Voyages To The Bottom Of The Planet : Under the Spell of White Ice and Rarely Seen Wildlife in the Southern Latitudes : Sailing the Aucklands

BLUFF, New Zealand â€”  Most of my predecessors to the Auckland Islands were sorry they ever heard of the place.

Shipwreck victims of the 1800s, dashed on the rocks of inhospitable shores in despairing latitudes, today are commemorated with crude graves. Hapless colonists, enticed by the promise of a brisk fortune to be made in the establishment of a whaling station, returned to the mainland penniless and in broken health, defeated by a dismal climate, incessant rain and unreceptive soil. Neither group wrote any pleasant postcards home.

But I was there last February by choice, lured by the fact that the islands have a greater range of flora and fauna than anywhere else in the subantarctic, the area that circles the earth’s Southern Hemisphere immediately outside the Antarctic Circle. Then, too, the New Zealand Department of Conservation issues only 600 visitor permits annually for each of three approved landing sites. So just setting foot on these rugged shores gives one a bit of cachet. When I found out that the only way for a tourist to visit--short of chartering a private boat--was aboard a 1911 two-masted topsail schooner named Tradewind, I began packing.

The Auckland Islands lie 285 miles south of the New Zealand mainland in latitudes nicknamed the “Furious Fifties� for some of the most miserable weather on earth. The seven islands--Auckland, Adams, Rose, Enderby, Disappointment, Shoe and Ewing--may be the largest of the country’s subantarctic islands, but if they show up on a map at all, they’re mere specks in the ocean, uninhabited throughout their history except for the poor souls mentioned above.

Nineteen passengers gathered on board the 128-foot schooner at Bluff, a small fishing port on New Zealand’s southernmost tip, ready for a 10-day passage of discovery and rugged seafaring. In late February (summertime in the Southern Hemisphere), a pallid sun struggled through clouds doing their best to dispense a drizzle.

The Tradewind is owned and run by a New Zealand couple, Alison Brown and Mark Hammond--she in her early 30s, he in his 40s--who bought the ship in the Netherlands in 1986, lovingly restored her and sailed her back to New Zealand to begin a company called Discovery Charters. Mark, the captain, and Alison, the cook and all-around mother to her passengers, welcomed us with an on-deck lunch of pumpkin soup and tomato sandwiches.

We were introduced to the crew of six Kiwis, five men and one woman, who ranged from two grizzled, gray-bearded seamen to a couple in their early 20s, each of whom alternately stand watch for six-hour stretches. Also on board were two representatives of the conservation department, which accompanies anyone wishing to set foot on the Aucklands.

But this is a voyage where the paying guests also participate in sailing the Tradewind. We were invited to check the posted list for our turn at galley duty. We could also pitch in--if we chose to--with such chores as polishing brass or climbing the rigging. This was to be a strenuous sail, not a luxury cruise.

Nevertheless, many of my fellow passengers were over age 50, hardy New Zealanders all except for me, one other American--a wildlife photographer from Bozeman, Mont.--and a young Japanese couple named Jun and Kumiko Tanaka, amateur ham radio operators who were to be put ashore at our first island stop to broadcast from their remote location.

I learned that my cabin mates were to be a cheerful, silver-haired amateur botanist named Peggy Morgan and a 54-year-old university science researcher named Mary Cresswell. Our common bond: a desire to see plant and wildlife that exists perhaps nowhere else on earth.

“Cabin,� by the way, meant two bunk beds stacked in a space smaller than my walk-in closet at home. All 27 people on board shared two bathrooms. My room had a single porthole at the waterline, which, from my vantage point in an upper bunk (the lower beds are awarded to those who were seasick), provided a gray glimpse of the churning sea.

We left Bluff using three sails augmented by the ship’s engine, added to the Tradewind in 1952. We needed to make six or seven knots (about 8 m.p.h.) to get to the Aucklands within two days.

Immediately upon leaving the harbor, down jackets, wool sweaters and gloves were pulled from duffles to combat a temperature in the 40s and a penetrating, frigid drizzle. Capt. Mark announced that we were bypassing Stewart Island, our first scheduled port-of-call, in favor of outrunning approaching southwesterlies.

