Some Wedding Photo's

The most nervous part of the day for Pete!
Stephen and Dave were excellent groomsmen.
















Evangelene, Michaela, Ellen, Desray and Claire
















Guests from the UK are transported to the reception
in style!

Putiputi - Flower

Driving into Milford we were asked to close our eyes, like children, and emerging from the Homer tunnel like this was exciting; what were we going to see? Were we going to be met by clear weather, and a stunning vista of mountain walls and open skies?


No of course we weren't. It was raining, and the thick grey cloud hung about us, obscuring the view of the landscape. Still, it was with great excitement and optimism that we arrived for our boat-trip at the terminal, boarded our craft, and stowed our luggage below.


We had placed ourselves in the trust of RealJourneys, a company that operates tour buses and boats in and out of Milford Sound. Our launch was the Milford Mariner, a very well fitted craft with ample viewing decks, a full kitchen, flushing loos, hot showers and a licensed bar. It could carry about 65 but there were only 30 or so of us on this trip, in the off-season. Service was excellent, and I would recommend this trip to everyone and anyone. We were accompanied by a posher and more expensive launch the Milford Wanderer, which features in two of the photographs below!



As we left the small jetty at Milford and headed-out into the sound, we began to see the great cataracts emerging from the cliff tops and crashing their way down into the water. All around us the water trickled and flooded. Light drizzle and wafting fog became steady rain, and spray surrounded the bow of the ship, until I was throughly wet all over, and thankful for my raincoat and plastic over-trousers. I was largely on my own for these first few minutes as we headed down the sound, past waterfalls and darkened shores. To my surprise many of the passengers opted to sit indoors, as though this was any-old trip, a pleasure boating exercise on a duck pond perhaps. This proclivity continued through most of the trip, with only a few passengers venturing forth for any long period of time, and I felt isolated - as though my behaviour of staying out on deck was strange. Though to me, it was their behaviour that was the stranger, as they were missing-out on all the wonderful things I saw. Surely it was complaints of cold, and the rain, that caused people to stay below deck - and not a lack of wonder for the environment of Milford Sound?

The highlight of the first day was kayaking on a small tour of the bay where we had moored for the night. Apart from getting even wetter in the rain and splash of the paddles, we were given an excellent commentary and shown some of the more interesting aspects of the sound. For example the surface water is a fresh mixture of rain water and silt washed from the mountainous sides of the fiord. This layer is quite earthy to the taste and not too salty. Below this layer (about a metre or so) is the seawater, which is home to many deepwater species which exist close to the surface here in Milford Sound, due to the relative calm and the light-filtering qualities of the surface layer. Black corals, anenomes and varieties of squid are all found here at surprisingly shallow depths. We also saw a seal pup hauled-out on a rock, and Fiordland crested penguins, one of the most endangered, hopping about and making a racket just onshore. At one point along the cove is a great iron chain and anchorage discarded from some vessel many years ago. It highlights the peculiar history of man in this area, not least how recently it is that Milford has come to be inhabited, and how fragile that inhabitation continues to be. Although beautiful, and a boon to sailors travelling the South West Coast of New Zealand, this is not a hospitable place. Overnight we had a beer and talked about murihiku - the shadow land of Fiordland, and then got an early night. I was up at six for sun-rise and saw a wonderful starry night over Milford.



Day two of the Milford trip is coming up . . .

Mahinga - working

Mahinga - working, as in "mahinga kai" - cultivation or food gathering

This week's post is a special one, because Ellen is back from Japan, and there are only three months or thereabouts until the wedding. I have just got back myself from an awe-inspiring trip to Fiordland, or arawhenua - the shadow land. Readers from New Zealand will be expecting tales of strong south-westerly gales, as the southern tips of New Zealand have been experiencing 170km/h winds over the last few days. However, we were incredibly lucky with the weather on our trip, and only on our return did we experience those buffeting winds. We were treated to almost perfect weather for our two days in Milford Sound.

On day one we left at 5am to drive to Te Anau. We travelled via Gore and Clifden in Southland. Clifden has its very own suspension bridge - which is a clear replica of the famous Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol - which was my sole reason for going there. However I was surprised to see that there is no acknowledgment of the bridge's pedigree in the local signage. I cannot fathom how the New Zealand Historic Places Trust has failed to recognise the significance of a miniature replica of IKB's famous suspension bridge design in this remote part of the South Island, but my contact at the Trust assures me that this embarrassing oversight will be raised at the highest level forthwith. It is after all, not what you know but who you know that counts!

On day two we got up to watch England lose to South Africa in the RWC final because the fourth official couldn't recognise a clear try when he saw one.

Today was the day we were going to Milford Sound! The trip had been built-up in my mind and we were apprehensive as we boarded the coach, Mike and I, as to what was in store for us. We had been talking about, and planning the trip, for days, and so when we finally set-off from Te Anau we were extremely excited and ready for the trip of a lifetime.

The road to Milford winds through Fiordland National Park, up the Eglinton River through beech forest and over The Divide which is the lowest pass through the Southern Alps. From here it winds up the Hollyford Valley through incredible snow fields and into the Homer Tunnel. The Homer Tunnel was built during the Great Depression by men paid two cents an hour (current NZD rate) in some of the harshest conditions possible. The area is prone to avalanche and is snowed-in four to five months of the year. It is three or four hours drive by coach from the nearest town, and that's travelling at today's speeds. In 1910 this would have been literally, the middle of nowhere, and terribly hard hard work.

On the other side of the tunnel is the Cleddau valley (pronounced Clethay - as in Welsh) which winds down towards Milford itself. This is stunning countryside. The average rainfall is a massive 6m a year. The landscape is carved by glacier from the last ice-age and the flora is quintessential New Zealand; tree ferns, beech forest, flaxes and mosses. The only terrestrial wildlife we saw was the native parrot, the Kea:



and now it is bedtime so the story will continue tomorrow . .

