Twice a year, there are times when photography and writing have to take a back seat. One is late June, early July and the other is early December. It’s no coincidence that these times are when school reports have to be written and assessment data analyzed. Unfortunately, these tasks have been occupying my time and mental capacity of late. However, last week I managed to put these tasks to bed and turned my attention back to my newly created ‘Jacinda’s Law’ and exploring Dunedin. Jacinda’s law states; where possible, we are to get out and see our own backyard. With this in mind, I recently found myself walking up a misty and muddy track on one of Dunedin’s surrounding hills. The beautiful thing about Dunedin is that it’s relatively easy to escape onto a bush track or path. From the city center, you can be on a bush track in 10 minutes if you wish. Engulfed in mist, the track I was now on twisted and stretched up into the forest. Initially looking like a vehicle access track, it quickly narrowed. Continuing, gently falling rain collected in the autumn leaves which had created a blanket on the narrow bridge. Wet and muddy, with rain running into a stream, the track continued until deep grooves started crisscrossing the trail before me. Suspecting the trail ….. Suspecting the trail I was on was a mountain bike track, I now feared that I might get struck down at any moment without having the faintest idea of what hit me. Proceeding, but with a greater awareness of my surroundings, I continued on through the mist. I passed exit signs that read ‘No Entry, Rockin Roller Exit’ and ‘No Entry, Three Little Pigs Exit’. As I walked, it became clear that on this day, I had the area to myself. Feeling confident, and no longer worried about being bowled over by an adrenaline filled speed rocket, I continued. My concerns of having to arrive home with tyre makes across my back abated further when a sign appeared that read ‘No Chicken Lines, Don’t Ride Wet.’ Relieved, I spent the next hour exploring the surrounding tracks, jumps and paths that wound their way through the forest. Feeling wet, I made my way back to the car as the mist lifted and the rain got heavier. Once again reaching the small bridge, I couldn’t help but get distracted by a casually ambling stream. It appeared from the thick bush, ran under the bridge and continued on down the hillside. I stood listening to the sound of the stream bubbling over rocks and branches. For a moment I forgot about the Dunedin traffic noise. That’s the beauty of nature, even silence has a voice. John's Blog https://fromasmallcity.nz/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI
When I was younger, we often went to the beach at Taieri Mouth. I remember always asking if we could stop for an ice cream at the shop on the way home. Usually we did, this was then followed by attempts to stop it dripping all over the back seat of the car until we reached Dunedin or a towel was needed. It had been a considerable time since I had last been to the small finishing village and I was keen to see it once more. I remembered there being bush walks to do, a long beach to explore, old fishing boats to gaze at and all the charms that small villages by the sea hold. John's Blog https://blog.caswellimages.com/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI
I like wandering around fishing boats, they seem to hold a noble calling that dates back to the romantic age when everyone traveled by sea. This is something I like more in theory than practice as I certainly don’t have sea legs, nor do I have a stomach for fresh fish, so spending any time on a fishing boat holds no appeal at all. However, I can see why others might like it. I guess it’s the aged look fishing boats have that I find interesting, and what stories they could tell. John's Blog https://blog.caswellimages.com/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI
