Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Alleyway off Crawford Street

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Daily Photo – Alleyway off Crawford Street at 5am

There’s a specific kind of quiet you only find in the narrow gaps between old brick buildings at five in the morning. It’s a heavy, expectant sort of silence, as if the walls are holding their breath, waiting for the city to wake up and start making demands again.

I stumbled into this little pocket of Dunedin while wandering near Crawford Street, my camera tripod clattering far too loudly on the asphalt for such a peaceful hour. On the left-hand wall, a painted white hand reaches out from the bricks, frozen in a permanent, hopeful gesture. Reaching out for a handshake that isn’t coming, or perhaps just desperately searching for a passing flat white.

At the end of the alley, a single, brilliant light crowns the rooftop of the building beyond, cutting through the deep, bruised-blue of the pre-dawn sky. Above, the clouds streak by as if they are in a hurry to get somewhere, while down here, everything is still. It’s just me, the cold pipes, and the heavy weight of local history resting in the mortar. It’s beautiful, it’s moody, and it is definitely time for breakfast.

Aotearoa, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Early Hours On Crawford Street

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Daily Photo – Crawford Street at 5:30 AM

At about 5:30 in the morning, Dunedin feels like it belongs to someone else. The usual daytime hustle has slipped quietly away, leaving behind a version of the city that is calmer, softer, and just a little bit mysterious.

Standing on Crawford Street, I found myself with the place almost entirely to myself, only the occasional car slipping through the darkness. If I’m being completely honest, I was functioning without a morning injection of black coffee into my system and wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing up. It had seemed like a brilliant idea the previous evening, photographing the city before the sun claimed it but now, standing in the chill, my brain was struggling to string together a coherent thought.

The streetlights were still very much in charge, casting bright starbursts across the road as if they were quite reluctant to hand over the shift to the sun. Their reflections shimmered on the damp asphalt, while the long red streaks of passing headlights briefly stitched movement into an otherwise still scene. It had that faint, peculiar feel you only get at this hour as though the night had gathered a cast of unseen characters and quietly sent them on their way just moments before I arrived.

There was no sign of them now, of course, but you could almost imagine they had been here, lingering in doorways or drifting along the kerb in that unspoken way cities sometimes encourage. The buildings stood watch like patient witnesses, holding onto stories they clearly had no intention of sharing with a sleepy photographer.

At this hour, without the noise and distraction, you start to notice the small details, the shapes, the textures, and the spaces between things. Even the air feels different; it’s cooler, carrying that faint, salty promise of a warm January day still waiting somewhere beyond the horizon. Now, if I could just find a barista who’s started their shift, everything would be just about perfect.

Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Summer, Wild Horses

Day Break On The Esplanade

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Daily Photo – Day Break on the Esplanade

The next morning I was up earlier than usual. I had a busy day ahead, but first I wanted to go for a walk while I still had a bit of free time. It was one of those late summer mornings when the light seems to linger longer than usual before the sun finally lifts itself over the eastern horizon, covering everything in a warm orange and yellow glow. The kind of sunrise that tells you, at least weather-wise, it’s going to be a pretty good day. There was a stillness about it all, the sort that only seems to exist at that hour, before the day properly gets underway. The streets were quiet, except for the occasional passing car, and even those seemed in no particular hurry. It felt like the city was easing itself awake, one slow stretch at a time, and for a moment or two, I was quite happy to do the same.

Autumn, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Stillness of a Dunedin Autumn Day

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Daily Photo – A walk through autumn

If there’s one question I seem to keep asking myself recently, it’s this: isn’t it hard not to like autumn? The other day I decided on a stroll and spent some time exploring the city, looking for autumn colour. I wandered through alleyways and side streets, searching out places I hadn’t visited in a while. Every so often, I came across unexpected shadows cast by light from curious angles.

There’s something lovely about walking through a city or town as leaves, full of colour, fall all around you. It feels quietly poetic, particularly on one of those still, slightly overcast autumn days.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Dunedin’s Saddle Hill at Sunset

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Daily Photo – Dunedin’s Saddle Hill at Sunset

One of the more forgotten features of the Dunedin landscape, strangely enough, is also one of the most prominent. Namely, Saddle Hill. Within reason, it can be seen from almost every part of the city, yet it goes by with barely a mention. Apart from when it snows, that is. Then you’ll hear the locals saying, “Well, there was snow on Saddle Hill this morning,” quietly noting that another cold front has passed over the city during the night.

Located 18 kilometres to the west of the city centre, with an elevation of 473 metres, it’s not particularly massive as far as hills go. Yet a visit to the lookout on its northern slope provides a commanding view across the Taieri Plains, stretching all the way to Lake Waihola, some 25 kilometres away to the west.

