Walking on Waterloo Quay

Daily Photo – Waterloo Quay

I was strolling along Waterloo Quay one lazy afternoon when I stumbled upon this tucked-away walkway near the waterfront. It wasn’t flashy or polished, just a quiet, open space with old brickwork that had clearly seen a lot of life. The windows were long gone, but their empty frames let the sunlight pour through, casting these beautiful shadows and patches of light that danced along the ground. It had a raw kind of charm with layers of texture and history that told stories of the city’s past life.

Confusion In Hong Kong

One more photo from my phone which I found around the same time as yesterday’s post.

Daily Photo – The city streets of Kowloon 

 

Hong Kong is a sensory rush, especially on a first visit. Start by simply wandering its streets: in the planet’s fourth-densest city, 7.4 million people generate an endless swirl of sights and sounds. Balance that urban energy with a trip to Aberdeen’s floating village, where traditional junks bob beside sleek yachts. After dusk, dive into the night-markets that spring to life in neon alleys, then find a waterfront perch for the Symphony of Lights glittering across Victoria Harbour. Even the airport, a mini-city of its own, feels like part of the adventure. There really is nothing like walking through a city, having no idea where you are, not being able to read the street signs or understanding a word of the local language. 

Falls Curfew 1970

Here’s another photo from my phone, I’d forgotten all about it. I took this in Belfast while on a Black Taxi Tour through some of the city’s historic peace lines and murals. It was both a surreal and profound expereince.

Daily Photo – The Battle of the Falls

When I was growing up, I couldn’t tell you what all the troubles in Northern Island were about, all I knew was that there were two groups of people who were very angry with each other. This much I was certain about, mainly due to the fact that every so often a news item would appear on television which featured things being blown-up, people getting shot at and lots and lots of fighting. What started all this? Well, I just couldn’t say, but boy did they seem to dislike each other. 

So, a number of years later (quite a few actually), when I found myself in Belfast, I took the opportunity to do a Black Taxi Tour. I’d been reliably informed that it was a fascinating way to see many of the historic sites in Belfast that featured in the violent clashes between the British Army and the Provisional IRA. To which, I have to say, it was one of the most eye opening tours I’ve ever done. If you’re ever in Belfast, I’d advise doing a Black Taxi Tour, it really is a fascinating few hours. 

It was on this tour that we passed through the Falls district where the Falls Curfew took place. Until that time, I didn’t know what the The Falls Curfew or The Battle of the Falls was. Thus I discovered on a rainy day in Belfast that the Battle of the Falls was a violent clash in July 1970 in Belfast, Northern Ireland, between the British Army and the Provisional IRA in the nationalist Falls Road area. Triggered by an arms search, the army imposed a curfew and launched a large-scale operation, sparking intense gun battles. Four civilians were killed, and hundreds were injured. The incident deepened mistrust between the Catholic community and the British Army, escalating tensions during the early troubles.

Upper Hutt To Wellington By Train

Daily Photo – Wellington Train Station

The mid-morning train from Upper Hutt to Wellington had been unusually full for a Thursday. Inside, it felt like a moving collection of private lives, commuters heading into the city, caught in their own little worlds. Some read engrossed, others stared blankly out the window, as if in a trance, the passing hills and suburban streets passing in a blur. Some wore headphones, their expressions blank, detached from the soft clatter of the carriage.

Others appeared restless, they needed somewhere to go, something to do. For others, just movement, just purpose was enough. In this quiet time, nobody had to think too much-it was the in-between hour, the hush before the city’s noise.

When the train finally pulled into Wellington Station, the mood shifted. The doors opened and, like clockwork, everyone disembarked, filtering through the terminal and dissolving into the city, each carrying on with a day that had already quietly begun.

iPhone or Android?

Daily Photo – Duck Pond in Autumn

It’s been a while since I’ve taken any photos on my iphone. I forget it’s there, however I remembered about it when I discovered this duck pond fill of autumn colour. It has to be said, the quality of phone cameras and on devices has significantly improved from what they once were. With advancements in lens technology, sensor size and higher-end devices to choose from that offer excellent image quality, they simply continue to get better and better. 

However, I was wondering if people have remained using iPhones or have switched over to Android’s phones?

