Tag: Beach

Makara Beach

Makara Beach, New Zealand – June 10, 2018

A couple of weekends ago, as Leslie and I were driving to the parking area for Red Rocks, I saw a sign that piqued my interest; “wind turbine.” The words were on a sign in the Brooklyn neighborhood. It was a brown sign which implies an attraction. I wanted to go for a walk, and I thought that might be interesting.

I began to look at Mr. Google’s map to see the location of the wind turbine. After I found it, I remembered seeing a wind turbine farm from the air when returning from one of my trips. I thought seeing several wind turbines at one time would be more interesting than just seeing one. Looking around some more, I stumbled upon the town of Makara and Makara Beach. Since I love to walk on the beach, I decided that was the place to go.

Leslie did not feel like going with me, but she said I was welcome to go. I hopped in the car, told TomTom where I wanted to go and pulled out of the driveway.

By road, Makara Beach is only 30 kilometers (18 miles) from our home. The route TomTom chose sent me through the suburb of Johnsonville. When I reached Ohariu Valley Road, it was like I had left urban Wellington 100 kilometers behind. I instantly found my self in a green, fertile valley dotted with horse, cow, and sheep properties.

Several kilometers into the journey, the road name changes to Takarau Gorge Road. The emphasis should be on the word “gorge.” The road narrows down to the point that two vehicles can barely pass each other. There are several spots where the way is really only one-lane wide. At several locations, painted on the road, were the words “one-lane bridge.” I thought to myself that was an understatement since the entire way seemed to be one-lane. Regardless, even passing several cars driving the opposite direction, I made it through the Takarau Gorge unscathed.

The gorge is visually stunning. The Makara Stream adds to the picturesque feel of the canyon. If there had been places to pull off the road safely, I would have taken several photographs.

As I negotiated the final curve in the road before I saw the ocean, I noticed the house on the curve had a fence completely covered in paua shells. Since Leslie and I have such a fondness for paua shells, I knew I would need to photograph the fence. But first, I thought it was much more prudent to get a cup of coffee.

About 50 meters from the beach, I saw the Makara Beach Café. I drove to the beach, made a U-turn, and parked in front of the café. I was not quite sure if the restaurant was open, but then I saw several people with motorcycle helmets standing near the entrance drinking coffee. I got out of the car and walked to the service window.

The nicest woman, Philippa, was at the window. She took my order for a long black. While she was fulfilling the request, she talked to me about photography (she saw the camera around my neck). She also helped me hone my pronunciation of Makara. There was a distinct difference between her pronunciation and mine.

A portion of the Makara Beach Cafe patio. Note the motor scooter through the door, waiting to begin the rally.

Receiving my long black, I sat at one of the picnic tables in the patio area to enjoy the coffee. I noticed there were some repairs to the building underway. It was not until I returned home that I understood just what was happening. Back in late February, cyclone Gita made an unceremonious appearance on the west coast of the North Island. In a photograph on the Makara Beach Café Facebook page I saw just exactly what that meant (it is worth clicking on the link to see the devastation). Rocks from the beach and huge driftwood trees were tossed along the main road of the town, well past the café. It was apparent from the photograph that a lot of work went into returning the area to some sense of normalcy.

When I finished my coffee, I decided it was time to walk back to the home with the paua shell fence. As I walked the short distance, I noticed the people I had seen drinking coffee. They were standing near a group of motor scooters. I was able to work out that they were all participating in a rally. One by one, they came to the starting point, waited for the signal, and then departed the town. I continued my walk, took a couple of photographs, and then returned to my car to get my tripod.

I walked the few steps to the beach. Looking north along the coast, I did see the wind turbine farm. However, when I looked in the other direction, it appeared there were more photographic opportunities. I started off to my left.

View from Makara Beach toward the Makara Walkway.

Not far down the trail, I saw a sign. Two different Makara Walkways were delineated on the poster; one followed the coast while the other wound its way up the hillside to a World War II gun emplacement. I decided the upper route was the one for me.

About 400 meters along the trail, I stopped at a rock pillar formation. It made for an interesting subject for some photographs. After another 250 meters, I was at the point where the trail splits. Along the way, it was easy to see that Gita had compromised the path. At some places, there was no trail left, only the rocks of the beach.

The rock pillar and the wind turbine farm.

