Having decided to spend a few days exploring Central Otago after a reasonably heavy snowfall, I’d stopped for the night in the small town of Waipiata. I’d eaten at the pub and washed it down with a few pints before retiring to bed at a reasonably sensible hour.
I awoke the next morning to discover that Central Otago had turned the cold up a few notches. A sharp frost had covered almost everything, while a low-lying mist hung over the countryside. The temperature gauge was hovering around -7°C, which is the sort of temperature that makes you question the thickness of the socks you’ve just put on.
After the usual morning ablutions, breakfast and a few cups of coffee, I was ready to head out and see what I could find. There was, however, one small problem. The car had spent the night outside and had apparently decided it wasn’t quite ready to face the morning and took a good fifteen minutes to persuade the ice covering the windows to give up its grip.
By the time I could actually see through the windscreen, my fingers were numb, the coffee had lost some of its appeal and I was beginning to wonder whether exploring Central Otago in the middle of winter had been quite such a good idea after all. Still, I was there, so there was really only one thing to do: get in the car and go exploring.
There is something about a snow-covered landscape that makes the world feel considerably larger than it usually does.
The familiar disappears beneath a blanket of white, fences become faint lines across the paddocks and the hills seem to stretch away forever. On a day like this, the landscape is reduced to a handful of colours and shapes: blue sky, white snow and the dark shadows where the hills fold into themselves.
I like the way snow changes the character of the countryside. A paddock that might normally look ordinary suddenly becomes something almost otherworldly. Every hollow and ridge catches the light, while the mountains in the distance seem to have been carefully carved from the landscape. There’s also a wonderful sense of emptiness. Not quite silence, there’s always the wind, but a feeling that the usual noise of the world has been turned down. For a photographer, snow is generous. It strips away the clutter and leaves behind the essentials. A fence line, a few scattered trees and a range of hills are suddenly enough.
Five Things to Think About When Photographing Snow
A few emails have arrived asking for some tips on photographing snow, particularly from people who aren’t necessarily out there with a camera every day, but who suddenly find themselves surrounded by a winter wonderland with the family in tow and want to come home with a few good photographs.
So, while this isn’t quite my usual sort of post, I thought I’d put together a few things that might help.
Why is my beautiful white snow grey?
This is probably the most common problem. You look out at a landscape covered in beautiful, clean, white snow, take a photograph and discover that your camera has decided the snow should be a rather miserable shade of grey.
The reason is that your camera is trying to be clever. It sees all that bright snow and thinks there’s far too much light, so it darkens the whole photograph. If you’re using a phone, try tapping on the snow and then sliding the exposure control slightly brighter. If you’re using a camera with manual controls, try increasing your exposure compensation a little.
The important thing is to check the photograph afterwards. If the snow looks grey, brighten it up. If it starts looking like a glowing white sheet with no detail at all, you’ve probably gone too far.
Why does everyone look so dark?
This is another common one, especially when you’re photographing the family standing in front of a large snowy landscape. The camera sees all that bright white snow, exposes for it and leaves the people looking rather like silhouettes.
If you can, position your family so they’re facing towards the light (but be carefully to not have them facing directly into it as everyone will be squinting) rather than having the brightest part of the sky behind them. Your phone’s setting can also help balance the bright snow with the darker faces.
And don’t be afraid of using the flash. Yes, I know, you’re standing outside in broad daylight and it seems completely unnecessary, but a little flash can add some light to people’s faces and make a surprisingly big difference. Photographers will often use flasgh outside in daylight, even if it’s just a little for the eyes!
Why does my snow photograph look so boring?
This is perhaps the biggest challenge of all. Snow can look absolutely magical when you’re standing in it, but photographs have an annoying habit of reducing all that magic to a large white expanse.
The answer is to look for something that breaks up all that whiteness. A person standing in the landscape, a row of trees, a fence disappearing into the distance, a brightly coloured jacket or even a set of footprints can give the photograph some shape and, importantly, a sense of scale.
If you’re photographing the family, don’t necessarily line everyone up and tell them to smile. Photograph them making a snowman, throwing snowballs or trudging through the snow. The snow is the setting. What your family is doing in it is the story.
Where did all the snowflakes go?
