Fiordland is in the far southwest of New Zealand’s South Island. I’m not one for scenic shots, but give in.
Unlike the albatrosses, an occasional small tour boat allows for useful perspective. This is Stirling Falls, three times the height of Niagara.
There’s a hint of a ‘reversing falls’ phenomenon when strong winds whip the water up. I'm told it can be much more spectacular than this.
Overnight we pass under the South Island and arrive at a port I remember well.
As mentioned in the previous post, nearly twenty years ago I made an extraordinary voyage. On a freighter for three months I circumnavigated, not via Suez and Panama, but by way of the capes. This is a picture I took then of the ship, P&O Nedlloyd’s Palliser Bay, sadly long since scrapped. She’s docked in Port Chalmers, New Zealand.
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And this is, in the foreground, Sea Princess and beyond Holland America’s Noordam on which I’m now sailing.
Off to another place I first visited in 2001. This is Baldwin Street in Dunedin, said to be the world’s steepest street, although a town in Wales recently disputed the claim. Back then, I scampered up. Well, perhaps not scampered, but attained the top.
This time I consider the street from the bottom …
… climb halfway …
… and remember there are other things to do.
In Dunedin’s lovely botanic gardens, an old dear befriends birds …
… and a city centre fire escape offers a (I’d have thought uncomfortable) place to catch some late spring sun.
I find interesting signs …
… and distant kitsch catches my eye. This is ‘Vicky’ …
… one of two Beetles residing over a Dunedin panel beaters.
Further up the South Island coast is Christchurch. It doesn’t seem fair, 186 deaths in the 2010 and 2011 earthquakes, then, less than a year ago, 51 killed in the mosque attack.
What’s left of the Anglican cathedral, at the city’s heart, inevitably still attracts attention.
I was anticipating remaining evidence of the earthquakes …
… but hadn’t expected so much empty land - acres and acres - where once were buildings and bustle. The seven floor Canterbury Television building stood here. 115 died when the structure collapsed.
Sitting in a chair (visitors are encouraged to) at a memorial, I learn a Canadian tourist - on “the trip of her life” - had been a victim.
It may sound trite, but I find myself considering what’s overhead while wandering in search of a coffee.
Locals have admirably got on with their lives. They’ve certainly not forgotten the quakes - how can they? - but rebuilding is impressive. As the picture suggests, the city is indeed 'greening the rubble'.
The coffee is excellent …
… and there still is punting on the Avon.
More on the North Island coming up.
