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.

Canteen

Remember the implosion poster I produced a few weeks ago?
No?
Scroll down a few blogs and you will find it - go on, do it now. Have another look.
And what is Canteen I hear you ask? Canteen is a national support group for teenagers and their siblings with cancer. I have had an interest with this group for many years, especially when I worked in Oncology. The interest continues today.............
I know the Manager of Canteen here in Christchurch - she used to work with me many moons ago in Oncology. We sat over a coffee ~10 days ago and I proposed the notion of selling copies of this implosion poster with a significant percentage of the proceeds going to Canteen, but that I didn't really know where to start or who to approach. The rest is history - she knew just who to talk to and a meeting was held yesterday with the powers at Radio Network NZ (whose building it was that imploded).
The outcome is that a limited edition of 100 framed prints is to be produced, each signed and numbered and these will be promoted via the airwaves, radio websites and Facebook. Some were purchased at the meeting. The radio folks loved it and feel that it will sell quickly, especially amongst the people who used to occupy the old building.
Why am I telling you all this? Two reasons.............
1. To support Canteen (www.canteen.org.nz)
2. To give you an early opportunity to purchase one. It may be your only opportunity!
Contact either me or the Christchurch branch of Canteen, or the Radio Network website when it gets up there (will take a week or so). I'll endeavour to update you with details later.

Image Size: 1010mm x 380mm
Plain glass
Black frame
Cost:  $295

A Quick Trip to Oz

Blimey, I started to write a blog three weeks ago, but - as per usual, life intervened.
Now where was I? Juliet (daughter #2) had made the wise decision to move from her tiny flat in north Melbourne to an older but much larger and nicer house a few kilometres away in the same suburb. It was a task she couldn't really manage on her own and as she had very little in the way of support over there, I chose to be the good Dad and go help her.
What neither of us knew at that time was that Juliet (who is a Production Manager for a film company) was to be totally involved in a three day shoot at exactly the same time as the shift. Poor Julz didn't know what to do - or say, or which way to turn.
"Get over it" says Dad. Hire me a truck with a sack barrow, and then get on with what you have to do!!
I did get her shifted basically in the one day I had the truck (a modern Mercedes - very impressive!) but my knuckles were dragging on the ground and I learned that I wasn't getting any younger (denial).

After finishing off last minute jobs on the last day, I cleaned up and jumped on a tram into the city for a well earned coffee before getting the bus to the aiport and home. Whilst in the CBD I captured these two images on my mate's new Canon G12 - Melbourne has some great architecture. It is one of my favourite cities.

Enjoy your new home Julz and Shea.

The Green Room

So what is the significance of an old red and yellow truck, I hear you ask? A good question...........

This is one of the 14 images displayed in my latest exhibition which opens tomorrow - Monday 10th September 2012.
The exhibition is at The Green Room cafe in Princess St, Addington, Christchurch.

It is an eclectic collection of images - mostly new, a mixture of colour and black & white. A little bit of everything.

Come and have a look whilst enjoying a coffee with your friends.

Oh, yes - the truck. I love this image. It always makes me feel happy - and that is a good thing. It was in a scrapyard of old trucks in a wee town called Jerome, in Arizona, USA. Time stopped for me here as I rummaged around these old big trucks photographing for hours. Rust is not an issue in this part of the world.

