Central Otago – The Beautiful South: Jan 2012

Peeking into Queenstown

They know how to have a decent hill in Central.

Lavender at Millbrook

Frankton and Queenstown airport

Lake Wakatipu

Lupins. Everywhere in Central

The Kawarau River

R.I.P. Memorial to soldier killed in the Kawarau Gorge

Freedom over Lake Wakatipu

Looking into Queenstown

War memorial in Arrowtown

Architecture at local vineyards is timeless

Sleepy old Arrowtown. Paradise.

Millbrook.

A good Central Otago Hill.

Ziptrek Queenstown

Bonfire

Individuality reflected in a mailbox!

The ranges around Queenstown

Cracking pic of one determined Goat! Courtesy of Timaru Herald
New Years Eve Bonfire

Bonfire: New Years Eve

River Swimming. Cold on a 30 degree day!

Omarama: Interesting Clay cliffs.

The World Famous Cadrona Hotel. Speights on a hot day = Southern Gold

Loved this cartoon in the Press.

The Crown Ranges. Looking towards Lake Wakatipu.

2011: The Year In Photos

Camping out. Dawn Dec 11: Lake Lyndon

Hot Air Ballooning. Mid Canterbury Aug 11.

Redcliffs Snow. The year we adopted Portaloos. Aug 11

Seagulls enduring the snow. Redcliffs Aug 11

The mighty Kaikouras. A favourite family spot.

Sunset Sumner Beach. Jul 11

Spring has sprung. Blackbird.

Queensland Australia. Vital hydration supplies.

Punishment. Swinging on doors is not good.

Time out away from Christchurch.

Liqufaction in Ferrymead Estuary. Jun 11

Calcutta India. Cooling off. May 11

Waiheke Island. Great spot.

Rangitoto Island from the ferry.

Calcutta India. Close Shave.

Spring 2011. Hagley Park.

A battered city. Sep 11.

A munted foot. Dont drop a chopping block on a bare toe.

South Canterbury cropping.

Community meeting Feb 11. Sumner….Theme: WTF is going on?

A muppet ship crew!

We lose Mr Jobs…Apple Legend.

New city centre opens in Christchurch. Nov 11

Arthurs Pass local. Kea. Dec 11

Christmas Dec 10. Santa and the team arrive.

Cool tour bike. Mt Manganui Jan 11

Feb quake. St Asaph St…..a building lying on it! 

Boating Mt Managnui Jan 11

Beach time Mt Manganui Jan 11

Yep….sorry but true!

Enjoy these pics? Try these other posts…..you’ll love them.

Pics of Home. The Beautiful South

The Mighty Kaikoura: Southern Paradise

A Southern Man Viewing Life in India

A Winter Holiday in Queensland

The Blast ANZAC Collection: A Few Memories

The Beautiful South: Snap Shots of Home.

The Southern Alps: Looking across Christchurch City towards the West.

Lambing time on the farm. The joys of mother ups!

Cropping in South Canterbury. Awesome colours.

Mustering the Hunter Hills. Looking across the farm.

Mist rolling into Sumner. Pre containers and devastation.

The yellow of Souther Canterbury crops

Looking West into the Hunter Hiils. Dusk in Spring time.

Oaks in Hagley park.

The Grand Chancellor Hotel before demolition started.

Black bird on the roof.

A visit to Waiheke Island.

Looking back at Auckland city on the way to Waiheke.

Kaikoura. A snap of the Kaikoura range.

Music in Hagley park. Spring 11

Walking, walking, walking.

The snow of Aug 11 and one of the delightful post earthquake portaloos.

Blackbird in the snow

Dusk. Sumner beach.

Mustering the Hunter Hills. Sheep needing a dog!

Up high on the Hunters. Enjoying the view.

Stormy day. Kaikoura.

Gulls flying low.

The Blast ANZAC Collection: 2011. A Few Memories

It is ANZAC weekend really. This year ANZAC day falls on the Easter holiday weekend so they roll into one. As I sit here in Christchurch and wonder where the services are I should be attending (most venues have been damaged after the earthquake) I have scrolled through many pics and uploaded a real cross section of some life in the Army. I wish I carried my camera more during my service. Enjoy the memories and remember to celebrate those who did their bit and never made it home. We will remember them.

