Shipwrecks in Palliser Bay – II

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.’

Shipwrecks in Palliser Bay – I

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.

The Hutt River

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. 

Pukerau

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.

Wherever I Wander, Wherever I Rove

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.

Wellington Railway Station

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.

Olivers – The Benjamin Naylor Story

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.

Eichardt’s in Queenstown

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?

The Glow Worms at Nicols Creek

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!

Nicols Falls In Dunedin

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.

Cromwell & Lake Dunstan

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.

The Clutha River at Roxburgh

The Clutha River at Roxburgh

Usually when I stop in the town of Roxburgh, it’s for one of two reasons: to grab a pie from the famous ‘Jimmy’s Pies’ shop or to stock up on fresh, seasonal fruit from one of the orchards. On this occasion, unfortunately the pie shop was closed, and I already had plenty of fruit. So, my plan was to drive straight through without stopping. That idea quickly changed as I rolled through the town. On a last-minute impulse, I decided to take a detour through an even smaller settlement called Millers Flat. I had no real reason, but it was nearby. As long as I crossed the river!

The Shaky Bridge in Alexandra

The Shaky Bridge in Alexandra

In the morning I awoke with a clear head, feeling refreshed and ready for a new day. This was somewhat surprising. Usually, after spending all day at a concert I would greet the new day with a hangover that could floor a rhinoceros! However, the previous day having made the very grown-up decision to remain sober while attending the Gibbston Valley Summer Concert, the morning seemed full of possibilities. What’s more, I was ok to drive! So, after breakfast, I decided to celebrate my new found maturity by visiting the historic Shaky Bridge in Alexandra.

Tay Street in Invercargill

Tay Street – Invercargill

I rolled through the city of Invercargill. I’m never too sure what to make of Invercargill. Whenever I’m there, the place always seems to have a quiet, sleepy feel. This occasion was no different. I had a look around by walking up one side of the main shopping district and back down the other. It was quiet, very very quiet. I walked a total of four city blocks and only saw a handful of people the entire time. This seemed strange, even for Invercargill. The city itself was surveyed by British civil engineer John Turnbull Thomson who emigrated to New Zealand in early 1856 before  working as Chief Surveyor of the Otago Province until 1873. I began thinking about him, as I crossed a depressingly empty street. By the time I reached the other side, I decided he must have been an optimist. Someone with a utopian vision for New Zealand’s southernmost city. Why else would he design the streets so humongously wide? Honestly, they seem massively wide. You could sail the RMS Titanic along the main street and still have room for the RMS Carpathia to come to its rescue.  

Stirling Point in Bluff

Stirling Point in Bluff

I was in Bluff. The last time I was standing at the southern tip of the country, it was a bracing 5 degrees. That day, the weather had been miserable. The rain was heavy, a southerly roared across Foveaux Strait and inland somewhere it was snowing. On this occasion, the weather was a more agreeable 18 degrees. A few wispy clouds hung in the sky while a gentle, cool ocean breeze drifted in from somewhere beyond. This was Bluff-Stirling Point at its absolute best. The small car park was full to overflowing and while some had gotten creative with their parking, others were applying the wait and hover method, while I, striking a moment of good fortune, simply guided gracefully into a spot that appeared in front of me like the parting of the Red Sea. Pleased with my luck, I set off along a walking track. There was a skip in my step and a whistle on my lips.

Driving in Lower Hutt

I Love Hutt City – Street Art

While in the North Island I did something rather foolish. I drove through Lower Hutt on Christmas Eve! What I was thinking, I really don’t know! I had been at the Queens Gate Mall where among other things, I went for a pee and deliberately walked against the flow of shoppers for some festive merriment. The real chaos hit when I left—traffic was horrendous! The road layout had clearly been designed by someone with an obsession for roundabouts. I’ve never seen so many in one place outside of a small English village. I drove through five within 700 meters! That’s right-Five! According to the New Zealand Transport Agency, ‘roundabouts simplify decision making for drivers’ and ‘help traffic flow’. That is, unless you drive through Lower Hutt in the afternoon on Christmas Eve. Then, they are just plain maddening and a tiny bit annoying.