In terms of the Dunedin landscape, it’s one of the old-timers. Saddle Hill has been around for millions of years, formed when molten rock pushed up through the Earth’s crust and cooled into a hard volcanic plug. It resisted the steady wear and tear of time while the surrounding softer land gradually eroded away, leaving behind that distinctive saddle shape we see today.

If it has a Māori name, I’m slightly embarrassed to admit I don’t know it. Its European name, however, was given by Captain James Cook during his 1769 voyage of discovery. As he sailed past, he noted in his journal that it had “a remarkable saddle”. And, as these things tend to go, the name stuck.

The thing I like best about it, though, is something a little more fleeting. As the earth turns and the sunsets shift across the western horizon, there are a couple of times each year when the sun drops directly behind it, creating a wonderful silhouette set against a rich wash of yellow and orange. It may not be the most dramatic sunset you’ll ever see, but it doesn’t really need to be. It makes me smile, and sometimes that’s enough.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Summer, Wild Horses

There’s A Lesson In There Somewhere.

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Daily Photo – Dunedin’s Chinese Garden

I recently visited Dunedin’s Chinese Garden, and it wasn’t till after that I came across the story of the 16th century Humble Administrator’s Garden. Where Dunedin’s garden covers about 0.25 hectares, the Humble Administrator’s Garden sprawls across a rather impressive 5.2 hectares and is considered one of China’s greatest.

It was created in the early 1500s by a retired official named Wang Xiancheng. At the end of his career, Wang decided to leave public life behind and build himself a peaceful retreat. He called it the “Humble Administrator’s Garden,” which is a rather modest name for what is, in reality, an expansive and carefully composed landscape of ponds, pavilions and winding paths.

To create it, Wang spent an enormous amount of money, pouring virtually all his resources into shaping the garden. The only thing that matched his enthusiasm for landscaping was his enthusiasm for entertaining and drinking. In fact, he became so absorbed in hosting guests and enjoying his new surroundings that he rather neglected his finances.

Not long after the garden was completed, Wang died, and his family found themselves in a difficult position. The estate was so financially strained that the garden had to be sold. In a small twist of irony, Wang’s grand symbol of a “humble” retirement lasted barely a generation in the hands of the man who created it.

There’s something both comic and unfortunate about the whole episode. A man retires to live simply, builds one of the most elaborate gardens in China, enjoys it perhaps a little too much, and ensures it slips out of his family’s hands almost immediately. There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Aramoana

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Daily Photo – The Aramoana Boardwalk and Saltmarsh

I was aiming for the Aramoana Boardwalk, the start of which I found at the local domain. In a matter of minutes, it took me through the Aramoana Ecological Area, with its native dunes and saltmarsh vegetation, to a viewing platform that sat over the wetlands. If ever there’s a place with too much history for its size, it’s Aramoana. A tiny village that has been the site of a massive industrial war, a national tragedy, and a silent ecological victory.

I stood on the platform and tried to imagine what the place would have looked like if the Aramoana aluminium smelter project from the 1970s had gone ahead. It would have been an unthinkable tragedy to build such a monstrosity of industry in such a lovely place. My eyes drifted from the ghost of the failed aluminium smelter to the memories that silently linger from the Aramoana massacre in the early 1990s, when an unemployed resident shot and killed 13 people before he too was shot dead by police. Standing on the platform, I looked in the other direction, to where the birdlife was flourishing in the quiet beauty of the surrounding tidal flats, one of the most important habitats for wading birds in Otago, yet entirely unaware of the horrific tragedies that had once occurred. I could help but compare the contrast between the effects of human activity and the natural environment, as the clouds passed overhead it seemed a lot to take in.  

From the boardwalk, I ventured past the memorial that stands for the 1990 tragedy and, in the ringing silence, read the names that live on in people’s memories. I drove out to where the mole, or breakwater, sits, stretching out into the sea, continuously battered by the hypnotic rhythm of the waves. On any given day, a walk along the mole or the beach can result in spotting wildlife that ranges from the usual population of birdlife to penguins, seals and sea lions. 

I didn’t have time to walk out along the mole or along the beach. So, I stood in the light breeze for a few minutes, returned to my car, and left Aramoana behind, a place that has earned its right to be left in peace.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Hamilton Bay

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Daily Photo – Murray’s Boat in Hamilton Bay

On the way to Aramoana I passed bays with the names Deborah, Hamilton, Dowling and Waipuna. Just like in Port Chalmers, there were more weathered boat sheds, wonky-looking garages, gravel driveways and vessels of various shapes and sizes at anchor. At one point I stopped to watch a lone dinghy drifting in a still, sheltered bay. There was something quintessentially Kiwi about it, a boat that had clearly surrendered to the elements but refused to actually sink. It sat there with the stoic, mossy dignity of an abandoned garden shed that had somehow wandered into the tide. One gets the sense that its owner, a man probably named Barry or Murray almost certainly has used it every weekend since the 1980s, at the same mooring line, with a devotion usually reserved for religious relics or a local sports team. It is a masterclass in our ‘she’ll be right’ attitude, a vessel held together by hope, algae, duct tape and the stubborn refusal to buy anything new while there is absolutely nothing wrong with the current one.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Port Chalmers

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Daily Photo – Goat and Quarantine Islands near Port Chalmers

Right on cue, as I arrived in Port Chalmers, the weather changed. The wind picked up and steadily blew down the harbour between nearby Goat and Quarantine Islands. The warm sunshine had given way to high cloud, but nevertheless there’s something about Port Chalmers that I find very likeable. It persists with a unique, isolated connection to the rest of the city and has a history that is rarely spoken about, almost as if it’s slightly embarrassing to talk about.