If it’s actually snowing, you might expect your photograph to be filled with beautiful, delicate snowflakes. Instead, you look at the result and wonder where they’ve all gone.
Snowflakes can be surprisingly difficult to photograph, especially with a phone. They can be almost invisible against a bright background.
Try finding a darker background, such as trees or a building, which will make the falling snow much easier to see. If you’re photographing children running around, jumping or throwing snowballs, use your phone’s burst or action mode if it has one. With a camera, a faster shutter speed will help freeze all that activity.
Of course, you could also embrace the blur. Sometimes a slightly blurred photograph of a child charging through the snow tells you far more about the day than a technically perfect photograph ever could.
Don’t forget that your camera is getting cold and wet
This is the one that can turn a lovely day in the snow into a very expensive trip to the camera shop.
Snow and cameras aren’t necessarily natural friends. Keep an eye on moisture getting onto your lens and, if you’re using a camera, remember that batteries don’t particularly enjoy the cold. Keeping a spare battery in an inside pocket can be a very good idea.
The other thing to remember is condensation. If you’ve been outside in the cold and then bring your camera straight into a warm house, moisture can form inside and around it. If possible, put the camera into a sealed bag before going inside and allow it to warm up gradually.
Bonus Tip: Take Lots of Photographs
Allow yourself to play! Try different settings, different angles, different focal lengths and different ways of using the light. Don’t just take one or two photographs and then move on. Take twenty. Take fifty. Take a hundred if you want to. Once you’re finished, you can always go back through them and delete the ones you don’t want.
If you take two photographs, you’ve got a fairly slim chance of getting exactly the photograph you’re hoping for. Take twenty, however, and your odds of finding a good one are suddenly much better. And if you’re running out of space on your digital memory, have a quick look through the images and delete a few of the obvious rejects.
As an example, I took nearly forty photographs of this particular tree in the Strath Taieri, moving around to all sorts of different positions, trying different focal lengths and making adjustments to the exposure and the way I was working with the light. I wanted to make sure I had the photograph I was looking for. By the time I’d finished, I was fairly cold, but fortunately the car’s heating was more than sufficient to warm me up again.
And that’s really the beauty of digital photography. You can experiment, make mistakes and try again. The only thing it costs you is a little time, and perhaps a few gigabytes of storage.
And finally, probably my best piece of advice is this: don’t spend the entire day worrying about getting the perfect photograph.
Leaving Kokonga, or what I could see of it, I continued along Highway 87 as paddocks, sheds, farm buildings, hay bales and livestock came and went in the white, misty gloom. A short time later, I arrived in Kyeburn to find that things weren’t much better. However, as I headed towards Ranfurly, the skies gradually cleared, revealing a crisp, cloudless blue sky. A heavy blanket of fresh winter snow covered the rolling high-country hills, while dark tyre tracks cut through the fields, where wire fences stretched into the distance past scattered livestock braving the chill. All of this was backdropped by the majestic, snow-clad Hawkdun Ranges rising sharply against the horizon, the scene captured the serene, rugged beauty of a classic South Island landscape.
There are few things quite like a winter drive through the Strath Taieri. On this particular day, the landscape had been given a fresh dusting of snow, turning the wide-open paddocks into a patchwork of white, with the hills disappearing into the mist beyond.
I stopped, as I am inclined to do when faced with a view that looks as though it has been waiting patiently for someone to take its photograph, and found this solitary tree standing in the middle of it all. It seemed rather pleased with itself, quietly carrying on while the weather did its best to make the rest of the world disappear.
By the time I arrived in Naseby the fog had cleared to reveal a beautiful, yet chilly winter’s day. Having taken a backroad as a shortcut, my first sight of the small town was of the Naseby Indoor Curling Rink and Adventure Park. A place that seemed incredibly busy for the middle of the week. Spotting a parking space, I squeezed my car in between two extremely large 4×4’s and proceeded to go for a wonder and find out just what attractions an Adventure Park on the Maniototo Plains holds.