Rydges Hotel at Wellington Airport

Wellington Airport at night

I spent the night at the Rydges Hotel at Wellington Airport. At first, for reasons I can’t explain, I was sceptical about staying in such a place. I assumed it would be pricey and beyond my means – but I was wrong. It was reasonably priced, spotlessly clean, comfortable, cozy and with incredibly convenient access to the airport. Right beside the terminal! This proved most useful in the morning. I went from being in my pyjamas at 7:30 am to standing at the check-in kiosks at 7:55 am and I wasn’t even late, in a rush or making a panicking run across the airport in a vain attempt to get to a flight that was determined to leave without me (this has happened before). 

That morning, I woke to bright sunshine streaming through the curtains. I made a coffee, read my book, made another coffee and at around 7:30 am decided with check-in closing at 8:15 am, I’d better get dressed. So, I completed my morning ablutions and minutes later presented myself at the check-in kiosks. I then proceeded through the necessary security checks and found a seat beside the allotted gate number, well rested and fresh as daisy. All without stepping outside, it was most civilised. I highly recommend it!

That Wanaka Tree

New Zealand’s most photographed tree in Lake Wanaka

That Wanaka tree is a determined wee thing. It started life growing from a fence post line that ran into the water around 1939 and has been going strong ever since. While locals remain somewhat confused about its popularity, the tree has been described as “New Zealand’s most famous tree” and “one of the most photographed trees in all New Zealand”. Unsurprisingly, it has become a tourist attraction in its own right.

Second Beach in Dunedin

Second Beach in Dunedin

Made up completely of rock, Second Beach is nearly impossible to walk on without your feet sinking into the stones. Years of consistent wave movement have created great drifts of raggedly oval stones worn to a polished smoothness. At the same time, the sea crashes into the shore creating a seemingly endless musical score of stones clattering on the shoreline while the air is filled with the smell of seaweed and spray from saltwater. It has tidal rock pools, unstable cliffs, disused quarry structures that are nearly eighty years old and occasionally you’ll see Sea Lions or Fur Seals basking on the shoreline. It’s one of the most glorious places in Dunedin.

Roaring Meg

Roaring Meg and the Kawarau River

There are many fun and colourful stories from Otago’s gold rush past, and one of them is the name Roaring Meg. These days Roaring Meg is the name of the local Power Station, however it was once the name of the turbulent stream that connects with the Kawarau River. Just how it got its name is debated until this very day, but there are two stories that are often referred to. The first story tells of a red-headed barmaid named Maggie Brennan who kept the peace in grogshop by way of having a short-fuse and an extremely loud voice. Such was the strength of her personality that the local diggers named the stream after her. The second story tells of a high spirited, fun-loving young lady called Meg who lived in the area. After a particular festive time at a dancing saloon, Meg and her friend Annie joined a group of diggers. Upon leaving the saloon they eventually reached a large stream which the young lasses would have to be carried across. The first made such a fuss that they named the stream after her, ‘Roaring Meg’. In comparison the other was so calm and peaceful that the next stream was called ‘Gentle Annie’. I’ll let you decide which version you prefer!

Wellington Waterfront

Wellington Waterfront.

I like Wellington, I think it’s the waterfront that grabs me the most. Whenever I’m in there I always make a point of having at least one wander along and around the harbour area. They say you can’t beat Wellington on a good day, and this certainly is true. When the weather is fine, and the wind is calm it’s one of my favourite places to amble. There’s always a pop-up store or two to enjoy, various markets and a wide variety of funky art installations to capture the imagination.