Long before European arrival, the area was a significant food-gathering site for Kāi Tahu and Kāti Māmoe iwi. When the first European settlers did arrive, this was the spot where they landed. The port made international history in 1882 when the first shipment of frozen meat departed Dunedin for London. It was also the final port of call for the ill-fated journey to the South Pole by Captain Robert Falcon Scott and his band of Antarctic explorers aboard the Terra Nova in 1910. This was the home of Ralph Hotere, widely considered one of New Zealand’s most important contemporary artists, the once popular Chick’s Hotel was arguably the most famous small music venue in New Zealand, and for a long time it was the gateway to Dunedin and the rest of Otago.

Upon arrival, I decided to detour from the main road through town and drove around the promontory that runs behind the wharf and eventually looks out over Sawyers Bay before leading back into town. I passed boats tucked into sheltered bays and old, weather-beaten boat sheds that sat beside the road, partially hidden by overhanging branches and vines that provided both protection and camouflage. I stopped on the side of the gravel road near a plaque commemorating the sinking of the Pride of the Yarra, which, in 1863, collided with another vessel called the Favorite just off the point where I was now standing. Thirteen people died. The subsequent inquiry and Supreme Court trial revealed that both vessels were travelling at speed in dark, foggy conditions, and that the Pride of the Yarra lacked proper lighting. This led to the acquittal of the Favorite’s crew on manslaughter charges and the implementation of stricter maritime safety regulations in Otago Harbour.

I watched the clouds roll in and the tide battle against the breeze. A car rolled past, the driver giving a friendly wave before disappearing over the rise. I returned to my vehicle and headed for Aramoana.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Dunedin City Across The Harbour

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Daily Photo – Dunedin city across the harbour

From Portobello on the Otago Peninsula, I was heading for the harbour settlement of Port Chalmers on the opposite side of the harbour. I was travelling by car, and since it was such a lovely day, I decided to take what we locals call “the bottom road” to the city. The alternative route is the “top road”, which passes through the rolling farmland of the peninsula, divided by long stone walls built in the nineteenth century. The bottom road, by contrast, snakes its way around the base of the peninsula, eventually linking up with the central city.

At just 18 km, it’s a narrow, winding road that leaves little margin for error, with the cold lap of the harbour tide ever present close by. Every other month, a vehicle has to be salvaged from the harbour after a moment’s distraction results in a watery end. Unless, of course, you travel with a local. Then it’s a daring drive where every corner and porthole is known intimately.

As I drove, the weather was fine, the harbour still, and the traffic light. Across the water, the city sparkled in the warm, mid-morning sun. It was all rather fetching.

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

Portobello Musuem

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Daily Photo – Portobello Musuem

The thing about being so far removed from the rest of the world is that we become obsessed with seeing it, often forgetting our own backyard. Recently, I read about a small local museum in nearby Portobello on the Otago Peninsula. It was at that moment I realised I’m as much at fault as anyone. I’ve been to Te Papa in Wellington many times, and I’ve visited London’s Natural History Museum, yet here was a small local treasure not far from my house that I’d never stepped foot in. I felt slightly embarrassed, almost as if I should write to the curators to apologise. Instead, I decided to go one better and went for a visit.

I had already decided to visit the port town of Akaroa on the Banks Peninsula near Christchurch, and this museum stop would be the start of my trip, on the Otago Peninsula. As a logical travelling route, it didn’t make any sense at all, but I was curious to see the Portobello Museum, and it seemed as good a place to start as any.

The wonderful thing about small, locally run museums in New Zealand is the random, shared nature of what you’ll find inside. It’s like rummaging through a back shed and discovering a long-forgotten antique clock given to you by your Uncle Tony. I mean that in the most affectionate way; I really do.

The Portobello Museum is closed for 165 hours a week, apart from a brief window on Sunday afternoons. On this occasion, it wasn’t a Sunday. Fortunately, you are free to wander the grounds, peering through windows at the collection of wooden buildings, including the community’s first jail and equipment from the lighthouse at Taiaroa Head. For 45 minutes, I was completely engrossed. Walk around Te Papa and you know what to expect, one eloquent display follows the last. This was back to basics: printed and laminated signs, slightly faded in the sun, and objects of no description carefully placed in well-tended gardens. It’s a community museum run by volunteers at its very best, kept alive not by foot traffic, but by local pride.