Good Memories - The Arrowsmith Range

This image may have been in a previous post, but who cares - it would have been a few years ago!
I am currently preparing an exhibition of my images for a cafe in the 'new' city - 14 all up.
In an endeavour to be frugal and recycle some of my unsold framed images, I have taken the matted images out of old frames in order to reuse the frame. One such image was this one of the Arrowsmith Range looking up the Cameron River.
This country brings back so many good memories. It is a good solid 5-6 hour walk from the carpark up to the CMC's Cameron hut.
One of the first trips was with my big brother and his longtime climbing friend Jim (and their wives). Us three guys attempted Mt Couloir - this was one of my first climbs with crampons - and it showed. High up in the couloir I hadn't taken a dozen steps when I tripped on my crampons. The acceleration down the couloir was fast, but Jim held me with a good belay.
The next trip up the valley was with a good climbing mate, Dennis. We were both still teenagers - just from memory. I recall I met Chris at the same time so we must have been. I have photographic proof! Dennis was a newly trained school teacher who had had a sudden rush of whatever to his brain and decided he needed a career change into the army. I vividly recall sitting atop an Arrowsmith peak pleading with him not to join up. But to no avail - join up he did and soon after he became Rachael's godfather. We then departed NZ to work overseas. Eighteen months later I received an aerogram from my mother telling me that Dennis had been killed in Singapore when an army airdrop landed on him.
The last time I was up the valley - I am ashamed to say - was in 1986. At 0400 one starry morning we all stood outside the hut and watched Halley's Comet - the best view I ever had of it.
Whilst I may never climb any of those big mountains again, the Cameron Valley is still a strong attraction. One day soon...........................maybe!
Oh and yes - my exhibition will be at The Green Room cafe in Princess St, right next to Jason Gunn's Whitebait TV. Come and enjoy a caffeine fix.

Now You See It, Now You Don't - Version 2

I have worked some more on the image in the previous blog and have now come up with this photographic poster version. It is all in black and white - and gray - to reflect the weather of the day and the sombre occasion.

Poster size is 1010mm x 380mm and is available for sale as is or framed. If you are interested please contact me jckiwis@ihug.co.nz

Now you see it - now you don't!!

Sunday 5th August was a busy day - a memorable day in fact.
At 0800 this day, New Zealand was to witness it's first ever building implosion. I'm not one for destruction but this, I felt, was worthy of recording. Yet another of the city's buildings to go - on this occasion in dramatic fashion.
On the Saturday I rigged up my tripod to securely sit atop my 2 metre ladder. Despite the media reports warning the local populace not to go into the city to view - rather watch it on TV later - a real Tui 'Yeah Right' moment. Thousands converged into Latimer Square for the spectacle. And Chris and I were there - and most of my photographic friends too. The camera set up on top of the rig with me perched way up there too. A few test shots to check the exposure etc and all was ready. No doubt we would hear a warning siren for such a dangerous mission. Alas at the appointed moment a faint dribble of sound drifted across the park, unheard by the majority of spectators (much like the new tsunami warning sirens recently installed along the coastline).
The initial explosion was frightening to say the least - almost every orifice relaxed instantly! Deafening it certainly was. The adrenaline surge was instant. I managed to fine the shutter button and hung on as the building shook, windows blew out, and after a few seconds it sagged and began its swift journey to the ground.
We cried.

Hagley Park

Hagley Park has been an integral part of the city since its foundation over 160 years ago. We have a lot to thank our forefathers for.
Many of my childhood and adolescent years were spent playing soccer and rugby in this park. Soccer was my true love but I was forced to play rugby at school. So it was rugby during the week and soccer at the weekend. I doubt there was a rugby or soccer pitch that I didn't play on in both North and South Hagley.
Interestingly, it was in north Hagley Park - and playing soccer, not rugby - that I incurred all my footy injuries - one broken leg and two broken arms!
Best of all was the fish and chip shop at the beginning of Riccarton Road just by 'Nancy's' pub (no longer there) where you could buy 3d worth of chips (~2-3 cents to you youngies) after the game.
And then in later years whilst working at Christchurch Hospital, I ran around both parks every lunchtime - sometimes clockwise, sometimes counterclockwise, sometimes a figure eight - any variation to stave off the boredom (whatever that means!). This daily ritual continued for a great many years. Nowadays, Chris and I walk it occasionally.

Over the last few weeks I have been wandering the park in the frosty dawn endeavouring to capture some images for a client. This tree has always been a favourite of mine in north Hagley. Interestingly it is called the 'Lone Oak' but is a beech tree according to the plaque.