Heading up the trail, I soon came to the opening of a small valley. At the top of the valley was a lone wind turbine. I am not sure why there was only one while across the bay, there was an entire farm of wind turbines. During my stop to take some photos, a man and woman passed me. I ultimately turned to follow them. Soon, I came to yet another fork in the trail. The couple had gone left. I decided to go right.

The trail rose quickly. I stopped several times to wheeze. Ultimately, I made it to the top of the rise. The view from there was one of the best I have seen during our travels in New Zealand. I found myself on a reasonably steep clifftop. The cliff and hills continued toward the south. I could easily overlook Cook Strait and see the South Island. From my vantage point, I was mainly looking through Queen Charlotte Sound, toward the town of Picton.

I was interested in continuing the climb toward the wind turbine and the gun emplacement. However, the rock scrabble trail at this point looked a little iffy. Instead, I decided to concentrate on my photographs. I decided I would descend back to the fork in the trail when I finished with my camera work and continue up toward the wind turbine. As it turns out, when I got back to the fork, I was a bit tired. I also thought Leslie would be wondering why I was gone so long. With that in mind, I opted to walk back to Makara.

Arriving back in Makara, I decided to stop at the Makara Beach Café again to get a bottle of water. Philippa was still there. She sold me a large and wonderfully cold bottle of water. She is representative of the many Kiwis we have met, so very nice and friendly.

As I strolled back to my car with water in hand, I noticed a sign across the street that was not there when I arrived, “Makara Art Gallery.” I decided to cross the road and check it out. That was a pure stroke of luck. The art is by artist and illustrator Helen Casey. When I walked into the gallery, I saw several of her pieces on display. While I was looking, Helen entered the gallery. We began talking about her work and what precisely an illustrator does.

“Itchy” the seal. The work reminds Leslie and me of a seal we saw itching its back on a rock at Red Rocks.

Helen has done work for magazines, books, and art at several of the New World supermarkets. The work she had on display at the gallery is some of the most unique I have ever seen. She combines gesso, graphite, and varnish into some fantastic, textural pieces. Two pieces caught my eye; a gannet at the beach and a seal on a piece of driftwood. After quite a bit of conversation and thinking, I opted to purchase the seal on the driftwood. It connected with me, and I am sure with Leslie too. It is on a piece of driftwood. Both of us like driftwood. We have collected a lot while we have lived in New Zealand. Both of us love seals. Some of our best memories of New Zealand will include the seals at Red Rocks and Cape Palliser. That meant that piece was destined to be our favorite piece of art from this beautiful country.

Helen packaged the artwork. I put it in my car and turned to head home.

In my opinion, the town of Makara is a must-see location!

A panoramic view of the main street. Compare this to the photograph in the hyperlink to the Makara Beach Cafe Facebook page.

The town of Makara is partially visible on the far right. The wind turbine farm is just across the bay.

The wind turbine farm on the opposite side of Ohariu Bay.

The view back across Ohariu Bay from the point where the Makara Walkway forks.

A father and son sitting, looking across Wharehou and Ohariu Bays.

Makara as viewed from the point, across Wharehou and Ohariu Bays.

Looking along the coast, one can see the lone wind turbine.

The grassy trail leads to a viewpoint of the wind turbine farm.

View toward the south along the west coast of the North Island. The South Island is just across Cook Strait in the distance.

One can just make out Ohariu Bay in the center of the photograph.

It was windy, so the wind turbine was definitely in motion.

The rock pillar as seen from up above on the trail.

Wainuiomata Coast

Wainuiomata Coast, New Zealand – February 8, 2016

I must have gotten sidetracked. I never posted these photographs from 2016…

A colleague at work recommended the Wainuiomata Beach for beachcombing. Always interested in a new beach experience, Lorraine, Leslie, Hillary, and I drove about 30 minutes to the beach. It was barren with few people. From the beach, one could see Cook Strait and the lighthouse complex at Baring Head.

We were hoping to find some beautiful seashells and sea glass. We found neither. All we saw were rocks and driftwood. Regardless, it had its stark beauty.

As Hillary and I walked the beach, we did come across a man fishing. I am not sure how successful he may have been. It looked difficult to me, what with the wind blowing onto the shore and the wave action; I do not see how he could have gotten his bait out far enough to do any good.

On the drive to the beach, we had passed a sign for the Remutaka Forest Park. Leaving the beach, we decided to take a quick look at the park. I am glad we did. I was very picturesque. The only thing that was somewhat irritating was the constant sound made by the cicadas. They were noisy. While I had certainly heard them before, I had never seen one before this trip. They are an odd-looking insect.