Across the road, in a stroke of what was simply dumb luck, I found a curling competition was taking place. Feeling rather pleased with my good fortune, I inquired with a few people who I assumed were locals if this was bonspiel? They quickly replied ‘no’ in between chuckles of laughter and explained that the ice wasn’t thick enough for that yet, however if the run of weather continued, they’d get close. This, they went on to explain, was a local tournament. It was then that I sensed that I might be holding them up and as they seemed rather agitated and keen to get back to what was being referred to as the ‘ice’. Following them through a line of trees, I discovered a rather large gathering of people who were having the most wonderful time on a frozen outdoor pond. They were bundled up in winter gear, using brooms and curling stones on the ice. Nearby equipment and beverages were scattered along the edges of the pond, giving the whole scene a delightfully casual, community feel. I took some time to take in the surrounding landscape featuring tall trees and dry grass, while the light from the now clear sky cast long shadows across the ice. It really was the most peaceful, wintery atmosphere. And not one of them slipped over! A feat I was very impressed with.
In Naesby I found people curling which wasn’t really a surprise considering how cold it was. So, I decided to stay and watch a while. It was quite interesting really. Over the half hour I was there, I walked around and heard all sorts of terms I’d never heard before and didn’t really understand. But, I can say this, they seemed to be having a great deal of fun and what’s more, not one person slipped over while I was there. A feat I was rather impressed with.
What is it about calm, still harbours that seem so peaceful. Even on a cold winter’s day in Dunedin. With low clouds, rain and a temperature of no more than 10 degrees, looking out across the tranquil harbour, I couldn’t help but think that there was something rather serene about the whole thing.
What a difference a day makes, just 24 little hours as the song goes. Yesterday, in Dunedin there were snow flurries all day. It rained, it hailed and the wind was blowing a gale. A real winter’s day with the temperature not more than 5 degrees. Today however, the snow, hail and wind was gone, patches of rain passed through the city and the temperature almost reached double figures. By early evening it was almost pleasant along the Coastline, relatively speaking.
Late yesterday afternoon I was in the Pine Hill area of Dunedin as the snow, wind, hail and rain was passing through the city. I ventured up to one of the bridges that crosses over the Northern Motorway with the simple idea of getting a wintery traffic image. Unfortunately, my timing was a little off as I must have stood on that bridge for nearly half an hour waiting for the next snow flurries to pass through.
I would like to suggest, and I’m talking from experience, that walking the hills above Clyde on a winter’s morning really is a unique experience. What made it all the more interesting was the fact that it was dark when I set out, there was a hard frost on the road, snow on the surrounding peaks and it was at least minus 4.
I knew there was a lookout somewhere nearby, a bartender had told me about it the previous night and I had set out in the predawn darkness with lofty ambitions to find it. That morning, when I reached a point that was more ice than road, I left my car parked in a spot where I hoped I would find it again and enjoyed walking the hills on a winter’s morning.
I went for a ramble in the Rhododendron Dell at the Dunedin Botanic gardens. There was quite a wind racing down the harbour that was hitting almost every corner of the city, however in the dell, it was calm, peaceful and full of colour.
At the end of Tautuku Beach is the Tautuku peninsula. Near the peninsula a whaling station was once in operation from 1839 to 1846. A port was then developed when the fishing, flax and timber industries were growing in the area. However, once the industries declined the port was closed.
On the morning I was there I had this whole beach to myself. It was quite an airy feeling to be strolling along the beach in the darkness. I hadn’t seen another person or vehicle since I left the camp site and once reaching the beach, there certainly wasn’t a shortage of location options to see the sun coming up.
Leaving Glenorchy and heading up past the head of Lake Wakatipu, then along the Glenorchy-Paradise I eventually reached Diamond Lake. From there, I continued on a way until I passed a wonderful beech forest in the Paradise Valley. To fans of ‘The Lord of the Rings’ the forest is also known as Lothlorien, realm of the Elves.
I couldn’t help myself. One evening in Wanaka I found myself walking along the side of the Lake, joining at least two dozen others, photographing that Wanaka tree. I later read that the tree started life, growing from a fence post line that ran into the water around 1939 some 83 years ago. A determined wee thing!
For reasons that can only be guessed, I was interrupted while taking this shot. It was a short but baffling interchange that left me as annoyed as I was perplexed. Photographing water at sea level requires you to be in one of two positions. Either in the water or lying flat on your stomach at the water’s edge. On this occasion I was the second when I suddenly felt a nudge on my shoulder. I looked around to see a man standing behind me. “You’ll not catch many fish with that,” he laughed. “I beg your pardon,” I replied, taking my headphones out of my ears. “You can’t catch many fish with a camera,” he repeated before walking off. As he walked away, I hoped it all made sense to him, because I was confused as hell!
