Aotearoa, Frankton, Queensland, Queenstown-Lakes District, Travel, Wild Horses

Traffic Chaos in Queenstown

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Lake Wakatipu from Marine Parade

I spent the morning in Queenstown. For a short time I wandered through the botanical gardens, eventually following a trail that took me along the lakefront in Queenstown Bay and into the main shopping area. The place was filled with the usual assortment of tourists from various countries, taking in the mountain scenery, all dressed as if it was warmer than it actually was. I had lunch at a place called Vudu Larder which was nice before strolling around the various lanes that link the town centre, in due course arriving back at my car. So, with time marching on, and there being nothing else I wanted to see, I headed off to Queenstown Airport which is found in the nearby suburb of Frankton. 

Well, nearby it might be, but easy to get to but it’s not. The traffic was insanely stupid. I don’t know how local residents put up with it, I really don’t! Not having any idea what the holdup was, all I could see in front of me was an endless procession of cars, buses, boats, camper vans, trucks and motorbikes. At one point it took me 30 minutes to drive a meager 2 kilometers. And, this was 10:30am on a Wednesday morning, hardly what I’d classify as rush hour traffic! As the traffic inched forward, I discovered the cause of all this chaos was roadworks at a roundabout that leads into the suburb of Frankton. I later read, the construction works to upgrade the intersections and Bus Hub in Frankton is anticipated to take four years to complete. Four years!! I’m sorry, but any traffic and roading upgrade that is taking four years to complete, better be a shining example in traffic engineering, an impeccable crowning accomplishment. A traffic utopia if you will, a place of perfect peace and happiness where all travelers can intermix in a state of nirvana. Anything less will be slightly disappointing!

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

King Edward Technical College

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King Edward Technical College on Stuart Street.

I continued my early morning walk through Dunedin to the Octagon, right in the heart of the city. From there, I made my way up Stuart Street, passing the stunning St Paul’s Cathedral and the old Fortune Theatre. After crossing Moray Place and Smith Street, I found myself next to the former King Edward Technical College. It’s truly impressive when you stand and take it all in. Turns out, for twenty years, it was New Zealand’s largest secondary school! I later learned that the Dunedin Art School, which became part of it in 1921, has some pretty famous alumni, like Ralph Hotere, Toss Woollaston, and Colin McCahon. Not bad company to be in!

Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Travel, Wild Horses

Rain on Princes Street

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Rain on Princes Street

It had been raining. Evidently it had stopped just long enough for the roads to begin drying, but now it started again and it quickly went from a light, mist drizzle to vigorously intense, all in a matter of seconds. One moment I was standing on the pavement admiring the far off street lights towards the top of the hill, next thing the road was a dazzlingly, shimmering glow as rain fell from the early morning gloom. It was all rather pretty, in a sleepy, low-key kind of way.

Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Travel, Wild Horses

Corner of Rattray and Princes Street

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Corner of Rattray and Princes Street

In the morning, I went to Dunedin’s city centre. It was early, and I expected it to be quiet, and it was. Apart from the occasional car that would cruise past or delivery van that would ignore almost every traffic law there was, I pretty much had the place to myself. The surrounding, dimly lit office buildings were mostly dark and empty, the occasional light beaming out across the early morning from some enthusiastic eager beaver who’d already got a headstart on the day’s proceedings.

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Early Morning City Streets

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Queens Gardens

It was one of those cool autumn mornings that reminded you winter was on its way. The night air was crisp and fresh, and while the days were still pretty warm, the sun was rising later, and the daylight hours were getting shorter and shorter. Across the city, sidewalks and streets a blanket of orange, red, ochre, and olive leaves, were starting to settle on the ground, covering the surrounding footpaths and lining the city streets.

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Dunedin Railway Station & The  JA 1274

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Dunedin Railway Station & The  JA 1274

Wondering what type of train it was that sat on display before me, I quickly found myself reading train information that I discovered was really rather boring. Unless of course, you like discussing JA Class, 100-tonne, 42 gauge, steam locomotives that have a wheel diameter of 1.372 m and boiler pressure of 200 psi that were built between 1946 and 1956! In which case, you’ll have been fascinated. However, I wasn’t! So, I’ll simply say that the old steam locomotive looked rather fetching, lit-up in its glass case, and move on to a topic with a little more spice. Like the Hyde Railway Disaster in June, 1943. 

