A touch of Scotland
New Zealand | Anno 2019
Saturday 23 March | Te Anau – Dunedin
Saturday 23 March | Te Anau – Dunedin
Wisps of mist hang low above the grasslands. In the east the sun slowly makes its way up into the sky. At least that's what we assume, as the event unfolds entirely behind the clouds.
Wind power and solar power still do not hold the place they deserve in this country
Shortly after eight, we have left Te Anau behind us. It will take until late afternoon before something noteworthy happens. We have embarked on the great crossing, exchanging the rugged West Coast of the South Island for the more urban East Coast. This entails a journey of more than three hundred kilometres.
Just south of Mossburn, we notice the wind turbines of White Hill. There are twenty-nine of them, collectively generating 58 MW. With this capacity, they can provide electricity to 30,000 households throughout the year. Nevertheless, wind power and solar power still do not hold the place they deserve in this country. This is mainly due to the abundant presence of another sustainable energy source – hydropower.
However, there is considerable economic potential in wind power. This is evident from the fact that the 19 wind farms currently present in New Zealand were established without any form of government subsidy. Together, they account for 6% of the energy production.
The wisps of mist have now given way to dense fog. However, it doesn't take long before the sun definitively takes the upper hand.
Under a light cloud-covered sky, a rural landscape unfolds on both sides of SH94, featuring green meadows with cows and sheep. A farmer inspects the fence in the pasture where his cows graze. Elsewhere, a farmer gathers his sheep in a fenced enclosure.
Not so long ago, in 1982, New Zealand had 70 million sheep
It's half past nine when we reach the pleasant town of Gore. In the late 19th century, this town of 11,000 inhabitants was called the Chicago of the South. Not because there was a criminal atmosphere in Gore like in Al Capone's Chicago – that criminal only lived in the 20th century. Instead, Gore was referred to as a pioneer town, the last form of urban civilization you encountered before entering the wilderness further south. Meanwhile, Invercargill has long since eclipsed the small town of Gore.
We take our coffee break at The Stable Kitchen, a converted station – Gore was once an important railway junction. We learn from some young farmers that dog trials are going to be held soon. The purpose of such competitions is to keep the dogs sharp. These farmers themselves plan to participate, explaining the presence of the six dogs in their trailer. And that's just a selection; they have about fifty more on the farm. That's no luxury if you have to herd twenty-five thousand sheep.
Through undulating landscapes, we continue eastward via SH1. Sheep and cows dominate the green meadows, while mostly barren hills set the tone in the distance. One cannot exactly call this environment presidential. Yet, that is precisely the name the Kiwis have given to this stretch of 44 km – Presidential Highway. This is all due to the fact that we are driving from Gore to... Clinton, a tiny settlement with at most three hundred inhabitants.
In 1992, they must have seen their opportunity when Bill Clinton and Al Gore took charge as president and vice president in the United States. A unique chance to step out of anonymity. It took some effort, but by 1999, it finally happened. The Presidential Highway became a reality.
The Presidential Highway takes us from Gore to... Clinton.
Without exaggeration, you can call Dunedin the Edinburgh of New Zealand. This is evident from the name itself, as Dùn Èideann is Gaelic for Edinburgh. It is also reflected in the city's street plan, designed to be a copy of the Scottish capital. Additionally, Dunedin even has its own tartan, the typical plaid pattern that is unique for each region in Scotland.
That is not a coincidence. As soon as the New Zealand Company began to systematically approach colonization, eyebrows were raised in Scotland. The general fear was that the English would completely take over the colony. Additionally, the Presbyterian Church of Scotland faced some insurmountable differences internally. In short, a new start in a new Edinburgh would solve many problems.
So, the Scots began searching for a suitable location. In March 1848, two boats appeared off the coast of the South Island, carrying a total of 344 Scottish emigrants. Initially, they considered landing in the vicinity of present-day Christchurch. However, they found that location on the banks of the Avon River too marshy. Therefore, they established themselves near present-day Dunedin.
Without exaggeration, you can call Dunedin the Edinburgh of New Zealand
Dunedin quickly prospered, thanks to the gold rush. Gold prospectors from all over the world disembarked in Port Chalmers, the port of Dunedin, and then ventured into the interior. In 1869, the fledgling city even got its own university, the oldest in New Zealand.
