Autumn weather in Dunedin City

There was rain in the forecast, heavy rain! Not only that, hail, even thunder and lightning. This was going to be one impressive evening of weather! Yet, I was sceptical. It’s not that I don’t believe the Met Service, it’s just that they have let me down so many times before. I can’t tell you the number of times that I’ve read of there being snow in the forecast, only to find that nothing more than a few messily flakes drifting across the city.

Having read that an impressive thunderstorm was on the horizon for the evening, you could forgive me for being a little dubious. Even more so, given the fact that the day itself was a gloriously sunny, cloudless day with the temperature hovering in the early 20s and the warm radiance of the sun beating down on the city. As I stood there looking across the city to the aqua blue harbour, it was a little hard to believe that the weather was going to turn so dramatically. However, if there was going to be a lightning storm, I at least wanted to be in a position to see it!Which brings to mind the story of Roy Sullivan, an American park ranger who was given the nickname the ‘human lightning rod’, for holding the Guinness World Record for being struck by lightning more times than any other human being. Over the span of his 71 years, Roy was struck a staggering seven times by lightning. The first recorded strike was in April 1942 when he was hiding from a thunderstorm in a newly built lookout tower that had no lightning rod. He was then struck again in 1969, 1970, 1972, 1973, 1976, and again in 1977. Amazingly, Sullivan’s wife was also struck when a thunderstorm suddenly arrived and she was hit while hanging out the clothes in her backyard. Seriously, this is one couple you don’t want to go out for dinner with.

Despite his incredible luck (or misfortune) when it comes to lightning, Sullivan didn’t die of a lightning strike. He died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the stomach, which is quite a tragic end to a really bizarre life story. If it tells us anything, it’s that when a lightning storm is around, you certainly don’t want to be in Roy Sullivan’s shoes.

Autumn dawn in Dunedin city

It was one of those autumn mornings that was fresh, crisp, and clear. Across the harbour, a late burst of colour from the sunrise hung over the city and reflected off the still, calm waters of the harbour. The new morning light glowed as it reflected off new and old buildings throughout the city. In a few moments, the street lights would switch off, the light would shift above the horizon, and the day would begin. I stood and watched for a few fleeting seconds, for before the chaos of day came bliss.

The Exchange near Water Street

Generally speaking, whenever you travel somewhere you’ll have given some thought to what you’ll do when you get there. Where you’ll stay, how you’ll get around, what you want to see and do, who you want to visit and some idea as to why you’re there! Now, imagine travelling to a place and having to build your accommodation before you can stay in it. Well, that’s exactly what the first pilgrims to Dunedin did upon arrival. 

If you stand on Water Street in Dunedin’s Exchange, you’ll find a memorial plate that marks the spot where the first European settlers from the ship John Wickcliffe came ashore on the 24th March, 1848. Upon landing following a 3 month voyage, they stepped ashore to find themselves surrounded with rough, uneven ground, intersected by a small stream with bush clad hills rising steeply immediately in front of them. To the right were mud flats and wide marshy ground with Mount Cargill looming high above. To the left, more swamps, marsh land and lagoons separated by a line of sand dunes that connected to the Peninsula. Before them, apart from a few survey lines cut through the bush and scrub the land was all but untouched. This was their new home.

Sunshine on St Kilda Beach

There really is something rather grand and delicious about walking along the beach, letting the breaking waves swirl around your feet on a hot summer’s day. However, come to think about it, this was autumn. The Dunedin summer weather was rubbish!

The First Church Steeple

I walked across town on foot, heading up into Dunedin’s hill suburbs to take in the view over the harbour. It was a little over seven kilometers (four miles), not too far, but enough to feel like a decent stroll. Once I’d seen what I came for, I suddenly realised-I had to walk all the way back. 

For a moment, I considered catching a bus, but that felt like cheating. Besides, it was a splendid day, and I wasn’t in a hurry. So, with time to spare, I set off for home. Along the way, I kept myself entertained by spotting as many different angles of the First Church steeple as I could-a task that was both much harder and much easier than I anticipated. 

The Otago Harbour

I had made my way from the wharf and the busy Steamer Basin, through Dunedin’s urban centre and into the hills above the city, eventually, hoping to end-up in the hillside suburb of Roslyn. It was while wandering through one of Dunedin’s many streets named after Edinburgh, Scotland, I came across a rather splendid view of Otago Harbour. 

The harbour was still and undisturbed, shimmering a deep blue hue, backdropped by the light green and brown tones of farmland on Otago Peninsula. In the foreground sat the lush greenness of the Dunedin Town Belt in all its glory, flanked by Southern Rata and Red Mangrove trees. I stood there a moment and exclaimed “well, that’s all together lovely!” to no-one particular.

Toitu Musuem

Inside the museum, while wandering past the timeless faces of Dunedin’s past, I discovered the fascinating story of one Mr John Hyde Harris. Born in Deddington, England, into an aristocratic family, John Harris seemed to have always had high ambitions—after all, he could trace his lineage back to the first Earl of Clarendon. So, it’s hardly surprising that he trained in law before emigrating to Otago, where he arrived in Port Chalmers in 1850.

Within a few years, he had married the daughter of one of Dunedin’s founding fathers, Captain William Cargill, and went on to hold numerous high-profile public roles. He served on the Dunedin Town Board, was elected Otago Superintendent, became captain of the Otago Light Horse Volunteers, presided over the 1865 Dunedin Exhibition, and was a University of Otago councillor. If that wasn’t enough to fulfill his illustrious pedigree, he was also considered one of Dunedin’s merchant elite and invested heavily in land.

However, it all fell apart for the distinguished Mr. Harris when he attempted to develop a township called Clarendon at the head of Lake Waihola. The sections didn’t sell, and he lost £28,000, ultimately declaring bankruptcy and being imprisoned for debt in 1885. He died a year later, his estate was worth just a mere £100.