'Blog entry 3rd April
After two nights at Sandy Bay we venture South West under motor to the main Auckland Island; a rather splendid spot called Erebus Cove, site of the failed 1852 Hardwicke colony. (Hardwicke was the name of the initiating whaling company's principal.) Prior to reaching the bay we hear some unusual clunking sounds coming from under the cockpit suggesting the propeller may have something caught on it causing it to run inefficiently. The area has many large areas of kelp, much of it some 5m long, which much of the eco-system is supported by and this often breaks free and forms small floating islands within the bays and out much further to sea also. 'Jon The Brave' agrees,( or is even happy!) to don the bright yellow dry-suit and have a safety line tied to him as he drops into the 12 degrees C water to check the underneath of the boat. We have people on watch as he's in the water, as it's so cold and the air has a harsh chill factor, and if Jon feels uncomfortable he will tug hard four times on the safety rope to be assisted. No-one mentions it at the time but this is believed to be the stomping ground for the great white sharks that generally scurry around in the Foveaux Strait where 'cage-diving' is a tourist's favourite.. and the cage-divers haven't seen them around there for a while, believing them to be hanging out in these parts! Jon successfully removes some kelp 'branches' from the propeller and pops back on board for a warming-sesh and the obligatory feel-good Milo hot-choc.
A small party go ashore, David, Jon, James and Kim making the most of the burst of sunshine, and as soon as we land on the rocky beach we spot a small piece of red pottery sticking out of the eroded bank. Underneath this there is some sort of metal bowl or ladle which has rusted but maintained its general shape and it makes us feel momentarily connected to the people who tried to make it work here, but the every-day hardships they faced.
We leave our emergency shore bag at the boatshed and follow the boardwalk through a moss-covered goblin forest, through arches of dark, twisted branches and to the soundtrack of varied bird-song. A large, puffed-up, bright green bellbird flies over our heads and settles on a branch gracing us with his unique sound, perhaps being territorial or showing off to a lady bellbird nearby.
We arrive at the small cemetery where there are 6 graves, two for very young infants who were born and raised in this failed settlement of limited resources and bleak climate. Graves are marked for the mariners who passed in shipwrecks of the Auckland Islands, but there are known to be 121 deaths from wrecked vessels in this area over 45 years. This was one of the shortest-lived colonial experiments in British history, lasting only two years and nine months.
We've been told to look out for old house sites, pathways and an inscribed tree and with little to go on I get excited about an orange ribbon I spot in a tree on the shoreline. I hold on to some branches as I approach the downhill area and slip in the mud and fall on my bottom in a very ungraceful manner ending up on the shore but still grinning from the small solo-adventure I've had on my tiny slide. We continue to be piloted by tomtits and bellbirds as we follow the overgrown and mossy track to an impressive, old rata tree, very well inscribed in 1865 'HMQS' by folk on an Australian government vessel, the Victoria, on a routine search for castaways.
Erebus Cove became a castaway depot (the old building still remaining near the dinghy-landing place), holding food, tools, matches, fishing-gear, clothing, medication and more to assist those who found themselves shipwrecked in these desolate latitudes. In 1887 it saved 8 survivors of the iron barque, Derry Castle when they managed to make a punt from Enderby Island to each Erebus when they found their nearer castaway depot had been looted of all the useful items, likely by illegal whaling ships.
As we return to Moksha we are greeted by a sea-lion who comes to play on the shore, ducking and diving near the dinghy, until a necessary throttle in reverse to get us out of the surf shocks the poor creature and off they sped. I could never get bored of watching their faces full of character and expression. Our evening is a quiet one of soup and bread and light conversation before we retire for the night, with strong winds expected so additional anchor chain let out for a more restful night. The next day is a sail down the East coast; all of us looking forward to continuing strong winds for the passage to contrast our few days not being underway.'