Daily Photo – Low Tide at Taieri Mouth

I’ve always liked wandering around fishing boats. There’s something noble about them, as if they carried a calling from an age when everyone travelled by sea and the world felt much larger. In truth, I like all of this far more in theory than in reality. I’ve no sea legs and my enthusiasm for fresh fish sit somewhere between mild suspicion and polite refusal. The idea of spending time on a fishing boat feels more like a challenge than a pleasure, although I understand why others enjoyed it.

I was in Taieri Mouth, wandering through the village, when I found myself drawn to the look of the boats themselves. They aged in a way that suggested they had lived proper lives. The faded paint, the battered timbers and the sense that they had weathered more sunrises than I could ever hope to see all added to the atmosphere. If they had been able to talk, I imagined they would have needed a long sit down and a pot of tea to get through their stories.

Not far from there I found my way to a line of cribs surrounded by surfboards, flagpoles, boats, flower pots in cheerful disarray, ornamental fish and a few lifebuoys hung with equal parts practicality and pride. It all felt like a perfect slice of backyard Aotearoa. Slightly weathered, gently chaotic and full of stories for anyone willing to notice them.