With the Scots, Presbyterianism entered the country. Today, 8.1 % of Kiwis identify with that denomination. Queen Elizabeth II is also a member of the Presbyterian Church, although she does not lead it, unlike the Anglican Church.
With nearly 90 km to go until Dunedin, we already notice Scottish influence in Balclutha. It means Town on the Clyde in Gaelic, referring to the Clutha River we encountered in Wanaka. There are plenty of whisky distilleries here, of course.
All the while, the rolling green hills continue to unfold, covered with countless sheep. It's hard to believe there are 27 million of them – that's six sheep per human habitant.
However, this is just a faint reflection of what it used to be. Not too long ago, in 1982, New Zealand had 70 million sheep. Barely five years later, that number was almost halved to 40 million. The main culprit for this dramatic turn was the dairy industry. On lush, green pastures, a dairy cow proved to be much more profitable than a sheep. Over time, sheep farming was pushed to the harsh grasslands.
Then, SH1 takes us over a final hill, and we look down on Dunedin. It's a big city, with 122,000 residents, at the end of the elongated inlet of Otago Harbour. It's also a small cultural shock. Coming from the west, we're not used to this anymore. Sandy-coloured limestone dominates the stately facades of government buildings. This hard type of stone comes from a quarry near Oamaru, a coastal town about a hundred kilometres northward.
The Dunedin station is built in Flemish Renaissance style
Dunedin – Station
Courthouse |
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Station Hall |
We begin our exploration of Dunedin at the station. Even though the term former station might be a more accurate description. Because Kiwis prefer to travel by car rather than by train, to the extent that only a tourist train departs from this station.
The station is built in Flemish Renaissance style, as we read on the information board to our considerable surprise. That architectural style was very popular in the Southern Netherlands in the 16th century. The Antwerp City Hall is perhaps one of the most famous examples. It was a time when the wealthy Flemish cities began to rival the great Italian examples with their architecture.
Station Hall |
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Memorial plaque for the Great War |
And there, the Flemish connection doesn't even stop. A plaque on the wall commemorates the New Zealand railway workers who fell during the Great War, particularly at the Battle of Passchendaele, as they still call that place here.
Nevertheless, this is not the reason why we descended to Dunedin. Otago Peninsula is what we are after. Like a thick finger more than twenty kilometres long, this peninsula points out into the sea. It is an exceptional habitat where you can observe cormorants, albatrosses, penguins, sea lions, and, with some luck, fur seals. Deeper into the sea, even giant sharks, white sharks, and leatherback sea turtles have been spotted – all species threatened in their survival.
Along the winding Portobello Road, we continue eastward over the edge of the peninsula. There's only a few meters between the asphalt and the seawater lapping against the shore a few meters below. However, guardrails seem to be considered unnecessary. Three seconds of inattention can be fatal here.
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Glenfalloch Restaurant & Gardens is the name of the place where we have lunch. A restaurant with a garden is an understatement. It's a gem of twelve hectares, an almost one-hundred-fifty-year-old garden, where we leisurely stroll among the endemic plants and closely observe the antics of a bellbird or a fantail.
New Zealand bellbird
Along the winding Portobello Road, we continue our journey to Wellers Rock. There, skipper Nigel from Monarch Wildlife Cruises & Tours awaits us.
Red-billed gulls |
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Sea anemones |
Remarkable dark red structures on the bare rocks catch our attention. These turn out to be sea anemones. They cling to the rocks with their suction cups, keeping their tentacles folded to retain water. Once the tide washes over these flower-like animals, they will open their tentacles to capture prey.
On the M/V Monarch, we sail through Otago Harbour toward the open sea. There was once a massive volcano here, Nigel explains. His calm voice resonates clearly through the speakers, resembling the timbre as if David Attenborough himself were speaking. They named this volcano Dunedin Volcano. For six million years, it periodically inundated the surroundings with slow lava flows. Eventually, it left behind a base with a diameter of about 25 km. However, ten million years ago, its song was over. Since then, erosion has taken its course. The result is this caldera, where seawater has created an immense bay.
