10 November 2019
The last time I was in New Zealand, I was making what I thought was the trip of a lifetime. It was January 2018, and, assuming a trip to Antarctica was unlikely, this was the last gap I had to fill in my research. New Zealand being the jumping-off and landing point for most of the British expeditions of the Heroic Age, not only are there many Antarctic-related locations, but a great deal of stuff has been deposited here as well, as the collection at the Canterbury Museum attests. My aim was to visit there, see the departure ports of Lyttelton and Port Chalmers and the return port of Oamaru, and get what I could out of the Kinsey correspondence at the National Library in Wellington. The trip turned out to be hugely successful – I got everything I needed and more, as well as an appreciation for the openness and generosity of New Zealanders, which happily hasn't changed from a hundred years ago.
I flew from Los Angeles this time rather than Vancouver, on a ticket bought for me by the US Antarctic Program, en route to that destination which, last time I was here, I was sure I would never reach. Landing in Auckland and making the transfer to Christchurch, it certainly did not feel as though it had been nearly two whole years since I was here. This time, instead of having to figure out the buses into town, I was met by a USAP representative at baggage claim and, because she was travelling that way anyway, got a lift to the hostel where I'd be staying, a short walking distance from the USAP's headquarters and within sight of the International Antarctic Centre. And it was only just noon.
My to-do list this time was much more prosaic: Buy some possum gloves and some Antarctic postcards, and get out to Lyttelton to photograph the landscape in spring, because this is right in the middle of when the Terra Nova was in town. I had expected this to be a rush job, but my flight was booked a day earlier than planned, so I ticked off the gloves and a quick visit to the museum in the course of a leisurely stroll on a blazing hot day, stopping for a while near the Scott statue to cool my feet in the Avon, and filling up on what Kiwis call 'meat on chips' but which I've mentally assigned 'Turkish poutine.' It was astonishing how readily I remembered my way around town, and I marvelled at the apparent back-pocket familiarity with a city so far from anywhere I've ever lived. I suppose it made an impression.
Found my way back to this guy without even trying, funnily enough.
Something else that makes an impression is going straight from LA to Christchurch. Most of the cities on the West Coast – but California particularly – always have 'The Big One,' the city-flattening earthquake, hovering at the back of consciousness. Christchurch has had theirs. The Cathedral is a ruin, a lot of historical buildings came down, people died, and the last nine years has been spent rebuilding and establishing a new normal. I never knew the place before, but the loss is still near the surface, and the economy must still be struggling as both the pubs I wanted to visit again have since closed. But, from a West Coast perspective, it is heartening to see that, having gone through The Big One, one comes out the other side, and there is another side. This is it. Christchurch is living it. The city is damaged, but still there. The people are carrying on. I have to wonder if LA would see it through with quite so much grace, rather than descend into anarchy, but it's good to know it's possible.
I needed to see what colour the hills were in late spring, when the Terra Nova was here. Surprise: Green!
Saturday I devoted to Lyttelton. Christchurch is a major commercial centre but is built on a flat coastal plain; great for farming but not for shipping. However, it butts onto a peninsula made by a blown-out and flooded volcano, which affords several deep bays, and in one of these is nestled the port of Lyttelton. I really enjoy this quirky harbour town; I think if I lived anywhere in New Zealand I'd be happiest here. It suffered more than Christchurch in the quakes, but even now still feels more like stepping back in time – in fact, more than anywhere except possibly London, it feels like stepping into a book, though in Lyttelton's case, perhaps, that may just be me.
London Street, the main drag. There is a market on Saturdays.
Lyttelton harbour: the far breakwater has been expanded a lot since 1910, when it was more or less a jetty like the near one, and the mouth of the harbour was wider.
I got the necessary photos shortly after arriving. As the Time Ball has been rebuilt since my last visit, I hiked up there and got some unnecessary photos, and just enjoyed being for a while. Lyttelton is a good place to be happy. I hope I manage to communicate this in the few pages devoted to it in the book.
The ball would drop from the top of the mast every day at 1:00 PM, controlled by telegraph from the time office in Wellington. Thus all ships in the harbour could synchronise their chronometers with Greenwich Mean Time, a procedure necessary for determining longitude. The daily drop has been restored, though ships don’t need it anymore.
Uncanny palette and unusual clouds are brought to you courtesy of the Australian bush fires.
Sunday morning was taken up with the issuing of kit at the Clothing Distribution Centre, which will get its own post next week. It was my first direct onsite interaction with the USAP, and although it boiled down to trying on second-hand clothes, it was the moment when everything really started to feel it was happening.
This is the aircraft hangar, not the CDC, but it’s much more impressive to look at.
We were done before noon, and the rest of the day was ours. Having done my town bit already, feeling a bit overdone, and expecting a belting of rain this afternoon, I retired to the hostel to organise some promised lectures and write this post.
Surely the crews’ quarters on the Starship Enterprise must look something like this.
Tomorrow will be mine as well, until the evening when I'm supposed to check in and be updated on the flight. It's supposed to be cold and windy, but I may end up going to Lyttelton again. That's a book I want to spend more time in.