Thoughts, on the Way to War by Pvte J.E.J. Westbrook

I recently came across this hand-written memoir as I was sorting through family papers. It was written by my Uncle 'Winks', Pvte J.E.J. (John Edgerton Jury) Westbrook. He had entitled the paper simply 'Thoughts' and it describes his feelings as the Auckland Division of the First New Zealand Echelon leaves Papakura Military Camp in January 1940 to embark for, as they thought, war-torn Europe. The second section of this memoir was written on board the troopship Orion, as it steamed across the Indian Ocean. I find a passage in this second section particularly poignant and moving, as I know it refers to his mother, my maternal grandmother: "I’d never seen tears in her eyes before."

  Private Westbrook was promoted to Lance-Corporal in Egypt after the Greek and Crete campaigns, but he never returned to New Zealand. He was killed on the 1st December 1941 during the furious Battle of Sidi Rezegh, during the relief of Tobruk, where he is buried. He was an aspiring writer, perceptive and emotional, as this short piece shows This memoir was returned to my grandparents along with his diary and other belongings.                 
  Neil Rawlins

In the pre-wars years Pvte Westbrook spent holidays here at Sullivans Beach in Mahurani

Papakura Military Camp   1940                       Thoughts

Volunteers marching to camp in October 1939.
Pvte Westbrook (insert) is in the 3rd row. 

The afternoon sun beat down as we laid seakits on the ground and stood at ease. Here and there a shoulder hitched, manoeuvred, the heavy pack on his back into a more comfortable position. Here and there a handkerchief came out to mop a perspiring forehead. The faces around me were not the smiling, carefree faces of yesterday; they were set, more serious…. This was our final Battalion Parade on New Zealand soil.

The lines of khaki swayed, polished brass flashed in the sun.  In the distance a bitumen road dividing them, stood more lines of khaki, more brass flashed. The green glass looked cool, inviting the men to rest, to run their hot hands over its soothing coldness. The band stood on the road, instruments gleaming brightly…. The Auckland section of the First Echelon was saying “Goodbye” to its camp.

“Battalion!” It was the Colonel. The lines of khaki were rigid. “Battalion will march in column of route ----“ The band was playing, orders were shouted, seakits were heaved onto shoulders, rifles were placed onto the other shoulders. Boots began to lift up and down to the steady beat of the music, faces began to crack into smiles, eyes began to gleam – “We’re going!”

“Goodbye, fellers, see you over there!” “Give my love to the French girls!”  “H’ray Dick”, “So long, Tom”. “Leave a Hun for me!”  And so, with a smile and a wave they passed through the few remaining soldiers of the camp and the nurses from the camp hospital.

The column of soldiers was long. It wound along the road to the entrance of the camp where the dust began to lift from under heavy, hobnailed boots as the bitumen terminated. It wound past cars and people who had gathered on a corner to bid them farewell. It wound along a rough country road – a huge khaki serpent, its flashing head breathing a stirring march. The three long white strips on its back waved as seakits were shifted to different positions.

The road was dusty. The sun still blazed down. The serge uniform was hot. Perspiration streamed down faces, trickled off chins. Some cursed and swore freely as the perspiration found its way into eyes.

The bulky seakit was an awkward thing to carry. Tuck it under the arm - that’s alright for a while, then it starts to slip down. Bring it back up again – it rolls, then starts slipping again. Darn that rifle, wish it had a sling, could use two hands for the seakit then. Try it on your shoulder, soldier. That’s where you had it before! Makes your arm ache, does it? Now let’s see, carry the rifle in both hands in front of you, now rest the seakit on the rifle. Ah! That better?  Tramp, tramp, tramp… Whew! It’s hot. Wish you could have a spell? You’re dying for a smoke? Just keep tramping soldier, there’s an end to every road.

More dust, more sweat, more curses. “Hey! Where’s that blasted station? We’ve passed one a mile back. Why couldn’t they have had that train there?”  Tramp, tramp, tramp… A seakit bobbed as it was heaved from one shoulder to the other, something fell on the road.  “Look out, Joe! Your seakits come adrift. Why in ‘ell did you have to carry it upside down?” “Aw! It’s only a cake, Joe. Leave it for the sparrers. They like it with a bit of dirt.”  The sparrows never had a chance. Joe had retrieved it and it was back in his bag. A girl had given that cake to Joe the afternoon before. Joe liked the girl, the girl liked Joe.

