In the Shadows of Morning

Twilight on Lower Stuart Street

After I’d spent some time photographing trucks barreling along the city’s one-way system, I took the time to casually wander around some of the city’s historic buildings that have been lovingly restored to show-off their magnificence and glory. They all looked rather fetching, lit-up in the half-light.

As the twilight faded and vanished from sight, the sky seemed to sing in a golden chorus of echoes that hung in the air and  lingered in the empty streets and dimly-lit lanes. It was that strange time of day when the shadows of morning took hold, and the city wasn’t really awake, yet no longer asleep.

The Dunedin Law Courts at Night

The Dunedin Law Courts at Night

One of the things that happens to you when you get older is that you start to wake more often during the night. Along with my hair thinning and that annoying lower back pain that never really seems to disappear, this has started happening possibly more often than I care to admit. I’ve tried many times to find a pattern to these nocturnal awakenings, but I never do. It really is amazing what you remember you forgot in the middle of the night; the answer to that lunchtime crossword puzzle, song lyrics, what I was meant to buy at the supermarket on the way home. Then there are those seemingly random questions that come from nowhere; What is the weather forecast? Who invented the microscope? Which countries border Bhutan? Who is the current British Prime Minister? Is it snowing? Is it too late in life to become a heart surgeon or a pilot? 

The benefit of all this is that my alarm clock is now pretty much redundant and is quite usefully acting as a dust collector. In the hope of getting back to sleep, there are times when I’ll read for a bit, and other times when I’ll simply give in completely and just get up! This is how I came to be standing outside Dunedin Railway Station- opposite the Dunedin Law Courts at 5:15am on an idle Tuesday morning in mid February, photographing trucks barreling along the local one-way system heading for some unknown commercial supply chain. 

A Walk On An Empty Stomach

The Solider’s Memorial on the Otago Peninsula

In the evening I decided to walk one of the peninsula tracks up to the Solider’s Memorial. Having not heard any news in the past week, I loaded a podcast that promised to bring me ‘all the latest news from around the country’. Having set off, after several minutes I quickly discovered that the major local news focus seemed to be centring around the government’s restructuring of a nation-wide school lunch programme. Essentially, wanting to save money, the government took a well run scheme that provided healthy, nutritious and tasty school lunches to thousands of children and slashed millions of dollars from its budget. The result of course has been disastrous! Schools have been delivered an endless quantity of uneatable macaroni and cheese that simply gets thrown away by children due to its nasty taste and off putting smell. In his infinite wisdom, the Prime Minister responded to the uproar by advising parents to pack a sandwich and an apple if they weren’t happy. 

I pondered this problem walking up the hill. Nearing the end of the track and the monument, I began to think of solutions instead of throwing the lunches away. I also wondered if the schools in the Wellington region had really investigated all the food recycling options available. I would like to suggest that they could gather all the uneaten meals and send them to the houses parliament via Uber Eats. The cabinet could have them as an afternoon snack while discussing more ways to stumble and stammer through interviews and avoiding giving straight answers to straight questions.

Ben Rudd’s Place

Ben Rudd’s property

I was heading for Ben Rudd’s property. Located on the northern flank of Flagstaff, Ben Rudd was a hermit who gave up urban life to live the last ten years of his existence in solitude. On his land he built a stone hut, fences and fiercely protected his property with acts of violence against trespassers. When he shuffled off this mortal coil in 1930, the Otago Tramping Club purchased the 45 hectare property and have managed it ever since. 

From the Flagstaff Track I found a trail heading along the northern face of Flagstaff. A sign indicated that Ben Rudd’s place was a mere 15 minute stroll through the bush- which naturally I assumed was an easy 5 minute stroll. Well, I was wrong. Unlike the Department of Conservation, it seems that the Otago Tramping Club’s 15 minutes is an actual 15 minutes! 

The track wound its way downhill until the path eventually widened and opened to clearing. Ben’s hut is no longer standing, but has been replaced with a brick shelter, partially hidden by overgrown bush and long grass. I stopped to look around. Inside the shelter people had written all over the walls and left messages like, ‘Katrina was here 2010” as was”Taylah “,”Zara ” and”Henry “. For a moment I considered adding “Ben Rudd was here 1929” but thought better of it and headed back to the trail.  