By supper time, our ranks had thinned noticeably. Once we were in open water, the ship’s unstabilized pitch and roll, swelled by the advancing southwesterlies, took its toll. Half a dozen faces didn’t reappear until two days later, when we anchored off Enderby Island. Other guests surfaced sporadically to sit quietly in the saloon--green plastic buckets at the ready. That night, Alison’s dinner of chicken boiled with celery and mushrooms went largely uneaten. The necessity of the enjoinder posted in the heads, “NEVER throw up in the hand basin,� became apparent.

Mal de mer notwithstanding, over the next couple of days I discovered that Kiwis are much more stalwart than Southern Californians. Bundled up with only my nose and eyes peeking out, most days I was able to manage only about 10 minutes on deck in the wind and rain before retreating to my bunk and its down comforter. The New Zealanders, however, would grasp their steaming mugs of tea and turn weather-burnished faces to the wind, positively exhilarated by the “bracing weather.�

When I wondered aloud about sleet and hail in the middle of the supposed warm season, I was accused of not paying attention. “Yesterday morning,� explained crew member Julian Matson with a wink, “we had summer.�

There was also no heat inside the boat; the warmest place was the galley near mealtime. Guests chatting in the saloon, wrapped in jackets and blankets, were wreathed in clouds of moisture from their frozen breaths.

The morning of our third day out, after one crew member spotted half a dozen dolphins frolicking beside the Tradewind, a smudge on the horizon appeared: Enderby Island. We’d be there in about three hours.

As soon as we dropped anchor in the shelter of Sandy Bay, the rolling stopped, pelting rain turned into a thin mist, bone-chilling cold became a quite-comfortable cool, and we all assembled for lunch.

Enderby, the northernmost of the Auckland Islands group, is notable for having the world’s largest breeding population of Hooker’s sea lions, the rarest sea lion on Earth, according to a New Zealand Department of Conservation book on the islands. Nearly exterminated by hunters in the last century, these huge, whiskered sea mammals have recovered to a population of several thousand.

Because they have no land-based predators, they haven’t learned to be afraid. The environmental activist group Greenpeace recently launched a movement to establish a 100-kilometer marine mammal sanctuary around the Aucklands to keep sea lions from being killed in fishermen’s trawl nets.

We went ashore in inflatable dinghys and scrambled in ankle-deep water over rocks slick with algae. The wisdom of the instruction to bring our knee-high rubber “gum boots� became abundantly clear. “Slippery red algae frequently causes visitors to the Aucklands some discomposure.� An unpleasant thought, considering that water temperature is in the 40s.

Through the mist we could make out a sprawl of sea lions, a harem of fawn-colored females and their pups lazily guarded by the bigger, darker bulls. In sporadic bursts of machismo, the males would emit bellicose bellows, which the females ignored. Sandy King, 26, the Department of Conservation representative guiding our group, had ordered that we were to approach them--and all wildlife--no closer than 15 feet. Apparently she did not explain this to the sea lions. As we stood and watched, a curious pup came so close that we could count his eyelashes.

Sandy suggested a hike inland on the chance of spotting some rare southern royal albatross in their nesting grounds. We trekked across a spongy peat bog through which a whiskey-colored stream trickled to the sea. Its deep, jewel-like color derives from the peat through which it flows, King explained.

As we picked our way around a particularly large hillock, Sandy signaled us to stop. Just feet ahead, a southern royal albatross roosted on a rocky ledge. The bird sat calmly, buffeted by winds and rain, regal as a queen, her composure unruffled by clicking cameras. As if on cue, she raised up to reveal her downy chick.

In the days that followed, the Tradewind worked her way down the east coast of the Aucklands, tucking into protective coves so we could more easily go ashore, then seeking calm nighttime anchorages. We adapted to life on board, taking turns with shipboard chores (I was happiest preparing food in the warm galley) and retreating to our bunks when we were underway.

We took the time to appreciate the Tradewind herself. Her original occupation as a Baltic trader, carrying goods between ports in the Baltic Sea, ended in the 1970s when she became uneconomical to run. She was retired to the sedate canals of Amsterdam until Alison Brown and Mark Hammond found her.

