Millers

I grew up in Christchurch - apart from the first few years.
I had a great Mum with the biggest and warmest heart you could imagine. We led a pretty humble existence in those days - Mum and Dad, and my brother and sister. But we managed somehow - largely thanks to Mum's wisdom and perseverance - much of it unappreciated at the time unfortunately.
Each week, Mum used to take me on the tram or the bus into town. Invariably we would go to Millers in Tuam St, where I would tentatively play on the escalator (I recently learned it was the first escalator in NZ - 1930s). Mum would buy material to make clothes for herself or us kids - and she would look longingly at the hats, gloves, and bags, etc that she could not afford. On rare occasions Mum would take me up to the cafeteria (no cafes then!) for a bun and a cup of tea - no doubt depriving herself of some needed item to do so. I thought it was a great event!
I also recall the vacuum pipes - the staff member serving you would put your money together with the sales docket into a wee 'rocket' which was put into the vacuum pipe - and whoosh, off it went (the 'ether' of the 1950s!! - no plastic cards then - totally cash). You would then twiddle your thumbs for 5 minutes, then lo and behold, back it came with your receipt and change. Not a bad system in hindsight!!
Unfortunately Millers succumbed to the 'Made in China' times. The building became the headquarters for the Christchurch City Council for many years. Eventually they too moved on, moving into new premises in the central City, leaving the building and its history lonely and unloved.
But then after a few months of emptiness came 22 February 2011 - earthquake day.
Now, in May 2014, the building is being demolished. The physical structure will soon be gone and yet another car park will appear, along with the hundreds of other vacant sites - but the memories will still be there. Bless you Mum.

A View to Warm the Heart

I love Lyttelton Harbour. I find it good for the soul. Looking down the harbour always relaxes me and lifts my heart. One of my favourite spots - a place I invite only a few special people to share with me - is Coopers Knob. The highest point of the port hills surrounding the city.

This image from Coopers Knob- titled 'Wedding Vista' - was captured at the exact time Juliet was getting married in Melbourne ~14 years ago. Given less than 48 hours notice, none of the family were present, but I did clamber up to my favourite thinking spot with a bottle of vino to celebrate her union from afar through weepy eyes. Unfortunately the union did not survive and thus this image is soured in my mind.
However, it has not diminished my love of the harbour.
10 days ago I walked around the Allandale - Governor's Bay waterfront track - the intent being to help a photographic friend to complete a project she was working on. The day was lovely, the lighting bang on for the task in hand (a geological impressionism). Behind me, looking down the harbour was this view............ helped by the low tide.

This image was taken with my zoom lens set at the wider end of its limits, and thus pushing everything seemingly away into the distance. Our eyes, however, do not see it this way - we see life at about the same as a 50mm lens (in 35mm camera terms). So......... turning the camera through 90 degrees, I captured a series of images at the 50mm setting, sweeping from left to right, and overlapping by a third - 17 images in total. Now, thanks to the newer versions of Photoshop, these can easily and quickly be merged together to create a lovely panorama.

It does look the same here, but I've had to minimise it so much to allow it to fit on here. The file size is 325MB and a print with a height of 40cms is 2.5 metres wide!! A good wallpaper perhaps??

Photo Tour 2015

I have finalised my dates for the next photo tour to Oman - hotels booked, vehicles sorted, and people paying their deposits and ensuring a place on the tour already.
If you know of anyone who might be interested, share this with them.

Frustrated Pensioner

Does anyone read these blogs?
Maybe a few!!
Does anyone understand Blog set-up?
It does many weird things, most of which appear to be completely beyond my control - and I cannot fathom the nuances of this wonderful technology.
Help - please!!

Spring is in the Air

As well as the annual tramp with 'the lads' (most of us in our 60s now - one, heaven forbid, as of January now 70, but the apprentice is only in his early 50s!) we also like to take the spring air for 2-3 days before Christmas each year.

This year had to be early for me as I was heading back to the Middle East early December.
No one had been up the Crow Valley (Arthur's Pass area) for years, so that got the nod of approval from the team. Due to commitments all round, it was only to be a single night out.