In the caldera of the former volcano, the seawater has created an immense bay
It's not wide, the passage from the caldera to the open sea. That's due to the long sandbank that has formed over the centuries due to sand deposition. Nowadays, a breakwater prevents the sea from eventually completely closing off the passage. Because it is vital for the port of Port Chalmers.
The rising tide flows towards us through the narrow channel. Our speed is somewhat slowed by it, skipper Nigel apologizes. As if we would notice the difference.
Hooker's sea lion or New Zealand sea lion
On the beach of the sandbank, a New Zealand sea lion is comfortably scratching its back. Hooker’s sea lion, this species was once called. Like the fur seal, it belongs to the eared seals. So you recognize it by its external ear flaps and its thick fur.
Strictly speaking, these New Zealand sea lions are not even native to New Zealand. Because the original population suffered heavily after the arrival of the Māori. Around 1500, the last native sea lion perished. Antarctic sea lions have gradually taken their place since then.
Nowadays, sea lions are the largest animals you can encounter in New Zealand. Yet the species is considered threatened. It's certainly not due to their eating habits. They'll eat just about anything – including penguins and small fur seals.
They mainly breed on the Auckland Islands, almost five hundred kilometres to the south. At the end of October, beginning of November, the males come ashore to establish their territory. A month later, the pregnant females arrive. They give birth to their young about a month later. They get at most ten days to recover from that because by then the male has impregnated them again.
It is mainly the intensive fishing by humans around those breeding areas that is causing problems for the sea lions. This means there is less and less food available, leading to starvation. But the fishing nets can also be fatal for them. Once they get caught in them, drowning becomes a threat.
Harrington Point
To the right, the slopes of Harrington Point rise up. Underwater, the coast immediately slopes to a depth of eighteen meters, Nigel knows. Fishermen therefore enjoy fishing for chinook salmon there. Or blue cod, a fish that, despite its name, has nothing to do with cod.
The Russian tsar was going to invade the country, the Kiwis were convinced
Taiaroa Head – Lighthouse |
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Bunker against Russian invasion |
Against the slope, several concrete bunkers can be observed. They have been standing there completely useless since around 1890. Protecting the access to the harbour, that was the purpose of those gun turrets and of the now disappeared fort atop the hill. Because the Russian tsar was going to invade the country, the Kiwis were convinced. After all, they had already appropriated Alaska, had turned Vladivostok into a military fortress, and had initiated the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway. The tsar's thirst for power seemed insatiable. But the feared invasion never came.
With their innocent little heads, the young chicks peer just above the tall grass
Taiaroa Head – Southern royal albatross with young |
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However, that's not what interests us here. Among the pale grass on the steep slopes, around a hundred southern royal albatrosses have made their nests. Twenty-nine chicks have been counted this season, Nigel reports with no small amount of pride. This makes Taiaroa Head the only mainland breeding colony of southern royal albatrosses worldwide. Mainland is the name the Kiwis conveniently give to their island. The fact remains, however, that the albatrosses nest nowhere else so close to humans.
With our binoculars, we can easily locate the nests. With their innocent little heads, the young chicks peer just above the tall grass. For safety's sake, there is still a parent nearby. But that won't last much longer. Because about five weeks after birth, they'll regularly leave the young alone for a few days to forage at sea.
We can assume that the parents arrived here in September last year and started their nest in November. Three weeks later, the egg was there, and eighty days later, the chick. During all that time, both parents took turns brooding and foraging. They do this once every two years.
Each year, the royal albatross effortlessly covers an estimated 190,000 kilometres
The chick grows rapidly, and at some point, it will even be heavier than its parents. From that moment on, the parents implement a diet regime. The young one will receive less food and will have to work for its meals. This trains it for the big day in September when the young bird will leave the nest. It will then spend a remarkable three to five years at sea, without ever setting foot on land. The parents will also leave the breeding colony at that time and spend a full year at sea.
Southern royal albatross
Further ahead, a royal albatross gracefully bobs on the water. It gives us the opportunity to observe this remarkable bird up close. With its enormous wingspan of three meters, it effortlessly covers an estimated 190,000 kilometres each year. But our proximity doesn't please it. Taking off from the water clearly costs it effort. Its legs paddle over the water surface for a long time before it folds them like landing gear under its tail. Gracefully, it now glides over the waves, often in wide arcs, with its wingtips just barely grazing or skimming the water surface.