Now, I don’t know the type of locomotive that was involved (and please don’t email me either), but the tragedy occurred just after 1:45pm when the Cromwell to Dunedin express entered a bend, just before the town of Hyde. Travelling in excess of 112 km per hour, more than twice the speed limit, all seven carriages left the rails resulting in twenty-one people being killed and another 47 injured. Following an inquiry, engine driver John Corcoran was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to three years in prison amid allegations of being drunk, the track was poorly maintained and Corcoran himself was under pressure and speeding to meet a demanding and unrealistic timetable.

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Former Fortune Theatre

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The former Fortune Theatre

I came across the former Fortune Theatre, the world’s southernmost professional theatre back in the day. It operated for nearly 44 years, putting on popular productions such as ‘The Share Club (1987)’, ‘Ladies night (1992)’, ‘Larnach (1994)’ and ‘Glide Time (1977)’.  But, let me say this, ‘former’ is the key word here. It shut down in 2018 when the Fortune Theatre Trust decided it just wasn’t financially viable anymore. Basically, not enough people were showing up. Funny, though-because as soon as the closure was announced, everyone in Dunedin was up in arms, lamenting about losing such an important arts institution. I just love the irony in that.

Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Travel, Wild Horses

Vogel Street & The Warehouse Precinct

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Vogel Street in Dunedin

If you’ve never spent time casually wandering around Vogel Street and the Warehouse Precinct in Dunedin, you’re in for a treat. This area is packed with some seriously impressive Victorian warehouses, built on land reclaimed by the Harbour Board in 1879. With the harbour, railway and the central business district all within a stones throw, Vogel Street became a bustling hub of industry, home to some of the country’s biggest companies at the time—especially during the Otago Gold Rush, when Dunedin was actually New Zealand’s largest city for a while!

Beach, Beach Life, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

St Clair Esplanade at Daybreak 

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St Clair Esplanade at daybreak 

I began the day with a walk along the Esplanade at St Clair. It’d been my intention to walk along the beach, however I completely misread the tide times. Instead of finding the beach at low tide which would have allowed me to walk out a distance and see the streetlights from a different perspective, I discovered it just after high tide. This is something I wasn’t expecting.

So, instead of a leisurely morning stroll on the beach, I settled for walking the nearby streets looking for interesting views and vantage points.

Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Travel, Wild Horses

Dunedin Railway Station at Night

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Dunedin Railway Station

If George Alexander Troup could see the elegant and grand Railway Station he designed, he would be very impressed. He would be even more astounded to see it lit-up at night. But, most of all, he would be even more stunned to be here at all since he died in 1941. When a new Railway Station building was needed for Dunedin, a competition was held to design the new building, and to the astonishment of presumably everyone except Troup himself, he won.

The station he designed is a grand affair, with a central entrance hall bookended by long, dignified wings. It was built from Kokanga basalt perched atop a base of Port Chalmers basalt, with Oamaru stone flourishes to keep things interesting. The basalt came from a quarry in Central Otago that was opened specifically for the project, because if you’re going to build something of this scale, you might as well not just be functional but suitably dramatic, as maybe all good railway stations should be.

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Dunedin Law Courts

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Dunedin Law Courts

I wandered along past a collection of cafe’s, restaurants, boutique shops and gift shops. All of which were closed. In fact, they wouldn’t be open for some hours. It was early morning and apart from the occasional truck that would rumble past, the city was quiet. 

I stopped at an intersection as another truck rocketed past. It really was surprising how many trucks were on the road at 5:30am, on a Tuesday morning. I stopped outside the Dunedin Law Courts. One of the more notable and historic buildings in central Dunedin. A John Campbell designed building in the Victorian Gothic style that was popular in Dunedin at the time, the building took seven years to construct and opened in 1902.

Aotearoa, Cape Palliser, North Island, Wild Horses

Shipwrecks in Palliser Bay – II

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Weather storm in Palliser Bay

While we’re on the subject of shipwrecks at Cape Palliser, another story is that of the Sydney based brig, the ‘Shamrock.’ Leaving Lyttelton near Christchurch in 1861, bound for Otago with a cargo of timber, and five passengers, the ship almost immediately hit inclement weather. Under the command of captain Thomas Dixon, the Shamrock hit violent gales and mountainous seas that threw the ship about and carried on throughout the afternoon and into the night. 