Standing by the white picket fence, next to an old cannon used as a flagpole base, I took one last look. It was a wonderful insight into early European life. They arrived with next to nothing, built rickety shacks, and had a drink at the end of the day, developing both our national No. 8 wire thinking and our enduring obsession with a cold beverage to finish the day.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Notes from the Road, Travels in small-town New Zealand, Wild Horses

Notes from Small-Town New Zealand

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Daily Photo – Sunset of St Clair in Dunedin

It was a cold and windy Sunday afternoon in early November, 1978 when I arrived in Dunedin. It was Guy Fawkes and soon the air was to be filled with all sorts of lights and noises that would make it hard to get a 2 year old to sleep. 

That year across the world John Travolta and the Bee Gees had set dances floors alight with the disco hit Saturday Fever; the Sex Pistols split up after one album, while across Europe at the Vatican, Pope Paul VI passed away after spending 15 years at the head of the Catholic Church.

In New Zealand the population had decreased to 3.1 million with the Prime Minister at the time being Robert Muldoon (this of course was years before he got drunk in parliament and called a snap election, which he lost!). Across the country people had been delighted with the national medal haul of 20 at the Commonwealth Games held in Edmonton – Canada, the band Hello Sailor produced the album of the year and Kawerau crooner John Rowles had been named vocalist of the year. The AM broadcast band had moved from 10 kHz to 9 kHz, a programme called Fair Go was the best information show on TV and the 85th National Chess Championships were held in Tauranga. 

So, while Wellingtonian Craig Laird was winning the crowning glory of the New Zealand Chess world, a Dunedin man called Cliff Skeggs was starting his second year as Mayor of the southern city. That year the spring temperatures in Dunedin had fluctuated between extremes, this was something I was to find out much later was actually quite normal. Heading towards the end of spring that year, Dunedin had been cool and wet, however, the local trolley buses continued to rattle with prams precariously perched on the front and at the local supermarket you could purchase a kilogram of Ham Steaks for $4.50, three 750ml bottles of Coke for $1 and a head of lettuce for 35c. That November in town Hallensteins had a sale on men’s stubbies that featured a half elastic back, 1 hip pocket and came in colours of white, green and brown or fawn for only $5.99 and the once popular Tuck-Inn Burger on Princess Street went into receivership. That year it would hail on Christmas Eve and snow on Good Friday in 1979.

All of this, I wasn’t aware of as being only 22 months old, mastering the art of walking and talking were much more pressing issues in my life up to that present point in time.  The move my family made from Auckland that November day I was quite oblivious too and while I didn’t know it at the time, it would affect my life most wonderfully in the years to come. 

Decades have a habit of slipping away quietly. The Dunedin of trolley buses and 35-cent lettuces eventually faded into the background, like a sun-bleached Polaroid tucked into a family album. Those first clumsy steps gradually turned into something more assured, yet permanently restless, filled with a need to be on the move, to see what lay around the next headland, and then the one after that.

So it was that nearly fifty years later I found myself one summer evening floating on the tide at a nearby beach as the sun slid toward the horizon, the land glowing in the distance. There was salt on my lips, a soft swell lifting and lowering me, and the comforting knowledge that tomorrow I would be on the road, visiting places I’d had long since forgotten. I’d be driving through quiet country towns with quirky bits of history, listening to stories involving strange, shady, controversial characters from New Zealand’s past. Stopping in small towns in-out-of-the-way places. With daylight fading and plans forming loosely in my mind, I remained suspended between where I had come from and where I would go next.

Dunedin, Wild Horses

Merry Christmas

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Daily Photo – Merry Christmas from Me to You

Christmas in a small city in the South Island of New Zealand has a habit of sneaking up on you. One moment it is just another ordinary December day, and the next there’s a tree, a few baubles, and suddenly the year is asking to be wrapped up and put away. In this part of the world, even the decorations seem to carry a faint hint of salt air and southern light.

There is something reassuring about the simplicity of it. A tree, a bird, a name written proudly across a red circle. No snow, no roaring fireplaces, just the quiet understanding that Christmas looks different depending on where you stand in the world. Down here, it often means a BBQ warming up, jandals by the door, and the vague but persistent idea that a trip to the beach should probably happen at some point during the day.

Wherever you are today, I hope there is something small and familiar that reminds you where you belong. Merry Christmas from Dunedin.

#dailyat6am, Canon Camera, Dunedin, Otago Peninsula, Ōtepoti, Travel, Wild Horses

Dawn on the Otago Peninsula

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A Glimpse At What’s To Come

Daily Photo – Dawn on the Otago Peninsula

Dawn on the Otago Peninsula has a habit of rewarding poor decisions. Decisions like setting an alarm at an hour normally reserved for bakers, fishermen, and people who have clearly wronged themselves in a previous life. I was back on the hills again, chasing first light, convinced that this time would be different, even though experience suggested otherwise.

