50° 31’S 166° 17’E
Enderby and excitement go together. It was a treasure to spend Christmas day here, and now we’re back for another go. I can’t wait to show Dad this beautiful island, walk along the clifftops and through the twisted rata forest. I also can’t wait to take more photographs!
Today is bright and warm, the sky a scattering of white and black clouds on vivid blue. There are Southern Royal Albatross spinning in the high winds, wingspans spread wide. Sea lions pepper the shore of Sandy Bay, big hulking dark males and creamy females blending in to the sand. But we can’t stay for long, because we’re off to hike the perimeter of the island, the winding route through megaherb fields, tussock, and rata that will spit us out on the other side of the bay.
It amazes me that Enderby was once a farm, and home to feral cattle for years and years afterwards. That there was a bountiful population of rabbits, released as a source of food, that decimated the megaherbs. The Anisotome fields are so dense and bright, it’s hard to imagine a barren, grassy landscape. Their heavy honey fragrance is strong in the sea breeze. It just goes to show how well ecosystems can recover – although they may never regain everything that they lost.
As well as the charismatic mega-flora, the small and gorgeous Gentians are on display as well. White and purple carpets along the wind worn cliffs, they’re a pop of colour against the green. Even though I’ve been here before, everything is just as new and exciting. No matter how many times you visit somewhere – there is always more to see. 
I love the walk around the island. Yellow-eyed penguins turn up in unexpected places like amidst cliff top gardens of megaherbs, peering at giant blooms that sometimes dwarf them. Sea lions pop out of the tussock, open-mouthed and huffing, only to flop back down and fall asleep. It feels a little other-wordly – this profusion of wildlife. But it also feels right. To me this wilderness feels as the world should be.
On Derry Castle Reef I spend time with a gaggle of Banded Dotterels. They skitter around me, darting closer and closer, passing too close for my lens to focus on them. It’s nice to be simply surrounded by birds with no fear. The burnt orange lower bands on their breasts match the dried coils of kelp that are thrown in among the rocks, and it’s very easy for them to disappear entirely, blending so perfectly into their habitat.
The rata forest is beginning to bloom, a scattering of wild red against the smooth green canopy and bone-white fingers of dead trees. Sun and shade play across the leafy tops as we make our way towards it. To walk among the twisted trunks, the velvet moss and the dense bursts of Stilbocarpa polaris is magical. Instead of fairies and gnomes there are the flitting pied pom-poms of Tomtit, the cheeky chatter of jewel-green Kakariki, and the sudden appearance of yet more Yellow-eyed penguins.
I try to find a Yellow-eyed penguin nest for Dad, determined to see how the chicks have grown. They prefer sheltered places, like tree-hollows surrounded by lush vegetation. Yellow-eyed penguins are not a social species, they nest out of sight of other pairs. While we can hear their calls through the forest, they are cryptic. But then there’s the tell-tale signs of white guano, and a protective parent standing over a grey lump of fluff. Mission successful! We watch from behind a clump of spiky Dracophyllum, take a few photos, and then take a wide berth around the nest, leaving them in peace.
Back out in the open, wind tears at us on the coastline. Sea lions pop out of the tussock, roaring and huffing. A particularly persistent young male decides that I look interesting, and mouths all over my bag. He takes a long time to lose interest, but eventually lets me retreat into the dense tussock without giving chase. I turn back and take a parting photo.
The going gets harder, tussock hummocks giving way to a dense scrub that gets taller and taller. There’s a path – somewhere – it’s just a matter of finding it. But we find it, and push through along the cliff edge. It’s a straight tumble down on to lichen-encrusted rocks and the foamy sea. Nesting in the cliffs is a pair of Light-mantled albatross, and today must be our day because they decide to demonstrate their grace in the air just as we pass by. They are such beautiful birds. Pointed wings spread wide in the wind, they spin together as a pair and then coast past the cliff at eye-level. Close enough to see where their wing-feathers have moulted recently. The delicate blue smile a perfect painted stripe on their glossy-black bills. Of the whole day, it’s this moment that leaves me entirely breathless. The simple joy of watching perfection on the wing.
It’s a long push through waist-high tussock back to Sandy Bay, but there are more Yellow-eyed penguins waiting for us. And a bag each of well earned salt-and-vinegar chips. We catch our breath and watch the Sea lion dramas play out across the bay. Skuas scream and dive, floating on the wind that funnels along the beach. The weather is turning, but it has been such a perfect day.
I realise as we are leaving that on both visits to Enderby Island, I’ve missed photographing the huge attraction of the Sea lion colony on the beach. All the cute pups in their puppy-piles, and the sleek females. I’ve seen plenty of young-males, banished from the beach for not meeting beachmaster standard. But walking around the island twice has been an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything. A grumpy-looking male eyeballs me from the edge of the rata forest. With a fallen log behind him, he looks like he’s standing in front of a wharenui – a Māori meeting house. Carved by the elements of the Southern Ocean, the scene encapsulates Enderby Island – weatherbeaten, lush, the home – the standing place of the New Zealand Sea lion. Their refuge. I feel so lucky to have experienced it.
