Okiwi Bay

This past week, Tony and I were very lucky — we’d been invited to spend a few days with friends at their bach in Okiwi Bay, tucked right up at the very top of the South Island in the Marlborough Sounds. It’s such a beautiful, scenic part of the country, all folds of hills and quiet water. We arrived late on Monday, but not so late that we missed those first lovely views out across the bay

Home for the week was a lovely big house owned by our friends’ family. Mum and Dad were there to greet us when we arrived — they’d aired the place out and made up beds for us all, which felt wonderfully welcoming after the long drive. Once we’d said our hellos, they headed back over the pass to Blenheim, leaving us to decide who would sleep where and to pull together a late dinner. As it turned out, late dinners became a bit of a theme for the week.

Our friends had their older daughter with them, and they also introduced us to a new friend and two of his older children.

 And then there was Mackenzie...

We’d never met her before, but she made herself known in about five seconds flat. A small white bundle of curly fur and charisma, Mackenzie quickly claimed her spot — on the boat, in our hearts, and occasionally in the middle of the kitchen when snacks were being discussed. 

She’s quite the performer. Make a finger-gun and say “bang!” — she’d flop over dramatically, playing dead with theatrical flair. She danced for praise, high-fived for treats, and generally kept us all entertained with her clever antics and cheerful spirit. By the end of the week, she wasn’t just part of the group — she was the unofficial mascot of the bach.

Mackenzie came along with us whenever we headed out on the boats, usually first aboard. She took her place on the deck with great dignity, surveying the bay like a seasoned skipper. That said, her talents didn’t quite extend to handling a fishing rod — though she did offer moral support and kept a close eye on the bait bucket, just in case snacks were involved.

With eight adults and one small, enthusiastic dog, we were spread across two boats. Okiwi Bay is full of rocky inlets and little pockets of deep water, perfect for dropping a line, so there was no shortage of spots to explore. We stayed tucked inside the bay, to lay a long line alongside the mussel farm close to the cliffs, then we ventured out into the Sound itself, weaving between islands and rocky outcrops in search of good place to try our luck.

We only managed to fish on two days because the weather had its own ideas. Tuesday was beautifully bright and sunny — the kind of day that makes you feel like you’ve chosen the perfect week to be away. Wednesday… not so much. The rain arrived just as we were laying the longlines at the mussel farm, but we headed out anyway and made the best of it.

And we were rewarded. A pod of dolphins — twenty or thirty of them — found us and decided we were worth a visit. They swam around the boats for a good five minutes, weaving in and out, surfacing so close we could hear their breaths. At one point they even scooped up one of the undersized fish being returned to the water, as if helping with quality control. It was pure magic, the kind of moment that will stay with us all for a long time. 

Thursday it rained — and rained — and rained. A very wet morning, but that didn’t stop the young people; they went swimming in the bay, undeterred by the drizzle. While they were busy, the rest of us found jobs to do. The fish we’d caught were already filleted, but we took time to bag and seal them, getting everything ready for the freezer.

The men tackled a few small maintenance jobs around the house, while Vikki and I did laundry and kept everyone fed. Then I found a jigsaw puzzle — a physical map of New Zealand — and made a start. Later in the afternoon the rain eased. The young people took Mackenzie for a walk in the Fairy Forest (more about that another time), our hosts headed off for a bush walk, and Tony and I carried on with the puzzle.

Friday’s weather forecast looked much the same as Thursday’s — and Saturday’s was even worse — so we made the call to head home. Part of the road had already washed out, and while we didn’t really want to leave, we figured it was time to be responsible adults. (Reluctantly.)

We headed inland and drove back through wine country before heading back out to the coast.

There was plenty of rain on the drive, and as we looked out over the East Coast, the Pacific was putting on a show — big waves churning up the bottom and crashing hard onto the rocks at Kaikōura. It was still raining and properly dark when we pulled into our driveway in Timaru, just before 10pm.

Now we’re home. The bags are unpacked, the laundry’s done, and our usual rhythm has resumed. Of our catch, only the blue cod made it home to the freezer — the snapper was smoked and savoured for dinner each evening. And it was beautiful.

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