I spent some time wandering around the University which was surprisingly quiet. Spring is just around the corner, so blossoms are starting to pop up all around the city, bringing with it a touch of colour after winter. I was actually heading to a rugby game, however running ahead of time, I took the opportunity to enjoy a little walk. It was while on this walk that I found myself looking at the shapes of the roof design at Forsyth Barr Stadium that I became intrigued at the way it appears above the treeline.
The recent heavy rain in Dunedin caused a few minor rock falls around the city. One of which exposed these steps that start at the base of the Otago Peninsula that once led up to the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.
The Pleasure Gardens were opened in 1862 and were hugely popular at the time, being accessed by way of a steamer that brought people across the harbour. The gardens featured private picnic areas, various flower gardens, a band rotunda, tea rooms, baths and on special occasions firework displays were held.
However, by the early 1870s the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens were a place of intoxication and prostitution which lead to their closure and the land being sold off for housing development.
I was shooting out at Blackhead Beach one afternoon where I had the big 10 stop filter in play to get a nice slow, candy floss effect in the water which was had a very hostile feel to it as wind buffeted the point. The sky had an angry feel to it as dark clouds passed out to sea and the local seals where active as well as they looked for dry places to bask in the sunshine where they wouldn’t get soaked by the tide. Fun times.
The Highcliff track on the Otago Peninsula is quickly becoming one of my favourite spots on the peninsula. One part of it has an amazing view of Boulder Beach and beyond while the peak of the track has all these boulders scattered on it. It’s a wonderful spot to sit and watch the world go by.
As I was standing somewhere near either View or Tennyson Street, just a stone’s throw away from The Octagon, it struck me that there are some unique views of Dunedin’s city centre to be found. If you’re prepared to walk up hills that is. You see, while it doesn’t have a cluttered skyline made up of buildings that light up like a Christmas Tree at night, the small and compact CBD can be viewed from some quirky vantage points if you’re in for a walk!
I headed off while the weather was still holding. After a period of rain a while back, over the last week the winter weather had been delightfully settled. While the temperature was still inclined to drop away at night, the daylight hours were filled with increasing hours of warmth and sunshine. On this particular day I enjoyed the popular spot of Blackhead Beach.
My last stop before heading home was a green shed. Once again, only in Aotearoa can a green shed become famous. However no trip through Wedderburn is complete without at least once stopping at the shed made famous by Grahame Sydney’s 1975 Egg Tempera painting called ‘July on the Maniototo’. Being my last stop, I sat and pondered for a while just what it is I like so much about it. I didn’t come to a definite conclusion however I think it’s something to do with timelessness and simplicity.
So I returned to the car and headed out rejoining State Highway 85 heading east, then eventually south and towards home.
Arriving in Clyde I found my way to Dunstan House where I was booked for the night. Some days back, anticipating a stay in Clyde I phoned ahead. I was fortunate to get a room in the historic building as all the rooms but one were full. Upon arrival and after checking in, I discovered two things. Firstly, all the rooms were named after local people. My room was the John Holloway Room. Named after a local stone mason who completed the stone work for the very building I was staying around the year 1900.
The second thing I discovered was upon talking to the owners, it transpired that earlier that day an entire party had cancelled their stay for the night. This left all the rooms but mine empty, meaning I pretty much had the whole building to myself.
Venturing back out into the streets of Clyde I joined the mix of holiday makers and locals who were making the most of the fine summer weather and strolling the streets. Later, back at Dunstan House I sat on the balcony, enjoyed a beer, read a book and listened to dusk settle upon the town.
Feeling the need to eat, I made my way to a place called Paulina’s. A busy bar and restaurant that was doing a brisk trade. Fighting my way to a table and feeling lucky to get one, a young and enthusiastic waitress arrived to inform me that there would be a good wait for food. With the sunshine on my back, I happily settled into my book and enjoyed a pint or three. I ate, strolled the town once more, then returned back to Dunstan House and settled in for the night.