Crossing the Waimakariri River

Entering the Crow Valley

Crossing the Crow River is pretty straightforward when the river is low

The new Crow Hut - new to me anyway

Ranunculus lyallii (Mt Cook Lily) within metres of the hut door

Alas, the weather gods did not play ball the next morning

A brief sojourn into the hills, but great company - as always. Our batteries were recharged and the world's issues were solved over a few drams.
I had not visited the Crow Valley for ~30+ years. The last visit, if my memory serves me right, was with my elder daughter, Rachael about the time she started high school! I used to visit this area regularly - usually traversing over from Avalanche Peak, frequently as a day trip. One of the lads did gift me the door bolt of the old Crow Hut when it was demolished - it sits here on my shelf today!
All the images posted here (6 of them) were all captured on my iPhone and nothing has been done to them - apart from making them square and downsizing them. I'll soon convince myself that I don't need to lug my big DSLR and lenses with me every trip - technology is improving unabated, and my ageing body is looking for any excuse to lighten up!!


   

Working Backwards!!

Having just posted the Auckland 'Aquatramp' blog before it became a blur in my mind, I'd thought I'd now work my way backwards towards the middle of last year in an endeavour to catch up with myself - a dangerous challenge.
So here goes............but please don't hold your breath. This too could take weeks - if not months!

Aquatramp

Since 1981, a group of 4-5 of us keen outdoor lovers have got together each year for our annual tramp together. 34 years in total so far - and two of the group have participated in every one. an admiral record. I've missed a few due to being overseas or health. This year, after a few years of cajoling by Richard, we finally accepted his offer of an aquatramp - fly up to Auckland and spend a week of island hopping around the Hauraki Gulf on his yacht - a 47 foot Bavaria.

Captain Richard at the helm

Three of us flew up to Auckland at the beginning of March this year, were met by Richard at the airport, whisked away to the local supermarket for supplies, then on down to the boat at Westhaven Marina to carefully store everything away. At 3pm we were gliding down the Waitemata Harbour and away from the city. What a magnificent vista!

"So where are we heading for today Richard?" we three novice sailors bleated. "Great Barrier Island" came the reply from Captain Richard. "But we won't arrive until well after dark. You will love the view when you wake up in the morning".

As dusk approached - and the island slowly loomed larger - so too did the wind - upwards of 40 knots at times, with a flowing sea and waves that looked menacing large to us novice sailors.

Alas, just on dusk, us three novices started speaking sternly into the bottom of Richard's blue bucket - some of us more sternly than others!! Richard's crew of four were effectively now down to one - himself. Being the careful prudent sailor that he is, he erred on the side of caution and turned about within a few hundred metres of the small islands off Great Barrier, but not before damaging a little equipment in the process. We finally slipped into Mansion house Bay on Kawau Island at 4 am. Richard had been at the helm for 13 hours without a break. The four of us were finally able to crawl into our sleeping bags and put the wretched blue bucket away! Not the best of starts to our aquatramp.

Day One - leaving the mainland behind

Thankfully the remaining days were calmer - so calm some days that we were reduced to motor sailing. We trekked around Kawau Island, then headed back to Great Barrier Island, passing close by Little Barrier Island en route - an island that it is prohibited to land on without permission.

Little Barrier Island later in the trip

Entering Great Barrier Island's Fitzroy Harbour via the 'Man o' War' passage was a great experience and entry into another world. Here we spent three nights. We did tramp! We rowed ashore and climbed up to the top of Mt Hobson (~620 metres) - a mountain I have more respect for now. I was anticipating a 'hands in pocket' wander for half an hour. But no - it took three and a half hours of mostly uphill, much of which was wooden steps to protect the petrol bird nesting sites - not a natural process at all and a good workout for calves, hamstrings, and quads!!

 Panorama from summit of Mt Hobson towards Fitzroy Harbour - Little Barrier Island in the distance

Back on the boat, we ventured out to Mokohinau Islands - until now I'd never heard of them - even further out than Great Barrier. This time under motor as there was no wind at all - dead flat seas. What lovely islands. On the way back to Great Barrier, we were accompanied briefly by a small pod of dolphins.