It is not until you look closely that you notice that a great many trees in Hagley Park in fact have plaques at their base commemorating something or in memory of someone. The 'Lone Oak' and its plaque brought back many memories of my playing days and the whole team gravitating to the nearest tree to our playing field. The City Council tried to put a road through north Hagley once - and more recently since the earthquakes, there have been rumblings of utilising Hagley for other purposes.
Leave it alone!!

On Yer Bike Laddie Boy

I've been relatively lame for over three months - the right knee that is!!
X-rays and MRI scan results were not looking optimistic. The Sports Med doctor reckoned I was probably up for a knee replacement - really not good news - the bottom lip was out.
Several weeks ago I got to see the Orthopaedic Surgeon - one of the best I'm told on good authority.
"You're nowhere near needing a knee replacement - there's heaps of cartilige left to wear away yet. I don't really go by the MRI scan - you've heaps of abuse indicated there but it's not that bad. I prefer to go by the plain x-rays which aren't so bad (thanks Rach). But your running days are over - walk and tramp all you like - and get on your bike!"
And so I am.
About the same time as I saw the surgeon, Gloucester Street and Durham Street were opened up to one way traffic. A good chance for a bikeride - but not before a 5 degree frost delayed a planned early start.
I still wonder why we put ourselves through this torture of viewing the inner city as it continues to be 'deconstructed'. The coffee was good though.

This building is on the corner of Cathedral Square (or is that Cathedral-less Square?) and Colombo Street by Gloucester Street. The sad thing is, we can't remember what the building was that abutted this structure - that is so common for the locals. But I did like the impression it left behind on the wall. And the pigeon aloft above maybe provides some hope.........................!!

Moonchaser

I love the full moon.
It took me until I was living in Saudi Arabia, where a fellow Kiwi (and desert 4WDer and astronomy enthusiast) taught me that on the night of full moon, as the sun sets in the west, so does the full moon rise in the east (within minutes). Since learning that, I have been fascinated each full moon and when and where possible, I endeavour to be in a position to photograph it.
And so on the evening of 06 May 2012 I headed for the New Brighton Pier - but was thwarted by the clouds - yet again - this happens so often!
But wait, don't rush off with your bottom lip out, thinking you will have to wait yet another month. Something good might just happen - and invariably it does. It just requires a wee gap in the clouds and some patience!

A lunar month later, this time Queen's Birthday weekend at the beginning of June, Chris and I headed out of town for the day, bound for North Canterbury and a few places we had never visited. The stipulation was that we had to be at the New Brighton Pier by 1644, sunset being at 1700.
We arrived with 15 minutes to spare - a brew was made and camera set up on the tripod. And what happened next - nothing. You guessed it - cloud!! But patience won out again and ~15 minutes later this appeared....................

............ but look, no-one on the pier has even noticed. The next 10-15 minutes were just magic as the moon continued to rise................

There is another reason the moon became important whilst living in Saudi Arabia. There, they  operated on the Hejra calendar - the lunar months. and we were paid at the end of each lunar month. So at full moon, one knew they were half way through the lunar month and it was only two weeks until the next pay!! And in 12 lunar months there are ~354 days (which equates to 12.4 lunar months in the Gregorian [solar] year - bonus!)
There endeth the astronomy lesson - and my obsession with the moon. Until next time.......................!!

Time!!

1251. Remember that time??
The time certainly stopped for this clock in the city on 22nd February 2011 - and hasn't restarted.
My last blog was over a month ago and I had great plans for a number of posts within days of that - even have the images for them. So why won't time stop for me? Maybe just for a little while. The days fly by - am I getting slower? Nah, not me! Is time speeding up? Could be - feels like it! Am I too busy? Probably!
Right, I promise to be a good boy - yeah right!! Watch this space - but don't hold your breath!