Leaving the perplexing and somewhat curious yet enjoyable TekapoSculpture Walk behind, it was on the way to Cromwell that I came across an equally interesting and intriguing sight. The famous Irishman Creek Station sign. Impressively coming to an abrupt halt on the gravel on the side of the road, I spent the next short while photographing the famous sign location as passing cars whizzed by. For those that aren’t knowledgeable about the history of marine propulsion systems, the Irishman Creek Station was the location where Sir William Hamilton invented his famous jet boat engine. The engine revolutionised the boating world in the 1950’s by allowing boats to skim across the top of the water in the shallow rivers. Which is just what Sir William wanted to be able to do.
All this I was quite unaware of at the time. While I knew the history of Sir William Hamilton, I hadn’t linked the famous invention to the famous Irishman Creek location.
Therein lies another of the wonderful curiosities of Aotearoa. There are small pockets of fascinating history all over the place. Unlike America or Great Britain that would have road signs every 5 km saying, ‘next stop’ birthplace of the Hamilton Jet,”where upon arrival you find a massive parking lot, an overpriced ticketing system and a small museum that made you wonder why you bothered. Attached to which you will also find the compulsary McDonalds or Taco Bell. However, here in Aotearoa, you’ll find nothing of the sort. Just a simple sign saying “Irishman’s Creek.” Thus giving you the understated beauty of travelling in Aotearoa.
With time quickly passing and the road traffic seemingly unhappy at both the location of my car and my tripod, I decided it was best I get to Cromwell and then further on to Clyde.
One of the most joyous and recent developments in Aotearoa (and by recent I mean in the last 20 years) is the creative movement of putting artwork in random places. For instance in Wellington there is a 16-foot sculpture of hand in Civic Square, Christchurch has an aluminium stairway in the middle of a pond and in Tokoroa you will find massive ‘talking’ wooden poles throughout the town. That’s just the start of it, throughout the country there are collections of giant fruit, vegetables and animals from Cape Reinga to Stewart Island. So, when I was at Tekapo, enjoying the peaceful surroundings of a town that was tourist free, it was no surprise to find a collection of giant sculptures.
However, unlike most other town’s that put up objects like giant carrots or gumboots because someone in the area owns a farm, Tekapo had done it rather tastefully. As part of the Mackenzie Book & Art Festival they were holding an open air sculpture exhibition which included an iron globe made out of iron wedges, cast iron birds in an array of colours, blocks of carved stone and a work called Orbit 2 done in Corten Steel.
I was to find out later that the sculpture walk is all part of a create festival celebrating literature, arts, the spectacular Mackenzie landscape and the community who live here. As I was heading to my car, I discovered the next festival is going to be held next in 2023, ‘by then there might even be some tourists around to see it’ I thought to myself. Then, with that thought I head off in the direction of Clyde.
It was my last full day in Russell and I decided to mark it up walking up the hill to the flag staff. By the time I set off the day was already hot and warm, however the prospect of a bush walk in front of me with no other plans for the day was quite delightful. Consisting of a combination of walking on road and gravel through bush, the walk while steep was certainly a treat and like others ahead of me, my efforts were rewarded with a magnificent 360 degree view of the surrounding area. Not to mention the famous flagstaff which first had the Union Jack flown in 1840 before Māori chef Hone Heke and his supporters cut it down four times as a symbol of protest against the way the British Crown were uploading the Treaty of Waitangi agreements.
I had a look around in the morning sun and decided that I liked Russell very much.
If you’re looking for a holiday location, I would like to suggest the Bay of Islands in Northland. Russell to be precise. You can spend the hot, warm summer days swimming in the bays, wandering around all the inlets, paths and tracks that are scattered around and generally not doing much of anything really. It’s easy to see why it’s such a popular spot.
During World War I these buildings on Matiu Island were used as quarantine barracks to hold enemy aliens who were considered a risk to New Zealand’s security. Around 300 prisoners were held on the island, most of whom were German nationals.
In World War II the island again became an internment camp. The prisoners were primarily German however there were also a large number of Italian and Japanese. The prisoners were required to do road-building, gardening and fishing.
This building that still survives was part of the immigration barracks which were originally built for the influenza pandemic 1919.
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Tautuku Beach 
