Quails, Silver, and Leprosy

Today was an early start for us, and everyone was a little slower than usual crawling into the GatorWaka. We had a 9 AM ferry to catch at Lyttelton Harbor, or Whakaraupō, the inlet on the northern part of Banks Peninsula. Among the massive cargo ships and timber trucks, an Ian McLennan with the Quail Island Conservation Trust was waiting to cross us across the bay on a Black Diamond ferry to Quail Island.

The crew aboard the Black Diamond

Quail island is known by the Māori as Ōtamahua, meaning “place where children collect sea eggs,” since Māori children used to lower themselves down the cliff faces with flax rope to snatch up the much-desired seabird eggs sitting on the rocks. After the arrival of the Europeans, the island was used as a quarantine station and leper colony, as well as farmland, leaving it almost completely barren. Then, in 1997, the Quail Island Ecological Restoration Trust was born, and since then more than 95,000 native trees and shrubs have been planted and all pests but mice eradicated. Today we would continue their valiant efforts to transform Quail Island into a native sanctuary. Once we brought up the supplies from the ferry and Ian gave us the rundown, we donned our anti-Legionnaire’s disease masks, and began potting and trimming the native silver tussocks.

Two hours and a tea break later, the team stands over 383 potted tussocks.

Lunch at The Log

After lunch we walked the perimeter of the island, as Dr. Colin Meurk showed us the progress of the project and told us about the history of the Trust and the island. We were able to spot many native plants and birds, as well as one of the many purposefully sunken ships from the early 1900s. Unfortunately, we were unsuccessful at finding the native gecko or skink.

The Darra, a sunken composite barque from 1950

The class searching for the elusive gecko

We worked our way down to Whakamaru Beach, where we were greeted by the friendly rope swings and the quarantine barracks, filled with the souls of ancient lepers that were left there to die, such as Ivon Skelton, the owner of the only grave on the island.

Swing break on Whakamaru Beach

The barracks and tenant

We then took the next ferry back to the mainland, where Dr. Hostetler treated us to a much-needed teatime. We concluded the long day with a walk through the small town of Lyttelton and a listen to the outdoor piano.  -Dylan

Jàmm tickling the ivories

P.S. From Meryl - Dylan tickling the ivories of the 100 year old Lyttleton community street piano.  

: )