#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Middlemarch, Travels in small-town New Zealand, Wild Horses

Aberafon Street, Middlemarch

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Daily Photo – Aberafon Street, Middlemarch

One of the great things about museums is finding things you never expected. For example, you don’t expect to find a submarine 80 kilometers from the coast in a small Otago town. In fact, when you do, it feels a bit like a practical joke. There it sits, stranded in Middlemarch, a vessel that never touched the sea, looking less like a cutting-edge machine and more like a mislaid water tank – which, at one point, it actually was.

The story is simple enough: two men convinced themselves there was plenty of gold lying on the wild riverbeds of Central Otago and the best way to get at it was with a submarine. Only in New Zealand could such a thought be entertained with such seriousness. Elsewhere, there would have been committees, diagrams, and several university studies explaining why it was impossible. Here, they just built the thing.

That it didn’t work seems almost beside the point. The Platypus isn’t really a wonderful failure –  it’s proof of that casual, can-do optimism that bubbles away in this country. A submarine eighty kilometres inland may not be practical, but it is gloriously, stubbornly imaginative. And somehow, standing here beside it, you can’t help but admire that more than if it had ever struck gold.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Middlemarch, Travels in small-town New Zealand, Wild Horses

Aberafon Street, Middlemarch

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Daily Photo – Aberafon Street, Middlemarch

Just for second, imagine beginning inside this iron tube. Eight men wedged in this space, the clank of shafts, the hiss of pumps, the smoke of oil lamps, an air supply slipping away through a leaking valve, insufficient pressure to expel water, all the while waiting to find out if the contraption will rise back up to the surface. Standing here today, I could help but think volunteering to go in such a thing lands somewhere between absurd and heroic.

#dailyat6am, Middlemarch, Travels in small-town New Zealand, Wild Horses

Middlemarch

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Daily Photo – Middlemarch

If you’re ever in Connecticut, USA it is highly recommended that you visit the USS Nautilus at the Submarine Force Museum. It was the world’s first nuclear-powered submarine, and is permanently docked on the Thames River which you can walk aboard and explore. In Kiel, Germany at the Laboe Naval Memorial you can visit the U-995, a World War II U-boat. Sydney, Australia has the HMAS Onslow at the Australian National Maritime Museum in Darling Harbour and Kaliningrad, Russia is home to the  B-413 at the Museum of the World. What all these nautical museums and submarine attractions have in common (as in fact do most) is that they are located close to significant bodies of water such as a harbour or ocean. Not so in New Zealand. Here in the land of the long white cloud, to see our one and only submarine you have to drive 80 kilometres inland to Middlemarch – its closest water supply being an outside tap! Yet, it is here you’ll find the Platypus, a submarine that’s a nod towards New Zealand’s ingenuity, inventiveness and No 8 wire mentality. The only drawback being, it never really worked and spent more time holding water than being in it! 

The brainchild of R.W.Nutall and Antoine-Prosper Payerne, who between them came up with the genius idea of building a submarine that could easily dredge the river beds of Central Otago. The theory was that vast quantities of gold must lay on the Central Otago riverbeds and a submarine seemed the ideal way to access it. If the gold wouldn’t come to them, they would go to the gold, thus ‘The Platypus’ was born.

Of French design, The Platypus submarine was constructed, fitted and finished locally in Dunedin before a series of moderately successful public launches took place, starting in December, 1873. The difficulty was that the vessel took a good dozen people to operate and most rational people didn’t want to have anything to do with the craft. Eventually, when at last a group of brave individuals were persuaded to get in the thing, the testing continued, with mixed results at best. During the last of these trials, things went so badly, when The Platypus eventually resurfaced, the men scrambled out, certain they were about to die. After this, unsurprisingly, support started to wane and before it could be transported to the gold fields, the project collapsed with The Platypus left abandoned on the banks of Pelichet Bay (now Logan Park) for four decades. 

The Platypus Project suddenly jumped back to life in the 1920’s when the submarine was dismantled, cut into three sections and sold. The two end sections were purchased by a farmer from the Barewood area near Middlemarch where it was used as a water tank with the middle section disappearing and remains missing. Another 70 years later, the farmer donated the  remains to the Middlemarch Museum where it stands for people like me to marvel over. Which, is what I did now.

Middlemarch, Strath Taieri, Sutton, Wild Horses

Schist, Tussock & The Strath Taieri

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Daily Photo – Schist, Tussock and The Strath Taieri

Out on the Strath Taieri, near Sutton Salt Lake, the wide open spaces feel like stepping into another world. Towers of schist rise from the golden tussock and dry shrub, scattered across a quiet plain. The sky stretches endlessly above, broken only by rolling clouds and the distant Rock and Pillar Range. There’s a stillness with time, shaped by sun, salt, and centuries of erosion. Out here you don’t come for noise or crowds, you come for the textures, the crunch underfoot, and the feeling of standing in sparse, open landscapes.

Middlemarch, Otago, Wild Horses

The Taieri Gorge Railway

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The Taieri Gorge Railway carriages at Middlemarch

I had driven out to Middlemarch, a small town nestled in the heart of Otago’s Strath Taieri region- intent on finding something for lunch. It was then, a few blocks from the main road that I found the town’s railway station. The Taieri Gorge Railway carriages stood silent on the tracks, their once vibrant hues faded from the sun. The windows were clouded with dust, no longer pulsing with life and ferrying passengers through the dramatic Otago landscape. As I wandered alongside the idle train, long shadows were cast in the afternoon light, the air crisp with the faint scent of rust and aged wood. In that quiet moment, I could help but ponder what railway’s have become.

