Traveling south down Highway 1 through the wine lands of Marlborough, there is a coastal community halfway between Picton and Christchurch by the name of Kaikoura. Famed as a whale watching departure point, Kaikoura is also known for its “crayfish” eateries—the Kiwi nomenclature for lobster. We received a tip that delicious meals could be had there for a price that wouldn’t require us to skip breakfast the following day. So we made a bee line for the peninsula. What wasn’t made completely clear was that the backdrop for our lobster lunch would be taken from a dream. The Kaikoura peninsula is where the Southern Alps drop down to the sea. The contrast of snowcapped peaks against shimmering green waves is almost too much to comprehend. This is the kind of place you want to share with everyone you love—just so you can see the look on their face when they behold the view.
Between cracking lobster legs, we struck a conversation with the proprietor of the restaurant. He spoke frankly about New Zealand politics, Maori culture and influence, and the socialist ideals of his society. We enjoyed the chat, and I know he did too. I’m not sure if it was our lively discussion, or the sixty dollars we ultimately spent in his establishment, that led him to reveal to us a local secret. His secret turned out to be worth more than gold.
Following his directions, we backtracked twenty kilometers up the ocean road that had taken us into town. We abided by his very specific cues, passing the crayfish truck called Nin’s Bin, and parked Lau Lau on the side of the road next to the sign for Ohau Stream. It is here that a freshwater brook filters down to the Pacific from the Alps above. Grabbing our cameras from the van, we found the trailhead that hugs the stream, and followed it under the leaves of massive ferns and palms. The bed of the stream is lined with large boulders, a steady flow of snowmelt toppling over each rock. With the Pacific at our backs, we walked toward the sound of the falls—and then we happened upon perhaps the most remarkable phenomenon.
Thirty seal pups. Frolicking, playing, practicing for their circus debut. A fifty foot waterfall dropped to a circular pool, smaller than the one in the Bendel’s backyard. We stood on its edge, and the pups popped up at our toes to say hello. They jumped and dived. They barked and splashed. They flirted with us, and each other, with complete abandon.
Apparently during the month of June, when sharks lurk off the east coast of the South Island, mother seals guide their pups up the Ohau Stream to the safe oasis of the falls. The pups flop nearly a kilometer inland along the boulder strewn stream. They find a home in the freshwater pool at the base of the falls, while their mothers fish the coastal waters for food. We enjoyed their company, and their antics, for nearly an hour. Almost forgetting that nightfall was looming, we parted from our furry friends, and hustled back down the trail in the final minutes of daylight.
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