By morning, the ship was completely off course and taking on water. The captain, fearing he couldn’t keep his vessel afloat much longer, made the decision to beach the ship in an attempt to save the passengers and the cargo. Striking a bit of luck for the first time on the journey, the ship ran aground onto a sandy beach in Palliser Bay, thus ensuring passengers, crew and cargo were safe. While the ship eventually broke-up on the shoreline, Captain Dixon later stated that the wind was so great, the beach was strewn with dead albatrosses, porpoises and other marine life. For many years afterwards, it was referred to as ‘The Great Gale of 61.’

Aotearoa, Cape Palliser, North Island, Wild Horses

Shipwrecks in Palliser Bay – I

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Cape Palliser coastline

Heavy, dark clouds hung overhead like a thick blanket. Out to sea, In the distance a wall of weather loomed ominously on the horizon. I was heading for Cape Palliser Lighthouse, the southernmost point of the North Island. Earlier in the day, I read that snow was forecast to fall in the Wairarapa area however that was something I’d chosen to ignore. I’d simply assumed it wouldn’t happen. After all, how often do you really believe snow will fall when it’s forecast. Now, late in the afternoon it seemed they might have been right afterall. 

Sometime around the year 1827, French Explorer Dumont d’Urville named this location ‘Useless Bay.’ On account of the fact that at the time he was unable to go shore due to heavy seas. To some degree he was correct, as there is a long list of shipwrecks and stories of boats sinking after striking rocks along the rugged and dangerous coastline. One such sinking was that of a schooner called the ‘Witness’ in 1854.

On route from port Lyttelton near Christchurch to Wellington, the Witness was transporting a range of produce including a large cargo of potatoes. As the ship approached Wellington Harbour, it hit rough weather and was blown off course towards Cape Palliser and Palliser Bay. As the schooner started to flounder and was driven towards the shoreline rocks, the captain, recognising the danger his ship was now in, called his men together. Fighting against the conditions, he instructed the crew that when they were close enough to shore, he would give the word to jump. He then followed this up with a second series of orders to several close-by crew men. The cabin boy, who mistakenly thought the order to jump had been given, immediately leapt into the violent sea and drowned. His body later came ashore near the mouth of the Wharepapa River, the ship was lost, uninsured, and the owner lost all he possessed.

Aotearoa, Hutt River, North Island, Upper Hutt, Wild Horses

The Hutt River

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The Hutt River

Whenever I stay in Upper Hutt, I make a point of completing a daily walk of between 6 to 8 kilometres along a route I rather like. It ventures along the banks of the Hutt River and stretches into the Akatarawa Valley. The river is always interesting to look at and watch as I stroll along the various paths and bridges that cross the river. It’s really a rather splendid way to pass some time. 

It was on one of these walks that I began to wonder where the ‘Hutt’ name came from. The more I thought about it, the more curious I became. Having plenty of time to think on my walk, I settled on the assumption that a man (sorry ladies, but these places are always named after men) named ‘Hutt’ must have had something to do with discovering the area. Or, at least have made a deep and lasting connection with local Māori, thus forging a new beginning for European and Māori relations in the area. 

But, alas no! I was wrong! The Hutt River and indeed the cities of Upper and Lower Hutt are named after a man named Sir William Hutt. I know this because I looked it up after completing my walk. 

Sir William Hutt was a British politician and aristocrat. Born in 1801 in Surrey, England, he spent his childhood living in the highest class of British society, was educated at the finest schools with private tutors and eventually graduated from Trinity College in Cambridge with a B.A. in 1927. He married heiress Mary Millner and they resided at Streatlam Castle in County Durham, England. In 1832, he entered Parliament as MP for Kingston Upon Hull and went on to have a long and distinguished career in the halls of power. He was a member and commissioner of the foundation of South Australia, the New Zealand Association, was director of the New Zealand Company, served as Vice-President of the Board of Trade, Paymaster General and was sworn on to the Privy Council in 1860. When Mary died in 1860, he inherited mining properties worth £18,000 a year. He remarried the next year, and was knighted in 1865 at the age of 64. Sir William eventually died in 1882 at the age of 81, leaving his vast properties to his brother, Sir George Hutt. 