Dunedin’s Traditional Chinese Garden

Daily Photo – Dunedin’s Chinese Garden

The idea to develop a traditional Chinese garden right in the city had been ruminating around the council officials for some time. Then, in the early 200o’s the idea swung back into life. It wasn’t just about creating a pretty space, it was a way to recognise the Chinese community that had been part of Otago since the gold rush in the 1860s and made a big impact on the region. 

The garden was designed in the style of a classic Chinese garden, and to keep it authentic, most of the materials were shipped straight from China, everything from tiles to timber. Then in 2007, around 40 skilled workers came over from Shanghai and built the whole thing by hand, using traditional Ming Dynasty techniques. A tribute to history, heritage, and the bond between cultures.

Otago Peninsula from Harbour Cone

Otago Peninsula from Harbour Cone

It was steep, very steep and the weather was changing quickly. Turns out that pamphlet I had read before leaving home was right. Who knew the people who wrote those things actually knew what they were talking about? I hadn’t noticed it at first, but now I was actually starting to feel rather cold. The wind? Oh yeah, definitely picking up. And the rain? Spitting again, this time a wee bit harder.

At the summit, I stood for a moment, let the wind blow through my hair, and fixed my gaze beyond the horizon. I stayed a while to take a few photos, enjoy the view, and have a drop of water. It really was quite spectacular. Standing there, at the highest point on the peninsula, I suddenly knew what it must have felt like for Sir Edmund Hillary when he reached the top of Mount Everest. It was nice to have something in common with the great man.

Papanui Inlet

Papanui Inlet

Recently, I’ve been spending a fair bit of time on the Otago Peninsula on a number of photographic outings. These journey’s aren’t particularly planned ahead of time, instead I have a list of locations in my head that I pick from, depending on the time of day and weather. The peninsula can be such a moody place when the weather changes and low clouds roll in. That’s what happened here while at Cape Saunders – low misty rain and heavy cloud cover drifted in from out at sea within a matter of minutes.

Dunedin’s Quiet Moments: Dusk at the Beach

Dusk at Blackhead Beach

Now, I know I might be completely biased here, but New Zealand has some wonderful beaches—and Dunedin’s are some of the best. They’re long, unspoilt, full of wildlife, as moody as they are imperfect—and I won’t hear a word against them!

On this occasion, I spent the evening watching the waves at Blackhead Beach roll in a steady rhythm, catching the last colours of dusk as they swept over the rocks as if in time with a Mozart symphony. Offshore, Green Island sat quietly beneath a lavender sky, as if it too were patiently waiting for night to return. I lingered for a few moments, watching the colours of the sky fade as evening took hold.

Dunedin’s Quiet Moments: A Waterfront Evening

Dunedin waterfront at dusk

I ambled through the streets until I came to a section of wharf called the Steamer Basin. Located right beside the railway lines on the eastern edge of the main business district, it was here that cargo was once loaded, unloaded and passed through the Customs Department Wharf Office. Thus, showing the importance of the area as a transit point between markets in the first decade of the twentieth century. 

For some time, the local city council has been developing this area by very strategically doing nothing at all. A strategy that successive councils have had in place for sometime now, and appears to be going according to plan. About every five to eight years a new, grand design is unveiled to the public which is always received with much oohing and ahhing, before eventually getting forgotten about and disappearing into the annals of time. 

The most recent push to redevelop the waterfront happened in 2017 when a group of notable locals got together to produce blueprints and 3D modelling that would transform the Steamer Basin into a stunning array of buildings and spaces over a span of thirty years. The designs included public spaces, Ecotourism office space, cafes, a Marine Research Centre and Aquarium, walkways, cycleways, docks, exhibition and office spaces, apartments, a luxury Hotel and a Culture Centre. All done in a futuristic space-age design and finished with a foot bridge linking the waterfront to the city. Unfortunately, after the initial enthusiasm wore off, the plans floundered, the whole project was put in the ‘too-hard basket’ and life moved on. Leaving the Steamer Basin to look as it always does, a little past it’s best 

I thought about this as I walked around and looked across the water to where a Marine Research Centre and Aquarium could now be standing. If that plan had gone ahead, we’d be eight years into a thirty year plan. I ambled a little further in the fading afternoon. Still, the people fishing seemed happy, and at least there’s a lovely pontoon that can fit up to twelve people on it.

Dunedin’s Quiet Moments: Overbridge Sunrise

Overbridge sunrise

The forecast for the day was for long periods of fine weather with evening high cloud, light northeasterlies, and a high of a delicious 20 degrees.

