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Category: New Zealand

Looking down (#38 in series: on kelp, Otago Peninsula, NZ)

 

 

The Otago Peninsula is a long” finger”, extending 20 kilometres east-ish from the second largest city on New Zealand’s South Island.

Dunedin is modest in population – a “permanent” home to little more than 130,000 people, and now #7 in NZ.

Once, however, it was the nation’s premier city.

Dunedin still feels surprisingly “grand” and “important”; culturally, this “university city” is generally considered one of NZ’s “big four”.

The Otago Peninsula’s sheltered side is the southern wall of the large, drowned valley that is Otago Harbour.

Otago Peninsula’s ocean-facing side is very much wilder.

My photo looks down from the ocean side of the Peninsula’s extremity, Taiaroa Head, which is home to the world’s only “mainland”  breeding colony of Northern Royal Albatross.

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Looking down (#9 in series: trees “2”, Lake Waikaremoana)

 

This post’s featured image is another example of how remarkably “different” trees and forests can appear when one is able to look down on them…literally.

I took the above photo from a hilltop/outcrop near the edge of the deepest lake on New Zealand’s North Island.

At 54 square kilometres, Waikaremoana it is that island’s fourth largest lake by surface area, but is #2 in water volume. (#1, in both respects on the North Island, is Lake Taupo. Taupo has the largest surface of any NZ lake. Several of the South Island’s glacially-gouged lakes contain more water)

Waikaremoana is very beautiful, but sees remarkably few tourists, thanks to its “remote” location.

Most of the lake’s rugged surrounds have temperate rainforests that have never been logged.

An astonishing fact: until circa 2,200 years ago this lake simply did not exist!

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Looking Down (#7 in series: Kaikoura “4” – a short, speedy journey)

 

If one were to stand atop the summit of Manakau – the Seaward Kaikoura Range’s highest peak – one would be 2,608 metres above the Pacific Ocean.

In a straight line, that Ocean’s shore would be just 12 kilometres away.

Rivers that rush down steep mountains and then meander across a coastal plain, do not flow in straight lines, but the Kaikoura’s rivers are all very short.

If I have correctly identified the pictured one, it is very steep indeed –  descending 1,900 metres in just 26 kilometres!

(Australia’s longest river – the Murray – descends 1430 metres, over more than 2,500 kilometres)

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Looking Down (#6 in series: Kaikoura “3” – Seaward Kaikouras in winter)

 

 

 

Unavoidably, a helicopter “joyride” is noisy, expensive, brief.

However, over several decades, every one I have undertaken has been a wonderful experience.

On the afternoon of 14 July 2010 our luck was “bad” – too-strong winds arrived ahead of “schedule”, so our eagerly-anticipated “landing in the snow” was ruled out.

It was, nonetheless, a glorious flight…all less-than-thirty minutes of it.

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Looking Down (#5 in series: Kaikoura “2” – looking south to town & peninsula)

The featured image was taken from a modest altitude, as “our” helicopter was returning to its base, not far from Kaikoura township.

My photo shows the less spectacular (landward) end of Kaikoura Peninsula and town, the bay on the far (southern) side, and the hills (Australians would call them “mountains”) behind it.

Inland from town and peninsula, the northern side of the local terrain is very much more spectacular, especially in winter and spring.

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Looking Down (#4 in series: Kaikoura “1” – terraces)

 

Kaikoura is the name of a peninsula, the town thereon, two spectacular mountain ranges, and a hugely “productive”, very deep marine canyon.

The aforementioned all sit within the compact region of the same name, on/off the east coast of New Zealand’s South Island; “kaikoura’ is a Māori term which means “to eat crayfish/”.

(the local  “crayfish”/lobsters are excellent, albeit pricey, and they are “in season” year-round)

The Kaikoura Peninsula protrudes five kilometres into the Pacific Ocean, and is noted for the remains of Māori forts, atop…and for the “terraces” in (and rising out of) the adjacent waters, below.

A helicopter provided the vantage point, on 14 July, 2010.

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Looking Down (#3 in series: …whilst they looked up)

 

“They” were seal pups, in a tidal creek near a beach on which surprisingly few humans have walked, but which is “familiar” to millions – perhaps, billions – of human eyes.

The species Arctocephalus forsteri has many “common” names. “Long-nosed fur seal” is now the “preferred” one. (“New Zealand fur seal” is a misnomer. It calls Australia “home”, too)

The pups were typically curious, confident and playful.

However, as they looked up to the humans who were looking down, the pups bore a surprising resemblance to older members of Homo sapiens!

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Looking Down (#2 in series: Arthurs Pass, New Zealand)

 

 

 

A suggestion to anyone lucky enough to be standing – with camera in hand – atop a suitably elevated vantage point, contemplating an “epic” alpine landscape:

don’t forget to remember that your “grand panorama” photo may well benefit enormously from it including what is immediately in front of your feet!

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Looking Down (#1 in series: Birdlings Flat’s pebble beach)

 

Australians take great pride in our nation’s many sandy beaches – oft fair in colour, lovely to look at, and a pleasure to walk on.

Metaphorically, we look down our noses at other lands’ generally darker strands, most especially if they are pebbled or rocky.

However, when standing on a pebbly beach, if one literally looks down, chances are that the scene at one’s feet is beautiful.

When looked at, one square metre at a time, it will almost certainly prove much more visually interesting than any square metre of golden or snow-white sand.

This series opens with its oldest photo, taken in July 2010 on a very “high energy” beach on the east coast of New Zealand’s South Island.

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Grand sands (#54 in series: “black” sand beach, Taranaki, NZ)

 

The Taranaki region is named after the volcano that dominates it.

Some people still call it “Mount Egmont”.

One of the world’s most “perfect”/photogenic volcanoes, Taranaki is the primary “author” of the region’s obviously-fertile soils…and of its “black” beaches.

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