By all accounts the Real Journeys Fiordland Discovery Cruise was a fantastic week that our members will treasure for the rest of their days! A variety of weather ensured Fiordland was appreciated in all her wonderous ‘moods’. Lots of talk about how great the Real Journey’s Staff were and the amazing quality of the food! Having our own John Hall-Jones as an ‘extra’ nature/heritage guide on the shore visits really added to the trip. There were only 4 cabins on the ship that weren’t occupied by OGHT members and a couple of them have enquired re membership already! I could go on but think I’ll just let the pictures do the talking then leave you with a wee poem recited by Anna Clark on the ‘entertain the crew’ evening – gives you some idea of the ‘tone’ of the antic’s that went on!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The Fiordland Moose Written aboard The Milford Wanderer on August 2nd 2012

“Hullo, my name is Minnie
A Fiordland Moose am I
I can see that you are startled
By the strange look in your eye

When long ago my ancestors
Were taken for a ride.
Transported to these southern shores,
All we could do was hide

From gentlemen with noisy guns
Who had us in their sights.
While booming gunshots filled the day
Booming kakapos filled the nights.

A wise old moose observing
The diminishing of our herd
Said “We  need some counter measures,
Though they may seem quite absurd.

Instead of holding heads up high,
We should be thinking low.
Hopefully we’ll be overlooked
And thus our family grow.

If Stunted Jim begets some kids
Off little Runty Prue

A lowering of moose height
Must surely then ensue.

If Pygmy Jack climbs Maureen’
s back And then begets some more,
We moose will get much shorter
Closer to the forest floor!

So all those men with noisy guns
Their targets will not see
And all our bloody antlers
Will not tangle in a tree!”

Up and spoke a bull named Fred
A fine tall moose was he
“Are you saying Stunted Jim
Should have more kids than me?”

He swung his mighty shoulders
And loped off behind a stump
The last his kinsfolk heard of him
Was gunfire, and a thump.

The herd looked at the wise old moose
And nodded affirmation
“Our one chance of survival
Is restricted fornication!

To throw the hunters off the scent
And Mr Tustin too,

We’ll keep them thinking bigger
And consolidate our poo.

We’ll use one of the late Fred’s hoofs
To keep the myth alive
By stamping hoofprints in the mud.
The legend will survive”.

I am very glad to meet you
On your Milford Wanderer Cruise.
I only stand at knee height
And my name is Minnie Moose”