Cascade Plateau July 18-20



 

I was going on over a month without a day off so fieldwork was as good excuse as any to get out of Dunedin. The rivers and waterfalls  were well swollen through Haast Pass and the sky was still socked and raining by the time I reached Haast. Still toward the coast it seemed to be clearing. By the time I approached Jackson Bay the weather was looking to stabilize. The weather over the next few days was more or less exactly what I guessed from the forecast: touches of rain but mostly just overcast. I hiked up and over the low saddle into the Smoothwater, a great big valley with a bizarre drainage due to glaciations and Alpine Fault offset. I wandered my way down a small foreseted creek to the trail down the right bank of the Smoothwater. Before long I noticed the horizon between the trees, indicating I reached Smoothwater Bay. Here I crossed the Smoothwater River just meters from the crashing waves of the sea to follow the coast. Almost immediately I could see a formidable obstacle in front of me.



I had to climb down into slippery rocks between crashing waves and quickly rock hop between them, then climb up a couple meters on the other side to regain safety. I would be exposed to the waves and be getting very wet if I happened to slip. I could now see why low tides and low swells were recommended. I correctly put away my camera and GPS in a dry bag before observing the waves for just a few minutes and going for it. It went pretty well but I was wet to my waist and had a wave splash my face by the time I passed the obstacle. To my delight the coast I could now see ahead was benign and I continued rock hopping my way without incident. On both sides of Homminy Cove, steep tracks climbed up and over headlands to bypass wave battered cliffs. These gave great views of the coast through the trees. Once past Homminy, two long beaches made up most of the scenery. The Stafford River was easily crossed and I enjoyed a cozy night in the tidy new Stafford Hut.





The following morning I got an early start, climbing up the undulating spur behind the hut for over an hour. I soon realized my GPS battery was running low so I reverted to using map and compass. I stumbled across the old benched pack track between Jackson and the Cascade, now much overgrown and eroded. Regenerating face-high rimus choked the track, ensuring I was dripping wet before long. This track led nicely to the schrubby tablelands northeast of Teer Plateau. I found good outcrop in a creek which confirmed it was an ultramafic moraine deposit. Despite its considerable soil development confirming its old age, the vegetation was still stunted from the ultramafic composition of the rocks. I spent the better part of the day crossing these three plateaus: "Stafford", Teer, Cascade. As I headed toward the Cascade, the moraine composition stayed more or less the same but the increasingly younger moraines meant progressively less scrub, less soil development, less swamp and more rocks (see three pictures below). Portions of Teer Plateau were particularly swampy with ankle-twisting holes hidden beneath the vegetation. Between the plateaux it was necessary to drop steeply through thick vegetation into a creek and then climb back up the other side. The day dragged on until it was after dark by the time I reach Pt 587 at the head of the Cascade Plateau and desperately searched for the least mushy ground to pitch my tent. I used some of the scrub to build a foundation for my tent to hopefully keep me drier. The irony was apparent by the morning. It was a beautiful starry night. Very quiet.

        "Stafford Plateau"

        Teer Plateau

         Cascade Plateau

In the morning I awoke to light rain and occasional water drops on my face. I took my old lightweight (but now mostly unwaterproof) tent. My carefully engineered foundation proved successful with the result that the tent underneath me was now the driest point. Oh well, at least the rain started in the morning and I had a decent night's sleep. I packed up and bombed my way through the particularly thickly vegetated slopes of the moraine. Time dragged on, but eventually I reached the open flats of Laschelles Creek, crossed the Martyr and started walking the road back. I got lucky with a hitch to the Arawhata by the time I reached the Martyr bridge, and a second ride shortly after to deliver me back to my car. I stopped in at Lake Ellery to check on a few things then had a nice dinner with fellow cavers at the Hokitika Anglers Hut in Neils Beach. I broke up the long drive back with reading breaks in scenic locales. It was good to get away.

