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.

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.

The famous Bluff signpost

It wasn’t the worst weather I’d ever been out photographing in, however it was pretty bloody miserable. At that moment, as another intensely heavy rain shower thundered past, I realised I was the only one stupid enough to not stay in their car. So there I was, all alone in the driving rain as a furious southerly roared across Foveaux Strait, standing at the southern tip of the country. It was a bracing 5 degrees, inland somewhere it was snowing heavily, the afternoon swell that was hitting the nearby rocks was only getting larger and I was struggling to stay upright in the wind surges that buffeted the coastline. Yet, I couldn’t be happier.