Middlemarch, Otago, Strath Taieri, Sutton, Wild Horses

Sutton Salt Lake

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Sutton Salt Lake

The next day I drove to Sutton, through scenery that looked like the backdrop of a Hollywood movie-mainly because it was. The vast, rolling hills covered in golden tussock grass with scattered schist rock were one of the filming locations for Peter Jackson’s epic trilogy ‘The Hobbit’. But I wasn’t there to see film locations, I was in the area to visit New Zealand’s only inland salt lake at Sutton which sits in a enclosed shallow basin and is accessible via a 3.5 kilometre walking track. 

Upon arrival. I discovered the car park empty and no sign of human activity on the trail. Please by this, I set off through the tussock to Sutton Salt Lake

Middlemarch, Strath Taieri, Sutton, Wild Horses

Sutton Railway Station

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Sutton Railway Station

These days, the Sutton railway station is a sleepy relic, a station without a train, with nothing but the wind for company. Once a bustling wee hub, a place where locals from the Strath Taieri area came and went on their way to Dunedin. Step inside (or rather, peer through the old door), and you’ll find names scratched into the timber—some dating back nearly to the turn of the century. Among the scrawls left behind by idle hands are the initials of soldiers who once passed through, including one Arthur Charles Peat.

Arthur was 21 when he left Sutton in late 1914, off to do his bit for ‘The Great War.’ He enlisted with the Otago Infantry Battalion on the 13th of December and was promptly packed onto the HMS Tahiti, bound for Egypt. In early April, somewhere on the Red Sea, he wrote to his brother Jack, because that’s what one did in 1914 when one was about to do something life-altering and potentially catastrophic—one wrote home, preferably before seasickness set in. He described three days at sea before spotting the Suez Canal, the excitement of saluting passing ships, and the thrill of buying fruit from enterprising locals. Then came the train ride through the canal, followed by a jaunt into Cairo, where he had a look at the sights but only glimpsed the pyramids from a distance—an experience not unlike visiting Paris and only seeing the Eiffel Tower reflected in a puddle. He ended the letter in a hurry, promising to write more next time, presumably because the postman was already tapping his foot.

That next letter never came. Arthur and the Otago Infantry Battalion were shipped off to Gallipoli, where things quickly went from ‘unpleasant’ to ‘a complete and utter disaster.’ On the 7th of August, 1915, at Chunuk Bair, Arthur Charles Peat was killed in action. His name, along with the others who never returned, remains etched into the wood at Sutton station—a quiet reminder of lives that passed through, bound for places they would never see again.

Middlemarch, Strath Taieri, Wild Horses

Haybales In Middlemarch

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Haybales in Middlemarch

As I journeyed across the open, endless plains where the wind seemed to roll with freedom, I found myself surrounded by a landscape that felt both vast and intimate. Bales of hay stood stacked high in an orderly silence, waiting patiently for the coming of winter. The grass, dry from the summer heat, whispered secrets as it rustled in the breeze, and nearby a barbed wire fence hummed softly, as if intune with the rhythm of the land. All the while, overhead a pale blue sky stretched endlessly into the beyond, a playground for the wild seeds that danced in the wind.

Middlemarch, Pukerangi, Strath Taieri, Sutton

Tracks Heading West At Pukerangi

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Tracks Heading West – Buy 

It took me three visits to this spot to get the image I wanted. It’s a decent journey from Dunedin and not a spot I could quickly detour to when the time seemed right. To get the timing right it took a bit of planning. On the first two occasions I came home, only to realise I wasn’t happy with the composition which was rather annoying. There’s also a wonderful metaphor that comes with railway tracks and railway stations that seem to be a growing theme for me.

Dunedin, Middlemarch, Strath Taieri, Sutton

Railway Station At Sutton

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Railway Station at Sutton – Buy 

The Sutton railway station was once a busy wee place as locals came and went from the Strath Taieri area to Dunedin. These days, still visible inside the small, disused station, etched into the timber are the names of locals that date back nearly to the turn of the century. Some of them include the initials of soldiers from the area who served in the First World War, among them are the initials of A.C Peat.

At the age of 21, Arthur Charles Peat left Sutton in late 1914 and was enlisted for ‘The Great War’ as a member of the Otago Infantry Battalion on the 13th December 1914. On board the vessel the HMS Tahiti, his journey from Sutton took him firstly to Egypt where in early April he wrote to his brother Jack. In his letter he wrote about spending three days on the Red Sea before getting sight of the Suez canal. He wrote about saluting other ships as they passed, about buying fruit off the locals and disembarking to a train to head through the canal. He went on to write about meeting some of his mates once they were in camp and how they went into Cairo to have a look at the sites, commenting that he had only seen the pyramids from a distance. Wanting to ensure his letter went out on that day’s mail, he ended by promising to write all the news and tell all about the sights next time. 

Arthur and the Otago Infantry Battalion were then shipped out to Gallipoli as part of the Gallipoli campaign. At Chunuk Bair on 7 August, 1915 Arthur Charles Peat was killed in action.-

– lest we forget, we will remember them.