The way it was. Hong Kong (British) border post looking towards China. 1992

Bush bashing with the Air Force. One of hundreds of helicopter flights with all our kit.

Sydney, Australia. 5/7 Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment,  (Mechanised Infantry)  on the move.

B Company, 2nd/1st Battalion, Infantry skill at arms team after kicking 2 Ghurka Regiments butt for the Smith Trophy. Hong Kong 1992

Spoiling for trouble. 2nd/1st Battalion, RNZIR on the move and looking for a fight.

A mate.  Captain Johnny McNutt seated in an Apache gunship just prior to being killed in 2001 serving overseas with the NZSAS. R.I.P.. Read more about Johnny here (link)

Infantry on the move. Dawn raid May 2003

Local legends. Roll of Honour for the Hunter district, South Canterbury. My Great Uncle Alan McConnell one of the lucky ones to make it back. He too was an Infantry Officer in WW2.

Roll of Honour at the Pearl Harbour War memorial to those killed in the Japanese surprise raid on the US Navy Pacific Fleet. Sobering number of men killed. Honolulu, Hawaii, USA.
Skill at Arms section in action. Nothing like being in the mud!

Parachute drop, Crete, Greece

About to get airborne. The Wessex choppers of the Royal Air Force about to lift us off.
Mates heading on leave in Auckland. Troy Fisher (R.I.P) on the right.
A hot brew in the field and a good yarn after a hard day. Pure gold for the Infantry.
A moody Southern sky with light at the end of the tunnel!
The beautiful Southern Alps of the South Island, New Zealand. A  beacon of home.
Infantry 81mm mortars. Outgoing live.
A Nazi paratrooper I met in Crete at the German memorial service. He was bitter and angry and disliked the English (which he thought I was)  despite me being pleasant and respectful. He was so rude that I took his picture. Tosser!

Bosnia contingent pic (plus attachments) taken at the New Zealand Memorial marking the battle of Chunuk Bair,  Galipolli, Turkey.

Beach assault landing Hong Kong/China border. B Company comes ashore.

Parachute training, Whenuapai,  Auckland, 1988

Infantry fighting patrol. Palm Olive plantation, Malaysia, 1990.

Parachute rolls…….practising the technique. Tower training.
Digging up a mass grave, Angola, South West Africa, 1996. Not pleasant!

Resupply. Borneo Jungle, Brunei. 1994

Flying over Borneo Jungle, Brunei by helicopter.

Ground training.

130km forced march. 30 plus hours with full battle kit.
ANZAC Dawn Service 2010. Sunrise over the Cathedral……before the earthquake took out the Cathedral in Feb 11.

ANZAC Day: The true gold of ANZAC

Local men from Hunter district who served. Lest we forget.

As ANZAC day looms I always think of my military past. For many years it was 100% of my life, nearly 18 years serving as a Regular Army Officer and now after a 6 year gap, again in the Reserves. When I first left the Army I immersed myself in business to make up the skill gap that I felt I had as a result of so much time in one organisation. Now more and more I fall back on the extra ordinary grounding I got in the Army and the skills it taught me.  Sure I got a University education as well (BCom at Canterbury University) but those basic skills are the valuable ones. Things like accepting responsibility, leading, communicating, systems for administration, logistics. How to plan and think through problems. People skills, overseas experience, overcoming fear, physical fitness and the list goes on.

Shared experience = ANZAC Spirit. Hong Kong/China border 1991

ANZAC day for me is a time of remembrance. It is a time to think back on experiences, people, sacrifice and those who put country first. Those who didn’t make it home or were killed serving their country come to mind. The big campaigns which cost many faceless New Zealanders their lives and then more recently those killed in combat, accidents or in training that have a much more personal angle given that we knew them and had served together.

Many of my good friends still serve in the Army and some are in harms way right now. They hold senior roles of course nowadays but none  in the back of your mind you get that knot in your guts whenever there is a bad news headline in Afghanistan or some other strange place they may be serving. Many of my mates are now out of the Army and flung far around the country and indeed the world in roles ranging from Private security to private and big business. Most have been very successful in what they have pursued and of course fall back on many of those skills taught in the military.