The hills rolled out in front of me, looking entirely unimpressed by my effort. They have seen far more determined early risers than me. Māori travellers crossed these ridges long before roads or coffee existed, and later European settlers arrived with grand plans, questionable footwear, and a firm belief that fences would solve everything. The hills endured it all and carried on regardless.

Below, the harbour caught the sunrise and held it gently, as if aware that this light was not to be rushed. A lone cabbage tree stood nearby, doing its usual job of looking vaguely historical and deeply unbothered. These trees have been guiding people across this landscape for generations, and now one was quietly supervising my tripod setup.

As the sky slipped into shades of gold and fire, the tiredness faded, replaced by that familiar, foolish sense of triumph. Dawn does that. It convinces you that getting up this early was entirely sensible, at least until the alarm goes off again tomorrow.

#dailyat6am, Canon Camera, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Dunedin’s St Paul’s Cathedral

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Daily Photo – Dunedin’s St Paul’s Cathedral

In 1862, amidst the chaos of the Otago Gold Rush, the first St Paul’s Cathedral rose from the empty, muddy landscape of Dunedin’s Octagon. Constructed from Caversham stone, the church was an ambitious symbol of English heritage in a new and raw town. Unfortunately, the soft local sandstone proved to be completely unsuitable for the biting southerlies that whipped through the city, the stone crumbling so rapidly that the church’s elegant spire had to be dismantled within a few years to prevent a complete collapse.

Despite this, by the turn of the century the congregation had outgrown the rapidly decaying structure, so thoughts turned to designing a new, less collapsible building. Enter architect Edmund Sedding, who had plans for a cathedral of grand proportions. As the world descended into war during 1914 and 1915, the old Dunedin church was razed to make way for a Gothic masterpiece of reinforced concrete and Oamaru limestone. For four years, stonemasons laboured on a magnificent vaulted ceiling, the only stone-ribbed roof of its kind in the country.

Yet the shadow of the Great War drained both coffers and manpower. By 1919, the grand vision had stalled. With no funds left for the planned central tower or chancel, builders erected a “temporary” wooden wall to seal the end of the nave. In 1920, the truncated cathedral was consecrated, a majestic but unfinished torso of stone that would wait fifty years for its completion.

#dailyat6am, Canon Camera, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Otago Coastline

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Daily Photo – The Otago Coastline

There’s something quietly wonderful about standing above the ocean and watching the land fall away beneath you. From up here, the coastline dissolves into haze, headland after headland, each one slightly less certain than the last. The sea moves with that steady confidence it always has, unconcerned by the surrounding hills or the thin lines of road carved into the slopes.

It’s a view that encourages slowing down. Not stopping entirely, just easing back a notch or two. You notice how the light skims the water, how the cliffs carry the memory of older shapes, how distance gently erases detail until only form and feeling remain.

This is the kind of place where thoughts wander without effort. Where the city feels present but politely distant. You don’t come here looking for answers. You come to let the questions stretch out a little, carried off toward the horizon.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Night Moves, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Dunedin’s Unity Park at Night

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Daily Photo – Dunedin’s Unity Park at Night

At night, Unity Park looks out over a Dunedin that does little more than whisper under the moonlight. The streets below glow in soft lines and clusters, streetlights tracing familiar routes down toward the dark, unruffled harbour. The peninsula becomes a suggestion rather than a place, its shape replaced by shadow and imagination. It’s a quietly satisfying view, the city settled, content to exist in the space between light’s edges, where you’re led away from the straight world into a place where details slip and time becomes misty around the edges.

#dailyat6am, Creativity, Dunedin, Travel, Wild Horses

Revisiting the Adam Scott Jetty

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Wonderful Audible

When I’m not listening to Spotify or a Podcast, then I’m on audible listening to books. Audible is amazing and it really is mindboggling how many titles are on there!
You can find it here: https://www.audible.com/ep/audiobooks

Daily Photo – Reasking the question, who is Adam Scott?

Back in March of 2021, I asked the question, who is Adam Scott? You see, near the upper reaches of Otago Harbour, stretching out some 15 metres over the water is a jetty, named after Adam Scott. Four years ago, I did some digging but couldn’t find any reference to further information – and I still can’t. At the time, I stated that until I had a true story, I’d decided to make-up the widely untrue assumption that the naming of the jetty happened in 2013 to celebrate Australian golfer Adam Scott’s 2013 Masters win at Augusta. Thus, the Jetty was named after him in recognition of his wonderful achievement. 

Now, over four years later, I can reveal that I am still no closer to having an answer to the question, who is Adam Scott and why is there a jetty named after him?