The Mokohinau Islands

On returning to Great Barrier we discovered we were in good company - the 'Spirit of New Zealand' was anchored in Port Fitzroy. Next day we departed Great Barrier to head back to Auckland, via Waiheke Island - but not before visiting a gannet colony on a small island just outside the 'Man o' War' passage.

Waiheke Island

Spirit of New Zealand

Gannet Flypast

Waiheke Island

Auckland Waterfront

And so the aquatramp ended - as it began - gliding past the Auckland waterfront to our marina and the end of a wonderful eight day adventure. Hopefully this won't be the last such adventure. Thank you Richard - and Graeme and Peter.

Oh, and one last thing - my god, there's a lot of money up in Auckland - both on land and water!

Time Flies

I last wrote whilst our house was being repaired.

Ever since, at regular intervals I have been promising myself I would start pecking away again - that's been going on for nearly 10 months now. Blimey!

A lot has happened - Australia with Juliet and Shea, Oman (again), tramping, sailing, living, etc. Right Johnboy, get your act together and start thinking of something - and I will - soon - very soon!

In the meantime, an image of Melbourne after sunset......................

Lake Lillian

The annual lads tramp - every year since 1981 - 33 in total now and two of the lads have completed every one. Most of these lads are now gold card holders (pensioners to those of you who are not familiar with Winston's gold cards). The wheels are beginning to wobble a bit - knee operations, gout, cancer, arthritis.... to name a few.
The annual trip is not so much about the destination (and we have had some mighty trips over the 33 years - even with the help of a helicopter) but more about the camaraderie with a multi day tramp (hike) thrown in.
The 2013 trip was planned to be one of these events. Lake Minchin at the head of the Poulter River was to be the destination. However on the day, the weather was to have a say, plus one member's recent knee op put some doubt on whether he would make the distance, particularly in light of the atrocious weather forecast.
Now these fully grown lads sometimes have difficulty making decisions. Packs in the 4WD and off to Darfield for coffee, one hour out of town. Coffees in hand, the discussion commenced - "What are the alternatives?". "We got the 4WD to Lochinvar Hut behind Mt White Station many moons ago. We can base ourselves there". A quick call to Mt White Station ended that proposition. They were mustering and using the hut, plus didn't want the 4WD disturbing the stock. A few other possibilities were aired.
"What about the field station at the junction of the Harper and Avoca rivers behind Lake Coleridge" I asked. "Worth a try" was the answer and we headed around Lake Lyndon to Glenthorne Station who now control the area and run the old field station - now called "the Retreat'.
We were in luck and booked the place for a several nights. The 4WD had no trouble with the track and riverbed and we were soon parking 3 metres from the front door!
I have a secret passion for this quintessential area of High Country Canterbury. My Dad took me up here in 'Old Austin' (see '353' post) way back in ~1958 when I was 10 years old to visit my big brother who was working up here on a fencing contract for the NZFS.

Me outside the Fitzwilliam hut in 1958

The same hut in 2013 - the mice are still there!

The Fitzwilliam hut is only a few hundred metres from "The Retreat". The hut is where we stayed in 1958, and I have visited it several times since on my solo trips, including the Trans South Island venture a few years ago. Immediately behind the hut is a small creek which is the outlet of Lake Lillian, a beautiful tranquil tiny mountain lake only a few hectares in size. The walk up the creek takes ~20 minutes and opens up another world.

Lake Lillian the afternoon we arrived

Lake Lillian 24 hours later after a day's hiking in the area

Here endeth the story - a very long winded epistle to tell you about one of my favourite places in the hills. A place with good memories of many visits. And I am confident there will be be more visits to come. Go check it out for yourself. There is much to explore in the area.

Out of interest, I mentioned Triangle Hut in one of my previous posts on graffiti - it is only ~1 hours hike from Lake Lillian.

Graffiti #3

Where was I?
Arctic rocks, hut walls.
How about ancient rock art from Maori and other cultures that are centuries old?

And petroglyphs...........



Are these not forms of graffiti art too? In my mind, yes they are - of course. Many of these go back to ancient times.

Now come forward to the twenty first century - what do we invariably see today?

More often than not, achieved with spray cans...............But it is not all bad.