So, in essence, the Hutt River was named after a man who had never seen it, been near it, heard of it, been in this country or even had the faintest idea what it was. I doubt he could even find it on a map! 

So, here’s a new rule. Anyone that has a place or land feature named after them, must visit it, in person, at least once a year. Just to check on it and make sure everything is in order and there is no erroneous spelling in any nearby graffiti. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to book a boat trip to Caswell Sound in Fiordland National Park. 

Middlemarch, Strath Taieri, Sutton, Wild Horses

Sutton Railway Station

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Sutton Railway Station

These days, the Sutton railway station is a sleepy relic, a station without a train, with nothing but the wind for company. Once a bustling wee hub, a place where locals from the Strath Taieri area came and went on their way to Dunedin. Step inside (or rather, peer through the old door), and you’ll find names scratched into the timber—some dating back nearly to the turn of the century. Among the scrawls left behind by idle hands are the initials of soldiers who once passed through, including one Arthur Charles Peat.

Arthur was 21 when he left Sutton in late 1914, off to do his bit for ‘The Great War.’ He enlisted with the Otago Infantry Battalion on the 13th of December and was promptly packed onto the HMS Tahiti, bound for Egypt. In early April, somewhere on the Red Sea, he wrote to his brother Jack, because that’s what one did in 1914 when one was about to do something life-altering and potentially catastrophic—one wrote home, preferably before seasickness set in. He described three days at sea before spotting the Suez Canal, the excitement of saluting passing ships, and the thrill of buying fruit from enterprising locals. Then came the train ride through the canal, followed by a jaunt into Cairo, where he had a look at the sights but only glimpsed the pyramids from a distance—an experience not unlike visiting Paris and only seeing the Eiffel Tower reflected in a puddle. He ended the letter in a hurry, promising to write more next time, presumably because the postman was already tapping his foot.

That next letter never came. Arthur and the Otago Infantry Battalion were shipped off to Gallipoli, where things quickly went from ‘unpleasant’ to ‘a complete and utter disaster.’ On the 7th of August, 1915, at Chunuk Bair, Arthur Charles Peat was killed in action. His name, along with the others who never returned, remains etched into the wood at Sutton station—a quiet reminder of lives that passed through, bound for places they would never see again.

Central Otago, Clyde, Cromwell, Lake Dunstan, Wild Horses

Lake Dunstan & The Cromwell Gorge

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Lake Dunstan in autumn

Whenever I’m driving past Lake Dunstan I can never decide whether I actually like it. You see, when the lake was made after the Clyde Dam was completed in 1992, it flooded the spectacular Cromwell Gorge, taking with it many historical important settlements that’ll never be seen again. If you never saw the gorge, you have no reason to miss it, however if you remember the famous gorge, you’ll know how wonderful it was. 

It had dramatic cathedral-like rock formations on either side of the Clutha River that dropped dramatically to the river far below. The road, which connected Cromwell to Clyde and Alexandra twisted and turned through the valley, passing historic gold-mining locations that linked to the every origins of European settlement in the area with orchards of every description lining the river banks. Now, in its place is a stunning lake with mountain views and small inlets scattered along the shoreline, making it a popular spot for recreational activities like boating, fishing, and cycling along the shoreline trails. 

I pondered all of this while driving through the gorge. It was a crisp autumn day. I’d left the town of Cromwell and after several minutes I found myself driving past where the gorge had once been, stuck behind a campervan. Do I ever hate campervans! They take up entire lanes on the road, they constantly sway from side to side, they’re slow and they spoil the view. Plus, they always seem to be either lost or unsettlingly disoriented. I can’t tell you how much I loathe campervans!! On this occasion, I just happened to be following two of them, going slower than a snail suffering from a bad case of arthritis. Groups of geriatric’s with walkers could have passed us! So, I pulled into one of the rest areas by the lake to wait several weeks until they were far ahead of me. 

It was mid-morning and there was a cool crispness to the morning air as autumn leaves lined the shoreline. Across on the distant shore, the rocky hillside glistened in the morning sun. It was all very still and tranquil, yet I still missed the old gorge!