Mount Allan, Powder Ridge and the Rock and Pillar Range.

Mount Allan, Powder Ridge and the Rock and Pillar Range.

Having made it to the Flagstaff summit, without the need of a deliberator or a rescue helicopter, both of which I took as encouraging signs, I pushed on along the Pineapple Track. 

I wandered through the wide open tussock land and rolling hills until the view suddenly opened up in front of me.  I paused for a moment, taking the time to enjoy the expansive views that looked out across Mount Allan and Powder Ridge, with the Rock and Pillar Range far off in the distance. It really was magnificent.

Dunedin City from Flagstaff

Dunedin city from Flagstaff

By the time I reached the summit the day had transformed into what locals call ‘a stunner’. The high cloud that had lingered in the morning had disappeared, leaving the day hot and fine with a zephyr breeze proving most welcome. 

On a good day (and this was a good day), the view of Dunedin City from the Flagstaff summit, really is wonderful. You can see far out to sea and along the coastline as it stretches far to the south. In the other direction the track up the hill provides unspoiled views deep into the hinterland. It had taken me some 25 minutes to reach the summit- an effort I was reasonably pleased with given my lack of recent conditioning, and my reward was the all together splendid view that now sat before me. What’s more, at this point the track was free of dog poo, this gave me almost as much pleasure as the view.   

The Flagstaff Track Looking Southwest

The Flagstaff Track looking southwest

Feeling daring, (and deciding to prove to myself how unfit I was) I went for a walk in Flagstaff Scenic Reserve. Set in the hills above Dunedin, the reserve features a multitude of tracks and paths that make up Dunedin’s Skyline Walk. One of these, the Flagstaff Track, was the one I intended to conquer. 

When I arrived, the car park was already overflowing but before long, I found a spot and set off along a well maintained gravel path. The track I had chosen formed a loop that would eventually bring me back down a hill to my vehicle, but it started with a short but steep ascent up to a point known as Flagstaff. Within minutes I was passing through manuka scrub, which gradually gave way to tussock land. Occasionally I stopped to take in the view and give my lungs a rest, which didn’t really surprise me. What did surprise me was the sheer amount of dog poo on the track. Honesty, it was like an entire pound of dogs had been brought to the track and told to poo anywhere you’ll think someone will step. 

Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against people walking dogs, I just don’t want to constantly dodge fly-covered excrement while trying to enjoy a walk through a scenic reserve!

A Reserved Elegance

St Clair Esplanade in Dunedin

The St Clair Esplanade in Dunedin held a reserved elegance as the quiet, early morning light lifted. A soft ocean breeze left the air heavy with the smell of salt, lingering in the mellow radiance of dawn. The streetlights, emanating a warm glow while far off on the horizon, the clouds began to break with the first colours of day peeking through. The stillness of the morning, only matched by the tranquil, calm of the vast ocean. It was early, the day wasn’t quite awake, yet no longer asleep and I had the place all to myself.

The Lower Octagon

The Lower Octagon

It was 7:00am, and the Lower Octagon in Dunedin had a quiet charm about it. The soft glow of the streetlights lingered as the first hints of daylight stretched across the sky and reflected off the nearby historic buildings. Their ornate facades standing in peaceful contrast to the usually bustling nightlife. It was a fleeting moment of stillness as the city awoke from its slumber, for yet another busy day.

St Paul’s Cathedral

St Paul’s Cathedral

I went for a cup of coffee in a café on Lower Stuart Street. I had it in mind to drink it while reading a copy of the local daily paper, The Otago Daily Times (New Zealand’s Most Trusted Brand). However, when I arrived at the café, there was a long line stretching out the door.

Confused about what was going on, I joined the line, assuming that it would be moving fairly quickly— I was wrong. It wasn’t moving at all! The holdup appeared to be caused by a man stationed at the counter, refusing to move, engaged in a heated argument with the owner about something on the menu board that hung on the wall above them.