For years I biked to school past the Canterbury Sale Yards by South Hagley Park in Christchurch - a huge hive of activity many days with auctioneers and farmers in abundance. Sadly this have gone, but the old yards and buildings remain there - but not for much longer. It has become a popular for wedding photos. I have photographed models in there, and recently I have occasionally started taking my granddaughter there with our cameras. There is some great graffiti in there and, if you go back there every few months, it is constantly evolving.



Most of this graffiti is clever and to a large extent welcomed and appreciated, albeit illegally on abandoned walls. But it is not immediately removed - invariably it is left there for all to view over time, and fellow graffiti artists do not spray over it, at least not in the short term. Go back up to the image above (looking through the windows) - here you are beginning to see what I call tagging. Notice that it is not covering the arty forms of graffiti - yes sometimes, but more often avoided - directly proportional to the number of brains cells owned by the tagger.

And this is where the difference comes by. Yes, tagging is just another form of graffiti - but here I find that tagging is almost always unacceptable and definitely not appreciated.

The true graffiti artists are frequently very clever and truly artist - and their skills need to be honed. Taggers need to be put away!

Late last year Chris and I took the van down to Lake Alexandrina for a break. In the morning we spotted a large rock on a distant and remote ridge up towards the Cass Valley, so headed up to it after breakfast. Another Parry's Rock I wondered silently.



My disappointment was huge. All I could see here was tagging with no graffiti artistry in evidence at all. It angered me immensely. Mindless vandalism.

A far cry from Parry's Rock graffiti almost 200 years ago.

On that note I'll end this subject. I acknowledge that I may have it all wrong and that my definitions of graffiti and tagging are likely off the mark, but at least I feel better for airing the subject and writing about some history.

Graffiti #2

I was talking of graffiti in the High Arctic and its relation to history, exploration, etc.
So back home to New Zealand.

Now about high country huts here - I have a conflict here which I can't seem to resolve. My problem entirely. The above image is from a hut in the upper Mathias Valley not too far from the Main Divide. This hut is all but abandoned - the bunks are knackered and there is a newer hut across the riverbed a half hour tramp away. But it does provide shelter with an intact roof. But look at the walls. Many of these contributions go back to the 1930s, 1920s and beyond. It is great to stand there with your brew of tea and browse the history of the hut and the area - just like the hut books (which have a far greater risk of disappearing over time - through damage, loss, vandalism, fire, removal for archiving, etc). The remoter the hut the better the wall 'graffiti' I have found.

 I was doing a solo tramp not too many years ago in the Harper/Avoca area of inland Canterbury and was about to bypass the earthquake damaged Triangle hut (1994 Arthur's Pass quake) when memories of a visit there as a nine year old lad with my Dad whilst we were visiting my big brother who was working for the NZFS as a fencing contractor with a couple of other chaps (we got up to the Avoca River in the old 1929 Austin written up in a previous blog). I dropped my pack and wandered over to the hut with my camera. Again a hut with history etched into its walls. Just as I was about to depart I noticed a bright area high on a wall lit by a reflection through what was left of the window. Investigating the spot closer, there was my brother's name along with his fencing mates. I did photograph it but can't access the slides at present (more earthquake shite - not living in my house whilst being repaired). A great find thanks to a shaft of light directing me to it. Warm memories of one of my first tramps - and of some early tramps and climbs in the mountains with my big brother.

But here is my issue - with myself! The hut above is the new Hawdon hut as it was a few years ago, several months after it was rebuilt by DOC after a fire destroyed the previous hut. We tramped up the the valley in the late afternoon, past the old hut site and on for 20 minutes to a clearing at a turn in the river. I literally stopped in my tracks as I saw this brand new hut - a grand edifice far removed from the style of yesteryear. On entering and looking around before even dropping my pack, I commented to my tramping mate Graeme.
"What do you notice?' I said.
"It still smells new" he replied.
"There is no graffiti at all - yet" I responded.
And there wasn't - nothing at all. Impressive considering the number of people who had already visited in the few months since it had been open, including a number of school groups.
And somehow, graffiti does not seem appropriate in this new hut. I was relieved that the walls were bare, but I can't quite explain why I no longer want to see history continue in new huts as it has for well over a century in high country huts. I'm baffled - with myself.
Maybe I need to go walkabout in the hills again to cogitate this matter!!
But wait, there's more on this graffiti subject - tune in again soon.