Aotearoa, Pukerau, Southland, Travel, Wild Horses

Pukerau

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The Phoenix Store in Pukerau

I drove past broad hectares of lush farmland, surrounded by low, rolling hills. Occasionally I’d pass an old farm shed or long treelines that stretched up into the hills. The traffic was light and the fields were empty as I headed south towards the town of Gore. At one point, I rounded a bend and to my surprise discovered a tractor taking up all of his lane and half of mine, coming  directly at me. He appeared to be leading a strange convoy of vehicles that included a truck, a police car and other assortments of private vehicles. Since, the oncoming procession was clearly focused on taking up as much road as possible, I pulled over to let them pass. I was in the small town of Pukerau.

One of Pukerau’s claims to fame is that of mistaken identity. Originally referred to as ‘The Swamp’, by the 1860’s people were referring to it as Taylor’s Creek. The only problem being there were already numerous ‘Taylor’s Creeks’ in the wider region, thus causing great confusion. On more than one occasion, disgruntled travellers were left confused as they ended up in the wrong location while still being at ‘Taylors Creek.’. To solve this problem, settlers adopted the Māori name for the district, Pukerau –The Land of Many Hills. The place really sprang to life as a settlement once European settlers started searching for decent farmland and the railway line arrived in 1876. Today, it’s a quiet rural community that can take an astonishingly long time to drive through, if you get your timing wrong.

Beach, Beach Life, Dunedin, Wild Horses

The Devine Beach

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Lawyers Head, St Kilda and St Clair Beach

It was one of those stunning summer days where the sun was shining, it was hot and the sky was clear without a breath of wind. I had spent the morning completing a few errands in town, and having finished all my tasks, I rewarded myself with a walk to the beach. I made my way through suburbs with neatly manicured lawns and streets lined with vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Eventually the coast came into view and the familiar smell of sand and saltwater filled the air. I made my way to the top of a line of sand dunes that looked out over the beach and stretched far into the distance. I was so impressed, I instantly gave it my International Beach of the Year Award before heading off to explore the nearby rock pools while getting dive bombed by contemptuous sea-gulls.

Aotearoa, Gibbston Valley, Queenstown-Lakes District, Wild Horses

Wherever I Wander, Wherever I Rove

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Bic Runga performing at Gibbston Valley

Well, I’m now a month into my 365 project for the 4th year in a row in which I post a new photo everyday here on my photoblog. If you’re new to my wee corner of the world were I hang my hat, this is what I’m all about:

… from a Small City. A photoblog about discovering small towns, forgotten points of interest and the curiosities of my island home. 

Photographed and written from my point of view, with a particular focus on observations of daily life, history and geography, I transcribe my travels around Aotearoa. My goal is to travel around my own backyard and beyond it, taking stock of my home and reconnecting with its identity. Does Ōtepoti reflect its Scottish roots of Kilts, Haggis and Robbie Burns poetry? Are we a nation still obsessed with Fresh Up, Fush & Chups, Buzzy Bees, The Pavlova, Paua Shells, The Edmonds Cookbook, Hokey Pokey Ice Cream with a No 8 Wire mentality? Are these items symbolic of life in Aotearoa or just of an urban myth sold off to tourists who drive on the wrong side of the road and decorate bushes with loo paper? My trips aim to answer these questions as I travel …. from a Small City around Aotearoa discovering small towns, forgotten points of interest and the curiosities of his island home.

Aotearoa, Travel, Wellington, Wellington CBD, Wild Horses

Wellington Railway Station

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Wellington railway station

I took a train to Wellington central station. A slow, yet not uncomfortable trip I shared with a dozen or so passengers. Along the way people came and went as we stopped at various stations until we reached our eventual destination and alighted at the end of line. 

It was Christmas Eve and I had expected Wellington railway station to be a teeming throng of passengers hurrying between platforms, armed with parcels-desperately trying to not to drop everything as they raced to catch a train. I was secretly hoping I might even hear somebody yelling “hold that train!” with a shrill mild sound of panic in their voice watching the train pull away from the platform. Alas, I was wrong. The place wasn’t busy at all. A few people were shuffling around but nothing like what I had expected. The place seemed almost deserted! 

