Having spent the early part of the day climbing up the 253 steps to Cape Palliser Lighthouse, I couldn’t help but spare a thought for the early lighthouse keepers at the Cape. When the lighthouse was open in 1897, not only did they have to scramble up a muddy, 58 metre-high cliff to get to the lighthouse, but they had to manually haul large drums of oil and kerosene up as well. This lunacy continued for the first 15 years of operation at Cape Palliser until someone had the genius idea of putting in a set of steps! So, having explored the famous lighthouse and the nearby fishing villages, avoiding washed out sections of road, I stopped and went for a walk along the beach at Ngawi.
It was then that I noticed an extremely large and ominously dark wall of weather approaching from the south. 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 that snow was on its way.
I’ve mentioned the Dunedin Gasworks Museum in South Dunedin previously. Along with the fact that it is one of only three known preserved gaswork museums in the world, making it a place of significant heritage. Operating from 1863 to 1987, it offers a bit of rustic charm to all that visit it. The only drawback being that if like me you’re just not that interested in the manufacturing, treatment, pumping and storage of gas then you’re going to find it a little boring. Funny that most of its visitors seem to be men!
Without any real intention or set purpose, I returned to the Esplanade at St Clair. I’d been there only a few days earlier, only this time was different. On the previous occasion, I’d spent a glorious afternoon exploring the rock pools surrounding the St Clair Salt Water Pool at low tide. This time however, for reasons I wasn’t sure about and with no-set agenda, I needed to walk. Now, sitting in my car, I waited a few moments for a light rain shower to pass before strolling along the beachfront. I passed both the St Clair Surf Lifesaving club and the statue of ‘Mum’ (a famous local Sea Lion) and looked out beyond rows of sand sausages – massive long tubes made of mesh, filled with sand and put in place to help slow coastal erosion. I watched the incoming tide for a few minutes, turned and headed for the far opposite end of the Esplanade. The whole area was quiet in the fading light as the street lights started to take hold. Reaching the end of the Esplanade by the Salt Water Pool, I paused beside a cafe that must have closed several hours ago. Once again I stood and watched the tide roll in, breaking against the rocks before receding out into the backwash. Every so often patches of sand became exposed, revealing leftover seaweed and driftwood that would shift and move with the tide. I took a moment to look out across the ocean. As the light had continued to fade, the sea had taken on a moody grey-blue complexion. Suddenly to my left the lights of the Hotel St Clair came on and drew my attention back to the Esplanade. In the blue hour of evening, I walked in the salty sea air as darkness held. The lights from the hotel reflected off the road’s glossy surface, created from light misty rain that had recently passed through. The glow of the lights from the hotel revealed a cleaning crew packing up from the day while the restaurant was just starting to become busy. Occasionally, a passing vehicle would slowly pass along couples holding hands, walking in the calm and quiet night air.
I was walking along the shores of Lake Wanaka as the last light of day kissed the rugged mountain peaks in the distance. Nearby, the famous “lone tree” stood resolute, its branches reaching skyward as if whispering secrets to the heavens. In the distance, silhouettes of the surrounding treelines and mountain peaks, framing in a natural embrace. The water, mirroring the sky’s palette, rippled gently around the tree’s roots, creating a sense of calm and timelessness. The whole scene was a testament to the breathtaking allure of New Zealand’s landscapes.
The other morning while enjoying a cup of coffee which I hoped would awaken my senses, I read that Moeraki’s legendary seafood restaurant Fleur’s Place has permanently closed. Once considered one the best restaurants in the country, the famed rustic style restaurant gained international acclaim for specialising in fresh, local seafood. However, due to a number of reasons, the restaurant closed during the Covid 19 pandemic and has never reopened. Now, owner Fleur Sullivan has announced the doors are shut for good and the restaurant, located in the small North Otago village of Moeraki, will soon be for sale.
I found my way to the Otago University Library. Mainly because it was raining and I was wanting to wander around somewhere interesting. The rain had started while I was walking down Dunedin’s Castle Street and by the time I was approaching the Otago University, it was getting responsibly hard. Needing to find some shelter, I ducked into the Otago University Library where I figured I might as well see what creative angles I could find.
Leaving the Octagon in central Dunedin, I walked along lower Stuart Street before arriving at Dunedin Railway Station. A grand masterpiece of a building that really is magnificent in its splendour. Looking out across ANZAC Square, I couldn’t help but imagine what a hive of activity the place must have been when the station was the busiest in the country. At one time up to 100 trains a day used to arrive at the various platforms which included services from Mosgiel, Port Chalmers, Palmerston, Oamaru, Central Otago, Christchurch, Gore and Invercargill.