After several minutes, it became clear that the situation was not being resolved anytime soon. Not wanting to be stuck in a long, immovable queue all morning, I decided to spend my time wandering around the nearby St Paul’s Cathedral instead.

The Bullock Track Walkway

Bullock Track Walkway

Leaving the town of Clyde, then Roxburgh, the drive to Beaumont and later Lawrence was uneventful. Having caught-up on all my podcasts and not feeling in the mood for music, I filled the time by making a list of random places and things in the area that I might like to visit.

By the time I reached the Beaumont Bridge, my list included:

Walk the Bullock Track Walkway.
Find that random shed in the Tiviot Valley I spotted.
Walk up to the Alexandra Clock. 
Visit the Gorge Creek Memorial.
Explore Conroy’s Dam.
Walk the Old Reservoir Trail.
Walk up to Flattop Hill above Butchers Dam. 
Visit the ‘Somebodies Darling’ grave near Millers Flat.
Visit the Fairlight Train Station. 
Find the Horseshoe Bend Bridge

Now, you might think that visiting the Jimmy’s Pie Shop in Roxburgh should be on the list, however it doesn’t qualify. Firstly, it’s far too obvious and not obscure or random enough and secondly, whenever I drive past, I stop off anyway.

A Walk In Clyde

The Lord of Clyde in Clyde

The town, while small, was surprisingly quiet. I hadn’t expected there to be the large crowds that filled the town in early January when summer is at its peak; however I thought it would be busier than it was. After a leisurely amble up and down the main street, I deduced it might be an in-between period of summer when all the locals have gone back to work, while those still in holiday mode are away at more exotic locations like Queenstown, Taupo, or Rotorua. Over the years, Clyde has developed from a sleepy little town filled with construction workers who were working on the nearby dam to a popular holiday spot that swells on weekends as people escape the city rush to pack the tiny town for a few days before heading back to work on Monday. 

I stayed in the town once during one of its more ‘busy’ periods. The summer evening was long and warm. It was really rather pleasant. In the evening, it took forever to find a free table at any of the various eating establishments and even longer to order food, which was very nice, once it arrived. Therein lies the problem with many of the more popular small towns in New Zealand: they become so attractive that they simply don’t have the infrastructure to handle the large crowds they attract. 

On this occasion, the town was bathed in warm summer sun. It was quiet, meaning the streets were free to stroll around and enjoy all the lovely offerings Clyde had on display.

The Clyde Dam

The Clyde Dam

With plenty of time left in the day, I stopped at the Clyde Dam lookout. When the dam was completed in 1993, it created Lake Dunstan and proudly holds the title of the country’s largest concrete gravity dam. It stands 102 meters tall, with a base width of 70 meters and a crest length of 490 meters. All of which is fairly small by international dam standards when compared against the Tarbela Dam in Pakistan or the Fort Peck Dam in the United States. But, it is the biggest in New Zealand, and that means something. 

The dam was constructed between 1982 and 1993 to reduce the country’s reliance on imported oil and to fuel industry, but it wasn’t without controversy. The decision to build the dam prompted vehement opposition, a court case, and even required an act of Parliament to get the project across the line. 

All of which means we have a giant dam that produces lots of lovely electricity and a wonderful big lake for swimming, fishing, and boating. But  there are some of us who would prefer to have the old Cromwell Gorge back, with its historic huts and plentiful fruit orchards. I thought about all this as I looked out across the dam. Then, deciding I was probably in the minority I got back in my car and headed down the hill into the nearby town of Clyde.

Lake Dunstan & The Cromwell Gorge

Jackson’s Inlet at Lake Dunstan

I left Queenstown Airport and spent the next 50 minutes driving to the town of Cromwell. I passed through the Gibbston Valley and the Kawaru Gorge and before arriving at the small, bustling town of Cromwell that was filled with people and bathed in bright sunshine on the shores of Lake Dunstan. Stopping for petrol and a bite to eat, a short time later I rejoined State Highway 8 and crossed the Cromwell bridge, now having the lake for company out of the right hand window. I rounded a bend and was greeted by a serene view of the lake. The lake looked warm, placid and tranquil as the summer sun took over the surrounding hills that once formed the Cromwell Gorge. Not being able to resist, I called in to an inlet for a closer look.

