At the Edge of New Zealand

Looking back on the entire New Zealand expedition, one regret stands above all the others: I should have spent more time on Stewart Island.

At the time, it felt remote, difficult to reach, and almost impossibly far away. We had already packed an ambitious itinerary into a short trip, and Stewart Island was only one stop in the chain.

What I didn’t realize was that we were heading toward one of my favorite places in the entire country.

We stepped off the Milford Mariner around 8 AM with our ferry to Stewart Island not leaving Bluff until late afternoon. For the first time in this leg of the trip, we had room to breathe.

While Stacy looked through the small shops and visitor center near the docks, I started scouting for birds around the parking area.

Almost immediately, I was greeted by a giant pigeon.

The Kererū was big, colorful, and completely unlike the pigeons I was used to back home. It felt like New Zealand was reminding me that even the familiar categories were different here.

The drive into Milford had been a race against the clock.

The drive out was different. We finally had time to stop at the places we had zipped past the day before.

We pulled over for waterfalls, rivers, forest trails, alpine views, flowers, signs, and birds. After the overwhelming scale of Milford Sound, the road out gave us a chance to notice Fiordland in smaller pieces.

After hearing stories about Kea stealing windshield wipers, moving traffic cones, and riding through tunnels on the roofs of cars, I was especially excited to finally see one.

The bird was perched directly on someone’s car when I spotted it. I was already moving into position for what would have been an absurdly easy photo when the owner appeared and shooed it away.

For a brief moment I was devastated.

The Kea, meanwhile, simply flew into a nearby tree and posed anyway — which somehow felt like the most Kea ending possible.

Eventually the mountains began to loosen their grip and the road carried us back toward Te Anau.

We stopped for lunch at a small Chinese restaurant, then continued south through a landscape that felt more rural and open. Yellow gorse, farm fields, deer, tractors, and little roadside museums replaced the cliffs and waterfalls.

It was not the most dramatic part of the expedition, but it helped the country feel real. We were not just teleporting between famous places. We were moving through all the space between them.

We arrived at the Bluff Ferry Terminal with time to spare, parked the car, and boarded the ferry to Stewart Island.

I had imagined a smooth crossing where I could stand near the back and look for pelagic birds.

That is not what happened.

The ferry launched across Foveaux Strait like a theme park ride, skipping over waves and slamming hard enough to leave butterflies in your stomach. The sick bags tucked into the seatbacks suddenly made perfect sense.

Somehow, between the motion and the spray, I still managed to photograph a Common Diving-Petrel.

When we finally arrived on Stewart Island, it felt like we had crossed into a different kind of New Zealand.

We checked into the Seaview Hotel, where we had our own room but shared bathrooms down the hall. It had a bit of a college dorm feeling, which somehow fit the island perfectly.

At dinner, we met a young woman from the United States who had been living in the Virgin Islands. She shared stories from her own adventures, including cage diving with a great white shark. Her photos were incredible.

After talking with locals about what to do on the island, Stacy and I decided to walk out toward a small lighthouse point and try to see little blue penguins coming ashore.

It looked closer than it was.

We kept walking until the light started fading, then found a place to wait above the shoreline. While we watched the water, a few other seabirds flashed past the point too — including Sooty Shearwater and Pacific Reef-Heron. Even before the penguins appeared, Stewart Island felt alive in every direction.

Eventually another couple joined us and immediately knew far more about the penguins than we did.

They taught us that little blue penguins often gather offshore in large protective groups called flotillas before coming to land after dark.

They pointed out two huge flotillas far out on the horizon. We watched and waited, hoping they would come in before it got too dark to see.

The wait was cold, windy, and buggy.

We bundled up as much as we could to protect ourselves, but Stacy had one tiny exposed line where her socks and pants did not quite connect.

The sandflies found it.

If you have been to New Zealand, you may already know about the sandflies. The bite itself does not feel like much, but the itch afterward is maddening and can last for a very long time.

It was easily Stacy’s least favorite part of New Zealand.

The flotillas never reached shore while there was still enough light for us to see them clearly.

But on the way back, we stumbled into a little blue penguin right beside the trail.

It was far too dark for a good photo, which makes the blurry little shape feel even more honest now. Sometimes the encounter matters more than the image.

Back near town, people were out looking for kiwi.

We joined for a little while. I thought I may have seen one. I could hear them calling in the darkness.

But exhaustion finally caught up with me.

I knew I might see a kiwi if I stayed out longer, but I also knew I probably was not getting a photo, and morning would come quickly.

Tomorrow was Ulva Island.

Years later, I still wish we had stayed longer on Stewart Island. But at least we still had tomorrow.

Stewart Island already felt different from anywhere else we had been in New Zealand.

But the next morning would take us somewhere even more special — across the water to Ulva Island, where the expedition would shift fully into the world of New Zealand’s birds.