#dailyat6am, Beach, Beach Life, Dunedin, South Island, Wild Horses

The Rocks at St Kilda Beach

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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.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

A Quiet Pause by the Otago Harbour

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Daily Photo – Otago Harbour in Scattered Sunlight

There are moments along the Otago Harbour when the world seems to quieten itself, as if it has paused to take in the light. Walking the shared cycleway near Glenfalloch, I found myself stopped by the sight of sunlight scattered across the water. It shimmered in a way that felt almost theatrical, each ripple catching the sun and tossing it back like a handful of tiny stars.

I had only planned a short wander, the sort where you tell yourself you will keep moving, but the harbour had other ideas. There was something soothing about the gentle slap of the tide against the rocks and the steady rhythm of bikes passing behind me. The city was just across the water, close enough to feel familiar, yet from that spot it might as well have been a world away. Standing watching the water glitter, I was reminded that some of the best moments arrive quietly, asking only that you stop long enough to notice them.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Dowling Street in Dunedin

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Daily Photo – Dowling Street in Dunedin

I had an enjoyable, meandering amble through Dunedin’s Octagon and around the streets that sit above it, where I joined a series of paths that led me back down into the city. That is where I came across a smallish street called Dowling Street. A short but steep two-block street in central Dunedin, its finest feature is the way it manages to encapsulate a multitude of layers from the city’s past. It is, I suppose, about 400 metres in length and lined on one side with a steep bank where the road was cut through a hill, while on the other stands an assortment of buildings of various ages. Further on, the street crosses the main thoroughfare of Princes Street and is surrounded by everything from office blocks to art galleries.

At first glance it doesn’t appear unique, but it is very much a living slice of history. Many of its buildings are heritage listed and their uses have evolved over time, which gives the street a layered feel. You can sense the old industrial-Dunedin, even as people live, work and create there today.

This small street has seen everything from industrial clothing manufacturing to decline after boom times to the revitalisation of art and culture. Its steep, narrow contours and worn stairway remind you of how much the city had to be reshaped, yet the area is creative and alive with galleries, studios, small businesses, creative energy and busy foot traffic. As far as streets go, it is not particularly handsome, yet it doesn’t need to be.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Otago Museum Atrium

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Daily Photo – The Otago Museum Atrium

If there’s one place in Dunedin that still makes me feel like a wide-eyed kid let loose in a treasure chest, it’s the Otago Museum. Every time I step through those bright, echoing atriums, I’m reminded that curiosity is a muscle that never really stops working. From the upper levels you can look down across the glass walkways and clean lines of the building, watching people drift in and out of exhibitions like they’re moving through different eras of history.

On my latest visit, the place felt alive in that familiar, quietly energetic way. Kids buzzed around the edges, adults wandered with that purposeful museum stride, and somewhere below, the gift shop chimed softly every time someone decided they absolutely needed a puzzle or a picture of a bird. I paused at the railing for a moment, taking in the reflections, the lights, and the polished floors that seem to stretch out like a map, one that leads to every corner of the Pacific, every tale of Southern people, every strange sea creature lurking in the “Sea Monsters” exhibition.

What I love most is that the Otago Museum doesn’t just display things. It invites you in, sits you down, and says, “Here’s the world, let’s explore it together.”

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Long Grass near Portobello

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Daily Photo – Long Grass in Summer

If there’s one thing this photo reminds me of, it’s how quickly summer settles around here. I took it near the Marine Studies Centre in Portobello on a stunning Sunday afternoon, the kind of day when the heat shimmers off the dry grass and you realise the season has truly arrived. Here in Dunedin, the daylight feels endless and the city has relaxed into what is hopefully a long warm-weather rhythm. Even the simplest scene, like these sunlit grasses, seems to hum with that easy summer energy. It’s a gentle reminder that this is the time of year built for slowing down and soaking it all in.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, iphone, Observation, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

Marinoto

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Daily Photo – Marinoto

The story of Marinoto begins in 1878 with a vision so grand that even the budget couldn’t keep up. Commissioned by part-time engineer and part-time entrepreneur John McGregor, the house was built from solid Port Chalmers bluestone and finished with pale Oamaru stone. Well, the part that was finished, anyway. After completing the exterior and the ground floor, McGregor ran out of funds and the house sat half-done for the next few years, quietly waiting for its next chapter.

That arrived in the form of Arthur William Morris. A director of the Union Steamship Company, he stepped in at a mortgagee sale and took over the property. By 1883, the first floor was complete and he named the house Marinoto, a word thought to mean calm or peace. It was an impressive home by any measure with fourteen main rooms, a grand foyer, coal-fired central heating, electric lights powered by its own generator, formal gardens, and even a tennis court.