My destination was St Paul’s Cathedral which today stands on the northern edge of The Octagon. However, back in the 1850’s after Otago was first settled, if the Anglican Church community’s vision had come to pass, the Cathedral would now be sitting directly in the middle of the Octagon. When the plans for Dunedin city were first laid out in 1846, space for an Octagonal reserve was left in the city centre. A few years later, while the Anglican community were looking for a location to build a church, they decided the central Octagonal Reserve would be an excellent site and applied directly to the Governor-General for permission to build. One group that wasn’t happy with this idea was the Presbyterian community and when they found out about the building plans, all hell broke loose. In fact, the public outcry was so large that the Otago Superintendent William Cargil had to step in to sortout the mess. The result was the Anglican Church of St Paul’s Cathedral was moved to its now northern locale. Which, if you stand on its steps, has a pretty commanding view.
For those of you that like statistics, today’s photo was taken over 18,000 kilometres away from yesterday’s. While yesterday’s was taken while walking alongside the River Liffey in Dublin, today’s was taken at the Kerikeri Mission in Whangarei. Home to the oldest European buildings in the country. The Mission is set in a sleepy basin on a riverbank, surrounded by orchards and flowerbeds. While I was there, this man was making these massive bubble creations that really were rather impressive. They also had the added bonus of entertaining the kids.
What is it about calm, still harbours that seem so peaceful. Even on a cold winter’s day in Dunedin. With low clouds, rain and a temperature of no more than 10 degrees, looking out across the tranquil harbour, I couldn’t help but think that there was something rather serene about the whole thing.
Nearly 150 years ago, a man named James Speight, while feeling a little thirsty, decided to see what would happen if he mixed a few malt and hops together. Encouraged by friends Charles Greenslade and William Dawson, his newly created beverage was given the name of Speight’s and a brewery setup on Dunedin’s Rattray Street. A location that has been home to the popular draught amber ale ever since.
It was one of those idle afternoons where while there was plenty I should probably be doing, I’d put it all to one side and went off for an adventure instead. I’d been exploring the Harington Point gun emplacements on Otago Peninsula. A site that was first constructed in response to the threat of a Russian invasion in 1885. Following this, I had made my way down to the shoreline where I had a lovely time trying not to trip over! At some point in between swells, The Monarch came chugging along on one of its wildlife tours. I don’t think they were hoping for someone looking a little unbalanced, trying not to slip into the water but then every trip has a highlight!
If there’s one change that would instantly improve Arrowtown it would be to completely pedestrianise the main street of Buckingham Street. So, it was with interest that I recently read that the local council ran a trial closing the street to traffic. In a town that is quickly becoming overrun with vehicles, it’ll be interesting to see what the future holds.
Leaving Hagley Park, I crossed the Avon River and strolled along Rolleston Avenue before turning left onto Worcester Street. Passing the Christchurch Arts Centre while dodging trams, I continued until somehow met the Avon River again. From there, I found my way to Cathedral Square where I enjoyed a quiet moment or two taking in the various sculptures that are scattered around. One of which, located across from the Cathedral on the corner of Colombo and Hereford Street at the beginning of a pedestrian mall is a sculpture titled Flour Power by Regan Gentry. Gifted to the city in 2008, the steel structure stands an impressive 15 metres high and is kinda fun to stand under!
To get to this vantage point its a bit of a hike. Not difficult, just awkward more than anything else. That’s because I had to slog my way uphill through dense sand dunes that were heavily overgrown. The problem that created was that I couldn’t always see where I was stepping. However, the uphill struggle was worth the effort because the views from the small rocky ledge were very rewarding.
How I like still, clear and undisturbed water on a tranquil morning. There’s something rather soothing about looking out across a lake, harbour or ocean that is as calm as a mill pond. It’s a very positive feeling. It makes me think that today everything is going to be ok, the sun will shine and it’ll only get better from this point.
Heading south from Christchurch, it was around Ashburton that I became curious what might be down some of the side roads that detour off State Highway 1. After crossing the Ashburton River, I then passed through the towns of Winslow, Hinds, Ealing and Rangitata before succumbing to temptation and near the town of Orari turned down Racecourse Road. From there, I discovered some Railway Tracks, a Trotting Club, a Golf Club and eventually the town of Geraldine which is referred to as one of New Zealand’s most underrated stopover destinations. It is also one of the few locations where you can see the native long-tail bat.
As we head into the last few weeks of autumn here’s an image from one of my autumnal strolls. This one was taken at Chingford Park in North Dunedin on a gloriously fine, yet chill afternoon.
During World War II the name Te Rau Aroha was given to a mobile canteen truck, which was sent from New Zealand to Māori Battalion soldiers who served on the battlefields overseas between 1940 and 1945. Once near the front, the canteen became a place for soldiers to gather and hear the latest news broadcasts, while enjoying home sweet treats and comforts from home. Almost 3600 men served with the Māori Battalion, of which 649 were killed in action, 1712 were wounded and 237 were prisoners of war.
So, when a name had to be chosen for a new museum in the Treaty Grounds honouring the Māori Battalion, naming it after the treasured Te Rau Aroha canteen truck seemed a logical choice. Now, there aren’t many places that I would legitimately call humbling, however the Te Rau Aroha Museum is one of them.
It really is hard to describe just how heavy the rain was while driving through the Haast Pass. The previous evening, while staying in Makarora the rain had started sometime during the night. By morning it had only gotten harder on the succeeding drive through the Haast Pass to the West Coast. Once there, I discovered the rain had only managed to get more intense. So, several hours later I found myself travelling back through the Haast Pass on my way to Makarora, passing swollen rivers and substantial waterfalls.
As the track continued, a thought suddenly crossed my mind. Maybe the reason I’ve never heard of this place is because no one ever ventures out alive? Such are the dangers of the New Zealand bush or walking tracks for that matter. You not only have to survive the traffic just to get there, but when you do, there’s water obstacles, hunters and wild animals to elude. What a glorious country this is!
I stayed here one night and almost had the place to myself. I’m not sure what I would have done if it was busy. It was the perfect spot to process a few photos over a pint or two of Speight’s. Apart from a Grandfather and Grandson at the end of the bar happily sharing tales about fish and a lady in the dining room, it was a very quiet night. They certainly didn’t mind me setting up my camera for a photo before the landlady told me about the local ghost.
The story goes that many young ladies came to the Otago gold fields seeking employment in grog tents, bars, and dance halls that sprang up all over the region. At the time, it was thought that a lady could earn a substantial wage on the gold fields, and thus create a better life for themselves. So when a lady called Rose started working in the area as a prostitute near the town of St Bathans, she most likely wasn’t alone. During her time in the area, Rose worked at the dance halls while also renting a room at the Vulcan Hotel at night to see male clients. Having collected a small amount of gold in payment, one night a male client of Rose strangled her, robbed her of her gold and threw her body into the nearby lake.
The killer was never found and to this day the restless ghost of Rose haunts the Vulcan Hotel and particular male gentlemen who stay in the famous Room 1.
Strolling through the enchanting pathways of Dunedin’s Chinese Garden, I marveled at the serene beauty and cultural richness that surrounded me. With every step, I was astonished at the meticulous craftsmanship of the traditional architecture, ornate pavilions and graceful bridges that seemed to whisper tales of ancient wisdom. As I walked, my eye caught the intricate details of the garden’s, from the delicate arrangement of rocks to the harmonious balance of flora and water. Immersed in an oasis of calm, I couldn’t help but reflect on the timeless connection between nature and humanity.
One of my autumn strolls around the North Dunedin area took me past the famous Captain Cook Tavern which sits on the corner of Albany and Great King Streets. In recent years it’s been open, shut, reopened, rebranded and sold, forever changing the hotel from being what made it famous. Which was, being one of the most famous student bars in the country. In the 1980’s when the Dunedin music scene became famous for the development of ‘The Dunedin Sound’ The Captain Cook Hotel was an important location where bands played. These days the upstairs is an event space with the downstairs being the site of Sal’s Pizza restaurant.
I haven’t been for a good, spontaneous ramble around the local streets in a while. In fact, when I think about it, it always seems to be around this time of year that I get the urge to simply go wandering without a set purpose. So it was, on a decidedly chilly morning in May I found myself roaming the streets of South Dunedin looking for nothing particularly yet knowing what I was looking for, when I found it.
Before I change direction away from autumn, I thought I’d show you a few more images that haven’t been posted on my daily photo blog. This is one I took on my Arrowtown trip while wandering the autumnal Arrowtown paths (Tobins Track) near the river and Chinese Village. It really is a colour overload at times. By the time you leave the path and head back towards the town, your eyes take a few seconds to adjust from seeing colours apart from yellow, orange and the occasional red! Is that what colour theory is?
There are times when I feel like the University of Otago has become one giant machine that is set on city wide domination. However, at its heart is a wonderful institution that dates right back to the early days of the original European early settlers. In fact, if we should thank anyone for the University of Otago, it should probably be Thomas Burns and James Macandrew. It was them that urged the Otago Provincial Council during the 1860s to set aside land in the region for an institute of higher education.
… from a Small City. My daily musings from Ōtepoti to get you inspired. Read the blog, view the photos, embrace the creativity.
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Ngawi Beach 
The Vulcan Hotel in St Bathans