Whakarongo mai!

Whakarongo mai - "listen up!"

I had an amazing trip with the Andersen family through to Lake Taupo last month. We stayed at Hatepe in the bach and enjoyed several days of true whanau-style recreation. John provided an amazing barbecue on day one, and then on day two we went to AC Baths to enjoy the hot pools and Erik and I even had a go on the kiddy's pool inflatable assault course. Erik only won because I let him!

We did a very good walk along the Waikato to Huka Falls. I enjoyed seeing the native bush there, quite different to the environment here in Dunedin - central North Island is relatively tropical! Although I doubt those who live there would see it that way . . .

I felt my first earthquake whilst I was there, a good 4.5 shake which was centred very close to where Paul and I were fishing. My immediate thought was that somebody was chopping trees down. I heard a real rumble and then a shudder. Since then we have had two or three quakes in Dunedin, which were quite different, much shakier and longer-lasting. Dare I say it, I am getting used to the idea of regular earthquakes!?

I should mention that Paul was the only one fishing at the time, I was battling through undergrowth on the opposite back in order to retrieve some tackle which we had snagged on an over-hanging branch. When I finally made it to the right spot, Paul had hooked a gorgeous trout!

Talking of the trip as a whole, I have to say it was exciting to leave Dunedin behind for a while and see bits of New Zealand familiar to me, as if I weren't many many miles from home and on the other side of the world. In fact, leaving Dunedin I realised it felt a bit like home - familiar, comfortable, and perhaps a little boring.

This weekend I am taking a trip to Milford Sound with a friend from work. I promise some photo's on my return!

Just some pictures

I've been wishing to share these for some time - just a few snaps I'm proud of, from around Dunedin in August.




First up a bunch of early show daffs from our garden.





Next a snap of me with the Mornington First XI Football Team:






















And lastly a picture of last week's lunar eclipse - a once in seven year event apparently. Luna rossa sounds Italian - it describes the phenomenon better than 'lunar eclipse' I think!

Kikorangi - sky blue

Kikorangi - sky blue. As in, he kikorangi tōna whare - his house is sky blue.


To the hills!

The mountain spine of New Zealand's South Island was given the imaginative name 'The Southern Alps' by James "call me Captain Obvious" Cook on March 23rd 1770. I believe it was known locally at the time as te tiritiri o te moana and is thought in the Maori ontology to embody some frozen sailors from an ancient godly canoe. The lead sailor (and tallest mountain) is Aoraki and he is there, turned to stone by the freezing winds, with his brothers.

Our Captain Obvious called Aoraki, the tallest mountain in New Zealand, 'Mount Cook' (see below).


It took about an hour to drive from our motel in Kurow to the foot of Lake Pukaki to get this shot of Aoraki and I. Aoraki was certainly hanging out in the clouds that day, with his head the only spot of moisture in the otherwise clear blue skies.

We had left Dunedin for a weekend of culture!

This part of the Waitaki is rich in Maori rock art dating from pre-contact times aswell as from the 19th century. Local people left a variety of images drawn on favoured limestone outcrops, using a mixture of animal fats and plant resins, plus ochre, to describe abstract patterns and features. Some animals and humans can be discerned, and later drawings feature European sailing ships and men on horseback. The image shown is a lizard (according to Ellen) and a man (according to me), you need to see the whole site to form an opinion, but it's certainly open to interesting interpretations!



Ellen is working on interpretive information boards and site design for these areas, in her role as Maori Heritage Advisor for the Historic Places Trust.


It took us three hours to drive each way and so we made sure to stop and enjoy the view along the way. Moeraki is about an hour's drive North of Dunedin and features some quite remarkable geological curiosities called, again quite imaginatively, The Moeraki Boulders:



Tradition holds that the boulders are the treasure of a foundered canoe, arai te uru, which brought kumara (the sweet potato) from Hawaiiki, the ancestral lands of Maori. The kumara was washed ashore and became stone here at Moeraki. They are a fitting testament to an amazing feat of technology and daring which was achieved by prehistoric men and women: namely the transport of the South American sweet potato plant to New Zealand, via the enormous Pacific Ocean.

Te Aniwaniwa - The Rainbow

* A note on terminology - I had previously entitled this post 'te kopere - the rainbow', which is plain wrong because rainbow in Maori is aniwaniwa, so I changed it. Paul tells me that te kopere may mean mist, but our dictionary here lists te kopere meaning a sling or dart. Clarification welcome!

I took these photo's on the way to work this week. The mood in Dunedin during the recent cold snap has been one of grim determination, not to let the weather spoil the party. Road gritting lorries have been up and down outside our house, and they also now spray a kind of acetate to lower the freezing point of water, but still the cars skid and slide across the considerably steep street and regularly are abandoned by their drivers half parked, half wedged against the kerb.



On the left is First Church, a presbyterian church begun in 1862, which has been described by the Institute of Architects as a “Magnificent example of Gothic Architecture”. On the right is Dunedin railway station, "the most photographed building in New Zealand". It's architect, George Troup , was nicknamed Gingerbread George because of the decorative style he employed. Inside the station are some marvellous railway themed mosaics which my grandad would have fallen in love with.

Returning home from work I cross the railway line back into the city, leaving behind the waterfront industrial area, and looking back over my shoulder I can see out towards the mouth of the inlet where, on this particular day, a rainbow was shining through the cloud.


And during the recent snow showers, Ellen and I were able to go out and build ourselves some new friends. Say hello to Ice Man and Mr Frosty: