Photographer Julian Apse is well-accustomed to remote places. And so is his Series IIA Land Rover.
The modified vehicles used in deepest Central Otago to carry a collection of varmint hunters may not be roadworthy, but they definitely need to be hillworthy.
Connecting the Central Otago towns of Clyde and Cromwell, the Lake Dunstan Trail skirts the water. Its final section, through the Cromwell Gorge, is set to open at the end of this summer, featuring bridge sections cantilevered from the sheer schist faces and suspended over the artificial lake. The track is a feat of engineering, with the result being a relatively easy ride—it will be rated Grade 1-2. It connects to Central Otago’s 536 kilometres of existing cycle trails, including several Great Rides.
There's no machine better than a trusty Landy on an 88-kilometre-long road made entirely of sand. Just ask the legends of the Snapper Classic.
Equally adept at hauling dogs or dinosaurs, the Foote's Landy has done the grunt-work on their Otago farm for a generation.
“To an outsider it may seem like some kind of climber’s secret society in which everyone knows the real name of the mountain,” says Gavin Lang, “as the name ‘Mount Humdinger’ won’t be found on any map.” Perhaps the name is a play on its neighbour, Mount Haidinger, or a reference to its high-quality rock. Lang, a photographer and mountain guide, spent an easy afternoon scaling it, the day after completing his goal of traversing the rarely climbed Ayres Ridge. Pat Gray leads into the second pitch of ‘Kahu’, a route first established in 2011. “This little outcrop of solid rock is indeed a humdinger of a mountain.”
Dunedin is surrounded by a collection of small townships, each with its own identity and unique community.
Within our New Zealand bubble are some of the most dramatic, breathtaking landscapes in the world.
Growing populations of iconic birds are living proof that eradicating invasive pests is critical to restoring New Zealand’s biodiversity.
Something out of the ordinary has been unfolding above the South Pole.
It’s time to go back—to the Kimberley.
Albatrosses and sea lions, little blue penguins and takahē live next door to humans in Dunedin, a city perched on a knot of land on the Otago coastline.
Tall, dark and lonely, formed from a mountain peak drowned by the sea, D’Urville Island is a rugged sentinel between Nelson’s Tasman Bay and the gentle filigree of the Marlborough Sounds.
Once, trampers emerged from the bush on the Wangapeka to the offer of a cuppa and a yarn.
When the sun takes a hiatus to the northern hemisphere, it’s tempting to follow… but where?
Why it’s a boom year for kākāpō and rodents alike.
By the time Choie Sew Hoy arrived in Dunedin, Otago’s first gold rush was sputtering out. The supply of alluvial gold that could be extracted by pans, cradles and sluice boxes was gradually dwindling, yet large deposits remained, buried in river gravel. Sew Hoy was a merchant rather than a miner—his Dunedin store imported and exported goods to Australia, China, the United States, and Great Britain—and in the late 1880s, he persuaded other Otago investors to try a new type of gold extraction. His steam-powered bucket dredge on the Shotover River was so successful that, in 1889, it launched a second gold boom in the area. After the Shotover, Sew Hoy started looking for new claims. The Nokomai Valley in Southland was known to contain gold, but miners hadn’t been able to work there because its gravel layer was too deep. Gold extraction would require hydraulic sluicing, which used a lot of water, which the Nokomai Valley didn’t have. Sew Hoy had both patience and capital. He paid work crews to build two water races to the Nokomai Valley—one of them becoming New Zealand’s second-longest, extending 47 kilometres from Roaring Lion Creek in the Garvie mountains. It took a team of 30 men three years to cut it by hand, using picks and shovels. And it was with picks and shovels that, more than a century later, Southland farmer Tom O’Brien and a small group of volunteers cut the walking and mountain-biking track that now runs alongside it. It took them two years, working under sun, snow, hail and rain, as the first racemen did, using only materials found on the land. Blackmore Station has been in O’Brien’s family for several generations. The land straddles two regions: on one side, the tawny gold hills of Central Otago, and on the other, the green river valleys of Southland. In the centre is a schist tor, Welcome Rock. Today, the Roaring Lion Track is a 27-kilometre loop for walkers or intermediate-grade mountain bikers. Along the way are fragments of mining history, swimming holes, and, if you’re looking closely, Powelliphanta—giant carnivorous snails. The track begins near Garston, about an hour’s drive south of Queenstown, and must be booked in advance online at Welcome Rock Trails. It can be accomplished in a day, but two huts on the tops—the historic Mud Hut and newer Slate Hut—allow people to break their journey. They overlook the Nokomai Valley, where Sew Hoy’s company eventually made a fortune. Though Sew Hoy died in 1901, his gold operation continued under the direction of his son and, later, his grandson. By 1932, the Nokomai Hydraulic Sluicing Company had extracted £223,043 worth of gold.
The 40th anniversary of a turning point in New Zealand conservation.
The historic Kill Devil Pack Track leads to a restored miners’ hut.
Where lighthouse keepers once held watch.
Loading..
3
Unlimited access to every NZGeo story ever written and hundreds of hours of natural history documentaries on all your devices.
$1 trial for two weeks, thereafter $8.50 every two months, cancel any time
Already a subscriber? Sign in
Signed in as . Sign out
Thanks, you're good to go!
Thanks, you're good to go!
Ask your librarian to subscribe to this service next year. Alternatively, use a home network and buy a digital subscription—just $1/week...
Subscribe to our free newsletter for news and prizes