        View of the Lower Cascade and Barn Bay

Niue May 18-25

Niue! Known as the Rock of Polynesia, or just The Rock to the Niueans, the name is apt since the whole island is essentially one meticulously built and intricately sculpted chunk of limestone conveniently uplifted above sea level. Despite being only about 25 km across, there is a lot packed into this tiny little island (it was a great struggle to narrow my photos down to 50!). There is only one flight to and from the island a week and there is only accommodation for a little over 100 people at any given time. In a whole week on the island we never really had to share a track, forest, reef, chasm or cave with anyone else and it was easy to pretend you had the tropical island to yourself. This sense of isolation, of adventure and discovery is what really sets Niue apart. If you want to sit on a beach and drink maitais you are probably better off going to nearby Fiji or Samoa.

Niue supports a population of a little over 1000 people, with almost ten times more Niueans living in Auckland than on the island. Though self-governing, the country is essentially reliant on New Zealand economically and diplomatically. Virtually everyone on the island is bilingual, speaking both English and Niuean. The island was hit hard by a cyclone in 2004, after which many people left or moved. Abandoned houses can be found almost everywhere on the island, slowly being overtaken by vegetation.


Island life seems simple and generally carefree, well exhibited by the fact seatbelts are not required to be worn. Everyone waves or greets everyone else, almost without exception. After only a few hours on the island, you realized you were not being mistaken for a celebrity and are just another person sharing this beautiful place. Christianity is well-ingrained and the island underwent a unique transformation on Sunday. Pretty much everyone would go to church for pretty much the whole day. This meant the roads, stores, houses, the whole island, appeared a completely abandoned ghost town until you pas the local village's church. The island produces little more than vanilla, papaya, passion friut, noni and coconut, which means virtually everything is imported. The food on offer was rather limited, but thankfully we had planned ahead and brought most of our food. The best selection actually appeared to be at the gas station where watermelons and drinking coconuts were on offer. The handful of stores and restaurants on the island typically have "we are open when we are open" hours, with some restaurants requiring you to call ahead so they can be sure to be open for you. Chickens and dogs seem to have free range of the island, with many of the dogs so relaxed they were often mistaken for dead at first glance. Giant nocturnal coconut crabs called uga were a particularly surprising creature to run into in some of the caves. Along with the usual diversity of tropical fishes in the sea and geckos and skinks on land, the island is known for its abundance of poisonous (but innocuous) sea snakes, which we frequently found swimming about while we were snorkeling.

        Sara and the sea snake

        A clever gecko finds a warm spot (Photo by Sara)

Fishing is a popular activity for the men. On most evenings many of the men go to their stashed outrigger canoe (often in a cave or under a rocky ledge next to the sea) and paddle out to sea to fish until after sunset. At one popular spot where it is easy to get out to sea, there was a whole flotilla of men in canoes, seeming to do more gossiping than fishing as the tropical sun set behind them.


The island is roughly the shape of a dog bowl. The highest point on the island is a mere 70m high and forms a more or less continuous rim or ring around the island with a large flat depression in the center of the island. The island's morphology preserves its former history as a coral atoll, with its interior formerly a lagoon. Outside of this ring at about 30m elevation are a series of terrace surfaces representing former sea levels- it is on these surfaces that most of the island's population and infrastructure is located. Being composed purely of a porous limestone (and some dolomite), there are no surface streams on the island. Before the introduction of wells, the islanders had to retrieve all of their freshwater supply from caves and chasms that cut deep enough into the island to intersect the freshwater lens within it.

Almost continuous sea cliffs drop down 20-30m to the modern fringing reef platform. Every place on the coast was a little different. Along portions of the south and east coasts where there is no fringing reef, the waves batter straight into the cliffs. There is a finite number of locations where access through the cliffs is possible and it is obvious the routes used today are the same ones that have been used since the start of habitation here. In many cases collapses at the back of well-formationed sea caves provide the best access through the cliffs. We often stumbled upon little beachlets tucked against alcoves at the base of the cliff. Waves from the deep blue South Pacific crash on a narrow fringing reef around much of the island, which is exposed at lowest tide and generally makes for nice walking. Where ever we went I enjoyed the challenge of finding creative ways to sling a hammock in a picturesque spot.

 

 








        It does not take much beach to make paradise.


