Boating New Zealand contributor Kirsten Thomas chats with Wild Chix founder Isabell Zitzelsberger about what unfolded on their Fiordland adventure.
Nearly three years ago Wild Chix was created to help women build practical confidence outdoors, on the water, in the bush, and within themselves. What began as hands on boating, fishing, and safety courses has grown into something wider. Experiences designed to ease pressure, build capability, and create space to learn without judgement.
For founder Isabell Zitzelsberger, Fiordland had long been part of the Wild Chix conversation. Not as a trophy destination, but as a place where that philosophy could play out honestly.
“I always thought Fiordland would be years away,” she says. “It felt too big, too expensive, too remote. But the more I sat with it, the more it started to make sense.”
The opportunity emerged through a chance meeting at the Sika Show, where Isabell crossed paths with Maria Kuster and Seán Ellis of Pure Salt Charters. The conversation was easy and unforced, quickly revealing a shared outlook on access, conservation, and adventure with purpose.
Pure Salt, a Fiordland based charter operation run as a social enterprise, has earned national recognition for embedding conservation into everyday practice. Their work supporting predator control, marine stewardship, and restoration across Dusky Sound and surrounding islands saw them named a semi finalist for the 2026 Sustainability Leader of the Year award.
Pure Salt named Sustainability Leader of the Year semi finalist for Fiordland conservation
From that initial meeting, the idea of a women-only Wild Chix expedition in Fiordland began to take shape. Both Wild Chix and Pure Salt played equal roles in bringing it together, shaping an experience grounded in shared values rather than spectacle.
The group was based aboard M.V. Flightless, the 27 metre expedition vessel operated by Pure Salt. Designed for small groups working deep in remote waters, Flightless functioned as a genuine floating base. Kayaks, paddle boards, and two four metre RIB tenders opened up the coastline. Fishing rods and tackle were always close at hand. Bean bags appeared on deck when the weather allowed. Handheld VHF and GPS units gave confidence to roam, while a hydrophone offered the chance to listen in when dolphins or whales passed through.
Life onboard was equally well considered. An extensive library, yoga mats, and a well used games cupboard created easy moments between outings. There was no internet and no signal, by design. Connection shifted away from screens and back toward each other, and to the place itself. Warmth mattered. Space to unwind mattered too, the hot tub becoming a quietly cherished ritual at the end of the day. Safety came without fuss. Flexibility shaped every decision. For Isabell, it was exactly what the experience required, a platform that supported exploration and connection without locking the group into a rigid plan.
A conversation with Isabell Zitzelsberger
I sat down with Isabell Zitzelsberger, founder of Wild Chix, to talk through what actually unfolded onboard Flightless, and why the experience landed differently from what she first expected.
The purpose of the adventure was not to push performance or stack achievements. It was to give a small group of women the time and environment to experience Fiordland honestly, at their own pace, supported by a capable platform and a crew whose values aligned closely with Wild Chix.
“It wasn’t about doing more,” Isabell says. “It was about letting the place lead, and seeing what people took from that.”
Why base the Wild Chix Fiordland trip onboard a vessel like Flightless rather than staying ashore?
“Because Fiordland doesn’t really work if you try to experience it from the outside,” Isabell says. “You need to be in it. Being based on the boat meant we weren’t commuting or managing logistics. The boat became home.
“It enabled everything quietly. Warmth, safety, food, space to reset. That matters when you’re asking people to try things they might never have done before.”
What changed for the group once they were onboard?
“The biggest thing was time,” she says. “There’s no internet. No phones. You wake up and you’re not rushing anywhere. That alone changes people.”
Days were full, but deliberately unstructured.
“We did a lot, but without a schedule. Swimming, snorkelling, kayaking, fishing, or just sitting and watching waterfalls. No one felt like they were missing out, because there was no plan to miss.”
How important was comfort in making the adventure accessible?
“Huge,” she says. “Cold water, wet weather, remote places. Knowing you can come back, dry off, eat well, and warm up makes people far more willing to step outside their comfort zone.”
She saw that clearly with first-timers.
“Some women had never snorkelled or free dived. One wasn’t even sure she could float in a wetsuit. But when you know you can warm up straight after, fear doesn’t have the same grip.”
Was the trip about learning skills, or something else?
“I went down there thinking I’d teach a lot,” Isabell admits. “Fishing techniques, diving, maybe even hunting concepts. But Fiordland pulls that back.”
While basic skills were picked up, she says the bigger learning was internal.
“They learned how to slow down. How to listen to themselves. That surprised me.”
How did life onboard shape the group dynamic?
“The spaces bring people together,” she says. “You don’t disappear into separate worlds. After dinner, people just sit and talk.”
Those conversations often ran deep.
“You’re surrounded by women you didn’t know a few days earlier, and suddenly you’re having very honest conversations about life, stress, confidence. That doesn’t happen by accident.”
What stood out emotionally by the end of the trip?
“When we wrapped up, we went around the group and shared what everyone got out of it,” she says. “Several women cried. Not because they were sad, but because it moved them.”
One comment has stayed with her.
“One woman said, ‘I came for the place, but I’m leaving with the people.’ That sums it up.”
Did Fiordland itself reshape expectations?
“Completely,” Isabell says. “You arrive thinking adventure means catching things or ticking boxes. But Fiordland leads you differently if you let it.”
She felt that shift personally.
“I’m high energy. I always want to do the next thing. I had to learn to stop pushing and just let the place do its thing.”
Would you do it again?
“Yes,” she says, without hesitation. “But now I understand it better.”
Future trips may evolve, but the core will remain.
“A safe, warm floating base. Time. Space. And letting Fiordland work on people in its own way.”