Now 20 degrees — for Dunedin at any time of year — is practically tropical, but in May is simply unheard of. The city’s infrastructure simply isn’t built to handle such extreme weather. When you take into consideration that this was the third day of the current run of fine weather, Dunedin was approaching, it must be said — a heatwave. 

In fact, we were teetering on the brink of what I like to call the John Caswell Heatwave Threshold —  an entirely unscientific, arbitrary benchmark that is based on nothing but my own personal feelings about the weather! To be clear, my own personal threshold for heatwave in Dunedin is as follows: any spell of weather that is better than the previous summer. So, while my system might not be as reliable as the official one, it’s my rule, so I get to make-up the parameters.

Now, the previous summer, and I will be quite frank here, was simply awful. It was a masterclass in disappointment. Throughout most of December, January, and into February, there hadn’t been more than three days in a row where the weather was fine, warm, and pleasant. What you might traditionally associate with summer. Most of the time, there had been low cloud, wind and long periods of rain hanging around the city like it had nowhere better to be.

Yet, here I was, on a warm Dunedin morning in May, watching the sun appear over the peninsula, with another long, fine day in prospect, wondering if we’d need to declare a state of emergency if the mercury hit 21 degrees. The only question was, what was I going to do with it? A completely rhetorical question I can assure you.

Boulder Beach, Otago Peninsula

Boulder Beach, Otago Peninsula

Before I went there a few days ago, about all I really remembered about Boulder Beach, beyond the fact it had sand and rocks, was that access was via a farm road, followed by a short walk through sand dunes.

Like so many parts of the Otago Peninsula, Boulder Beach is managed by the Department of Conservation. Once upon a time, a well-maintained and signposted track led down to the beach, with further walking tracks branching off through the dunes and up over the nearby hills. All those paths are now a distant memory.

The beach survives, but in a very different way. As a protected area under the Department of Conservation, it is often visited by fur seals and sea lions, and is a favoured nesting spot for yellow-eyed penguins. In fact, the beach is so popular with these shy, nesting birds that the track is closed to the public from November to February during the breeding season.

I walked down to the beach. The farm road was longer and steeper than I remembered, and the nearby sand dunes had collapsed, resulting in an unexpected excursion through newly formed valleys, overgrown and heavy with dune. Reaching the bottom of the hill, I pushed my way through dense bushes tangled with vines. Every so often, the path would disappear—only to reappear moments later.

Eventually, after much swearing, I stumbled upon the isolated, wild, windswept beach. Golden dunes spilled to the shoreline, while large mounds of dark, smooth stones stretched along the beach and into the distance. The air was rich with salt, and the rhythm of waves rolling beneath the endless blue sky. It was just as I remembered it: quiet, peaceful, and serene.

Two Trees

Two Trees

The idea of simplicity is one that I find myself revisiting time and time again. This photo, Two Trees, came from that impulse—to strip things back, to sit with the bare essentials. Just earth, sky, and two trees holding space in their own quiet way. It felt like a kind of conversation between, nothing dramatic, but something stretched across the space between.

I’ve always been drawn to the structure of the landscape—lines etched by ploughs, long shadows, open skies. It’s tempting to fill a frame, but this time I left a lot out. I wanted room to breathe and to explore the space between the Two Trees. You can feel the emptiness, but also the balance. It reminds me that not everything needs to be explained.

Hare on Fence Line

Hare on Fence Line

This image is my take on rural life on the peninsula—unfiltered and a bit rough around the edges. I initially drove past this scene after first seeing it. Something about it stuck with me. It’s not an easy picture, and that’s part of why I took it. There’s no drama, no movement—just a quiet, weathered kind of finality.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. But on a still, grey morning, walking the same fenceline, I realised this was really a photo about boundaries, both literal and symbolic. Out here, fences mark more than just paddocks. Sometimes they hold stories, or reminders. This hare, caught and left, becomes part of the land in a strange way. You see things like this from time to time. No explanation, just a presence.

Rural life can be harsh. There’s beauty in it, but not always the kind you hang on a postcard. This photo sits with that reality. Quiet, a little uncomfortable, and honest.

Farm Field on Cape Saunders Road.

Farm field on Cape Saunders road.

The metaphor of lines dissolving into the horizon crops up often in my work. Here, the fence line draws the eye through, threading its way into the brooding grey sky. I’m often drawn to the way the land seems to pause, as though waiting. There’s a tension between what is visible and what remains just out of reach beyond the rise. I nearly passed this scene by on a gloomy afternoon, but something about the scene made me stop. The light was heavy, flat—but quietly alive. There’s no grand gesture here, only wire, grass, and sky—but that’s all that’s needed. Everything is pared back to the essentials, and in that bareness, something honest emerges.

The City Gathers

Cenotaph, Queens Gardens

The cenotaph was a quiet, somber place. The usual crowds were elsewhere, and those passing by didn’t linger. Not today—not with the wind whipping autumn leaves like a child’s toy and rain sweeping the city in steady waves. Nobody lingers on days like this. It’s a day to be indoors, somewhere sheltered, somewhere warm. On days like this, people don’t stop to read, to talk, or to ponder.

But on ANZAC Day, this is Dunedin’s gathering place—whatever the weather. Each year, at 6am on April 25th, the city gathers. It has for 110 years. The people come to remember, reflect, and honor the fallen. At 6am in 1915, the ANZACs landed on the shores of Gallipoli. And now, the city gathers before dawn, as darkness gives way to light.

The wreaths laid on ANZAC Day remind us and teach us. They remind us of sacrifice, identity, and unity. They teach us mateship, courage, and peace. And in the days that follow, they remain—a quiet, enduring reminder.

Dunedin’s Iconic First Church

First Church in Dunedin

First Church is one of Dunedin’s most iconic landmarks and holds a significant place in the city’s history. Its original congregation consisted of Scottish Free Church settlers who arrived in the 1840s. Several different structures once stood on the site, but the foundation stone for the current building was laid on 15 May 1868, and the church was ready for use by 1873. With its striking Gothic architecture, it’s no surprise that First Church is considered one of the most impressive nineteenth-century churches in New Zealand.

I Wandered Through The Darkened Lanes

Corner of City Rise, Ross Street and Leven Street.

I’ve come across this intersection many times, and I’ve always thought it would make an interesting subject. However, it depends on a number of factors. During the day, it really looks like just another drab and dull intersection. Yet, if I could find the right conditions—with a little ambient street light, an interesting sky, and some traffic—it could be compelling.

To be honest, I don’t think this image is quite there yet; it’s more a work in progress. I’m thinking a few more attempts on a winter morning might do the trick.

Milton

Tokomairiro Presbyterian Church

The thing about small towns in New Zealand is—they really are just that: small towns. I don’t mean that in a mean, rude, or malicious way. I simply mean that’s what they are. Where once they may have been thriving hubs of industry with a lot going on, most of those big industries have long since moved. These days, apart from being home to people going about their daily lives, many of these towns have become more like places to pass through or maybe stop for a spot of lunch.

Take the small South Island town of Milton. I’m not saying Milton is a bad place, far from it. I quite like the town. I’ve stopped there many times and enjoyed wandering up and down the main street. But here’s the thing: with tourists flocking to the South Island to go bungy jumping, skiing, or hiking in the wilderness, strolling around Milton’s main street isn’t likely to make anyone’s top ten list.

Yet, I quite like wandering in small towns. There’s something rather splendid about ambling through with no particular purpose, then stumbling across a tearoom to rest for a while before continuing the journey. I hope they last for a long time to come.

Shrine of Remembrance, Brisbane

Shrine of Remembrance, Brisbane 

After leaving the edge of the Brisbane River, I wandered up onto Ann Street, the pace of the city quickening around me. I had planned a short detour through King George Square, but as I reached it, I realised Brisbane’s Shrine of Remembrance was nearby. Drawn by curiosity, I entered ANZAC Square, where sunlight filtered through the trees and danced on the classic Greek revival columns that guard the eternal flame, flickering gently in the stillness. I lingered there, absorbing the atmosphere of the ANZAC spirit. Eventually, the heat of the day began to settle me. In search of shade and refreshment, I crossed the street and found solace in a cold beer at The Grand Central Hotel.

Driving Through The Haka Valley

The choice seemed a little confusing.Fence post in The Hakataramea Valley

I spent the hours pre and post sunrise chasing interesting spots in the Hakataramea Valley. Tucked away in the Waimate District, the Hakataramea Valley sits at the foot of Kirkliston range in the South Island of New Zealand and is a wonderful spot. The Haka is a glorious location to be in the mornings, they can be unbelievably cold and have a deafening silence that seems to echo throughout the valley as the light appears over the Campbell Hills, bringing a new day to the surrounding ranges.

10 Places to Visit in The Catlins

The Catlins River

Located in the southeastern corner of the South Island, the Catlins are a truly amazing spot. It features dramatic seascapes, dense native forests, and hidden waterfalls. It’s a place where winding roads lead to a breathtaking view or a windswept beach. Here is a non-definitive list of ten places to visit in The Catlins. 

Purakaunui Falls – one of New Zealand’s most iconic waterfalls. 

McLean Falls – yet another of New Zealand’s most iconic waterfalls.  

Cathedral Caves – experience an amazing bush walk before arriving at an incredible natural feature.

Nugget Point – an iconic location with dramatic views of the coastline.

Catlins River – follow the track that follows the delightful river. 

Tautuku Beach – walk to the end of the beach and spend the day exploring the peninsula which includes shipwrecks and an old whaling station. 

Slope Point – the southernmost point of the South Island. 

Curio Bay – visit the wonderful petrified forest.

Surf at Kaka Point or Purakaunui Bay – some of the best surfing spots with good quality surf and long swell periods.

Waipapa Point – walk to the lighthouse and see the beautiful vistas of the coastline.

Checkout other images from The Catlins, right here-right now!

The Devil’s Staircase

Lake Wakatipu at Kingston

To get to Kingston, at the southern tip of Lake Wakatipu, you have two options. However, it must be pointed out that it very much depends on where you’re coming from. If you’re coming from Southland, then you’ll pass through small towns such as Lumsden and Lowther before reaching the lakeside village of Kingston.

The other option (and possibly more interesting) is to turn off at Frankton on your way to Queenstown and pass through what is known as ‘The Devil’s Staircase’. Roughly 35 km south of Queenstown, it’s part of the drive between Queenstown and Te Anau and is considered a must-do leg of any Otago/Southland driving itinerary, both for the thrill of the drive and the spectacular views. Exactly how it got its name has become part of local folklore — in other words, no one really knows!

Given the nature of the road, one can only imagine what it must have been like to tackle the narrow, winding, and steep terrain, with sharp curves hugging cliffs above Lake Wakatipu, without the aid of a motor vehicle.

One story tells the tale of Captain Frederick Burwell and the Southland Hussars. Formed in the 1860s in response to fears of a Russian invasion, the cavalry corps were intent upon defending the Otago-Southland coast. At the time, there were many volunteer militias throughout New Zealand, so it wasn’t unusual for settlers to sign up to volunteer groups.

So, in 1885, when an April Review was held in Queenstown, up to 258 men from surrounding areas were due to gather. In Kingston, Captain Frederick Burwell needed to take his 30 men from the end of Lake Wakatipu up to the review assembly point in Queenstown. However, instead of going via boat, for some reason he decided to travel overland — a journey that took him and his men via the notorious Devil’s Staircase.

Travelling on horseback, they negotiated their way over small, narrow, and rugged tracks next to sheer vertical drops, before facing near-perpendicular rock faces in spots over 1,000 feet high. Once they reached the summit, a magnificent view of the lake came into view. Having passed the famous Staircase, the Kawarau River was crossed by punt, arriving in Queenstown late in the afternoon, where Captain Burwell and his men were warmly greeted, having successfully completed an arduous 40-mile journey.

Just why Captain Burwell opted for the deadly overland trip via the Devil’s Staircase instead of the easier ferry trip was never fully explained.

Lake Tekapo & The Church of the Good Shepherd

Lake Tekapo and the Church of the Good Shepherd

Not far from Mount Cook is Lake Tekapo. One of the most common questions regarding Lake Tekapo and other lakes from this region is: “Is it really that blue?” Well, the short answer is yes! I could give you a more detailed and scientific explanation involving fine rock particles and glaciers; however, sometimes it’s nice to not question things too much and simply accept them for what they are.

On the Road to Mount Cook

The road to Mount Cook

Here in the South Island, once you get into the MacKenzie Country, there are literally thousands of spots you can explore to take photos. Lake Ohau, Twizel, Lake Tekapo, Mount Dobson, and Lake Pukaki are just some of the areas you could spend weeks in and never run out of subject matter—and I haven’t even mentioned Mount Cook yet. Heck, on the way to Mount Cook you can even simply stand in the middle of the road and get interesting photos!

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