Pelorus sound
Ten o'clock this morning, the skipper, James, eased the mailboat out of Havelock into the maximum speed 3 knots channel and I was off to look at Pelorus Sound. I can say I am intimately acquainted with Queen Charlotte and Kenepuru Sounds now, and wouldn't it be silly not to add the next one to my collection.
Top, top idea. The first impression is that mussel farming is huge. Lines are tucked into all the bays we visited, meaning no matter the weather, harvesters can work safely somewhere in the Sound every day. 200 millon tonnes per year!
Thanks to a nifty model on the vessel, I learned that pairs of lines are anchored to concrete footings in the sea, and spat grow on ropes that hang along the lines. As they grow, more floats are added.
We popped in and out of bays until we passed Maud Island, the nature reserve famous for its frogs. They communicate by scent, not sound, and hatch direct from eggs to tiny frogs which ride on an adult's back. Their feet aren't webbed either.
As we were we steaming up the channel what should we see in the distance but... dolphins. Stop the mail. The skipper throttled right back, approached them slowly,
and about 50 bottlenose dolphins came over to explore and play.
Talk about thrilling. Adults cruised in the bow wave, rolling side on to watch the people admiring them. Juveniles leapt in perfect synchrony with a parent. When I tell you we had three separate dolphin encounters during the day, you will understand why I am still in a state of wonder.
Most mail was exchanged with a chat, nearly every stop involved a biscuit for each dog...
... hungarian vizslas at Nydia Bay, and some properties looked magic.
The skies drew in as the afternoon advanced.
By the time we followed this mussel harvester back into port (past one stranded on a bar) the rain was in too.
