STEWART ISLAND CLUB TRIP

Stewart Island

Wednesday after work saw Bruce and I heading down to Levin in his fully loaded yet surprisingly quick ute, where Bruce’s folks had kindly offered to put us up for the night. We had an early crossing in the morning to Picton, and due to the recent weather, a very rough crossing was in the back of our minds.

Bruce’s parents had kindly taped the evenings news for us, and with smiles on their faces, they showed us footage of the Blue Bridge ferry crossing in seven meter swells. Pumpkin soup followed by 2 sea sick pills were the order of the evening and then off to bed for an early start in the morning.

Four thirty a.m. meant it was time to saddle up the ute and catch a ferry. Another sea sick tablet and we were ready to go surfing! On board the ferry, Bruce retired upstairs to a cabin to catch some Z’s, while I sat in the TV-room trying not to look as sick as I felt.
Looking out the window and watching the other ferry plaining on the surface, passing us and then disappearing out of site didn't make me feel any better. Cheers Bruce for booking the slow one!

Picton to Blenheim, Blenheim to Christchurch, Christchurch to Timaru and it was time for our next pit stop. An orchardist acquaintance of Bruce had volunteered to take us in, and after a delicious meal, a few drinks, and lots of apple-related conversation, we hit the hay in preparation for another early start.

The dial rolled around again and pointed to four thirty a.m., so it was time to kick-start the ute and chase the weather down to Bluff.
With clear skies up ahead we both now realized we were going to make it without any weather hold-ups. All party members were now arriving in Bluff. And with a quick change into the proper attire, it was time to get into hunting mode.


Gear, food, booze and guns were loaded onto Herbie’s boat and Bluff faded out of site. Stewart Island appeared on the horizon, and Herb, with the finesse of a high school principal, had each team sorted and our backsides in the dinghies before we knew what hit us.

With the A-team on Tiko and the Elite team on Kelly’s, it was time to clean huts and stack food shelves in preparation for the next nine days. Darkness rolled around quickly, and both teams had good kiwi hash-up dinners and a few drinks before getting a semi-early night. In the morning the race would be on for the first venison!


Morning came and the game plan was made to all head in separate directions, have a good poke about, and then report back that evening so all could get an idea of the land. Mike and Geoff spotted the first deer of the trip, tricking it as they had decided to backtrack, catching it out on the track where they had just been walking.

Back at base, GPS waypoints from everyone were marked on the map.
Bruce’s waypoints didn’t tally up with the massive distance he thought he had covered for the day, and he copped a bit of slack as they showed he had only walked a stones throw away from the hut.



The regular check-in was made via mountain radio to the Elite team, and it had been reported that no deer had been shot that day, although they had been enjoying a good feed of blue cod. As we had been enjoying a feed of baked beans, Nick decided he'd get onto some cod the next day.

Day three, and Bruce was up and gone before the sparrows had even thought about chirping. Other stalkers went their separate ways, and after a long day found their way back to the hut by following the smell of Mike and Geoff's super hash-up dinner. All except Bruce, who had 'decided' to spend the night out camping.


Just after noon the next day, Bruce strolled back into camp. Turned out that after the shit he’d copped about his first day’s hunting efforts, he'd decided to embark on the mother-of-all-Stewart-Island- walks, seeing two deer and covering a massive Distance.


After a few more days hunting, some of the crew decided to get into the fishing side of things. For the A-Team this proved to be a bit of a challenge, due to the fact that wherever we went, we only seemed to pull in undersize cod. This was a major contradiction from the stories we'd heard of massive cod being pulled in on every drop from past visits. On the other side of the island, the Elite Team were easily managing six big cod a day. After a while our techniques improved, and with the aid of Nick's crab soft baits and paua guts as bait, we finally managed to get in some good hauls of cod. Both teams had managed to get fresh paua, thanks to divers Aaron and Murray on the Elite Team, and the rocks at low tide on the A-Team!



Day seven clocked in and still no deer on the score sheet. Sick of eating sausages, Murray formulated a cunning plan, and was dropped off down the bottom of Oyster Cove to cover some fresh ground. This plan was obviously a good one, as he shot a well-conditioned doe that was sneaking through a clearing. With all the action going on, he didn't realise there was another deer watching him until it was too late!




We had read in a hunting magazine in the hut that most hunters on the island find they shoot one deer for every six they see. Since we had seen five deer, we were not surprised when gun shots were ringing around Tiko, and Bruce walked back to camp carrying a young buck. Both teams now had a taste of famous Stewart Island venison, and had something (truthful) to gloat about during our scheduled radio broadcast.

The last evening and morning were spent cleaning the hut and sorting out our gear ready to be picked up and taken back to civilization.
Mike conducted some tours around the home of his pet Kiwi ‘Elvis’
which gave the guys a chance to get some awesome up close shots of a Kiwi.


Even though hunting at that time of the year was very challenging, nine days on Stewart Island was the best outdoor experience I've had. I saw Kiwis running around every day, and managed to see (and miss) my first white tail deer at about six meters away. Springy bloody things those whitetails!

Mike Baylis

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