Remembering those who didn’t get home= ANZAC spirit

I wanted to define what ANZAC day meant to me and whilst the dawn parade is certainly a focal point, I find myself looking at those around me who have not served. I look at their reaction and I wonder why they attend and what it must mean to them given they have not experienced the tight camaraderie the Army offers or the feeling of being in a tight combat team. I don’t understand how they view the day and the words said at services across the country.

No, ANZAC day is not really that big for me. Personally it happens many times a year when I share time with good mates who I have served with. The ANZAC experience for me is just as much about playing a good army mate at squash as it is about a dawn parade. To be able to tell yarns, swear  (one of the pleasures in life) and spend time is just as important. Having a coffee, phone calls, laughing, staying in touch are all pleasures. I love the way you can go months and years and then just touch base and not much has changed.
Last weekend a mate called on me who I had not seen for perhaps 10 years and we spent a couple of hours talking. Those are friendships that endure, like old school mates they are part of my community. They know me, my strengths, my weaknesses and we have common experience.
That is a gift the Army has given me for the rest of my life. Enduring friendships……now that is just absolute gold!

If you liked this ANZAC story you will love these others that I have written;

A visit to Crete: Some ANZAC photos (Link here)

Johnny McNutt: A Good Southern Bloke R.I.P. (Link here)

Bush bashing and finding the Canterbury lads: Gallipoli (Link here)

A Life Well Lived: Southern Legend Dan Gregan (The big "D")

Dan Gregan pictured with his Grandson Hugh!

I now think it is possible to enjoy a funeral. It is after all a final send off for someone you know and care about. Whilst that is sad, when that individual has lived a true, full and happy life it truly becomes a celebration.

Last week Dan Gregan passed away suddenly in his sleep aged 84. He was man who has always been a part of my life. He lived over the boundary fence and any farmer out there knows that is quite a big thing down south! Not only that his family and mine have lived over the boundary fence from each other since the early 1900’s when our family’s drew land from the ballet. His father and my Great Grand parents kicked around together as they broke in the land. My Grand father farmed next to Dan and then my mother did. Dan’s son John now has the boundary and John’s son Sean is my Godson.

Over the last century our families have known each other well, never living in each others pockets by any stretch of the imagination (how can you when you live 4 km apart) but supporting each other through good times and the bad. Storms and disaster, injury and illness, celebration and success have all been present at some stage during those decades.

Dan was an impressive man. Tall, lean and fit with a sharp wit and quiet way about him. He was a gentleman. He was always happy to see you, always got up and shook your hand with his big mit, was always interested in what you were doing and what was happening in your world. He was a savvy businessman and investor, farmer and stockman. He enjoyed the odd whiskey, an occasional cuban cigar, fine chocolate and loved reading his newspaper cover to cover. It is fair to say a blog or Facebook were not his preferred methods of communicating with his many friends and large family, rather he was old school…..a conversationist.

Dan and Jo (effectively a second Mum to me) raised a large and successful family with whom I have been lucky enough to have grown up amongst. All successful in their own fields and now with careers, partners and children of their own at various ages, the older I get the more I value their friendship. So when my mother rang to tell me of Dan’s death it took me by surprise. I sat down for a few minutes, let it sink in, it upset me. I had been lucky enough to spend time with him several weeks before the big earthquake in February when the Gregan clan had gathered to celebrate the christening of his latest wee Granddaughter. We chatted and laughed and I really enjoyed seeing him for the first time in 6 months or more.

His funeral was huge and it really struck me just how many people across all age groups respected and loved Dan. How his sons delivered his eulogy so well I will never know but the mix of humour, story telling and pride was a delight and classic Gregan style. Dan had a strong catholic faith and a love of people, family and friends. He was a man of the land, a farmer, a businessman and a person you listened to, respected and enjoyed fellowship with.

He was a Southern Legend and I’m sure the hundreds who shared his farewell celebration would agree.

I miss him already.

The Blast Personal Gallery: Downtown the day of the Christchurch Quake

On the day of the quake we were surprised by a big aftershock which knocked everything off my desk. After getting out of our building, which thankfully sustained minimal damage, I was relieved to hear my family were safe. Later I was to find just how lucky my father had been to survive rock falls that destroyed my brothers home.

I was called by the NZ Army and asked to get into the Civil Defence HQ in Kilmore St and commence response planning until Regular staff could get into the city. The photos below are some of the images that I captured as I walked into down town Christchurch at a time when most were trying desperately to get out. It was obvious many were killed and our city was in a crisis. It was also a time to walk in the middle of the road through building rubble and to assist the distraught.