Then came 1903 and the Sargood era, which turned Marinoto into its most glamorous version of itself. Under Sir Percy Sargood, the house became a lively hub of Dunedin society, the sort of place where you almost expected a brass band to strike up the moment you stepped through the door. The Sargoods hosted balls that spilled onto the wide lawns and garden parties that made full use of the thirteen acre estate. Guests wandered among the rose beds, paused beneath old trees, and did their best to look as though they were part of a grand period scene. Inside, a substantial staff kept everything running with the quiet precision of a well rehearsed performance, polishing silver, preparing feasts, and somehow ensuring no one was ever left with an empty glass or a spare moment. For a time, Marinoto truly became the place to be.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Observation, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

First Church Dunedin: How One Man Moved a Hill for a Masterpiece

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Daily Photo – The Steeple Of Dunedin’s Iconic First Church

If you stand outside First Church on a bright Dunedin day, it’s hard not to feel slightly dwarfed by the whole thing. The spire seems to poke at the sky in that confident way only nineteenth-century architects attempted, and you can almost hear the distant echo of someone saying, “Yes, this will do nicely.”

The story behind it begins with the Reverend Dr. Thomas Burns, who arrived here in 1848 aboard the Philip Laing with 239 determined Free Church settlers and what must have been a very firm sense of purpose. Burns, nephew of the poet and spiritual anchor of the new colony, found himself the sole minister for the entire settlement. It’s the sort of job description that would make most people carefully rethink, but Burns pressed on.

As Dunedin swelled during the Gold Rush, Burns became convinced the town needed a proper church. Not a modest wooden chapel, but something permanent and impressive. The only problem was Bell Hill, which loomed inconveniently in the way. The solution was simple in theory and maddening in practice: carve the hill down until the ideal building site emerged. It took the better part of a decade, and Burns kept a close watch throughout, making sure the dream didn’t drift.

In 1862, architect Robert Lawson won the design competition, offering up a Gothic Revival masterpiece that looks as though it was dropped in from a much grander city. Burns was still very much the project’s champion and had the honour of laying the foundation stone on 15 May 1868. Sadly, he died in early 1871, two years before the church was finally opened on 23 November 1873.

He never saw the Oamaru stone finished or worshipped beneath the soaring interior, but you feel his presence all the same. First Church may be a place of faith, but it’s equally a monument to one man’s persistence, vision, and refusal to accept that a hill – even a big one – should stand in the way of something remarkable.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Great Dunedin Fire of 1867

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Daily Photo – Dunedin House & Otago

Recently, while wandering through central Dunedin I experienced a momentary bout of amnesia. The kind where you forget where you’re going, why you’re going there, where your car is parked, if I turned the oven off, that kind of thing! During one of these lapses in brain function, I caught myself gazing up at the buildings on the corner of Princes Street and Moray Place, wondering what once stood there. It seems, in this case, the answer begins with one of the most dramatic nights in the city’s early history when a fire swept through central Dunedin. It was so catastrophic that flames leapt across the streets and for a fast growing city in the middle of a  gold rush built mostly of timber, it was nothing more than a nightmare.

The alarm was raised on a Monday night in April, 1867 when flames were seen coming from the shop of ironmonger George Willson – whose premises sat on the westerly side of Princes Street. Not far from where Dunedin House now stands. Within hours the entire block had disappeared under a pile of ash. The Criterion Hotel, perched right on the corner of Princes Street and Moray Place, vanished into smoke, the Theatre Royal and the Octagon Hotel were completely destroyed and by Tuesday morning, the heart of Dunedin looked as if it had never existed.

Yet, like many Dunedin stories, the aftermath was not just about loss rather more about rebuilding. The fire showed that wood possibly wasn’t the best building material to construct a commercial city from and that brick and stone might be a better solution. Within six months new structures were rising from the rubble ushering in a Victorian and Edwardian building era of grandeur and magnificence.

The corner where Dunedin House now stands would have been taken up by one of these masonry buildings. The old Criterion Hotel site was rebuilt to suit the wealth still flowing into the city. Herbert, Haynes and Company rebuilt their large drapery store, a business that later became the DIC and is now part of the Public Art Gallery block. For decades the whole area was filled with ornate nineteenth century commercial buildings.

These stood for roughly a century until they were removed to make way for the modern commercial block known as Dunedin House. It is not the grandest building in town, but it occupies a site that has seen disaster, recovery, architectural ambition and a complete cycle of change.

#dailyat6am, #fromtheroad, Creativity, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Dunedin and Port Chalmers Railway Line

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Daily Photo – Ravensbourne Overbridge

The Dunedin and Port Chalmers railway line has the distinction of being New Zealand’s first public railway. The story begins in the early 1870s, Otago was booming from the gold rush and Dunedin was effectively the country’s commercial capital. As Dunedin grew, the nearby docks at Port Chalmers became the region’s lifeline with everything being shuttled by horse, cart, or boats around the harbour. Eventually, a fast, reliable railway link between the harbour and the city was considered essential and the new line promised speed, efficiency, and a bit of flair.

