Morning on the St Clair Esplanade

Daily Photo – Morning on the St Clair Esplanade

I hadn’t planned to come back, not really, but for some reason I did. So I returned, without much thought, and found myself looking over the ocean in the early honest hours of the morning. The beach, like the surrounding businesses, was quiet, the tide easing in and out with a kind of patience that makes everything else feel hurried in comparison. The sky stretched wide, layered in deep blues and purples, with thin ribbons of orange gathering near the horizon. The first hint of sun, not yet committed, but close. The shoreline held the sky, soft and shifting, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of water. Further along into the distance, small lights began to appear in windows. Nothing dramatic, just the quiet signs of a day beginning somewhere beyond the edge of the sea. I stayed for a while, not thinking about much at all.

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Evening on the St Clair Esplanade

Daily Photo – Evening on the St Clair Esplanade

By early evening the Esplanade at St Clair Beach had begun that quiet transformation it does so well. The last of the daylight lingered out over the water, a soft wash of gold fading into blue, while the first hints of night settled gently over the hills. Out to sea, the horizon blurred, as if the day was reluctant to let go.

Nearby, the restaurants were coming to life. Doors opened and closed in a steady rhythm, voices carried out onto the pavement, and the clink of cutlery and glass drifted through the salt air. There was a warmth to it, an easy hum of people arriving, meeting, settling in. You could sense the shift from daytime wandering to evening ritual.

I stayed out by the railing a little longer than I needed to. The tide rolled in with that familiar, steady patience, each wave folding over itself like it had done a thousand times before and would do a thousand times again. It felt like the kind of moment you do not interrupt. Just stand still, take it in, and let the night arrive in its own time.

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Morning at St Clair Salt Water Pool

Daily Photo – Morning at St Clair Salt Water Pool

I wandered down to St Clair Salt Water Pool one morning, though I couldn’t tell you which one. It was early enough that no one else, bar the very committed, had bothered yet, aside from a few seagulls who looked far more settled than I was. The light came in low and sideways, catching the railings and making the whole place feel more deliberate than it probably is on a normal day. The sea rolled in gently while the light slowly crept across the water. I stood there longer than expected, thinking it was better than it had any real right to be.

GoingPro in Minimal Adventures

Daily Photo -Liquid Layers at Smaills Beach

GoPro cameras are just getting better and better. While they still can’t do what a professional DSLR or mirrorless camera can, especially when it comes to that blurry “bokeh” background or shooting in low light, you can still get quality images and videos that are genuinely impressive.

The real magic lately has been in how the camera “thinks.” Instead of relying on a huge sensor, these little units use remarkable internal processing to clean up the grainy “noise” you used to see in the shadows. They’ve also introduced a much taller sensor shape, which is a lifesaver for composition. It means you can capture a huge amount of the sky and the ground at the same time, giving you the freedom to crop the image later into a vertical shot for a phone or a wide shot for a blog, without losing the best parts of the scene. It’s less about raw glass and more about smart, flexible pixels.

This is an image I took with an early GoPro version. If nothing else, they are great fun to use, without having to carry around a ton of gear or have an in-depth working knowledge of all the internal components of a professional or semi-professional camera. You simply choose the function you want and head out into the world.

The Colours of Dusk at Blackhead Beach

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Daily Photo – Blackhead Beach

I spent the evening watching the waves roll in a steady rhythm at Blackhead Beach. The colours of dusk lasted deep into the evening as they swept over the rocks as if in perfect harmony to classic symphony. Beneath an ever changing sky, offshore, an island sat quietly as if it too were patiently waiting for night to return.

The Rocks at St Kilda Beach

Daily Photo – The story of St Kilda beach begins quietly ….

The European story of St Kilda Beach begins rather quietly, without a single dramatic landing or a heroic explorer planting a flag in the sand. Instead, it arrived in the form of sealers and whalers who moved up and down the Otago coast in the early 1800s. They would have stepped ashore on these beaches as casually as you or I wander down the street for an ice cream, leaving little behind except footprints in the sand and a few scribbles in ship logs or a footnote at the bottom of a page.