Although much of the reef is barren (which is thankful as it makes for better walking), channels, guts and pools in the fringing reef make wonderful oases for snorkeling. Many of the pools are overhung, sometimes with underwater archways that connect to neighboring pools. The diversity of corals and fishes was greater than anywhere else I have been. The water temperature was typically a perfect 27 degrees Celcius and we typically snorkeled at every opportunity that presented itself. In places where freshwater issues out of the island's cave system, a half meter thick layer of cool freshwater sits on top of the seawater. Fresh and salt water mixing in this layer gives it an almost milky quality and the visibility is much lower. It was a surreal experience to dive beneath the surface layer into warm crystal clear water beneath. Some of the better snorkeling pools were associated with sea caves, which was an added bonus.




        Snorkeling and cliff jumping in a cave!

Some of the longer tracks on the perimeter of the island cross beautifully rugged stretches of forest-clad karst. We past through mazes of karst towers greater than 6m high, with tropical plants wildly growing out of their pockmarked surfaces. The young nature of the limestone meant the coral fossils in it were incredibly well-preserved, and it was not unusual to see corals over 0.5m across protruding from the rock.





At the periphery of the island, particularly the rough east coast, the lack of soil means the forest gives way to low shrubs and vines, which coat the ankle-twisting and hand-and-knee shredding karst. Within the vicinity of salt spray, the vegetation gives way completely to a complex network of pinnacles, cracks, and crevices. It would be a hell of a place to lose your keys.




In places the karstic terrace surfaces around the island have 20m deep vertical-walled chasms, which resemble slot canyons. These chasms exploit fractures in the rock and seem to be solutional features rather than collapse-related as has been proposed. One of these chasms is floored by white sand and wide enough that a small grove of coconut palms live in the protected environment. Most of the chasms we visited however were narrower and floored by impossibly blue freshwater pools sometimes over 10m deep. Refreshing swims in these pools were often unsettling; the dark recesses below were certainly the things of horror films and the crystal clear water almost gave a sense of vertigo. Strange ancient looking fish inhabited these pools as well as the occasional freshwater eel. In one of these chasms it was possible to free dive the end of a pool and pop up into a blue-lit chamber where the only available light was filtered through the dive. Another popular chasm is connected to the sea and allows for swimming and cliff jumping. These chasms are certainly one of the more adventurous features of the island and I have little doubt some of them have yet to be completely explored...


 






A key requirement of my perfect tropical island would require caves and Niue does not disappoint. In fact it has at least four distinct types: freshwater caves, freshwater/saltwater mixing caves, the previously mentioned chasms (which are often roofed over), and sea caves. Many of them appear to have been more active in the past (associated with higher relative sea levels), which makes exploration easier. Although there is no surface water on the island, there is a significant amount spilling out of natural conduits all over the island. In some cases a cave entrance is obvious, in others it is only by diving that you can access the cave system beyond. Some of the caves with only one entrance had very high humidity making a plunge into any available water body very refreshing. Despite razor-sharp rocks, we carefully caved in only our bathing suits- a definite novelty. Many of the formations exposed to the outside were black or gray in color, but further in many of these caves had lovely cream-colored formations. In one active fresh/saltwater mixing cave, it was obvious after about 50m that we were the first people to explore it. I have never such dramatically serrated and networked bedrock in a cave before in my life. Certainly one of the weirdest caves I have ever seen (wish I had my camera).






The sea caves are enormous in some cases and largely inactive; it appears many of them date to a time when relative sea level was several meters higher than present. I got creative with some large formations and was able to set up a hammock in some places fit for a king. Although there will be no cave system immeasurable to man on this island, the ones it does have are beautiful, fun and very unique.










 

I did my research beforehand and managed to find most of the caves I hoped to visit. Along the way we found many more caves in pristine condition, without hardly trying. To my great surprise we found and explored a virgin cave longer than 300m located incredibly close to one of the island's most popular attractions. I am thoroughly excited at the cave potential remaining to be discovered on Niue. I keep telling myself it is a great big world, but Niue is a small slice of it I would not mind going back to with a more discerning eye. May it never change.

        Thanks to Sara for a very memorable week in paradise.