The work was undertaken by the Otago Provincial Council who controversially gave the contract to a British firm called John Brogden and Sons. The Brogdens were Victorian railway builders of the formidable, moustachioed variety. They arrived with boatloads of workers, crates of equipment and a confidence that suggested they knew what they were doing. 

It was then that things got messy. Many of the workers arrived expecting plenty of work and good wages, only to discover there wasn’t, conditions were poor, the workers were often drunk, there were wage disputes, demands for better housing while the Brogdens’ were accused of inflated claims, and demands for extra payments. Not only was progress slow, the whole project became an administrative, political and financial tug-of-war between local and central government. All of which made the project a pretty consistent mess for a simple 12 twelve kilometres of track. The line itself was not simple. The track had to thread its way along the steep harbour edge, where cliffs met water and space was tight, extensive cuttings and embankments were required and many large stone retaining walls were required to make the track safe. 

Fortunately, the line was finished in time and officially opened on 31 December 1873 and almost immediately transformed the movement of merchants, passengers, mail, and freight between the port and the city. Unfortunately, for John Brogden & Sons, by the 1880s their business empire had collapsed and they were financial ruined.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Otago Harbour, Otago Peninsula, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

The Many Adventures of Captain James Cook

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Daily Photo – Otago harbour

When Captain James Cook and his little tub, the HMS Endeavour, appeared off the Otago coast in February 1770, he was already on something of a hot streak. He had been sent to the Pacific to observe the Transit of Venus in Tahiti the year before and, having completed the task, was given free rein to bob about the South Pacific to see what else he could find. What he was really looking for was the assumed existence of Terra Australis Incognita, the great unknown southern continent that many Europeans were convinced lurked somewhere down under.

By the time he appeared off the Otago Coast, he had completed his scientific observations, his botanist Joseph Banks had collected and recorded thousands of previously unknown species of flora and fauna, he had named and claimed a number of islands for the British Crown, circumnavigated the entire North Island, identified and sailed through Cook Strait – proving that the North and South Islands were separate landmasses, created a remarkably accurate chart of the North Island coastline, and had begun charting the South Island.

By any standard it had been a successful trip. Once off the Otago coast, he noted several things in his journal. Firstly, the many coastal features suggested a potentially sheltered harbour. Secondly, he observed an abundance of whales and seals. The interesting point here is that he thought the entrance to Otago Harbour was nothing more than a bay and sailed on, while Europeans would return and slaughter the whale and seal populations to near extinction.

It had been only a few months since the Transit, but an astonishing amount had been achieved. So, apart from the small matter of almost wiping out an entire collection of marine species, the rest was pretty good work for someone who wasn’t really a captain at the time  – he just called himself one!

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Ōtepoti, Wild Horses

So This Is Christmas?

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Daily Photo – Christmas in Dunedin

I was running an errand in the centre of town the other day when I wandered into the Octagon. There, proudly displayed in the lower Octagon, was a large Christmas tree. Now, I hate to sound critical, but the Dunedin City Council seems to have gone for the sparse look with the Christmas decorations in recent years. Throwing a 45-foot tree up in the middle of town and draping a bit of tinsel from a few lamp posts hardly inspires the Christmas spirit.

It’s not as if we’re expecting a dense, glittering display of thousands of blue, white, and red lights with a massive, brightly lit tree dominating every shop window beneath a starry sky. Take this photo for example: if you were to whisk the tree away, it could be any other sunny Saturday afternoon in Dunedin. What’s more, it’s the exact same tree as last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. They’ve had twelve months to come up with a plan, and the best they managed was shifting it slightly to the left! What’s next – getting rid of the New Year’s fireworks and replacing them with a disappointing light show? Oh wait, that was last year.

#dailyat6am, Dunedin, Taieri Mouth, Wild Horses

Low Tide at Taieri Mouth

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Daily Photo – Low Tide at Taieri Mouth

I’ve always liked wandering around fishing boats. There’s something noble about them, as if they carried a calling from an age when everyone travelled by sea and the world felt much larger. In truth, I like all of this far more in theory than in reality. I’ve no sea legs and my enthusiasm for fresh fish sit somewhere between mild suspicion and polite refusal. The idea of spending time on a fishing boat feels more like a challenge than a pleasure, although I understand why others enjoyed it.

I was in Taieri Mouth, wandering through the village, when I found myself drawn to the look of the boats themselves. They aged in a way that suggested they had lived proper lives. The faded paint, the battered timbers and the sense that they had weathered more sunrises than I could ever hope to see all added to the atmosphere. If they had been able to talk, I imagined they would have needed a long sit down and a pot of tea to get through their stories.

Not far from there I found my way to a line of cribs surrounded by surfboards, flagpoles, boats, flower pots in cheerful disarray, ornamental fish and a few lifebuoys hung with equal parts practicality and pride. It all felt like a perfect slice of backyard Aotearoa. Slightly weathered, gently chaotic and full of stories for anyone willing to notice them.