It was quite obvious that after five minutes of interaction she found me boring. This was hardly a new sensation. Anyone who has talked to me without sharing an equally wild enthusiasm for the genius of Arsène Wenger/ Che Guevara/Jarvis Cocker, or not wanting to know 101 amazing facts about Sherlock Holmes-conceiver Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (did you know he even invented the life jacket?), has probably felt the same. And now I come to think of it, the last time I phoned my mum she said she didn’t have time to chat, because a yoghurt in the fridge needs eating”.
I’m used to the yawns, vacant eyes and transparent excuses, but when it’s a seal, that’s something else. I mean, I hadn’t even mentioned that Conan Doyle’s second wife was related to Rob Roy …
Kaikoura, in New Zealand, where I was trying to make furry friends, is simply magical. The beaches may be stony, but the snow-tipped mountains and rugged coastline more than make up for it. And the wildlife? Holy moly.
The tiny peninsula, two hours’ drive north of Christchurch, is a fortunate freak of nature; not far from land, the continental shelf plunges vertically some 800m. The currents create an upward swell bringing nutrients from the ocean floor and creating a permanent feast for sea dwellers great and small.
Kaikoura is a wildlife wonderland: common, dusky and bottlenose dolphins, several colonies of New Zealand fur seals, blue penguins, sharks, rare albatross, armies of other birds and sperm whales call the area home. Plus humpback whales migrate past during June and July and there are orcas in the summer. In Maori legend the peninsula was the seat where demigod Maui sat as he fished North Island up from the sea, and the area was heavily populated before European settlement.
After getting snorkelled, finned and wetsuited up, a timid handful of us had edged out into the water, towards a seal colony on a rock outcrop a few minutes from town. Vanessa, our guide, had advised us to try and swim alongside them, rather than at them.
The next hour was one of the most memorable in my three months on the South Island. Unlike dolphins, which normally need finding and intercepting before interacting with in the wild, fur seals are lazy gits – they just lounge around all day, occasionally sliding into the wet stuff to cool off and frolic around. So they’re keen for a bit of entertainment. Luckily, I looked pretty entertaining in a wetsuit.
The water was murkier than normal, but we had about seven metres of visibility. I quickly swam away from the rest of the group. I felt alert, anxious and excited, and it didn’t take long before a shape suddenly appeared in the water next to me. The seal was about my height, but considerably rounder, with large, limpid, emotional eyes – almost like they’d seen the future and it’s full of sorrow – and with whiskers to turn any self-respecting retired colonel green with envy. I assumed it must be a seal pensioner. I swam alongside her (I don’t actually know if she was a she or a he – thought it rude to ask), nervous about getting too close. But she’d seen these awkward, slow-swimming animals with their brightly-coloured feet many times before and didn’t hang around for long.
Then three youngsters darted over. They were far more inquisitive, coming to within one metre, rolling languidly underneath me, cruising carelessly along, then playfighting with each other. I tagged along like a 15-year-old following an older brother and his mates to the pub for the first time. It was utterly wonderful to feel temporarily accepted by such fun-loving furry things. After five minutes or so they also got bored with my inability to keep up and casually sauntered off.
Over the next hour I had many more interactions like this. Young fur seals would come over, check me out, play for a bit, then carry on. I popped my head above water briefly to see two more seals nearby, doing likewise; spying the rest of the group, then racing over for some furry playtime.
There are several ways to play with Kaikoura’s giant slug-like mammals, who were hunted to the verge of extinction by early settlers. A simple walk round the peninsula will bring you past at least two colonies, though the animals have very different personalities when on land. Because they move clumsily on terra firma they feel threatened and will bark at you moodily if they sense you’re too close, or block their route to the water.
The Department Of Conservation advises not getting any closer than 10m. They’re wild animals and, if you treat them with respect, you probably won’t get bitten – as one foolish tourist did recently. Sea kayaking offers another excellent alternative. You can go further and faster while (hopefully) staying drier. I spent a morning on the water, as seals slid nonchalantly off the rocks and rolled around within inches of our vessels.
As underrated as seals are, few animals grip the human imagination like whales do. Featuring prominently in Maori mythology, it was pleasing to find that not only was the whale watching company Maori-owned, but that Kaikoura is the world’s most accessible spot for watching sperm whales.
Our boat left shore at some impolitely early hour and we watched a video about these massive, passive mammals on the way. Sperm whales, we learned, can grow up to 20m long and have the largest brain of any animal alive. They can dive as deep as 3000m, but need to come up for air every 45-50 minutes – the boat’s hydrophones (underwater sonar microphones) aim to find them when they do.
Suddenly we were ushered out onto the deck and people excitedly scoured the water for telltale spurts. But it was a false alarm, maybe we just missed one. We moved on. Again it looked promising. But alas, another false alarm. And one more. And, though I know they’re wild animals – not circus slaves bullied into performing on cue – I was beginning to feel disheartened.
But then we saw one. It was just a few metres away. It was thrilling to be so close to the majestic beast as it ejaculated air and vapour like mini explosions from its grey-brown leathery skin, accompanied by a loud but gentle snort. Named Saddleback, it’s thought to be the oldest in the region.
Silence swamped us as we clicked away with cameras. After around five minutes, we were warned Saddleback was about to dive (perhaps it suspected I might start talking) and to prepare for the iconic tail shot. As predicted, the whale sank and disappeared before the tail sprung up like a giant bird. It paused … then with a crash it was gone. Dolphins and orcas are often spotted on tours, but sadly not on this day. Later, though, another sperm whale – White Dot, the largest – came up to say hello.
The day was topped off in the perfect way, with the most spectacular sunset I’ve ever seen: mauves and lilacs cascaded from the sky down onto the mountains and all the way across the bay. Then the heavens erupted in oranges and reds so vivid the sky looked like it was on fire and locals emerged from their houses, some with cameras and others no doubt wondering if they should call the fire brigade.
Kaikoura: the only thing there that wasn’t utterly enthralling, as usual, was me. Hey, did you know Conan Doyle twice stood for election?
