Leaving the charm and beauty of Port Chalmers and the Hotere Garden Oputae behind, I now headed for the stables at Chingford Park. It had been some time since I’d seen the stables and the park itself and while I had the time, and the weather was nice, it seemed an ideal way to pass an hour or two. To make my journey to Chingford Park (and the stables) more interesting, I decided to divert through the student quarter of the city. There really is no better way to make you appreciate your own home than to drive through large areas of student accommodation. I drove along streets with names like Forth, St David, Harbour Terrace and Dundas. Past flats with names like 8 Mile, TAB, The Asylum, The Bird Cage and The Playground. I navigated my way through an obstacle course of microwaves, tv ’s, washing baskets and mattresses until I found myself stuck behind a campervan. Now I don’t mean to be rude, but I hate having to follow campervans. They’re slow, the drivers always seem confused between left and right, they stop randomly and always look like they’re going to topple over. On this occasion, it seemed that the campervan and it’s occupants were heading for the same location as myself. Whereas my intention was to travel the near 3km to get to Chingford Park (and hopefully Baldwin Street) sometime in the 20 years, the campervan wasn’t. Sometime later, much later, having survived a one way system and having given up all hope of ever getting to my destination at one point, I took the time to wonder about some of life’s mysteries. For instance how people in this country are allowed behind steering wheels when the meaning of red and green traffic lights so obviously confuses them. At some point, and I’m not sure when, I became interested in the exact destination of the leader of what was now a slow moving convoy along North Road. You can imagine my surprise and terror when, having reached the corner of Baldwin Street, the campervan successfully made a right turn and began heading along what is once again, and correctly named, the World’s Steepest Street. Intrigued by what might happen next, I pulled over and watched in disappointment (and relief) that in the space of 50 metres, the driver had decided that ascending Baldwin Street in a Trail Lite campervan wasn’t such a great idea after all. With the procession of vehicles having cleared, the campervan and it’s occupants attempting an 18 point turn that consisted of some very strange finger pointing, I left Baldwin Street for Chingford Park. John's Blog https://blog.caswellimages.com/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI ©
What a wonderful place New Zealand is during summer. The country comes alive with boats, surfboards, bikes, slushies and ice creams that drip onto the footpath. The days are long, the weather is deliciously warm and the summer evenings perfect for drinking a glass or two of your favourite drop while the air is filled with the smell of the classically Kiwi bbq sizzling away as the sun slips from sight. Yes, it’s these idealistic and wistful perspective’s of summer I hold on to as I patiently wait for 9 months to pass and summer to roll around once more on December the 1st. Of course, my memories of summer might suggest I live in fictitious times as Dunedin’s summer doesn’t seem to truly get going until mid January. Let’s remember the weather leading up to New Years Day had been average at best and 3 days of heavy rain caused widespread flooding. Thankfully though summer found us here in the south of Aeotearoa. Meaning, we could soak up some rays while following our Prime Ministers advice. Explore your own backyard. John's Blog https://blog.caswellimages.com/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI ©
Here’s a fact for you, 80 species of moths have been recorded on the Aramoana Saltmarsh and further to that, the tidal flats at Aramoana are the most important habitat for wading birds in Otago. While we are on the subject of birds, when Hoiho penguins (like the ones that live in the dunes at Aramoana near Keyhole rock) go out to sea to feed, they travel up to 15 kilometres from the shore and down to depths of 100 metres. Yet, we wouldn’t have all that if they had built an aluminium smelter there in the mid 1970’s. Thank goodness Aramoana was saved. John's Blog https://blog.caswellimages.com/ The latest print price guide: https://bit.ly/3oLw9OI
