The time had come. The weather window was finally opening long enough for us to get down to Fiordland. With a bit of trepidation we tossed off the dock lines in Nelson Marina at 1440 on February 1. Next stop: Milford Sound. Sailing around the South Island of New Zealand is considered a crazy thing to do by many yachties including Kiwis. Why leave the idyllic Bay of Islands or the balmy and beautiful Golden Bay and Nelson area for that part of the country which receives more than seven meters of rain annually, has horrendous winds at times and massive hoards of vicious sandflies? Well, because the sounds, which are actually fiords, are positively breathtakingly beautiful.

Aside from 18-32 knot winds in the Cook Strait we motorsailed the entire way to Milford Sound. Often we had winds in the single digits. That was fine with us. We refueled at Milford, the only sound accessible by car. The people, tour boats and kayakers could not deter from the spectacular rugged, raw, glacially gouged, verdant landscape.

Four bottlenose dolphins at the head of George Sound were as curious about us as we were about them. As I cooed from the bow they repeatedly turned on their sides to eye me directly. The youngest one kept rubbing its white belly against the hull and rolling over on its back. When I reached my hand down toward the water they arched higher and came closer. These affectionate creatures stayed for half an hour and only left when the surface of the water began to ripple. We've never had an encounter like it.

Jim hooked a hefty albacore between George and Thompson Sounds. So far we've eaten it raw, seared and wrapped in hand rolls with sticky rice, spicy guacamole and cabbage, and there is a lot more in the fridge. We found blue mussels at two anchorages that Jim wokked with onions, garlic, ginger and a little soy sauce.

Last night we were startled by bright lights and the roar of an engine. What looked like an enormous ship looming above us was tying to the mooring line strung across the cove on which our sternline was attached. This morning we awoke to a thump as the owner of the launch tossed a bag containing two live crayfish (spiny lobster) onto our back deck.

Each day we kayak through the reflections of the majestic peaks and vertical walls towering above us. Only the songs of the birds and the dipping of our paddles break the silence. Mostly we are very much alone with no other boats in the area. Our contact with others is by SSB on the Bluff Fisherman's Net each evening at 8:30. Today we will finally unload the dinghy from the foredeck to explore the nearby Gaer Arm. At high water it is possible to navigate two kilometers up the Camelot River at its head. We are having a fabulous time in Fiordland!