Daily Photo – Dipton

Limehills is the kind of place you could easily miss if you blink too long while driving, which is exactly what I did. I’d been hoping to get an early fix of caffeine, my eyes scanning for the tell-tale sign of a café with a chalkboard out front and a name like “Bean There” or “Perky’s,” but the opportunity sailed past without me even noticing. By the time I realised, I was rolling into Dipton, wondering if I’d dreamt Limehills entirely.

Located on State Highway 6 between Invercargill and Frankton, Dipton’s population hovers at just over 2,000 people, who enjoy its tranquil rural feel. The nearby Ōreti River sparkling in the sunshine, all the while surrounded by wonderfully green pastures that seem to go on forever. But this was winter. The pastures weren’t green, the sunshine wasn’t shining, and the tranquillity seemed to have slipped away. A low grey winter cloud hung over the town like an unmade duvet, the nearby paddocks were lined with mud, cows standing about in that resigned way cows do when they know there’s no point complaining.

And yet, there was something oddly comforting about Dipton in winter. The stillness was different; it was more of a sedate winter hibernation. Still, I’m sure locals welcome visitors with all the good graces in the world. I could turn up at the Winter Community Catch-Up in June, attend rock ’n’ roll lessons on a Wednesday evening throughout July, stop off at Bee’s Bites for a taste treat, or join the locals in seeing Nick Hyde live in the Community Hall in September, all the being embraced into the town. Dipton seemed to be the kind of place where locals would tip their hat with a friendly “morn” before moving on with their day.

Dipton wasn’t flashy. It’s not even mildly attention-seeking. It was just quietly getting on with the business of the day. As must I, which is why I headed for Lumsden.