Traffic Chaos in Queenstown

Lake Wakatipu from Marine Parade

I spent the morning in Queenstown. For a short time I wandered through the botanical gardens, eventually following a trail that took me along the lakefront in Queenstown Bay and into the main shopping area. The place was filled with the usual assortment of tourists from various countries, taking in the mountain scenery, all dressed as if it was warmer than it actually was. I had lunch at a place called Vudu Larder which was nice before strolling around the various lanes that link the town centre, in due course arriving back at my car. So, with time marching on, and there being nothing else I wanted to see, I headed off to Queenstown Airport which is found in the nearby suburb of Frankton. 

Well, nearby it might be, but easy to get to but it’s not. The traffic was insanely stupid. I don’t know how local residents put up with it, I really don’t! Not having any idea what the holdup was, all I could see in front of me was an endless procession of cars, buses, boats, camper vans, trucks and motorbikes. At one point it took me 30 minutes to drive a meager 2 kilometers. And, this was 10:30am on a Wednesday morning, hardly what I’d classify as rush hour traffic! As the traffic inched forward, I discovered the cause of all this chaos was roadworks at a roundabout that leads into the suburb of Frankton. I later read, the construction works to upgrade the intersections and Bus Hub in Frankton is anticipated to take four years to complete. Four years!! I’m sorry, but any traffic and roading upgrade that is taking four years to complete, better be a shining example in traffic engineering, an impeccable crowning accomplishment. A traffic utopia if you will, a place of perfect peace and happiness where all travelers can intermix in a state of nirvana. Anything less will be slightly disappointing!

King Edward Technical College

King Edward Technical College on Stuart Street.

I continued my early morning walk through Dunedin to the Octagon, right in the heart of the city. From there, I made my way up Stuart Street, passing the stunning St Paul’s Cathedral and the old Fortune Theatre. After crossing Moray Place and Smith Street, I found myself next to the former King Edward Technical College. It’s truly impressive when you stand and take it all in. Turns out, for twenty years, it was New Zealand’s largest secondary school! I later learned that the Dunedin Art School, which became part of it in 1921, has some pretty famous alumni, like Ralph Hotere, Toss Woollaston, and Colin McCahon. Not bad company to be in!

Rain on Princes Street

Rain on Princes Street

It had been raining. Evidently it had stopped just long enough for the roads to begin drying, but now it started again and it quickly went from a light, mist drizzle to vigorously intense, all in a matter of seconds. One moment I was standing on the pavement admiring the far off street lights towards the top of the hill, next thing the road was a dazzlingly, shimmering glow as rain fell from the early morning gloom. It was all rather pretty, in a sleepy, low-key kind of way.

Corner of Rattray and Princes Street

Corner of Rattray and Princes Street

In the morning, I went to Dunedin’s city centre. It was early, and I expected it to be quiet, and it was. Apart from the occasional car that would cruise past or delivery van that would ignore almost every traffic law there was, I pretty much had the place to myself. The surrounding, dimly lit office buildings were mostly dark and empty, the occasional light beaming out across the early morning from some enthusiastic eager beaver who’d already got a headstart on the day’s proceedings.

Early Morning City Streets

Queens Gardens

It was one of those cool autumn mornings that reminded you winter was on its way. The night air was crisp and fresh, and while the days were still pretty warm, the sun was rising later, and the daylight hours were getting shorter and shorter. Across the city, sidewalks and streets a blanket of orange, red, ochre, and olive leaves, were starting to settle on the ground, covering the surrounding footpaths and lining the city streets.

Dunedin Railway Station & The  JA 1274

Dunedin Railway Station & The  JA 1274

Wondering what type of train it was that sat on display before me, I quickly found myself reading train information that I discovered was really rather boring. Unless of course, you like discussing JA Class, 100-tonne, 42 gauge, steam locomotives that have a wheel diameter of 1.372 m and boiler pressure of 200 psi that were built between 1946 and 1956! In which case, you’ll have been fascinated. However, I wasn’t! So, I’ll simply say that the old steam locomotive looked rather fetching, lit-up in its glass case, and move on to a topic with a little more spice. Like the Hyde Railway Disaster in June, 1943. 