In the modern age, there aren’t too many places where commuter rail really survives and Wellington is one of them. If news and TV has taught me anything it’s that on Christmas Eve, places like airports, train stations and shopping malls are a swarming mass of busyness, stress and tension but this was not the case. At the far end of the station a few people were milling around a doorway while the rest of the station was, well, empty! I walked from the platforms inside the main building and looked at the decorative marble surrounds and the high dome ceilings, finished with tile. Footsteps echoed around the vaulted ceilings while on the windows of empty rooms sat ‘to lease signs.’ Once, in the golden age of New Zealand rail, all around the country the railway station was the grandest building in town. Now, most of them are simply empty shells collecting dust and cobwebs inside. It all seemed rather sad and depressing in a way. Then it occurred to me, there is a silver lining in all this, at least they haven’t pulled it down to make a carpark! 

Since I pretty much had the place to myself, and I wasn’t in any rush I had a good wander round taking in some of the architecture which really was rather splendid. But to be honest with you there is only a certain amount of time you can spend looking at a lonely railway station, and it was a lovely day outside. Near the exit, beams of sunshine were streaming through the windows, enticing me to venture outside and head for the waterfront docks. So, that’s just what I did. 

As I emerged I passed and a disheveled looking man holding a sign saying “hungry, need food?” to which I politely said ‘No thank you, I’ve already eaten’ and walked on towards the waterfront.

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Chinese New Year In Dunedin

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The Chinese New Year at Lan Yuan in Dunedin 

It was the Chinese New Year. So, as a way to celebrate I visited the Dunedin Chinese Gardens. Opened in 2008, the gardens were created with the support of the Shanghai Municipal Government, are New Zealand’s only authentic Chinese Garden and when it opened, one of only three outside China. They are well worth a visit and so, that’s just what I did! 

The place was peaceful and quiet. An inner city oasis filled with tranquil waterfalls and ponds, connected with calm and serene walkways that make all thoughts of the busy city outside its walls, drift away.  Inside the gardens were in festive preparation mode with decorative lanterns gently swaying in the light breeze. All around, there were signs that a busy evening was in store yet the place remained calm and peaceful. If this was anywhere else, with thousands of people expected in a few hours, it would be mayhem!  Yet, here nothing seemed a bother. Everything was happening in a placid, slow motion sort of way, it was all rather nice. 

While I was there I decided to brush up on my knowledge of the Chinese zodiac signs. This year is the year of the Snake however there are twelve in total, all of which have lucky meanings and characteristics. It is believed that people born in a given year have the personality of that year’s animal. If you are an Ox you’re diligent, dependable and strong while those who are a Dog are lovely, honest and prudent. I was born in the year of the Dragon, meaning not only am I the coolest of all the animals, but I’m also confident, intelligent and enthusiastic. They also seem to have missed out devilishly handsome, but I’m willing to let that one slide. 

The festivities in the evening began at 7pm sharp with the gardens open to visitors while outside a Dragon parade made its way a short distance from the centre of the city to the main entrance. At that point a Dragon Dance took place before other various cultural dances and performance celebrations were held, culminating in a grand fireworks display that lit-up the evening sky.        

All of this I missed due to a prior engagement, except for the spectacular 10 minute fireworks display over the harbour basin and could be seen all over the city.

Aotearoa, Central Otago, Clyde, Travel, Wild Horses

Olivers – The Benjamin Naylor Story

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Olivers in Clyde

Speaking of gold, Clyde is another place that quickly went from being a tranquil, sleepy hollow beside a river, to a boomtown overrun with gold hungry miners. When gold was discovered in the gorge beyond where the town of Clyde now lies, chaos ensued. Within a year, in the vicinity of fifteen to twenty thousand miners were clambering along the banks of the river and surrounding gullies, seeking a fortune in gold. 

So it was that Clyde (then known as ‘The Dunstan’) became a confusion of shanties as calico tents and scantling huts shot up everywhere. Amidst the mayhem of the new town, as thousands of kilograms of gold was drawn out of the once quiet gullies, one new arrival at The Dunstan was Benjamin Naylor. Having been based in Gabriel’s Gully near Lawrence, he arrived with a wagon-load of supplies in 1862 once news of the gold discovery spread across the young province.  Affectionately known as ‘Old Ben,’ the merchant and farmer set up a tent store selling produce from his farm in the Manuherikia Valley to the grizzled, fortune seeker prospectors hoping to strike it rich.