Leslie had made lunch before we departed the house. We found a picnic table in the park and had lunch. After that, we took a brief stroll and then went back to the house.

View toward Baring Head with Cook Strait in the distance.

Detail of a stream in Remutaka Forest Park.

Cicada on the tree just above the two leaves.

Wondering just how much longer I will be out taking photos.

Red Rocks

Sinclair Head, New Zealand – June 2, 2018

Yesterday, Leslie and I wanted to take a walk. It just so happens that I had looked at the Red Rocks area the day before. Mr. Google indicated it was nearly 2.5 kilometers (1.5 miles) from the parking area at Owhiro Bay to the Red Rocks formation. Since that was about one mile less than our recent walk toward the Pencarrow lighthouses, I thought it would be a pleasant walk for Leslie and me.

As we drove to the southern end of the North Island, we saw large clouds building. We were not sure what the weather might have held in store for our walk. When we arrived, we saw the clouds were across Cook Strait, hugging the South Island. As I parked the car, we saw a man walk from one of the camping vehicles out onto the rocks at the seashore. He stood there, soaking in the view toward Sinclair Head. He looked tiny and insignificant in comparison to the scene before us.

A man looking across the bay toward Sinclair Head.

It was a chilly morning because the breeze was coming from the south – the Antarctic south. That translates into the Antarctic. Regardless, we were sure all would be fine once we began our walk.

Our first obstacle was a stream crossing the “road.” It was fairly deep, maybe 18 inches or so at the deepest point. It was also wide at this point, as much as four or five times the width of the road. We encountered the stream about 100 meters from the parking area. That made me glad we decided to walk and not drive.

We were some of the very first that morning to walk on the road. It was very serene. We almost felt alone in a vast wilderness. As we had thought after walking some ways, we began shedding some of our cold-weather gear. It was not bad when the sun was out, but if we found ourselves on the shady side of a hill, it did cool down considerably.

Not long after setting out, we saw an Interislander ferry out in Cook Strait, making its way to Picton on the South Island. We also noticed a fishing boat going back and forth. We were both curious to know what they were trying to catch.

An Interislander ferry plying the Cook Strait on the way to Picton.

The beach became rockier as we continued along the trail. If we had been beachcombing, I am sure we would have found lots of paua shells. They love rocky shorelines. At times, it did feel like we were walking on the beach. The road was very sandy. There were several points along the way that made me glad, once again, that we were not driving. I am reasonably sure we would not have made it back without some towing assistance.

A gull atop a rock at a very rocky seashore.

The road was wet, so where it was hardpacked gravel, there were numerous potholes filled with water. There were two other points where we had to ford small streams. Neither of them was as sizable as the first. The other surface we encountered was water washed rocks, each about four inches in diameter. It looked like river rock that had been trucked in and dumped along the road. I am sure that was to overcome some of the more difficult, sandy portions. There was even one stretch of a couple-hundred meters that was covered in seaweed. That really smelled bad.

As we walked along, some people did pass us on foot. Periodically a vehicle passed us. One couple asked as they passed if we were going to Red Rocks. Of course, we said yes. The woman went on and on about how colorful the rocks are. They also added that if we continued for about a kilometer beyond Red Rocks to Devil’s Gate, we should find some seals. That extra distance was not originally in our mind, but we both mulled it over as we continued to Red Rocks.

When we arrived at Red Rocks, a family was sitting there. They had been ahead of us on the trail. The family was a man and woman with three very young children. I guess the oldest might have been six. We were surprised they were able to walk so far. Approaching them, Leslie asked if they wanted me to take their photo. They were happy with the offer. They posed while I used the woman’s cell phone to capture the shot.

Finished with that, we marveled at Red Rocks. They are only in this one location along the coast. There are not endless meters of the rock, but rather a very concentrated area. The stones are there as a result of the subduction of two tectonic plates; the Pacific Plate and the Australian Plate. As parts of the plates washed away over the eons and other portions were pushed up, the red rock formations became visible. The rocks are between 200 and 250 million years old. I am glad we were able to see them. They were stunning. We were also lucky that we arrived while the sun illuminated the rocks.

The water of the Cook Strait encroaching on the red rocks.

In several places along the beach, we saw private baches. I am sure they have continually wonderous views of the Cook Strait; however, they appeared quite primitive. I did see one that had a satellite dish, but the others did not even seem to have electricity. Neither of us aspires to live off-the-grid, so we do not plan to buy one anytime soon.

From our vantage point at Red Rocks, we could see Devil’s Gate. We looked at each other and said what the heck! So, the march continued. As we walked on, a couple of 4X4s went by us. We saw them drive up and through Devil’s Gate. That was when we first noticed just how steep and rough that portion of the road was. There is absolutely no way our vehicle would have made it through the “gate.”

Shortly before we got to the “gate,” a man passed us; walking with his very young daughter. On his back, in a backpack-contraption was his even younger son. They walked on through the “gate” while we continued up the grade. Nearing the top, I had to stop and offer a hand of assistance to help Leslie up; it was that steep. On the other side, it was steeper yet. Both of us had to go very slow and carefully.

Two four-wheel-drive vehicles crossing through Devil’s Gate.

A dad walking with his daughter while carrying his son in the backpack.

Once we were on somewhat more stable land, we saw the seal colony. The man with the two children asked us if we were visiting. We told him we were. His advice to us was there was no need to walk much farther along the beach. He said there usually are not more seals beyond this point, Sinclair Head. We heeded his advice and spent our time looking at the seals there.

The seal colony at Sinclair Head does not match the numbers of the seals we have seen at Cape Palliser. Regardless, they were just as easy to see and access. There was one seal in particular that rose from a nap long enough to yawn and then lay back down. Obviously, the seal’s back needed to be scratched. The seal rubbed its back over the rock for a couple of minutes.

When we tired of watching the seals, we made our way back up the incline to the “gate.” When we got to the point where we could see through the gate, we realized just how far we had come. I know our car would not have made it, but I sure wished it was there.

Back through Devil’s Gate. Our car was parked at the far distant hill.

Just at the base of the incline on the other side, we saw some vehicles approaching. I decided to wait for the cars to drive through. I wanted to get some photos. As one can see from the sign beside the “gate,” even the authorities deem the passage “extreme” requiring “suitable driving skills.” They even refer to the road as a “track.” That is a very descriptive word.

Two of the vehicles just contained a driver each. They seemed to be friends. Both cars parked at the base where the incline begins. One of the drivers jumped out, ran to the top of the “gate” and stood there to guide the other driver. That first vehicle was a VW Toureg. He did not make it up and over on his first try. The car slid back about halfway down the incline. On the second try, he did make it over. That driver came back to the top to guide the other. The second vehicle, a Toyota, made it over on his first try.

The driver of a Toyota dashing up the track to provide direction back to his buddy in a VW 4X4.

A Toyota going up and over at Devil’s Gate.

During this activity, Leslie sat on a boulder near the road. Suddenly, I noticed there was a seal very near to where she sat. Neither of us had seen it before. We probably would have stepped on it as we left if I had not spotted the animal. I took the opportunity to take some more photographs.

At one point, the seal raised and coughed a few times. One of the things I noticed when this happened was just how big the teeth are. It would not be a good idea to get too close to one of those wild seals.

She was not yawning. She was coughing. Regardless, look at those teeth!!

During our walk back, there were many more people and many more vehicles. Because of the narrow road at points, it was a challenge to navigate. I think we both thought we would never make it back to our car. We just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Ultimately, we did make it back to the car. From the parking area, I took a photograph of Devil’s Gate. We both could only marvel at just how far we had walked.

The fishing boat heading toward the rocky shore. A black shag is atop the rock on the left.

The Mystique, a fishing boat, is fishing just offshore while a man is fishing from the rocks.

A couple of mollusks on the rock waiting for the tide to return.

A unique rock formation just beyond the red rocks.

The “road” to Devil’s Gate on Sinclair Head.

The incline increases the closer one gets to Devil’s Gate.

Extreme driving hazards. Suitable vehicle and driving skills required. Keep off private property. Stay on the track.

Just on the opposite side of Devil’s Gate, there is a colony of seals.

Looking around before going back to sleep.

It seems amazing to me that the seals can make it across the landscape to their favorite rock.

If I were a seal, I would need a much, much more comfortable rock.

Looking from the seal colony toward Cape Palliser in the far, far distance.

Our car was parked at the base of the larger hill.

This sleepy seal was on the approach side of Devil’s Gate.

This is the beach the seal had to navigate to be able to find her favorite resting spot.

Another cough. Maybe she had a fishbone stuck…

Of all the resting spots we saw, this seemed by far to be the most comfortable.

The shoreline as we trudged back to the car.

The fishing boat was still out and about.

Miramar Peninsula

Miramar Peninsula, New Zealand – March 12, 2016

Going back through my older photographs, I noticed I had not shared a drive along one of our favorite places in Wellington; the Miramar Peninsula. On this particular trip, I decided to stop and capture a photograph of the “Windy Wellington” sign. The sign is on a hillside shortly before one can turn onto the seaside road that encircles the peninsula.

“Windy Welly” is a moniker that many may have heard, but just how windy is Welly? Is it windier than the “Windy City”; Chicago? From all sources I have checked, it appears that Wellington is, in fact, the windiest city. The table below makes a comparison, including several of the cities in which we have lived. These statistics are from Wind Finder. Try the site to check on other towns of personal interest.

City	Average Annual Wind Speed
	mph	km/h
Wellington, New Zealand	17	27
Chicago, Illinois	12	19
Islamabad, Pakistan	12	19
Colorado Springs, Colorado	10	16
Dallas, Texas	10	16
Georgetown, Guyana	10	16
Grand Junction, Colorado	8	13
La Paz, Bolivia	7	11
Madrid, Spain	7	11

The average annual wind speed seems so insignificant. So, what is the record wind speed in the same locations? Now, these are some numbers! Bear in mind a category 1 hurricane begins at 74 mph or 119 km/h. Based on that, the record wind speed in Wellington equates to a category 2 hurricane! The records are from the almanac section found on My Forecast.

City	Record Wind Speed
	mph	km/h
Wellington, New Zealand	101	163
Chicago, Illinois	76	122
Islamabad, Pakistan	47	76
Colorado Springs, Colorado	71	114
Dallas, Texas	91	146
Georgetown, Guyana	75	120
Grand Junction, Colorado	78	126
La Paz, Bolivia	70	113
Madrid, Spain	73	118

Luckily our day was not blustery in the least. It began as a bit overcast but cleared to a beautiful day.

The first community one passes through is Shelly Bay, a collection of World War II-era buildings. Some are in disrepair while others have found new life as a café or an art gallery. Other than taking photos, we did not stop on this trip. It has a lovely charm.

A pier at Shelly Bay that is no longer in use.

Shelly Bay piers. The Port of Wellington is in the far distance.

Our next stop on this trip was Point Halswell and the lighthouse. Lighthouse seems a rather grandiose term. It is a small, automatic beacon. At the point there were several seagulls around, periodically diving into the water. As I got closer, I could see there was a fish carcass just under the surface near the shore. The seagulls plunged in grasped the body, and with the whip of their head, they tore off bits of flesh. It was fascinating to watch.

Kau Bay was our primary destination that morning. After finding a place to park, we walked down to the beach with our folding chairs. We had never been to that beach before, but we were up for some beachcombing. We found a surprising amount of sea-glass on the pebbly beach. When we had our fill, we sat in the folding chairs and observed the world. We are so fortunate to be able to live in such a beautiful country.

Scuba divers in Kau Bay. The Point Halswell lighthouse is visible in the background.

A Jetstar jet on final approach to the Wellington International Airport. The Point Halswell lighthouse is below the jet.

Our next stop was the beach at Scorching Bay. It is a lovely public beach. At the beach is a small café, the Scorch-O-Rama. Other than stopping once for some bottled water, we have never sampled the offerings. Before we depart, we need to try breakfast there just once. Some friends go frequently. They say it is terrific.

People enjoying the day at Scorching Bay. The Scorch-O-Rama restaurant is just to the right of the parked cars.

View across Scorching Bay. The nearly vertical line in the center of the photo is a funicular. That is how people get from the street to that particular home. These are quite common in the area.

We were not the only people out that day. We saw joggers, bicyclists, people fishing, scuba divers, and surfers. The peninsula seems to have something for everyone.

Fishing off the Karaka Bay pier while the Interislander ferry Kaiarahi passes.

When we stopped at Moa Point, we were very near the south end of the runway at the Wellington International Airport. I heard a jet taxiing. When I looked up, I saw a jumbo jet from the Islamic Republic of Iran. The plane was a huge Airbus A340, no wonder it looked so big.

A dignitary from the Islamic Republic of Iran was departing the airport while we were watching from Moa Point.

Other than the occasional aircraft distraction, we busied ourselves with beachcombing. At Moa Point, we are always assured of finding paua shells. The shells we found range in size from about one-inch to nearly eight inches. Neither of us knows what we are going to do with these when we leave. Regardless, it sure is fun to collect them!