Now, I don’t know the type of locomotive that was involved (and please don’t email me either), but the tragedy occurred just after 1:45pm when the Cromwell to Dunedin express entered a bend, just before the town of Hyde. Travelling in excess of 112 km per hour, more than twice the speed limit, all seven carriages left the rails resulting in twenty-one people being killed and another 47 injured. Following an inquiry, engine driver John Corcoran was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to three years in prison amid allegations of being drunk, the track was poorly maintained and Corcoran himself was under pressure and speeding to meet a demanding and unrealistic timetable.

The Former Fortune Theatre

The former Fortune Theatre

I came across the former Fortune Theatre, the world’s southernmost professional theatre back in the day. It operated for nearly 44 years, putting on popular productions such as ‘The Share Club (1987)’, ‘Ladies night (1992)’, ‘Larnach (1994)’ and ‘Glide Time (1977)’.  But, let me say this, ‘former’ is the key word here. It shut down in 2018 when the Fortune Theatre Trust decided it just wasn’t financially viable anymore. Basically, not enough people were showing up. Funny, though-because as soon as the closure was announced, everyone in Dunedin was up in arms, lamenting about losing such an important arts institution. I just love the irony in that.

Vogel Street & The Warehouse Precinct

Vogel Street in Dunedin

If you’ve never spent time casually wandering around Vogel Street and the Warehouse Precinct in Dunedin, you’re in for a treat. This area is packed with some seriously impressive Victorian warehouses, built on land reclaimed by the Harbour Board in 1879. With the harbour, railway and the central business district all within a stones throw, Vogel Street became a bustling hub of industry, home to some of the country’s biggest companies at the time—especially during the Otago Gold Rush, when Dunedin was actually New Zealand’s largest city for a while!

St Clair Esplanade at Daybreak 

St Clair Esplanade at daybreak 

I began the day with a walk along the Esplanade at St Clair. It’d been my intention to walk along the beach, however I completely misread the tide times. Instead of finding the beach at low tide which would have allowed me to walk out a distance and see the streetlights from a different perspective, I discovered it just after high tide. This is something I wasn’t expecting.

So, instead of a leisurely morning stroll on the beach, I settled for walking the nearby streets looking for interesting views and vantage points.

Dunedin Railway Station at Night

Dunedin Railway Station

If George Alexander Troup could see the elegant and grand Railway Station he designed, he would be very impressed. He would be even more astounded to see it lit-up at night. But, most of all, he would be even more stunned to be here at all since he died in 1941. When a new Railway Station building was needed for Dunedin, a competition was held to design the new building, and to the astonishment of presumably everyone except Troup himself, he won.

The station he designed is a grand affair, with a central entrance hall bookended by long, dignified wings. It was built from Kokanga basalt perched atop a base of Port Chalmers basalt, with Oamaru stone flourishes to keep things interesting. The basalt came from a quarry in Central Otago that was opened specifically for the project, because if you’re going to build something of this scale, you might as well not just be functional but suitably dramatic, as maybe all good railway stations should be.

Dunedin Law Courts

Dunedin Law Courts

I wandered along past a collection of cafe’s, restaurants, boutique shops and gift shops. All of which were closed. In fact, they wouldn’t be open for some hours. It was early morning and apart from the occasional truck that would rumble past, the city was quiet. 

I stopped at an intersection as another truck rocketed past. It really was surprising how many trucks were on the road at 5:30am, on a Tuesday morning. I stopped outside the Dunedin Law Courts. One of the more notable and historic buildings in central Dunedin. A John Campbell designed building in the Victorian Gothic style that was popular in Dunedin at the time, the building took seven years to construct and opened in 1902.

Shipwrecks in Palliser Bay – II

Weather storm in Palliser Bay

While we’re on the subject of shipwrecks at Cape Palliser, another story is that of the Sydney based brig, the ‘Shamrock.’ Leaving Lyttelton near Christchurch in 1861, bound for Otago with a cargo of timber, and five passengers, the ship almost immediately hit inclement weather. Under the command of captain Thomas Dixon, the Shamrock hit violent gales and mountainous seas that threw the ship about and carried on throughout the afternoon and into the night. 

