After spending the night at Saint Arnaud on Lake Rotoiti, I had a long day’s drive all the way to my father’s birthplace, Port Chalmers, near Dunedin, going via the kayak shop in Christchurch to drop off all the gear. On the way, I listened to the Matinee Idol show on Radio NZ National, as I had a number of times over the past weeks. It was hilarious - great, gentle, understated Kiwi humour: from the hosts but also from the myriad listeners who had written in to explain why they each deserved to receive one of the show's prized t-shirts!
So I made it to Port Chalmers at around 6 pm. What a great little place - still a fully working port and still plenty of council housing around. It’s obviously not a wealthy place and it still has an authentic feel to it. I walked around the Iona church (where my grandparents were married and, I’m sure, my father christened) and met a very friendly black-and-white cat which reminded me of Ruby. I picked it up and it sat in my arms with its paws over my shoulder, purring. I visited the Old Cemetery - such an Old World feel to the place and I didn’t find it spooky at all, unlike during my previous visit in 2002! I couldn’t find John Buckley’s gravestone. It started absolutely bucketing down while I was there but I stayed completely dry by standing under a thick-boughed larch tree. As I drove off, I saw that the cat had retreated to the verandah of the house and was sitting there on a sofa, snoozing.
I stayed at a place called The Gables which was just brilliant - found it on the NZ Holiday Homes website and managed to get it for 1 night. The decor was a bit dated in places but that just added to its charm, and it had a new kitchen and bathroom. At around 10 pm, with the last light still in the sky, I drove down to the centre of town and called Nadia from a phone booth in front of the museum - there was a chill wind blowing through the gap at the bottom of the booth the whole time. The next morning dawned bright and clear and I lay in bed for a while as the sun shone through the window into the quaint bedroom. I sat out in the backyard eating breakfast, sipping on my coffee. It was bright, clear and cold! The view from the backyard was lovely - across town to Iona church and its tolling bell. The backyard itself was crowded with flowers and veggie patches. I sat for a long time, watching as the clouds sped across the blue sky, the sunshine coming and going beneath their shadows. What a sense of belonging I had there! And such a cold, blustery North Atlantic feel to the place. How blessed the sunshine was and how beautiful the birdsong! There was simply a quiet, determined, eternal presence there, washing away everything but peace and happiness.
I left The Gables and drove into town but the museum wasn’t open yet, so I took the road to Aramoana, at the end of the headland. It was achingly, exquisitely beautiful and I vote it (actually, the whole Port Chalmers area) officially my favourite place in all of this long land. The drive was so scenic - only 10 km but hugging the shoreline of Otago Harbour - and Aramoana with its white sands was just beautiful. The drive could’ve been in Scotland, along the shores of a sea loch somewhere in the Western Highlands (minus the midges).
Back in Port Chalmers, I dropped in on the museum and got some family history help from the man there. I subsequently found the plot in the Old Cemetery where John Buckley (and his wife Emily Mary) were buried - no sign of the gravestone. I also drove up to the New Cemetery to where my other great-great-grandparents, the Stevensons, are buried, then on to the Scott Memorial at the top of the hill. All-in-all, it’s such a lovely, peaceful, authentic place - I’m captivated by it. I drove out through Dunedin and felt again like I was in Scotland, with its dark stone architecture and Burns statue in the centre of town. Port Chalmers would be the perfect place to live … except for the climate and weather! I drove from there to Lumsden, stopping at Lake Waihola for lunch. At Lumsden I found the graves of great-grandparents George James Hampton and his wife Mary - moss had grown on them since I’d been there last time 11 years ago. Then it was on to Dipton and this time I crossed the river to Dipton West and found the school and the Anglican church - the latter featured in a photo Dad took in 1975 during their trip “down south”.
This little trip-within-a-trip was not only a family history quest but also a kind of repeat of 2002, somehow reconnecting with that memory too. It’s been just wonderful - I’ve felt such a sense of belonging in this remote corner of the world, where all of my paternal ancestors emigrated in the latter half of the 19th century.
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| Port Chalmers cat - pat me! |
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| Port Chalmers rainbow |
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| Port Chalmers by night |
I stayed at a place called The Gables which was just brilliant - found it on the NZ Holiday Homes website and managed to get it for 1 night. The decor was a bit dated in places but that just added to its charm, and it had a new kitchen and bathroom. At around 10 pm, with the last light still in the sky, I drove down to the centre of town and called Nadia from a phone booth in front of the museum - there was a chill wind blowing through the gap at the bottom of the booth the whole time. The next morning dawned bright and clear and I lay in bed for a while as the sun shone through the window into the quaint bedroom. I sat out in the backyard eating breakfast, sipping on my coffee. It was bright, clear and cold! The view from the backyard was lovely - across town to Iona church and its tolling bell. The backyard itself was crowded with flowers and veggie patches. I sat for a long time, watching as the clouds sped across the blue sky, the sunshine coming and going beneath their shadows. What a sense of belonging I had there! And such a cold, blustery North Atlantic feel to the place. How blessed the sunshine was and how beautiful the birdsong! There was simply a quiet, determined, eternal presence there, washing away everything but peace and happiness.
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| View from The Gables |
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| 5 Scotia St - Dad's birthplace - in middle |
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| Careys Bay on drive to Aramoana |
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| Old Cemetery, Port Chalmers |
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| Anglican church, Dipton |
This little trip-within-a-trip was not only a family history quest but also a kind of repeat of 2002, somehow reconnecting with that memory too. It’s been just wonderful - I’ve felt such a sense of belonging in this remote corner of the world, where all of my paternal ancestors emigrated in the latter half of the 19th century.
