Pleased with my decision to walk down hill instead of up, it wasn’t long before I reached the beginning of the camp track. Like most tracks on the peninsula it crosses private land, something I wasn’t entirely sure would happen in other countries. I couldn’t help but reflect how fortunate I am to live in a society where landowners are happy to freely let people walk on tracks over their land, as long as the gate is kept shut. I always think it’s one of the most joyous signs to see in New Zealand, old faded signs that are partially covered in long grass that say “please shut the gate.” The next while was spent enjoying the splendid views from the Camp track that took me down to Broad Bay. John's Blog https://fromasmallcity.nz/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI
My walk finished by taking me past the Otago Settlers Museum, or Toitū which it is otherwise known as. Outside this museum, is a bust of a very grim and stern looking fellow called James Macandrew, which I now detoured past to see. James Macandrew was born in Scotland and was an early Otago pioneer. He had a distinguished political career, several places are named after him and of all the prison stories I know, the tale of James Macandrew is one of my favorites. Around the time of the 1860s when Otago was experiencing an economic boom that local’s misguidedly thought would last forever, James Macandrew was the Otago superintendent. A role that is a bit like a modern day mayor. However, after reaching the esteemed post, he was found guilty of fraud. Not keen on spending any time in jail, he declared his home a prison where he astonishingly continued to govern the province from. Three months later he was removed from his post, his declaration of his home being a jail was overturned and he was sent back to prison. John's Blog https://fromasmallcity.nz/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI
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