A few decades later, when Dunedin began to spread south and the dunes slowly acquired fences, roads and houses. The suburb needed a name, and a developer called George Scott, fresh from Victoria, borrowed one he liked from Melbourne, Australia – St Kilda. Initially taken from a cluster of windswept Scottish Islands (that didn’t actually have a saint at all), the name had already travelled halfway around the world so when it was added to Dunedin’s coastal stretch of land, it was adopted without much fuss.

Today the beach feels like one of the city’s great locations. Everyone comes here at some point, whether to surf, swim, walk the dog, see the wildlife or simply stand and watch the sea rearrange its thoughts in a quiet yet moody sort of way.

The Dunes of  St Kilda Beach

Daily Photo – If you walk along St Kilda Beach on a quiet morning …

If you walk along St Kilda Beach on a quiet morning, before the dog walkers and joggers appear, it is easy to imagine the place long before Dunedin ever existed. The dunes once rolled back into a patchwork of wetlands, lagoons and sandy ridges that shifted with the seasons. Long before the name St Kilda arrived from halfway across the world, this coastline was part of the wider food gathering network of the Kai Tahu and Kāti Māmoe tribes. It was a place where shellfish were gathered, fires burned quietly against the wind and travelling parties camped while moving between coastal settlements.

Standing there with the waves tumbling in, it is comforting to think that the same rhythm drew people here centuries ago. The long, straight run of sand would have made an ideal landing place, and the nearby wetlands were a natural pantry filled with fish, birds and plants. Every so often, when the light is right, you get the sense that the waves remember, even if the city has forgotten. The gulls still circle in the same lazy patterns and the land sits with the sort of confidence that comes from having been here a very long time.

A Warm Day by the Sea

Daily Photo – St Kilda & St Clair Beach

I spent the morning walking the various coastal paths that stretch from St Clair to St Kilda Beach, occasionally breaking away from the formed track to wander through the sand dunes and along the beach for a while, before clambering back up to rejoin the path once more.

It was a warm Dunedin day, with the temperature having already climbed into the twenties by mid-morning. By Dunedin’s standards, the mercury was fairly soaring. I didn’t have anything more pressing to do than shuffle my way along the beach and trip through the dunes until I felt I’d done enough to earn a beer at the end of it all — which, as it turned out, was right around four o’clock when I finally made it home.

One Night on The Esplanade

Daily Photo – One Night on The Esplanade

I took this one night on the Esplanade, when I set out on one of my little missions of chance – otherwise known as “wandering about hoping something interesting happens.” I do this from time to time, mostly as a personal creative challenge, or perhaps as an excuse to postpone doing anything more sensible. The light wasn’t ideal, but that’s often when the best surprises appear, if you’re patient – or slightly foolish – enough to look for them.

And before you ask, no, the lights along St Clair aren’t actually those colours. They’re the usual street lamps, those modern LED ones that bathe everything in a sort of sterile hospital glow. Once upon a time, they were sodium vapour and turned the place a cheery shade of orange, like the world’s largest baked bean. I decided to give them a bit of artistic encouragement,  a dash of colour and variation, just to see what might happen. After all, if the evening insists on being ordinary, you might as well give it a little nudge.

Déjà View: St Clair at Dawn

Daily Photo – Déjà View: St Clair at Dawn

I have absolutely no idea if I’ve posted this photo here before. I can’t for the life of me remember – which probably says something worrying about my memory. Still, if I have, consider it an encore performance. I took it one morning at St Clair when the sky looked as if someone had spilled raspberry syrup across the horizon. Hard to say whether it was the sunrise or the coffee that woke me up first.

The Esplanade

Daily Photo – The Esplanade

I had a good walk along the St Clair Esplanade and along the beach, enjoying the combination of a slow mid-morning amble and sun-splashed water, unsurprised that many had the same idea. On the way back to the car park, I passed the busy cafés and restaurants doing a brisk morning trade as people soaked up the spring sunshine outside the various buildings that line the sea front.

The newest of these establishments is a three-storey apartment and retail complex that opened earlier in the year. While the upper floors are apartments offering splendid sea views and the chance to watch the tops of people’s heads as they stroll past, the ground floor features a wine bar next door to an authentic artisan gelato shop. The whole complex gives the area a more complete, polished feel – especially since the section had sat empty since the old St Clair dairy was pulled down in 2001. The place was alive with people eating, drinking coffee, walking dogs, carrying surfboards, and generally carting every sort of thing one might take to the beach on the first day of a long holiday weekend.

Blackhead Beach

Daily Photo – Blackhead Beach

Looking up at those dark cliffs and their strange hexagonal pillars at Blackhead Beach, you get the feeling the earth here is older than time itself. And in a way, it is. The headland was born about ten million years ago, when the great Dunedin Volcano was still rumbling and lava was spilling into the sea. As it cooled, the molten rock cracked and shrank into perfect six-sided columns, nature’s own geometry lesson. The result is the striking formation known locally as the “Roman Baths,” a natural amphitheatre of basalt that looks as if it were carved by an ancient civilisation rather than made by chance.

Yet, long before geologists admired these pillars or quarry trucks began to rumble nearby, Māori knew this place by very different names Te Wai o Tinarau, “the waters of Tinarau,” and Makereatu, roughly translated as “to leave a seed.” The names alone hint at a deep connection with both sea and story. Tinarau/Tinirau, is a figure in Polynesian culture associated with the sea. To name this coastline after him suggests an understanding that went beyond simple geography, a recognition of the tides, the fish, and the life that springs from the sea.

Even the second name, Makereatu, has a poetry to it. A sense of something passed on, perhaps the way every wave that breaks here leaves behind a trace of the one before. It’s a reminder that places like Blackhead are layered not just in basalt, but in meaning. The rocks tell a tale written in lava; the names tell one spoken in generations. Both deserve to be read slowly.

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.

Aramoana Waves

Breaking wave at Aramoana

I’d parked at the informal carapark off Heyward Point Road, on Dunedin’s northern coast. From there, I followed the well-trodden track that led me through open farmland, a gentle incline that soon delivered me to the edge of the cliffs. It was an easy, steady walk and before long, I’d reached a vantage point that was quite splendid. 

The view opened up dramatically, revealing the Pacific Ocean in full splendour, with Aramoana laid out far below. I stood for a while, watching the waves roll in and out along the curve of the beach. Further out, ‘The Mole’ cut a line into the sea, stretching 1200 metres into open water. Behind it, Taiaroa Head and the entrance to Otago Harbour framed the horizon, rugged and timeless.

St Clair Esplanade at Daybreak 

St Clair Esplanade at daybreak 

I began the day with a walk along the Esplanade at St Clair. It’d been my intention to walk along the beach, however I completely misread the tide times. Instead of finding the beach at low tide which would have allowed me to walk out a distance and see the streetlights from a different perspective, I discovered it just after high tide. This is something I wasn’t expecting.

So, instead of a leisurely morning stroll on the beach, I settled for walking the nearby streets looking for interesting views and vantage points.

The Devine Beach

Lawyers Head, St Kilda and St Clair Beach

It was one of those stunning summer days where the sun was shining, it was hot and the sky was clear without a breath of wind. I had spent the morning completing a few errands in town, and having finished all my tasks, I rewarded myself with a walk to the beach. I made my way through suburbs with neatly manicured lawns and streets lined with vehicles of all shapes and sizes. Eventually the coast came into view and the familiar smell of sand and saltwater filled the air. I made my way to the top of a line of sand dunes that looked out over the beach and stretched far into the distance. I was so impressed, I instantly gave it my International Beach of the Year Award before heading off to explore the nearby rock pools while getting dive bombed by contemptuous sea-gulls.

Summer Change At Lawyers Head

Summer change at Lawyers Head

The warmth of the afternoon that had seemingly lingered forever, finally gave way late in the day. The clear blue skies had been engulfed by a dark, mood bank of cloud that had rolled in, bringing with it intense wind gusts that seemed intent on battering everything in its path. The once calm and peaceful blue ocean had been transformed into a brooding, angry mass that was beginning to churn and swell into the rocky shoreline of Lawyers Head and beyond to St Kilda beach. Far off in the distance the gathering clouds gave an ominous prediction of heavy rain. The once lovely summer’s day had suddenly changed, almost as if by the flick of a switch. 

Dusk In The Dunes

Dusk in sand dunes at St Kilda beach

The evening light set the ocean alight with warm hues of orange, yellow and blue as I walked through the dunes. Nearby the gentle swell rolling toward the shore. It was early summer, and the air, filled with salt, carried the last traces of the day’s warmth. Silhouetted hills loomed in the distance while sea grasses swayed lazily on the dunes. The quiet beauty of the sunset fading as the light dipped.

Dunedin Evening Light

Sunset beyond St Clair

The ocean, alive and golden, shimmered like glass as the sun sank behind the hills above St Clair. I floated, suspended in water that glowed with the kind of warmth only early summer knows. Waves rolled gently to the shore, while clouds blushed a deep, contented orange. The world, caught between day and night and for a fleeting moment as the last of the daylight  shimmered on the horizon.

Sunset On St Kilda Beach.

Sunset on St Kilda beach.

Here in Dunedin it’s getting to that lovely time of year when the sun rises early, the days are warm and the light lasts long into the evening. At this time instead of the sun setting behind the hills, it dips below the horizon far down the coast. Meaning from beaches like St Kilda, you can sit on the beach deep into evening and watch it fade from sight with the hypnotic rhythms of breaking waves acting as a backdrop.

To Breathe The Salt Air

Evening surfer at St Clair

It’s the simplicity I like about this image, two colours and surfer – that’s it! A bright orange sky lighting up the horizon, late in the evening after sunset while the ocean rolls in a deep hue of blue. There are different tones within both of these colours while a surfer patiently waits, looking off into the distance. It’s so very uncomplicated yet full of complexity, both at the same time. 

Dunnerstunner

St Clair from St Kilda Beach, Dunedin.

The day was fine and clear, the wind had dropped away and with summer only a few weeks away, the daylight was going to run deep into the evening. It was what locals call a stunner of a day with the temperature sitting at a warm 16 degrees. Throughout the day, the beach had been a popular place and as late afternoon started to turn to early evening, a peaceful calm had settled along the coast.

The Edge of the World

Blackhead Beach

It was like I was standing on the edge of the world, staring out over a restless sea as dark, brooding clouds gathered overhead. The water was an intense shade of turquoise, calm at the shore but stirring further out. Small waves, gentle yet insistent, rolled toward the beach, their white crests gleaming under the dimming light. There was a weight in the air, a tension, as if the ocean itself was holding its breath, waiting.

The Metropole

The Metropole building in St Clair, Dunedin

I’d spent the afternoon wandering along St Kilda then St Clair beaches. From there, I ventured up along the Esplanade and along to the end of Second Beach. Arriving at the end of the coastal path with nowhere left to go, I turned and retraced my steps until I once more arrived at the Esplanade. It was at that point that I realised that having spent all afternoon on foot, I decided to reward myself with a beer at a nearby bar and restaurant called Salt. Not having any particular place to be in the next short while, I spent the next few hours happily drinking a few pints, eating food and reading a book. Suddenly noticing it was getting dark outside, I gathered my belongings that now seemed to be scattered across the table and headed for home. 

The Hydro On The Esplanade.

The Hydro on the esplanade.

It was early evening and I had been wandering for some time. Eventually, I came to the Esplanade and strolled along the seafront, the buildings bathed in the soft glow of street lights, their warm light spreading halos across the deepening blue sky. The shark bell stood slightly imposing, sentinel over the promenade, a poignant reminder of a time when shark attacks seemed an altogether common occurrence in a bygone time. Nestled into the hillside beyond, the suburb of St Clair sparkled faintly in the background, adding a cozy touch to the urban serenity. It was one of those evenings where time seemed to slow in a silent sort of way.

Sunrise Over Tomahawk Beach

Sunrise over Tomahawk Beach

Recently, there have been some extremely lovely sunrises here in Dunedin. While I don’t know the exact science behind what causes a colourful sunrise, I believe it’s all to do with light beams coming into the earth’s atmosphere and hitting molecules. Then, something happens with blue lightwaves becoming shorter while red, orange and yellow lightwaves become longer while moving through the atmosphere. Of course, I could always be completely wrong!