A city without a soul

Many of the buildings in Dunedin have faded logos from a bygone era. Bell Tea, however, is still going strong.

The heart and soul seems to have left Dunedin as soon as the uni holidays started at the end of last year. Walking along the streets, all there is to see are wandering tourist groups, remnants of big nights on the footpath and the true locals. Students are something which, I imagine breathe life and energy into Dunedin. As one bar maid said to me while doing the rounds of tourists sitting streetside catching what remains of the early evening sun – things start to pick up again at the end of February when the semester starts. No matter how beautifully historic Dunedin and the Otago peninsula are there does seem to be a hollowness; it’s a ghost town. I suppose that’s a natural side-effect to having a town built around and reliant on students. Forgive my ruminating, but I suppose I just need to come back when there are actually people here to get the most out of the city. 

The rest of Dunedin and the Otago Peninsula are, as I mentioned, beautifully historic. Churches made of stone and masonry, akin to their now lifeless brother in Christchurch, pierce the skyline with their spires and sit amongst other buildings of varying ages and sizes with faded logos which once stood as a shining beacon of the brands presence in the city. Now in their shells live other businesses. To the right of this rooftop garden where I write are old, dilapidated flats which have become a symbol of Dunedin thanks to popular culture. Don’t forget your roots, Dunedin band Six60 sing; the video showing haircuts in the backyard, makeshift half-pipes and someone transporting a keg of beer on a skateboard.

A drive out toward Otago peninsula brings you inches from the sea wall and around many a turn, but it’s beautiful if the mere glimpses out the window were anything to go by – I had to concentrate on the driving! The winding road takes you about 40 kilometres to the end of the peninsula where apparently you can see seals and other wildlife. I found it a bit too hair-raising to make it that far. Instead I decided to take the road to Larnach Castle, the only one in New Zealand. After three kilometres of steep, narrow and winding road I turn back around. It’s after 5pm and only the gardens are open says the man in the booth. “$12.50, if you want to see the gardens.” No thanks.

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And so the journey begins

The camouflaging seals of Ohau Point

                                                     

A full tank of gas, music and the spirit of adventure. That’s what I left Blenheim with and the only thing that deteriorated was the amount of petrol in my car. I left Blenheim in the top of the South Island this morning set for earthquake-ridden Christchurch – a route which I had travelled before. And for what it’s worth, it takes half a tank of petrol or 71 songs on your iPod (without skipping any) to get to Christchurch. It seemed somewhat familiar, especially the incredible Kaikoura coastline; train tracks running in between the road and the rugged ocean and beach below is surreal, ethereal and beautiful at the same time. 

I stopped for a quick break at Ohau Point which has become one of my favourite places in the top of the south. I went for a little wander through the bush and the well-cut DOC track through to the waterfall in the hopes of seeing baby seals frolicking in a natural nursery which to humans looks just like a pool of water underneath a waterfall. But alas, there were none - wrong time of year, according to the sign at the entrance to the path. To save yourself disappointment, go in April the sign says in a roundabout way. Feeling defeated I walk across the busy State Highway back to the car and ready to continue my journey south to Kaikoura when what should I spot, but a sunbathing seal laying on a rock by the ocean. And what’s more, a tourist tells me there are plenty of others over yonder a stones throw away from the makeshift carpark albeit slightly camouflaged among the rocks because of their brown fur. Excellent, but if only I had a better camera to capture juvenile seals lazing about and shimmying up large boulders looking for the perfect spot. Mental note – need new/ better camera. 

Fast forward through an uneventful  two hours of driving, enthusiasm waning a bit, and I make a pitstop in Cheviot. Instead of continuing through SH1 through to Domett, unpredictable me decides to take a scenic route through the back country and end up at Gore Bay which seems to be quite a popular surf and camping spot. Too bad I don’t have time for either. The detour takes me along the east coast and eventually back to SH1 back on my way to Christchurch. But not before taking a few obligatory photos – mental note: need new/ better camera. Christchurch beckons. 

Upon arrival I catch up with a friend living in Sumner – one of the areas hit badly by the earthquakes. He takes me for a walking tour around some of the devastation and boulders and rocks left from landslides. Zig-zagging in and out of cordoned off areas gives you the real sense of the scale of destruction and the power of nature. One boulder sits in the middle of a road closed off by shipping containers. It’s made a massive dent in the road and stands about two people tall, two people wide and a good few elephants in weight. It has knocked out a concrete power pole which has ended up about a metre from the front room of a house. Close call. All of these properties have been red-stickered and I feel a slight unease about the voyeurism and sadism which comes with the tour, but I suppose that’s only natural or my natural instincts as a reporter. That’s what I like to tell myself anyway. Lying on my bed in my “gay friendly” backpackers I feel a small quake. It seems no Christchurch experience is complete without one these days. 

Day one of my South Island odyssey is complete. Tomorrow I head into unchartered territory – Lyttleton and Dunedin. This is where the fun begins!

Click here for a link through to a gallery of photos from the trip

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