Southern royal albatross
Since 1864, a lighthouse on Taiaroa Head has marked the entrance to the bay. At the foot of the rocks below, a small breeding colony of red-billed gulls has established itself. Throughout the season, they form faithful pairs. But they’re not too fanatical about it, because they're tempted into a bit of adultery every now and then. Besides being scavengers, red-billed gulls are also kleptoparasites.
Besides being scavengers, red-billed gulls are also kleptoparasites
Red-billed gulls
With their red bills and red legs, these small endemic gulls are easy to recognize. There are probably around half a million of them. So, the species is not threatened. Especially since the red-billed gull is one of the rare bird species that European colonists were happy to see arrive. After all, it quite enjoys household waste. And besides being a scavenger, it's a kleptoparasite. Stealing food from other birds is something it doesn't hesitate to do.
Fur seal
Some fur seals also feel at home on the rocks at the entrance of the bay. Lounging lazily on the bare rocks, that's all they need. Only the young pups aren't quite sure what to make of those noisy show-offs with their motorboat.
Fur seals |
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Very young fur seal |
Shags have also established a colony along the rocky slope. Nothing unusual, you might think, as shags are found everywhere. However, there's more to it than meets the eye. Because these shags are found exclusively along the coasts of Otago Peninsula. Scientists determined this in 2016. Since then, they've been referred to as Otago shags.
Once, these birds could be found along the entire east coast of the South Island, even in the northern Marlborough region. Just a century after human arrival, less than one percent of the original population remained. Nowadays, there are fewer than 2,500. Without human intervention, they probably wouldn't survive.
They're not racist; both colours nest together peacefully in the same colony
Otago shags – Bronze and black-and-white
What also makes the species remarkable is the fact that they come in two colours. A quarter of the birds are bronze-coloured, while three-quarters are black-and-white with a striking white stripe on the wing. But they're not racist; both colours nest together peacefully in the same colony.
Taiaroa Head with lighthouse
By bus, we continue to the tip of the peninsula. Curve after curve, the black asphalt ribbon winds over the pale slopes. This brings us near the Royal Albatross Centre on Taiaroa Head.
Here, we overlook the Pacific Ocean. This body of water covers almost a third of the Earth's surface. On average, it's 4.2 km deep, but there are outliers of more than ten kilometres in places. The most famous of these is undoubtedly the Mariana Trench. Just southwest of Guam, this trench reaches a depth of 10,920 m.
But New Zealand can boast of its own trench, particularly near the Kermadec Islands, about 900 km from here. There, the ocean is also a respectable nine kilometres deep.
Unceasingly, the royal albatrosses fly back and forth, their mighty wings fully outstretched
Once again, it's the royal albatrosses stealing the show, but not while they sit calmly on their nests or indifferently bob on the water. They're in full action here. Unceasingly, they fly back and forth, their mighty wings fully outstretched. Flying low above the cliffs of Taiaroa Head, they build up speed, then suddenly emerge almost out of nowhere before our eyes. Time and time again, they swoop low over our heads, as if our cheers spur them on to do so.
Southern royal albatross
And we just can't get enough of the exceptional fauna that Otago Peninsula has to offer. At Penguin Place, they are working with penguins, and we want to know all about it.
The yellow-eyed penguin is the rarest of all penguins. There are no more than 1,600 of them worldwide
Penguin Place – Yellow-eyed penguin |
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Penguin Place doesn't receive subsidies; the organization relies entirely on the entrance fees from tourists, Raohi explains to us in the reception area. Helping penguins survive is the purpose of this private initiative. Not the little blue penguins, as they are doing excellently on the peninsula. It's the larger yellow-eyed penguins that need assistance. You can find them here on the east coast of the South Island and on three smaller islands. But altogether, you won't encounter more than 1,600 individuals there. They're the rarest of all penguins. Their numbers have decreased by half in just the last five years. So, they're really in great danger, emphasizes Raohi.
Yellow-eyed penguins |
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Why is that? Firstly, there's the efficient way in which humans currently fish the sea. Wherever humans have been, there's very little food left for the penguins.