Aotearoa, Queenstown, Queenstown-Lakes District, South Island, Travel, Wild Horses

Eichardt’s in Queenstown

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Eichardt’s in Queenstown

It’s Welshman William Gilbert Rees who we can thank (or, depending on your views on tourist hotspots, quietly curse) for Queentown. A sheep farmer who arrived in the South Island of New Zealand via New South Wales in Australia, he came across the present day location of Queenstown while out searching for farm land with fellow explorer Nicholas von Tunzelmann (who seems largely forgotten about). 

Rees then settled on the shores of Lake Wakatipu, established a sheep farm and happily went about life in the picturesque location. Until, gold was discovered in November 1862. One moment, Queenstown was a peaceful, sheep-filled paradise; the next, it was swarming with fortune-seekers who, judging by the speed of their arrival, had developed a sixth sense for gold. From that point onwards, all hell broke loose! The calm, tranquil shores of Queenstown became a rough shantytown that was overrun with miners. Rees, who presumably just wanted a quiet life tending his sheep, found himself in charge of an impromptu boomtown filled with dishevelled miners and questionable hygiene. To keep up with the boom, Rees converted his woolshed into a hotel, calling it the Queen’s Arms. He then went into partnership with Albert Eichardt who eventually changed the hotel’s name to Eichardt’s Queen’s Arms and then later simply Eichardt’s Private Hotel. So, when the owner’s say ‘so much of the local history has taken place in this spot’ they’re not exaggerating. Although, I wonder what Nicholas von Tunzelmann thinks of all this?

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Life Happens, Coffee Helps

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Crawford Street in Dunedin

It was 5:30am and I was functioning without a morning injection of black coffee into my system. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing up! It had all seemed such a good idea the previous evening, getting up early and photographing the city before sunrise! Now, here I was, standing near a set of traffic lights, barely able to string together a coherent thought. I vowed to seek out a cup of joe as soon as possible. Despite my sluggish brain at such an early hour, one question kept nagging at me; how did we become so addicted to coffee? It can’t have always been like this, right? Surely, there must have been a point in history when the consumption of coffee in the morning skyrocketed and people worked out they might actually be able to make a tidy profit selling the stuff. I pondered this a little longer before setting to see if I could find a coffee vendor at such an hour!

Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Travel, Wild Horses

The Glow Worms at Nicols Creek

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The Glow Worms at Nicols Creek

I left Nicols Falls and stopped off at the Glow worms on my way back down the hill. During my time at the falls, the rain had gotten harder, the track more slippery and to make matters worse, a breeze had picked up. This had the annoying effect of shaking large amounts of rain off the leaves above-directly onto me! No matter where I stood, the water would hit me in sudden bursts. Thump! Thump! Thump! It felt like being shot from a mega charged water-pistol! 

Just as I began to think the rain might ease, it would bucket down again, followed by gusts of wind that shook the trees- Thump! Thump! Thump! By the time I reached the Glow worms, I was soaked from head to toe. Worse still, I realised I wouldn’t even be able to see the glow worms. Instead, l found myself standing in the rain, photographing a forest path beside a small stream and waterfall that tumbled over moss-covered rocks, surrounded by lush green foliage.

Oddly enough, it was all rather satisfying!

Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Travel, Wild Horses

Nicols Falls In Dunedin

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Nicols Falls in Dunedin

It was Sunday morning and low clouds, mist and rain hung over the city like a bad hangover. This wasn’t the summer I’d been hoping for, or expecting. What I wanted was long, endless days of sunshine that ran for weeks and weeks at a time. That was back when summer was a sparkle on the horizon during a dreary spring day and everyone eagerly looked forward to wearing bikinis, speedos and board shorts at the beach or beside a lake from dawn to dusk. The day would then be completed with a BBQ that ran late into the night. Then, the next day, you’d do it all over again because that’s what summer’s for. 

Some months back, I remember reading predictions from experts about what we could expect, weather wise for summer. There’d been much talk about climate cycles and weather patterns. Experts had used terms I didn’t completely understand like La Niña, El Niño, El Paso, El Taco and El Capitán (some of those might not be quite right!). Now, I’m not sure what all that means, but what we got was long periods of El shitty weather and La crappie days of rain.

