48°01′S 166°32′E
The sky is thick with birds. My first sighting of the Snares was at roughly 6am on Christmas Eve, and in the wind-tossed grey blue of morning I stood on the top deck of The Spirit of Enderby. The sea is blanketed in black specks – Sooty Shearwaters – and every few minutes a raft of penguins shoots past, porpoising frantically towards the islands. Overhead, birds are streaming through the sky in a chaos of movement, all directions, soaring up and stalling down. The Snares are home to millions of seabirds, a safe nesting place on islands that have never been invaded by pests – no mice, rats, cats, pigs, nothing in the host that plagues other subantarctic islands.
The waters are choppy, but the conditions are good enough for us to cruise around the coast of North East island in the zodiacs. It’s the only way we can encounter the island, as to keep it in it’s pristine state, landings are forbidden. There is also the hazard of the islands being absolutely full of seabird burrows – so it’s also for our own safety! Both times I have visited the Snares, the conditions have been unusually calm, and I count myself extremely lucky to have been able to experience these islands from the zodiac twice.
If from the ship there appear to be seabirds everywhere, getting on the zodiacs is like plunging into the middle of the swarm. Diving petrels appear out of nowhere, flutter like mad and plunge back into the sea. Penguins pop up and dive down, usually in rafts, sometimes alone and a little more frantic. Cape Petrels bob along on the water to feed, and the Buller’s Albatross that nest on North East island are everywhere – floating on the swell, heaving themselves into the air, wheeling above, and calling from the cliffs.
With all of this, you’d expect that my first impression of the Snares was ‘seabirds’. But something had been niggling me from the time I stood on the top deck before breakfast, and I couldn’t put a finger on it. Once we’d been briefed on the island and boarded the zodiacs, heading towards the coastline clarified the feeling very suddenly. It was the geology. These rocks, the cliffs thrust up out of the ocean, the stacks and the worn sea caves, were unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. They just didn’t look real. I found it impossible to describe. 100 million year old muscovite granite, worn by wind and waves into jointed, creviced slabs that jut out in all directions. Rocks bright with lichens and starkly weathered, at the tidal mark a rich skirting of kelp surrounds the islands. And on top of these rocks, a dense covering of foliage in the Olearia forest – a tree daisy that covers North East Island.
The Snares are wild, and have always been – and that’s something rare, even in the remote Southern Ocean. It’s even more surprising as the Snares are our nearest subantarctic island group – they’re only about 100km from Rakiura/Stewart Island, which was an overnight trip for us. Discovered by Europeans in 1791 and named for their potential hazard to ships, they were already known to Māori as they are sometimes visible from Rakiura. The group is known as the Snares/Tini Heke, and consists of the main group of Northeast Island and Broughton Island, and the Western chain islands named in Māori from one to five – Tahi, Rua, Toru, Wha, Rima. There was a brief period of sealing between 1817 and 1830 before the Fur seal population was decimated. During wartime castaway depots were stocked on many of the subantarctic islands, and the Snares was no exception. More recently, apart from scientific expeditions, the Snares have been left untouched, and the Fur seal and Sea lion populations have made a recovery.
In that, we are lucky. Endemic birds to the Snares have never suffered the predation that drove many of our mainland birds extinct. There are entirely black Tomtits only found the Snares, and an endemic Fernbird, and Snipe. On my first visit I am lucky to be in the zodiac driven by Rodney Russ, and he makes it his mission to find a Fernbird for us, and we end up with two. The Tomtits are slightly easier to find, but the Snipe are the miracle bird, and there are no miracles for us today. Still, seeing two out of three endemics isn’t bad! And then, of course, there are the Snares Crested Penguins. When you’re zodiac cruising the coast, it’s really all about the penguins.
Penguins in kelp that seems to have a life of its own, wriggling their way to and from the clear water. Penguins on rock ledges, hunched and asleep, or arguing with the neighbours. Penguins don’t argue quietly, and the air rings with noise. Penguins aren’t the sweet singers of the bird world either – you can find out what these guys sound like here. Penguins everywhere, except in the air, although a few of them glide briefly above the water when they porpoise in from the sea. 
It’s penguin rush-hour, parents coming back en masse to feed their chicks, hidden in the forest, who will fledge in late January. Though there appear to be penguins everywhere, there’s a special place for penguins we’re headed to. A massive slope of granite from the forested top of North East island down to the sea, laced with furrows from penguin claws. The Penguin Slide. 
There’s not a whole lot of sliding going on – mostly it’s birds steadfastly making their way up the slide into the forest, but occasionally the group on the waterline reaches a critical mass and a small group will trip and waddle down to fling themselves into the water. There’s a patch in the middle of the slide that is clear of kelp, and the penguins patter down to it and are engulfed as the swell rises.
Apart from an infrequently used Department of Conservation base, the Snares are the domain of wildlife. As an introduction to the subantarctic islands, they are spectacular. It’s a world of soaring seabirds and playful Sea lions, land birds flitting at the forest edge, Fur seals regarding us moodily from kelp-cushioned beds, and penguins everywhere. There is a real feeling that this is their place, not ours, and we are only allowed to look, not touch. Out of sight of the ship in zodiacs, I feel very small in the midst of so much wildlife. A grumpy-looking Fur seal bares his teeth in a wide yawn. Though I would love to cruise these calm waters forever, the weather will turn, and so must we. Back to the ship, and onwards south into the ocean, towards the Auckland Islands.
My friend and cabin mate for the journey, Liz, has written a comprehensive and very informative blog about the Snares here, well worth the read and some great images! You can also check out Dave’s trip report here, which has wonderful photos.
Next adventure – 