Graffiti #1

Graffiti - this post has been in the making for a long time - a very long time - since July 1997 to be exact.
At that time I was up on Melville Island in the high Arctic participating in "In The Footsteps of Parry" expedition. Edward Parry was a British naval explorer sent out by the British Government in 1819-20 to try and find a way across the top of Canada to the Bering Sea - what we now know as The Northwest Passage. Parry with his two ships, got as far as Melville Island before the sea ice prevented any further progress - and soon after retreat. He chose to winter over in a sheltered bay on the south side of Melville Island - aptly named by him Winter Harbour. The story of Parry's expedition is a grand one and was obviously the reason we were there - but that is not why I'm writing this.

The image above is Parry's Rock - an erratic at the entrance to Winter Harbour. This rock stands ~3 metres high and stands out from the relatively flat terrain from a great distance. Its presence was to become significant in subsequent years. In 1820, whilst Parry's two ships were ice bound in the harbour, Fisher, the expedition surgeon, engraved details of the expedition on the rock. The details are not so easy to read here in the image but they are very clear close up.

 This led me to thinking about graffiti at the time. I'm guessing it is - it is no different from what people do today in huts. Humanity has a thing about leaving their mark. I'm not anti graffiti (read on) - don't get me wrong.
To my mind, there was a very good reason for Fisher to record their presence on the erratic rock in Winter Harbour. They were explorers at the cutting edge and I would roughly equate this with filling out a hut book in the mountains here in NZ - to record your presence and intentions - a means of being found if the proverbial hits the fan!
This proved to be true in the case of Parry's Rock. Subsequent expeditions spotted this rock and used it to record their presence. Explorers such as McClintock, McClure, Kellett, Bernier -a few of these were searching for the ill fated Franklin expedition.

The rock became an 'Arctic Post Office'. Many lives were saved as a result of recordings on this rock. Messages were left in a small metal cylinder at the base of the rock and the cylinder remains there today.



In the 1970s the cylinder disappeared - fortunately to the Yellowstone Museum. The original meesages are now carefully cared for there, but copies have been put back into the cylinder and returned to Parry's Rock on Melville Island.
And thus my interest in graffiti was rekindled, and I will continue this subject soon.
If you are keen to learn more about Parry's Rock and the Parry expedition, there is plenty on Google.

Do You Know Who I am?

No, not me silly. With a name like mine how could you know - even if you wanted to know - if I wanted you to know! There are a few of us around and I've met a good number over the years. Surely my lovely parents would not have burdened me with the name if it was so common (popular is the word I prefer) 65 years ago. But I guess it must have been.
But I'm not talking about me - I'm referring to Aaron "Do you know who I am" Gilmour. A list MP until a few days ago - a plonker who taught us (or should have) all a lesson.
For anyone who does not know who he is - and that is likely even if you live here in NZ - simply google the name and I'm sure the details of his recent plonkish activities will be revealed.
The Perspective editorial in this morning's Press was brilliant and summed the plonker up succinctly.
Words like honesty, responsibility, humility, acceptance come to mind.
I'll waste no more of my time with this - nor yours. Enjoy today and learn from this plonker (not the word I'd usually use but perfectly acceptable and expressive in this media.

I'm Still Alive!

It has been a long time - a very long time. Almost 7 months to be exact.
My sincere apologies - although I'm not sure who I am apologising to as any followers have likely given up on me now.
Chris and I are now homeless - our house is having earthquake repairs done. The majority of our belongings disappeared in a container last Friday morning. We camped on the floor Friday night in our expensive hut and moved into the campervan for Saturday night parked up at Rachael's munted house. Yesterday afternoon we moved what is left of our belongings into a wee studio rental for about a month. A cosy little place - a comfy big hut!! This situation we have been forced into has certainly got us thinking about downsizing.
Anyway, I now hope to have time to do a few blogs over the next few weeks. Stay tuned in!!

"353"

This number will not mean anything to most of you, but it will to the two people to whom this is aimed!

