Daily Photo – Carlin Creek, Jacks Point & Frankton

I returned to the car and drove 32 kilometres (20 miles) along a glorious yet winding road to Jack’s Point, a resort on the edge of Lake Wakatipu framed by the dramatic, snow-covered peaks of the Remarkables on one side and rocky tussock covered hills on the other. To the north lay the ever-expanding district of Frankton, a strategically important location during the time of the Otago Gold Rush in the 1860s and the birthplace of WWII hero and flying ace William Hodgson.

I’d read about RAF officer William Hodgson quite by chance before leaving on my trip, wondering if I might be able to find a war memorial in the area with his name on it. Born in Frankton on 30 September 1920, Hodgson joined the RNZAF in Dunedin in 1939, training first at the Otago Aero Club and then at Wigram’s Flight Training School before being shipped off to the United Kingdom in April 1940. Upon arrival, he completed Hurricane training and was posted to the 85th Squadron at Debden in May, becoming involved in the Battle of Britain in August – his squadron being ordered to patrol the skies over Canterbury. From there, he went on to fly close to 150 missions, being officially credited with destroying five enemy aircraft and damaging many others. On 13 March 1941, Hodgson was a passenger in an A-20 when shortly after takeoff, a panel came loose, wrapped itself around the tail fin causing the plane to crash, killing all on board.

My plan upon arrival in Frankton was simple: go for a walk, see if I could find any mention of William Hodgson at the war memorial, have a coffee, and grab some lunch. But that quickly changed when I discovered that traffic was in a state of insane chaos due to a series of never-ending roadworks. Vehicles were backed up in every direction, made worse by airport traffic and tourists who seemed determined to photograph mountains, rubbish bins, or whatever the hell else had caught their fancy. Stuck in this traffic hellhole, I decided that poor Mr William Hodgson would have to wait. I didn’t want to spend a minute longer than necessary in such chaotic shambles, so I escaped via State Highway 6 as quickly as possible. Stopping instead at Lake Hayes, which I hoped would be much more peaceful and was only 9 kilometres (5 miles) further on.