By morning, the ship was completely off course and taking on water. The captain, fearing he couldn’t keep his vessel afloat much longer, made the decision to beach the ship in an attempt to save the passengers and the cargo. Striking a bit of luck for the first time on the journey, the ship ran aground onto a sandy beach in Palliser Bay, thus ensuring passengers, crew and cargo were safe. While the ship eventually broke-up on the shoreline, Captain Dixon later stated that the wind was so great, the beach was strewn with dead albatrosses, porpoises and other marine life. For many years afterwards, it was referred to as ‘The Great Gale of 61.’

Shipwrecks in Palliser Bay – I

Cape Palliser coastline

Heavy, dark clouds hung overhead like a thick blanket. Out to sea, In the distance a wall of weather loomed ominously on the horizon. I was heading for Cape Palliser Lighthouse, the southernmost point of the North Island. Earlier in the day, I read that snow was forecast to fall in the Wairarapa area however that was something I’d chosen to ignore. I’d simply assumed it wouldn’t happen. After all, how often do you really believe snow will fall when it’s forecast. Now, late in the afternoon it seemed they might have been right afterall. 

Sometime around the year 1827, French Explorer Dumont d’Urville named this location ‘Useless Bay.’ On account of the fact that at the time he was unable to go shore due to heavy seas. To some degree he was correct, as there is a long list of shipwrecks and stories of boats sinking after striking rocks along the rugged and dangerous coastline. One such sinking was that of a schooner called the ‘Witness’ in 1854.

On route from port Lyttelton near Christchurch to Wellington, the Witness was transporting a range of produce including a large cargo of potatoes. As the ship approached Wellington Harbour, it hit rough weather and was blown off course towards Cape Palliser and Palliser Bay. As the schooner started to flounder and was driven towards the shoreline rocks, the captain, recognising the danger his ship was now in, called his men together. Fighting against the conditions, he instructed the crew that when they were close enough to shore, he would give the word to jump. He then followed this up with a second series of orders to several close-by crew men. The cabin boy, who mistakenly thought the order to jump had been given, immediately leapt into the violent sea and drowned. His body later came ashore near the mouth of the Wharepapa River, the ship was lost, uninsured, and the owner lost all he possessed.

The Hutt River

The Hutt River

Whenever I stay in Upper Hutt, I make a point of completing a daily walk of between 6 to 8 kilometres along a route I rather like. It ventures along the banks of the Hutt River and stretches into the Akatarawa Valley. The river is always interesting to look at and watch as I stroll along the various paths and bridges that cross the river. It’s really a rather splendid way to pass some time. 

It was on one of these walks that I began to wonder where the ‘Hutt’ name came from. The more I thought about it, the more curious I became. Having plenty of time to think on my walk, I settled on the assumption that a man (sorry ladies, but these places are always named after men) named ‘Hutt’ must have had something to do with discovering the area. Or, at least have made a deep and lasting connection with local Māori, thus forging a new beginning for European and Māori relations in the area. 

But, alas no! I was wrong! The Hutt River and indeed the cities of Upper and Lower Hutt are named after a man named Sir William Hutt. I know this because I looked it up after completing my walk. 

Sir William Hutt was a British politician and aristocrat. Born in 1801 in Surrey, England, he spent his childhood living in the highest class of British society, was educated at the finest schools with private tutors and eventually graduated from Trinity College in Cambridge with a B.A. in 1927. He married heiress Mary Millner and they resided at Streatlam Castle in County Durham, England. In 1832, he entered Parliament as MP for Kingston Upon Hull and went on to have a long and distinguished career in the halls of power. He was a member and commissioner of the foundation of South Australia, the New Zealand Association, was director of the New Zealand Company, served as Vice-President of the Board of Trade, Paymaster General and was sworn on to the Privy Council in 1860. When Mary died in 1860, he inherited mining properties worth £18,000 a year. He remarried the next year, and was knighted in 1865 at the age of 64. Sir William eventually died in 1882 at the age of 81, leaving his vast properties to his brother, Sir George Hutt. 