The Alexandra Town Bridge

The Alexandra Town Bridge

As I passed through the town of Alexandra, I detoured to look at the former town bridge, a structure that is a true feat of skill and engineering. Built in 1882, the remains sit right next to the newer version that spans the Clutha River. The bridge, like the clock on the hill, is a bit of an icon.  While the newer version of the bridge is the one most people are familiar with, it’s the remains of the previous bridge that is the real monument. When it was built, it was one of the country’s most glorious structures and a true feat of engineering. These days, the surviving piers and towers are a testament to its wonderful construction, having withstood the force of the Clutha river for more than 140 years.

Palmerston North

Palmerston North, The Square

I arrived in Palmerston North under bright sunshine, something I hadn’t seen in some days on my trip through the North Island. After leaving Waiōuru I drove through Taihape, Mangaweka, Cheltenham and Fielding, arriving in Palmerston North in the early afternoon. 

Upon arrival in the centre of town, I stopped at The Square and went for a walk around. Located in the very centre of the city, The Square is 17 hectares of land that features monuments, fountains, art work and picnic areas. At one end was a large Plaza while the other end featured the usual arrangements of shops that you might expect to find in a city centre. The Square was large with small pockets of people scattered around enjoying the warm, sunny day. For a long time, I couldn’t work out what it was, however something didn’t seem right. Then it struck me, that was exactly what was wrong. It was large and open but there simply wasn’t anyone there! In a larger city, it would be filled with people but here in Palmerston North it almost seemed too big. Almost as no one was really sure what to use it for. 

For a short time I walked the streets surrounding the Square before deciding to find my accommodation and a bite to eat.

The Tangiwai Rail Disaster

The Whangaehu River at Tangiwai

10 kilometres west of the town Waiōuru in the central North Island, I arrived at a place called Tangiwai. The location of New Zealand’s worst railway accident where 151 died.

The tragedy occurred on Christmas Eve, 1953 and was caused when part of a carter wall containing a lake on the volcano Mount Ruapehu collapsed and a torrent of water surged down the Whangaehu River. Moments before the Wellington to Auckland express train arrived at the Tangiwai bridge, it had been damaged by the fast moving lahar and the bridge collapsed when the train began to cross it. Of the 285 passengers aboard the train, 151 died. To this day it remains New Zealand’s worst Railway accident.

Stormy Point In The Manawatu

Stormy Point Lookout in the Manawatu

While travelling through the North Island I called in at the historical place of Tangiwai before continuing on to Waiouru where I stopped for a bite to eat. From there, I headed for Palmerston North via Taihape, Waituna West, Cheltenham and Fielding. Along the way, I stopped and took in this view of the Manawatu. The only problem being, I couldn’t remember the precise location. However, with a little help from Google Street View I managed to discover that it was Stormy Point lookout which provides a simply phenomenal view stretching as far as Mt. Egmont and Mt. Ruapehu on the West Coast.

Ōtākaro

The Avon River / Ōtākaro

Finding myself on foot in central Christchurch, I started following the path of the Avon River as it twists and turns through central Christchurch. As I walked and followed the river, I discovered that there are useful information boards that tell you all sorts of interesting historical facts about not only the area, but the river itself. Such as, for early Māori the river was a rich source of food and a centre point for meeting and trading. I also discovered that while this trading and food gathering was happening, children who would play on the river bank. Which is why it was known to local Māori as Ōtākaro, meaning ‘place to play’.

Tunnel Hill Near Owaka

Tunnel Hill railway at McDonald’s Saddle

I had spent the day walking the Catlins River Track near Tawanui in the Owaka Valley and by the time I arrived back at my car, it was mid afternoon. Leaving Tawanui, I arrived in Owaka where I stopped for a bite to eat before continuing on to Tunnel Hill, the location of a disused 250 m long railway tunnel. Built between 1879 and 1915, the Catlins River Branch railway formed part of New Zealand’s national rail network which was constructed to provide access to the local timber industries. The tunnel was finished in 1896.

Stirling Point in Bluff

Stirling Point in Bluff

I was greatly taken by Bluff. Despite the fact that when I was there, it was a bracing 5 degrees, the afternoon swell that was hitting the nearby rocks was only getting larger and I was struggling to stay upright in the wind surges. However, there was something about the town that seemed quite appealing in a confusing sort of way. There’s the Motupōhue Scenic Reserve to explore that includes the Tōpuni track to the top of Bluff Hill which provides spectacular views over Foveaux Strait and the Southland Plains. Close by there’s also the Glory track through dense bush and the Foveaux Walkway looking out at Foveaux Strait to Ruapuku and Rakiura Islands. Along these tracks you can also see the World War II gun emplacements while the shoreline was home to a whaling station at one point in history. Of course, you can always do what I did and park at the famous Stirling Point signpost which marks the end of State Highway 1 to see how far away you are from places like London, New York or Sydney.

Kororareka Bay in The Bay of Islands

Russell in The Bay of Islands

Russell in the Bay of Islands has many places like this, partly obscured views of the Kororareka Bay and they are all lovely. There’s something rather tranquil, serene and relaxing about the whole place. Particularly during summer! Back in the 1800’s, the bay must have been a sight for sore eyes for weary sailors who’d spent many months at sea and were ready for some rest and relaxation.

A Walk At Lake Tekapo

Lake Tekapo

The small town of Tekapo appears more of a location than a destination. It’s the type of place that you use as a base before going off to do other activities in the area each day. However, it must be said that the backdrop of the town is simply quite stunning and is reason alone to visit.

I arrived just after 1pm on a hot summer’s day. I parked at one end of the town and decided to spend the rest of the afternoon on foot. Leaving my vehicle, I wandered into town and ambled through the various shops and establishments that made up the village. It had all the usual restaurants that cater to the tourist trade, along with gift shops and other touristy outlets that provide scenic flights over the mountains, helicopter trips and stargazing tours at night. It was towards the end of this line of business that I realised I was getting hungry so I found a shop where I thought I would get some lunch. 

The instant I stepped inside, I had a disastrous feeling that this might have been a mistake. Before I knew it I was deeply involved in a conversation (with someone I assumed was the proprietor) about the night sky and stars!  Feeling committed to making a purchase, I surveyed the selections which appeared minimal to say the least. My options were either a very old and shrivelled up sausage roll or a sandwich made out of some type of meat product and what suspiciously looked like a salad. Neither of which I could be 100% sure on. I opted for the sandwich, hastily retreated,  quickly decided that I didn’t really have the finances for an aeroplane flight over the Southern Alps and I took my lunch down to the lake. 

The lake was a brilliant turquoise blue in the summer sun and I sat dangling my legs in the water which was really rather delicious, which is something that couldn’t be said for the sandwich that was meant to be my lunch. After two bites, the second of which I didn’t finish, I decided that I didn’t really want to risk a bout of food poisoning, and disposed of it! 

Feeling hungry but not wanting to risk any more culinary surprises, I took in the mountain backdrop that surrounds the lake, which has to be said, really is quite stunning. On the horizon sat a mountain range shimmering in the summer heat as clouds slowly drifted by. I made my way along the lakefront stepping over stones, logs, and pushing through long grass that sat on the shore of the lake. Eventually, after much stumbling and cursing on rocks, I came to a bridge, which upon crossing, the Church of the Good Shepherd came into view. As far as churches go, this one has one of the more stunning locations you’re ever likely to see. It is often found in photographs that either involve the milky way, scenic mountain landscapes, or promotional wedding material that is distributed world wide.

I stopped on the bridge and took in the tranquil blue water that surrounded the church. It was a church that I always thought was older than it actually was. I’d earlier read it was built in 1935. I’d presumed there was an earlier church on that site and this one had simply been rebuilt. However, this is not the case. The original sketches were made in 1934 before the church was built in 1935 to commemorate early settlers. When construction started, the builders of the church were instructed that it must blend into the environment and that the Matagouri bushes surrounding the building were to remain. So, what is now created is a quite delightful church with one of the most impressive mountain scenes you’re likely to see.