Entire suburbs were ‘red-zoned’ after the 2011 earthquake in Christchurch. Even now, the fate of these properties and the few residents still wrangling with authorities remains uncertain. Welcome to purgatory.
From a crescent of blue sky, a north-westerly rages through central Christchurch, sending billboards cartwheeling and sending up dramatic plumes of dust that are driven like fog through empty streets. There are moments when here dead centre in the CBD of a first-world city on a week day—I look around and can’t see a soul. It’s apocalyptic, and now nearly three years on from the devastating quake, also terribly sad. I’m here to install the New Zealand Geographic Photographer of the Year exhibition on a demolition site, hoping that the visual arts may help to reinvigorate patronage of the central city. I suppose I had expected to see flourishing construction. It’s happening, but is largely reserved to the suburbs and commercial premises at the central-city fringe. Here in the CBD, progress is marked by sentinel achievements—the cardboard cathedral, the Re:Start container mall that have emerged phoenix-like though relatively isolated from the rubble. As for the rubble, it’s largely gone; scooped up and trucked out, the tidy square lots scraped, levelled and rolled. Many have turned into poorly patronised carparks; others, rimmed by six-foot-high Hurricane wire fencing, await their fate, swirling in dust, conjecture and insurance wrangles. Earthquake tourists wander about, attempting to get their bearings amid a landscape without landmarks. They gawk and gasp, and take photographs of the tortured and tumble-down structures that remain writhing in some sort of architectural agony. In the red-zoned suburbs, the scene is rather more sobering, if that could be possible. Streets still awash in muck lead to fractured driveways and dwellings shattered with cracks. Weeds run rampant, lawns are two feet high and flowering with plastic bags and demolition debris. But there also seems to be a household on every street with a car in the drive, gardens tended and a horror story of an insurance lock-out, a battle with the Canterbury Earthquake Recovery Authority and the Earthquake Commission, or a simple desire to stay put in a neighbourhood that they love. They’ve formed groups, assumed names such as Quake Outcasts’, and together await a very uncertain future as their many and various claims get towed through the courts. "They’ve formed groups, assumed names such as ‘Quake Outcasts’ and together await a very uncertain future as their many and various claims get towed through the courts." In her feature, ‘Red Zone’, Sally Blundell follows their fortunes and investigates the horrifying social outcomes of a natural disaster with quite unnatural consequences. It’s a story that occupies the daily thoughts of many Cantabrians, but should have meaning for all New Zealanders. I brought home from Christchurch an array of little wooden houses made from the weatherboards of a home in those suburbs torn apart by the quakes and the bulldozers. They were ‘upcycled’ by Rekindle, a company attempting to make the best of the worst. If in any way the connection that people can have with their homes is imbued in the homes themselves, there’s a lot of love in those little blocks. And certainly a potent reminder that, long after the aftershocks have subsided, the social and emotional reverberations continue to rattle our friends and family in Christchurch.
Island fortresses less protected than expected
Ballerinas have modified brains which allow them to spin without feeling dizzy
Undersea mountains in the Drake Passage cause oceanic turbulence, altering long-term climate patterns
Cryptic, calculating and coveted, orchids embody the artistry of evolution, and outwit intelligent orders of life at every turn.
Stewardship in the 21st century
Tony Watkins, champion of the vernacular
Chess in a land of life and death
The Motatapu Alpine track is one of the real jewels in the Te Araroa crown. Opened in 2008, the track received initial fame for being negotiated by the Overseas Investment Office as a condition of purchase for Robert and Eileen Lange, better known as music producer Mutt Lange and country music singer Shania Twain. If heading south, the track commences 2.5km up the Motatapu Rd from Glendhu Bay, following easy benched track the first 7km to Fern Burn Hut. Continuing up the Fern Burn and over Jack Hall’s Saddle, a few hours of sidling and ridge walking (with some spectacular views as your reward) brings you into a spectacular high country basin and the Highland Creek Hut, one of the newest huts on the Te Araroa route, albeit with an occasionally rowdy gang of local possums. From the Highland Creek Hut a challenging stretch awaits with a couple of steep climbs on the 11km stretch to Roses Hut, again though with wonderful views making it worthwhile and in the heat of summer a welcome dip in the river before arriving at the hut. The final leg from Roses Hut starts with a climb up to the 1270m high point before descending to the Arrow River, which becomes the guide to Macetown. When the water is down the riverbed provides a quicker route, though if the water is high or discoloured the high water route sidles above the river before joining an old water race into Macetown. For those wanting to add a day to this adventure, the Big Hill Track (12.5km, 4–5 hours) completes the journey into Arrowtown. This is true alpine country—hence the name—and walkers should be well-prepared and aware of weather conditions. During summer expect scorching hot daytime temperatures, while in autumn and spring the night chill can come quickly. When there is poor weather, a number of river hazards may be best waited out, so take extra supplies in case that becomes a necessity.
More philosophy than sport, parkour has attracted a small but growing number of devoted disciples in New Zealand.
The rage of the Clutha scattered livestock and infrastructure
The state broadcaster is challenged at sea
Why the Cambrian Explosion was like a Cadillac
Robert Tighe on sport and society
3
$1 trial for two weeks, thereafter $8.50 every two months, cancel any time
Already a subscriber? Sign in
Signed in as . Sign out
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
