Beaches

My first expedition to water was decidedly unspectacular. Going only by a blob of blue on a pamphlet I had picked up at the airport, I wandered over the overbridge at the railway station and into some sort of industrial area on a day far too sunny for exposed urban landscapes. I cursed Dunedin's tourism board for not signposting this amazing, hidden bay for the benefit of pedestrians. T-shirt lightly moistened with sweat, I reached the location on the map and was disheartened to find the waterfront comprised solely of shipping yards and entirely fenced off to the public. Probably explains why none of the propaganda told me to go there. Still, nothing a bacon buttie can't fix.

My second try was Portobello, on the Otago Peninsula. I was hoping it would be a neat public transport-friendly hub from which I could independently trek to the must-see sites, such as Lovers' Leap (of "Pink Frost" fame). Though it was indeed an easy and pleasant bus ride out, there were no walking paths that originated nearby, and the tiny town was not a destination in itself. Undeterred, I put my faith in Google Maps and set off up a road towards Sandymount, whatever that was. It was another sunny day as I trudged up the steepening road, sticking mostly to narrow roadside ditches to avoid the occasional passing vehicle. The journey was a walkable hour-and-a-half but a third of the way there I hit an incline that triggered my mild but real fear of heights. Not only did the road get steeper, but the surrounding scenery appeared to fall away, suggesting nasty plummets on either side. It was around this point that I, Sherlock Holmes, realised that Sandymount was a mountain and that a road leading to it called Highcliff Road was not the best place for someone uncomfortable with heights to be. I returned to town for an average toasted sandwich and a suspiciously artificial-tasting banana milkshake before grabbing the next bus.

Port Chalmers, on the opposite coastline, is not somewhere that inspires many words. The town is often described as 'quaint' and 'artsy', though the more accurate descriptor would be 'boring'. A short, unfriendly walk from the drabness of the shopping precinct takes you to the promisingly named Black Beach. Except it isn't a beach. A harbour, sure, but there was no beach-defining landmass between the water and the walkway, let alone a black one. Minimum chips for less than AU$2 though.

The most successful trip turned out to be to Tunnel Beach. Its name is derived from a tunnel carved into a cliff that leads down to a secluded beach, an extravegance commissioned by a 19th Century politician so his family could enjoy the seaside undisturbed. Or drown, as in the case of one of his daughters. This scene of hubris and horror made for a pleasant afternoon.