleet of racing yachts parading out for their Tuesday night race, a pretty sight.

A cold, southerly front moves over Waikawa Bay and inner Queen Charlotte Sound, bringing lots of boat-heeling gusts. We were happy to be on a secure mooring!