There are also some more general photos from around our broken city that I have chosen to share. Some things that I came across;

  • Walking with an upset woman who had been getting her hair cut and watched several buses get crushed. She was walking home to Oxford……about 50km just to get out of town.
  • Having to get past downed buildings,
  • Coming across people crowded silently around a car listening to the radio. Everyone in shock and disbelief as they heard the news and all complete strangers.
  • Silence in the city.
  • Having to assess whether the Copthorne Hotel was going to collapse on the civil defence bunker. I’m no engineer but it was leaning and 12 story buildings shouldn’t lean!
  • Walking through Camner Square as the injured were being gathered and attended to.
  • Hastily established cordons with Police and volunteers manning them.
  • Members of the public on traffic duty at major intersections keeping traffic going.
  • Mud and flooding everywhere.
  • Cars buried in mud.
  • Holes in the road.
  • Buildings full of water.
  • A real feeling of community…..people talking and helping each other everywhere.
  • The Mayor and his staff standing outside the art gallery after being evacuated due to an aftershock.
  • People crying and hugging one another.
  • A group of builders discussing whether to head home or stay with their building site that had collapsed. They were concerned it was a danger to traffic. Legends!
  • The initial briefings in the Civil Defence bunker and starting to get my head around what the emergency services were dealing with.
  • Seeing the first TV images of the PGC building and damage around the city.
  • Meeting my brother at his house on the way home and seeing it destroyed.
  • Ringing my father and telling him how glad I was he was still with us and unhurt.
  • The relief of getting home around 9pm to my family who had coped admirably.
  • Standing on the back lawn and looking towards the sky as aftershocks rolled through and being thankful that my family and I had survived something that could have randomly ended our lives.

I will remember this day and event for the rest of my life.

Stone buildings badly damaged and dangerous.
Armagh St looking West. People legging it!
Montreal St……gave this one the swerve as I walked past.
Sheer power. Tram lines.
Papanui Road…..a busted up home!
Needs more than a tarpaulin this one!
Inside the Civil Defence HQ. Controller Baden Ewart takes stock. 
Hmm…..Armagh St……going nowhere in this car!
Making temporary arrangements in the garden. A mate in Merivale.
My brothers house. A cliff falling, Dad in the house but unhurt. Bit close really!
Cramner Square. The injured and shocked.
Corner of Armagh and Durham St North. People getting out!
Looking North on Montreal. Police evactuating city. Normally traffic flows the other way. Note: Umm building lying in middle of the road. I had to run into the city along this street.
Jammed on Antigua St. Liquifaction and flooding outside office 15 minutes after the shake.
Looking East on Armagh St. Ground zero an hour after the big shake.
Working out…..A temporary office for RESULTS.com
Our Vege garden is destroyed: Redcliffs Supermarket will be rebuilt….in time!
Sumner residents meeting with Police. Cliffs, rockfalls, evacuations, Loos, water, mutiny, information yada yada!
The Merc in the hole….Waterfront Redcliffs stuck in a rut!
The dust settles. View from the top. Day after the quake overlooking the city.
Pre school and church hall in Linwood Ave

Standing Up For What is Right…..Never easy!

Always a bit intimidating to have a camera in your face!

Well it has been an interesting week! I wrote my blog last week about the “incident” I experienced after taking a couple of photographs of my wee girl playing netball. (Link here: Political Correctness: Good Guys Don’t Win). Well this was read and commented on all over the country and indeed in places like the USA, Afghanistan and the UK. As they say “it went viral!” Early in the week I was contacted by the Producer of “Campbell Live” about appearing on the show.

Feedback from my blog online and on Facebook  overwhelmingly was one of shock. Shock at our PC society which, on one hand bags fathers (at every opportunity) for not being involved enough in their kids lives, growth, sports and general upbringing, and then on the other hand makes them insecure about what they should or should not do.

Caetana bravely does her bit in front of the camera.

Astonishingly, the issue of parents taking photographs of their kids in public places and being verbally set upon or confronted is common place. Friends and readers relayed similar situations that have either occurred to them or that they have witnessed at sports and school events.

