Daily Photo – Lovells Flat

It wasn’t long before I was once again on the move, heading for a place called Lovells Flat. A light sheen lay on the surface of the quiet road from the recent rain that had been falling. Occasionally a truck or ute would pass me from the opposite direction, momentarily kicking over a small cloud of spray as it disappeared in the rear view mirror. I travelled a while, listening to a random collection of songs on the stereo, the views were clouded, occasionally parting to reveal far off scenes of farmland as far as the eye could see. 

As I reached the brow of a hill, the cloud began to fade and on a straight stretch of road, an old sod cottage, partially hidden by trees came into view. I pulled the car over, got out and went for a slow walk around the grounds. The ground was wet and full of puddles, all of which I very narrowly avoided missing, before having a peek inside. A double fireplace, a table, a few chairs, a bed, some cabinetry, a few personal items and that was about all that sat in the single room dwelling. 

Built in the 1860s by a man named Hugh Murray, the cottage now stands as one of the few surviving physical links to mid‑19th-century settler architecture in South Otago. Yet, between 1865 and 1939 the cottage served as a store, a stopping place for miners, a bake house, a school, a Sunday school classroom and post office. 

Of all the tales about the Old Sod Cottage, the most intriguing is the story of its last overnight inhabitants. In the winter of 1939, two local brothers decided, for reasons that can only be described as either admirable or foolhardy, to travel through the region during a heavy snowstorm. Predictably, the snow soon became impassable, their vehicle became stranded and the pair were forced to spend the night in the cold cottage without heating or food, before continuing their journey the next day. 

I took one last slow lap around the grounds, gave the cottage a final, respectful nod, and considered its place in the region’s past, a neat little monument to everything from pioneer life and the gold rush to local schools, churches, wartime memories, and the rise (and quiet demise) of the post office and railway.

Then, satisfied, I got back in the car, aimed it toward the distant fog, and rejoined State Highway 1 heading for the far off town of Balclutha.