I am fond of old vintage vehicles. When we stayed in Geraldine last week, I wandered down the road to revisit the wonderful motor museum. It was destroyed by fire in 1979 but they have rebuilt the complex and restored the vehicles magnificently. Lo and behold, on display was a 1927 Austin - almost identical to the "Old Austin" I grew up with (ours a 1929 Austin 12/4). It had to be closely inspected! I could hear it again - purring as only a vintage car can. Memories flooded back..........the time Dad took me up to the confluence of the Harper and Avoca rivers beyond Lake Coleridge to visit my big brother Barry who was fencing up there during the summer..........and the time Dad drove Mum, my sister Katie and I down to Queenstown in the middle of the night for a holiday. I saw my first aurora that night as we froze in the car as it 'purred' along at ~40mph. It was many years later that Mum told me that we drove there and back at night because 'Old Austin' had no warrant of fitness or registration! Typical Dad.
Old Austin was sold when I was ~18 years old. Dad no longer used it but refused to let it stay in the family. He only wanted 15 quid for it. So my brother and I worked on it (I had just bought my first car - 1939 Austin which had an identical battery arrangement (2x6volt batteries). We temporarily transferred the batteries, hand cranked it a few times (it hadn't been started for many years by this time), then fired it up. The old girl started immediately - smoke billowed out, birds flew out of nests, mice scampered, and spiders stirred (I exaggerate). We sold it for 30 quid, gave Dad his 15 quid, and pocketed 7.5 quid each! I shudder to think what the old car might be worth today.

And then I went through to view the trucks. Here was Dad's last work truck. This was the model he last had when working as an electrician for the CCEPB (Central Canterbury Electric Power Board). History again........and the memories flooding forth again. When Mum had her heart attack and then her broken hip, Dad suddenly made the decision to retire - with immediate effect. He didn't even take the truck back to the yard - they had to come and collect it. Typical Dad.

Ah memories.........................................such as they were!

Merit Award

As I mentioned in the last blog, we stopped by the Darfield Artweek to view the exhibition.
To my pleasant surprise I learned that one of my two entries "Te Rewa Rewa Bridge" at New Plymouth, won a merit award. I achieved a similar award last year also, so I am well pleased. It is good to see that photography can stand up there with all the other forms of art.

Getting Away

School holidays - they seem to take forever to come around, then are gone in a flash. The campervan was packed and ready to go early the first morning of the holidays - an hours drive to the first coffee stop!
The aim was to spend the first night at Lake Alexandrina - we weren't sure if the van could get down to the end of the lake after the winter snows, but thanks to an improved road, indeed we did. This lake is one of our favourite spots in the Canterbury high country.
The next day was to be spent at a wee secluded spot on the eastern shores of Lake Pukaki (all of 40 minutes from Lake Alexandrina - a tough driving day). Unfortunately the landowner saw fit to fell half the trees and lay poison everywhere (a long but entertaining story which goes back three years!) - so it was on to Omarama. Lunch the next day in Richie McCaw country, then over Dansey's Pass to the Dansey's Pub.
The plan was to surprise Chris with a birthday treat of dinner and night there, but the pub was closed after a big wedding bash and conference. To our surprise we discovered that campervans were not allowed over Dansey's Pass - certainly no indication of that on the Waitaki side. It was an entertaining drive, fortunately with no traffic on the road.

Naseby and Ranfurly were the same sleepy towns they have always been when we are there. The Internet cafe next to the Ranfurly Hotel provides an excellent breakfast. And if you are looking for a blast back in to the 1950s, then have lunch or dinner at the Ranfurly Hotel - it's an experience!

Two nights at Moeraki doing nothing but sleeping and reading and the occasional walk were great, followed by a morning at Oamaru. What a wonderful town - we keep being drawn back there. The buildings and the culture are wonderful. So good, we have booked the whole family in there for a few days after Christmas.
Fleur's at Moeraki was closed (again) whilst we were there, but the Moeraki pub serves good kai and the beer isn't too bad either.

And so onto Geraldine for a couple of nights - another relaxing spot. Back there too on Show Weekend in a couple of weeks, for an art festival and weekend street fair.
Home via Stavely (award winning cafe and home to the Topp Twins, one of whom was there"to greet us" - yeah right) and Darfield to check out the annual Darfield Artweek and see hoe my two entries fared.

A great and much needed break away from the shaky city.