On this occasion, I didn’t want to be stuck in doors, I needed exercise, I needed to walk-regardless of how hard it was raining. A thought that had been lingering in the back of my mind for a few weeks was a stroll up to Nicols Falls located in the Glenleith, Leith Valley area of Dunedin. And so, that’s just what I did. I have to say, the falls aren’t actually that impressive, but it’s fun bounding over the boulders and through the streams along the way.

Owaka, Purakaunui Falls, Purakaunui River, The Catlins, Wild Horses

Waterfalls, Walks & The Catlins

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The Purakanui Falls

From Nugget Point I drove 37 kilometres southwest to Purakaunui Falls. A trip that took roughly 40 minutes and another 10 minutes of walking along a short, but well maintained bush track that terminated at the iconic falls. Located on the Purakanui River, the falls cascade over three tiers, creating a stunning, wide and spectacular waterfall that stands over 20 metres high. Adding to the charm is the surrounding lush native podocarp forest that holds its own tranquil beauty, creating a popular tourist destination for travelers exploring the wondrous natural beauty of The Catlins.

Nugget Point, The Catlins, Wild Horses

Christopher Columbus & The Round Earth Theory.

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Nugget Point in The Catlins

I turned off the Southern Scenic Route and headed towards Kapa Point and Molyneux Bay, eventually arriving at Nugget Point. I parked the car between two campervans (do I ever hate campervans!) and began the 20 minute walk to Nugget Point and the lighthouse. 

The lighthouse is situated at the end of a track that sits an impressive 76 metres above the sea. A desolate and windswept headland on the Catlins coast. It’s a truly spectacular view, however I don’t think I’ve ever been there when it hasn’t been at least a tad windy. On this occasion, the breeze could best be described as lively and vigorous. As I made my way to the lighthouse and accompanying viewing area, the wind pounded the point in surges. At first, the platform was surprisingly empty, gradually more people arrived and squeezed onto the tiny viewing area. This forced me to take in the scenic beauty while being uncomfortably close to complete strangers. 

On one side of me were a group of Asian tourists who, judging by all the pointing were having what appeared to be a very heated discussion about shoes! On the other was a man who was giving a history lesson to his son. He was explaining that once, everyone believed that earth was flat and when an explorer named Christopher Columbus set sail, everyone feared he would sail off the edge of the world.  I wanted to interject and state this was a factually incorrect piece of history that has been repeatedly rolled out so often over the years that people now just view it as gospel. In fact, it is completely wrong! When Christopher Columbus set sail in 1492, not only did he know the earth was round, people had done so for hundreds of years. In fact, philosophers as far back as Pythagoras and Aristotle had already proven through maths and science that the earth was indeed a sphere. So, when Christopher Columbus set sail from Spain to find an all-water route to Asia, the only thing he was endangered of, was forgetting the bread and milk on the way home!

Aotearoa, Cromwell, Lake Dunstan, South Island, Wild Horses

Cromwell & Lake Dunstan

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Cromwell from the Bruce Jackson Lookout

I drove along the shores of Lake Dunstan, the weather was in an indecisive mood. Looking back towards Alexandra and Roxburgh across the rugged peaks above the lake, rain was in the air and dark clouds were gathering for the afternoon.  Ahead, towards Cromwell, the day looked much more promising. The heavy cloud cover was starting to break and large patches of blue sky were appearing above the distant peaks of Mount Difficulty and the Pisa Range.

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Hydro Surf Shop at Dawn

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Hydro Surf Shop at dawn

I spent the first hours of the day walking along the beach. It was that eerie period, just before sunrise when the light shifts and the world seems neither awake nor asleep-stuck between a world of dreams and the realities of life. 

The beach was quiet. Most people were sensibly still in bed-it was 5:30am, after all. Even the cafe’s weren’t open yet. I left the beach with the low tide splashing around my feet and trudged up a set of steps, my soaked shoes squelching as I went. I continued along the Esplanade, occasionally I would pass someone and we’d give each other a look that said ‘thank god I’m not the only one crazy enough to be up at this hour!’  

I stood for a few moments and watched the light shift once more, was it worth the 5:00am start? Yes! 

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