It is not easy thing to put yourself out there so publicly, but there is a time you stand up for what you believe is right. I felt strongly enough to write a blog about it so I reasoned I should be prepared to front the issue in person.

After all this incident had forced us as a family to have to explain the whole situation to Caetana. We’d had to help her understand why it was even an issue that Dad was “told off” by the Police for taking her picture at Netball. She was well aware of “stranger danger” (after Police school programs & Dad’s warnings about getting into strangers cars etc) but explaining the issue around men taking kids photos for the wrong reasons is somewhat more complex I can assure you. We had to decide whether we exposed her to the media as well. We took the decision that it would be a lesson for her in standing up for what you believe in and for me this was one the best lessons that my parents taught me about life. Albeit they went about it outside the media!

My Grandmother was a wee sweetheart, yet as tough as woodpecker lips! She was born in the windswept Shetland Islands (Scotland) and lived by the saying “Be strong and of good courage”.  It is on her headstone and it is something my mother resonates with and in turn I refer to during events in my life. My father always backs his kids in whatever situation “if it is the right thing to do.”

But I guess it is one thing talking and writing about it, it is another actually putting yourself out there for national scrutiny (link here for the Campbell Live Interview). What have I learnt from it all;

  • This is a common occurrence as the large amount of feedback shows,
  • It is a touchy and emotive subject. The right to be a parent and do parent things clashes with those who feel it is their right to protect their kids no matter what.
  • I think it is right to find out who is taking photos but a bit of common courtesy should be maintained and less confrontation and less absolute demands and threats of calling in the Police. How about a bit of common sense and less of the “all men have bad intentions”.
  • Most New Zealanders are seemingly unaware about the laws of photography. If you are in public you actually have no rights to privacy. That is how the media works. The test that courts have applied in the few cases coming before them uses the test “would this be deemed appropriate by a reasonable person”.
  • Overwhelmingly the response has been positive and supportive for making a stand for Dad’s and parents who are not doing anything wrong. 
  • The Police are the good guys. I’m glad they came, it defused what could have been a nasty situation, it reinforced to my daughter that they will help her if she needs them and they quickly summed up the situation and dealt with it a large helping of common sense.
Of course there are the detractors and those of opposing opinion and I accept there always will be but I’m glad I fronted up and said what needed to be said.
Now I can hopefully get back to being a Dad and teaching, growing and guiding a daughter that I am very proud of and one who will add positively to our community.
She was after all the player of the day……..and I missed most of the game!

Knowing Your Own backyard: Part one in the "Down Home Series"

We all have a place we call home, be it a house we grew up in, a family property, a business that has been in the family for generations and then there are those who feel home is where their stuff is, or where they carry it (I used to when I was in the Infantry). To many home is where  a number of close family reside, perhaps it is a bach/crib or caravan/tent spot that is an annual pilgrimage.

To me home is our family farm in the Hunter Hills (inland 9km from the sea situated 40 km from Timaru and 27km from Waimate). The 1100 acre property has been in the family since my Great Grand parents started farming it in the early 1900’s. It is green rolling South Canterbury farmland with considerable stands of native bush and an 400 acre hill block called Mt Diamond. I know I am home when I hit this sign post and roar up the drive to my mothers house (seen to the left in amongst the trees in this pic).

As I get a bit older I find myself more interested in the history of the place and like most small New Zealand settlements there is no shortage of it. Over the coming months I intend to write a few blogs with some of the interesting stuff I have stumbled across in my own backyard and the surrounding areas.

Like most farming communitys there have been many changes over the last 10-15 years. There are still the shingle roads and an absence of Police, however gone too are party telephone lines, the local school that both my generation and my mothers attended, churches stand empty, community halls are rarely used and so the list goes on as the tendency for bigger farms alters the landscape. Add in the large number of dairy cows that now occupy an area once firmly sheep and beef country and you have a very different rural landscape.

There are still the local swimming holes (see my recent blog about Otaio Gorge), the local war memorials and farmers who enjoy the land and stock and all that the farming lifestyle brings with it so whilst not all changes have been positive on the local community, there is still a lot going on and it is a great place to call home.

I look forward to sharing a bit of local history.

Other blogs I’ve already written about my home that you’ll  love;

The Great South…..Camping in Gods Own!

Burning Down The House…..New Year 2010

South Island You Rock!…Mt Cook, The Lakes, Central, Tekapo