February 23, 2026: In the Marlborough Sounds, the land doesn’t so much meet the sea, as surrender to it.
“The magic of the region begins with its very formation. These are ‘drowned river valleys,’ where the land has sunk over millennia, allowing the sea to flood a vast network of gorges and hills.“
Lesley Whyte
A Week on the South Island
The South Island got a nearly full reckoning in our first New Zealand road trip. We had missed three things I had really wanted to see, and this year’s week-long jaunt would remedy two of those gaps: Kaikōura and the Marlborough Sounds.
So early Monday morning we bid adieu to Wellington and boarded the Bluebridge ferry Connemara bound for the South Island. The ship is enormous – with up to 200 cars, 130 semis, and 750 passengers. Despite the ferry’s size, the 3½-hour Cook Strait crossing can be humbling… just a few days before our crossing, storms had put the Interislander into “dolphin mode,” its bow dipping below the waves as passengers were tossed about. Our voyage, however, was blissfully uneventful. We relaxed in the lounge with no fears of spilled coffee.
During the final 90 minutes of our passage, the Connemara began sliding through the outer sounds. Verdant green cliffs rose above stony cliffs. This was remote, with only a few fisheries and the occasional bach breaking the illusion that the modern century had arrived at all.
Marlborough Sounds
In 2023 we savored the Marlborough wine region, with its unmistakable sauvignon blanc wines and surprisingly accomplished pinot noirs. But we had been remiss in exploring the Marlborough Sounds themselves, stretching like fingers out into the Cook Strait.
Not this time.
On arrival in Picton, we circled down and down and around and around to exit the Connemara, the squeal of rubber on steel and exhaust our parting impression. Reaching the exit ramp took longer than our drive to Pier 6, where we parked and prepared for the final leg of the day’s trip.
Lochmara Lodge
Lochmara Lodge is accessible only by overland hike or water taxi, and that is entirely the point. We were the only passengers – just us, the skipper and his dog – as the boat puttered to a sheltered bay of the Onahau Peninsula. No cars. No roads. No noise beyond birdsong and the lapping of the Sounds against the hull.
We stayed two nights in a Weka cabin with a balcony and views over the sound. It took all of 10 minutes to unwind completely.
The lodge runs conservation programs for native birds, eels, and lizards, and connects directly to the Queen Charlotte Track. Early the morning after our arrival, we clambered up and up the trail to Onahau Lookout for stunning views earned the hard way. A few hikers and bikers passed us on the way up, but we had the summit entirely to ourselves. Jean photographed the inter-island ferries threading through the Sounds, far below. They were like toys in a bathtub, impossibly small against the drowned valleys. I found a sunny picnic table and dozed in the sun.
The lodge also boasts an underwater observatory, one of only two in New Zealand. A visiting conservationist introduced us to the more sedentary residents – sea slugs, starfish, mussels – before we clambered down inside to peer through the glass at the native fish moving in the green half-light below. They were not particularly impressed by us.
We were reluctant to leave; this was of a place worth remembering.
One Last Glass
Before turning south toward Kaikōura, we detoured to Wairau River Cellar Door in Renwick, one of our favorite wineries from the 2023 trip. A sunny table, a glass of sauvignon blanc, the stillness of a vineyard in late summer. It never disappoints.
