Where rain, wind, and wings meet the rhythm of the island.
Through rain and mud, the island revealed its wild pulse — a song of water, wings, and quiet strength.
The day began with the road curving past the heliport near Ryan’s Creek.
Beside the path, a small stream whispered at first,
then grew louder — until its sound filled the air like heavy rain.
Here and there, brief waterfalls flashed through the green,
their voices strong enough to feel almost fierce.
I passed Allan’s Base Camp and kept walking through real rain —
the kind that soaks everything, even thoughts.
And yet, in that wild weather, I met a gift:
a sacred kingfisher, bright as a gem, singing its clear, quick notes.
For a moment, it felt as if the storm itself had stopped to listen.
Later, back near Halfmoon Bay,
I followed the path toward Deep Bay and Ringaringa Beach.
As I approached Evening Cove, something white shimmered
across the rocks — almost ghostlike at first glance.
For a moment, I wondered, “Is that mist… or something else?”
But as I drew closer, I realized —
it was simply the pale stone, salt-washed and beautiful in its own way.
At Ackers Stone House, the wind turned wild,
pushing against me with a force that almost lifted me off my feet.
The sea was magnificent, but unreachable —
so I turned back, carried by the storm’s breath.
Through Harold Bay and back to Halfmoon Bay,
I passed Moana Garden again —
and there, even in the rain, the ferns stood tall,
their leaves shining with joy.
I smiled, remembering: Ferns have always loved the rain.
Perhaps that’s why they thrive here —
in the quiet strength of Stewart Island’s weather,
where even the storms know how to nurture life.
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