Carefully, they infused her with new life, relying on Dutch craftsmen to re-create essentials such as natural wood block and tackle. Original brass fixtures were restored, and accessories lost or beyond repair, such as the binnacle (which houses the ship’s compass), were found in antique shops and shipyards. Concessions to 20th-Century comfort, safety and navigation were added: a weather fax, which spits out sea-condition updates every few hours, radar, navigation satellite, water desalination apparatus, even a phone on which to call home.

If there was so much as a sliver of sunshine at lunchtime, Alison would set up a buffet on the aft deck. We also had tea breaks twice a day, always accompanied by hot fresh scones and muffins to slather with clotted cream or “marge.� Porridge with raisins, nuts and coconut was a breakfast staple.

From historical books aboard the ship, we learned that from 1864 to 1907, the Aucklands were a graveyard for ships trying to make it from Australia to England via Cape Horn. Erroneous charts, poor visibility and the strong, fickle ocean currents made precise navigation impossible. Hundreds of brigantines, cutters, ketches and schooners deposited luckless sailors on the Aucklands’ dismal shores.

After seeing our first castaway shack on Enderby Island, the realities of the last century’s hardships became more clear. The plywood A-frame, built by settlers as shelter for any survivors who made it to land, looked more like it should store firewood than function as a dwelling. At Erebus Cove on Auckland Island, the chain’s largest, we visited the site of the Hardwicke Settlement, where 150 New Zealanders tried to establish the ill-fated whaling station between 1849 and 1852. A few bricks, blue-patterned pottery shards and an occasional non-indigenous plant are all that remain.

New Zealand Department of Conservation literature stresses that it is not developing these islands for tourism, but simply regulates tourist demand in keeping with its preservation strategy. The goal, says its conservation management manual, is to promote “an understanding of the natural constraints within which people must live if harmony within the environment is to be maintained.�

When we disembarked the Tradewind back at Bluff, despite the fact that I’d had two showers in 10 days, developed a beastly head cold and had weathered more drizzles than I cared to count, I joined my shipmates in agreeing that we had just returned from one of the most fascinating places on Earth.

GUIDEBOOK

Sailing the Aucklands

Getting there: Air New Zealand, Continental and United provide nonstop and direct service from Los Angeles to Auckland, with connections to Invercargill. An advance-purchase, round-trip ticket from LAX to Auckland is $848. Round-trip fare to Invercargill is $359 when purchased with an international air ticket; otherwise it costs more. The flight from Auckland takes 3-5 hours and makes one stop in Christchurch. The half-hour taxi ride from Invercargill to Bluff, where the Tradewind docks, is about $12. Most travelers spend the night before a voyage in either Auckland or Invercargill.

Schooner voyages: Because it will participate in a New York City regatta celebrating the 500th anniversary of Columbus’ discovery of America next year, the Tradewind will not make another Auckland Islands trip until the 1993 New Zealand summer season. But since the schooner makes only four trips and carries a maximum of 20 passengers, early bookings are essential.

The 10-night Aucklands voyages leave Feb. 26 and Mar. 13, 1993, and cost about $1,779, depending on the exchange rate when you book; 16-night voyages, which include additional islands, depart Jan. 15 and Feb. 8 and cost about $2,832. This is for a cabin you may share with one, two or three others. All meals are included, but beverages are extra. Tipping is not expected. Price covers all fees and landing permits.

Reservations: Contact Discovery Charters’ U.S. agent, Sylvia TK, 17635 Parlange Place, San Diego 92128; telephone and fax (619) 487-6590.

Comfort level: Passengers sailing on the Tradewind should be prepared for sometimes rough seas, cold temperatures and wet feet. Seasickness is common. A warm jacket, wool gloves and cap, knee-high waterproof boots and layered clothing are essential. Temperatures can be in the pleasant 70s, but more often hover in the low 50s, which seems much colder on a moving boat. Clouds, rain and sleet are the norm. Food is plentiful and filling, but by no means gourmet by American standards. Be prepared for such typical New Zealand fare as spaghetti on toast for breakfast. The two bathrooms on board both have hot-water showers, but are shared by 25-30 people. All bedding (except towels) is provided. Heat has now been installed in the main salon.

For more information: Contact the New Zealand Tourism Office, 501 Santa Monica Blvd., Santa Monica 90401, (800) 388-5494 or (213) 395-7480; fax (213) 395-5354.