So, in essence, the Hutt River was named after a man who had never seen it, been near it, heard of it, been in this country or even had the faintest idea what it was. I doubt he could even find it on a map! 

So, here’s a new rule. Anyone that has a place or land feature named after them, must visit it, in person, at least once a year. Just to check on it and make sure everything is in order and there is no erroneous spelling in any nearby graffiti. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to book a boat trip to Caswell Sound in Fiordland National Park. 

Sutton Railway Station

Sutton Railway Station

These days, the Sutton railway station is a sleepy relic, a station without a train, with nothing but the wind for company. Once a bustling wee hub, a place where locals from the Strath Taieri area came and went on their way to Dunedin. Step inside (or rather, peer through the old door), and you’ll find names scratched into the timber—some dating back nearly to the turn of the century. Among the scrawls left behind by idle hands are the initials of soldiers who once passed through, including one Arthur Charles Peat.

Arthur was 21 when he left Sutton in late 1914, off to do his bit for ‘The Great War.’ He enlisted with the Otago Infantry Battalion on the 13th of December and was promptly packed onto the HMS Tahiti, bound for Egypt. In early April, somewhere on the Red Sea, he wrote to his brother Jack, because that’s what one did in 1914 when one was about to do something life-altering and potentially catastrophic—one wrote home, preferably before seasickness set in. He described three days at sea before spotting the Suez Canal, the excitement of saluting passing ships, and the thrill of buying fruit from enterprising locals. Then came the train ride through the canal, followed by a jaunt into Cairo, where he had a look at the sights but only glimpsed the pyramids from a distance—an experience not unlike visiting Paris and only seeing the Eiffel Tower reflected in a puddle. He ended the letter in a hurry, promising to write more next time, presumably because the postman was already tapping his foot.

That next letter never came. Arthur and the Otago Infantry Battalion were shipped off to Gallipoli, where things quickly went from ‘unpleasant’ to ‘a complete and utter disaster.’ On the 7th of August, 1915, at Chunuk Bair, Arthur Charles Peat was killed in action. His name, along with the others who never returned, remains etched into the wood at Sutton station—a quiet reminder of lives that passed through, bound for places they would never see again.

Lake Dunstan & The Cromwell Gorge

Lake Dunstan in autumn

Whenever I’m driving past Lake Dunstan I can never decide whether I actually like it. You see, when the lake was made after the Clyde Dam was completed in 1992, it flooded the spectacular Cromwell Gorge, taking with it many historical important settlements that’ll never be seen again. If you never saw the gorge, you have no reason to miss it, however if you remember the famous gorge, you’ll know how wonderful it was. 

It had dramatic cathedral-like rock formations on either side of the Clutha River that dropped dramatically to the river far below. The road, which connected Cromwell to Clyde and Alexandra twisted and turned through the valley, passing historic gold-mining locations that linked to the every origins of European settlement in the area with orchards of every description lining the river banks. Now, in its place is a stunning lake with mountain views and small inlets scattered along the shoreline, making it a popular spot for recreational activities like boating, fishing, and cycling along the shoreline trails. 

I pondered all of this while driving through the gorge. It was a crisp autumn day. I’d left the town of Cromwell and after several minutes I found myself driving past where the gorge had once been, stuck behind a campervan. Do I ever hate campervans! They take up entire lanes on the road, they constantly sway from side to side, they’re slow and they spoil the view. Plus, they always seem to be either lost or unsettlingly disoriented. I can’t tell you how much I loathe campervans!! On this occasion, I just happened to be following two of them, going slower than a snail suffering from a bad case of arthritis. Groups of geriatric’s with walkers could have passed us! So, I pulled into one of the rest areas by the lake to wait several weeks until they were far ahead of me. 

It was mid-morning and there was a cool crispness to the morning air as autumn leaves lined the shoreline. Across on the distant shore, the rocky hillside glistened in the morning sun. It was all very still and tranquil, yet I still missed the old gorge!

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