Then there's global warming. The seawater off the coast is now two degrees warmer than it was, say, half a century ago. Fish don't like that and seek colder waters to the south. Penguins are forced to follow them if they want to find food. This costs them more time and energy.
Furthermore, there's deforestation. You won't often catch a yellow-eyed penguin making a nest in full sun. But hiding in a burrow like the little blue penguin does isn't their style either. They need shade. And privacy. Because nesting in large colonies isn't their thing. A nest tucked away in the bushes, where the neighbours can't peek in, that's what they prefer. It's no wonder yellow-eyed penguins are known as the most unsociable of all penguins.
In the past, none of this was a problem. Penguins found plenty of privacy and shade on the wooded coasts of New Zealand. But nowadays, the peninsula is largely bare. Raohi and his colleagues are trying to remedy this by planting trees.
Today, Otago Peninsula is largely barren
And let's not forget, predators still pose a significant part of the problem. They remain a constant threat to the penguins here. Setting traps and regularly monitoring them is a labour-intensive but effective solution.
Taking in sick animals and nursing them back to health is the task that the Rehabilitation Centre has taken on. Starvation is the main problem they deal with. Severely emaciated penguins are fed and released once they have regained enough strength. Yesterday there were six, today only one. On Monday, it's expected that around twelve will be released. The number of patients in the rehab centre fluctuates greatly. Last week, they received a record number of one hundred yellow-eyed penguins – more than six percent of the world population.
They are just a few dozen, the yellow-eyed penguins currently being cared for at the centre. They seem to be spread out in several enclosures. They are beautiful birds, especially the adults with their characteristic yellow eye and the striking yellow band that runs from the beak over the eyes to the back. Young birds do not have this colouration yet. Often, these are chicks that have lost their parents and are being cared for here until they can stand on their own.
Then we head out in search of yellow-eyed penguins returning from foraging at sea. It's not certain that we'll encounter one, Raohi warns us. Because yellow-eyed penguins are solitary animals. Over a period of ten hours, they emerge onto the beach alone at unpredictable times. It's very different from little blue penguins, who all come together neatly at the same time every evening. You can almost set your clock by them.
Pipikaretu Bay
We gaze out over the picturesque bay of Pipikaretu. The waves roll in parallel lines, casting their foamy crests onto the beach. Fur seals are certainly not missing from the scene. They sit below on the rocks, and on the slope across the way.
A fur seal is actually lying right at our feet in the grass, dozing away; we almost trip over it
One is actually lying right at our feet in the grass, dozing away; we almost trip over it. Restlessly, it raises its head and sizes us up attentively. Raohi draws a line in the sand with a stick. So far, and no further, is his instruction.
With a good dose of scepticism
Small wooden boxes are buried in the slope. There, little blue penguins can make their nests. Perhaps one of them is observing us from such a dark burrow. Spread across Australia, Tasmania, New Zealand, and a few smaller islands, there are over a million little blue penguins. So, we don't need to worry about their survival.
Nesting in large colonies isn't the yellow-eyed penguin's thing
Yellow-eyed penguin
A little later, we strike gold. Somewhat hidden among the foliage stands a yellow-eyed penguin calmly preening its feathers. Personal hygiene is not done in public, it must have thought. It's unaware that we're spying on it from a birdwatching hut.
A partially covered trench leads us to a second viewing hut. Again, we're lucky because another yellow-eyed penguin is here too. It's quite an ugly creature. But it can't help it because it's moulting. There's nothing left of the beautiful yellow band. The lovely black coat is being pushed aside by fluffy feathers sprouting like cauliflower on its head and back. It looks a bit unhappy, as if embarrassed by the way nature has dishevelled it.
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It's quite an ugly creature, this yellow-eyed penguin. But it can't help it because it's moulting
But there's more to it. Moulting is also a period of fasting for the penguin. For three to four weeks, it won't eat anything. Without its insulating coat, it can't venture into the cold seawater. If all goes well – and that seems to be the case here, according to Raohi – it has found enough food beforehand to bulk up properly. At the end of the forced fasting period, it will then regain its normal weight.
Jaak Palmans
© 2024 | Version 2024-02-06 15:00
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