He doesn't show it but, underneath, James must feel incredibly smug. How else would you react to people cheerfully paying good money to tag along as you do your regular job? In fact, even if they didn't, he'd still be entitled to immense self-satisfaction, setting out each day to do his deliveries.
Captain James is a postman in Pelorus Sound, and the arrival of his smart catamaran at the various jetties along his route is the high point of the week for the 40 or 50 families who live tucked away in these glorious surroundings. As well as mail, he brings groceries, gas bottles, building materials, farm supplies and, most importantly, news and human contact. Some of these homes have no road access at all; those that do are still a long, slow, bumpy, pot-holed and winding drive away from Havelock.
This quiet little town, half an hour from Blenheim, is where we joined him for our cruise. There are three regular routes, depending on the day of the week, but all of them have common features as well as their individual highlights. There is always beautiful scenery along the calm and sheltered Sounds: blue sea, lines of black mussel beds with sometimes fur seals dozing or sunbathing on the orange buoys, and a background of hills, green with bush, forest, or farmland. There are islands big and small, little bays and beaches; gannets, terns, shags and possibly little blue penguins, as well as a good chance of a pod of show-off dolphins skimming alongside and effortlessly leaping.
As we worked our way around the bays, the only boat visible, James delivered an entertaining commentary on the history of both the century-old mail service, and the Sounds themselves, as well as giving us a local's insight into this distinctive lifestyle choice. Ours was the Friday Outer Route, past an unexpected wartime gun emplacement, sailing right to where the Sound opens into the Tasman. If we hadn't been blessed with such a beautiful day, we might even have seen Mt Taranaki — clear air, we learned, means a storm is coming.
Never mind: there was plenty to enjoy close-up. A surprising number of big, hairy, slobbery pigs, for a start; plus friendly sheep, and dogs. As the boat approached, country pets accompanied their owners down to the jetties to swap an incoming mail bag for an outgoing one, and get the gossip (owners) or a handful of biscuit (pets). We met sprightly old Bill Brownlee, a Sounds veteran, as well as families with young children, and all sorts in between, their common features an independent spirit and a deep appreciation of the peace and beauty of their surroundings.
There might have been no mains electricity or mobile reception, but there were plenty of compensations — such as the crayfish in a bucket under one jetty, on the menu that night at a remote lodge. Another bay was littered with picturesquely wrecked boats; at yet another there was no-one to meet us, so the mailbag was left in the safe paws/trotters of a Labrador and two jowly kunekune pigs.
We ate the picnic we had brought, made cups of tea in the cabin kitchen and chatted with Captain James and his deckhands, Fern and Bindi. Some people read about local history; others sat on the roof deck, the red ensign fluttering behind them, and drank in that gorgeous scenery. Some chose to try their hands at steering the boat under James' watchful eye.
By now we understood how the Mail Boat is so much more than just a postal service, or even the means of delivery of essential goods to far-distant places around the Sounds. It's a lifeline, sometimes literally, for everyone who has chosen this distinctive, and by now to us very appealing, lifestyle. As we slowly wound our way back towards Havelock, the idea of spending more time in these beautiful, peaceful surroundings became ever more attractive.
It felt like time to investigate the Mail Boat's other function: as a transfer service for people heading out to stay at the various lodges, holiday cottages and farmstays dotted around the Sounds back there behind us. I mean, why should those pigs be allowed to hog it all?
CHECKLIST: MARLBOROUGH SOUNDS
The Mail Run operates year-round, and from November to April it goes out four times weekly. The three weekdays are regular mail runs, over different routes through Pelorus and Kenepuru Sounds, each of them as good as the others. On Sundays it's a non-delivery Pelorus Wilderness Cruise, which includes an optional walk. Mail delivery cruises last around six and a half hours, and prices are $132 adults, $50 children aged 5-15. The Sunday cruise costs $115 and $50. More information and bookings at themailboat.co.nz
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