Governor’s Cafe

At some quiet moment, like the rest of the world, Dunedin found itself obsessed with coffee. These days, you’re never too far from a café or barista’s, ready to offer comfort in a cup. New spots continue to bloom like unexpected thoughts, while the old haunts still pour for those who return, seeking something familiar in a world that never stops shifting.

The classic Fish & Chips shop. 

The day had been long and I felt like I’d been driving for hours. I’d skipped lunch, a decision I was now regretting as night took hold. So, I decided to have a classic Kiwi takeaway for dinner, fish and chips. With my mind made up as I twisted and turned my way home through the darkened suburban streets, I called in at the local chippy. So quintessential Kiwi, it practically wrote itself into local folklore as a Friday night staple of the community. It had everything you’d want to find in a local chippy. A scooter laying on the footpath outside, the smell of hot oil, the sound of a wok, a randomly placed poster from the 1990’s, the disused arcade game, the awkwardly placed fridge and best of all-the menu written in faded pen sitting above the deep fryer. Yes, this place was so authentically kiwi it practically apologised. I ordered without speaking much and before I could waste $2 in the grabber machine, my greasy parcel of treasure was delivered with a smile and a “have a nice day!”

Carey’s Bay

I made my way to Port Chalmers, a village nestled on the edge of Otago Harbour. My first stop was Observation Point, perched high above the town. From there, I took in the panoramic views—of the port below, the township, and the expanse of the harbour stretching out to the horizon. Just a short walk away, I discovered the Hotere Garden Oputae, a striking sculptural space dedicated to renowned New Zealand artist Ralph Hotere. After soaking in the art, I wandered down through the town’s quiet streets and made my way to Carey’s Bay, where I paused for a leisurely lunch by the water.

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.