On and on….  Hullo! What’s this? Cement road, the main highway, the township! Ah, the station can’t be far away now!  Past some garages, men in greasy overalls stood to watch and wave. “Poor devils!” maybe were their thoughts. Past the shops. Rifles lifted in acknowledgement of the waves and cheers of the girls. A smile and a cheery answer to the more serious “Goodbyes” from the older folk. “Goodbye, mother,” “Goodbye, Dad.” “So long, girlie.” “Look! That girl in blue, she’s crying.”  “Hey, girlie, lift that chin up. Come on, smile.”  She looked up, handkerchief to her mouth and smiled, a very wan smile. She’s the girl that brought the cake to Joe yesterday. Joe’s very quiet.

On they go. There’s the station. Look at the mob there! The band’s playing, the crowd’s shouting, cheering, waving. Joe’s girl is keeping pace with him, smiling with him, but the tears still run down her cheeks. They march into the station. A hasty kiss before Joe passes through the gates and the girl in blue… she stands there … her eyes ….  God, there were thousands like her that day.

Khaki figures halted by the train. Seakits thumped to the ground with sighs of relief. Packs heaved as they were moved to ease tired shoulders. Handkerchiefs wiped moist faces. Eyes searched the crowd for friends or relatives, brightened as they found them. Eyes searched the overhead bridge which had its full share of humans. Khaki hats came together, something was said, there was a wink. The word spread, and khaki hats tilted as more eyes searched the bridge. Arms waved. Some of the boys shouted “Whoopee!” others “Yippee!” Some just looked. There’s something so very fascinating about a girl’s slender leg, especially if she is blissfully unconscious of just how much leg she is showing. At that moment there were several pairs of full length, sheer silk, hosiery getting scrutinized and criticized by the boys below.

A whistle shrilled the air. Khaki figures stiffened. “Troops will embark in the following order …”  The colonel again. The band kept playing. Orders were barked, the ranks broke and melted into the carriages. Windows slammed, heads bobbed out, arms waved. Another whistle, deeper, louder, then the train moved. Cheers drowned the band.  “Goodbye! Goodbye! Goodbye!”

                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steaming towards the setting sun & the battlefields of North Africa

Today, as I sit writing this, the boat rolls very, very gently as she plows her way through the calm waters of the Indian Ocean, her bows towards the setting sun.

The boys, some stripped to the waist and barefoot, are strolling, sitting and lying on the decks. The tropical warmth has made the ship’s swimming pools popular, so has the tropical warmth increased the popularity of the wet canteen. In the lounge a Housey Housey man raises his voice above the chatter and laughter so that he can be heard by his players. The piano is just audible, tinkling a modern tune. With their backs to all this, there are some, leaning on the rails, watching the waves and following the flights of the flying fish as they skim above the waves.

Thoughts of that march and the farewell from Papakura are far distant, but always appearing in their minds are visions of familiar faces. Visions, some young, some old, some with silver streaks in their hair. Now and then a voice will be heard – “I wonder what they’ll be doing in good old New Zealand now?”

“I wonder?” Maybe that is just what a grey headed lady is saying at this very moment. “I wonder?” Just two words, but what memories they will bring to one’s mind….  There is one lady, there were tears in her eyes when she said “Goodbye.” I’d never seen tears in her eyes before.

Portrait of Pvte Westbrook in uniform before
departure overseas

I have read this clipping many times, a clipping from an English paper several months old. It is just a humble piece of prose by a woman author, but what a wealth of meaning it holds…

“Mothers know the meaning of the evil thing called War. They know what heartaches lie behind the tumult and the roar. If German mothers had been asked – before the blood was shed, “Poland or your son?” … Is there a doubt they would have said – “My Son”. For what do women care for hate, revenge and gain… The women who must give their men. The women who remain – beside the hearth to pray for those to whom they’ve given birth. What is it to them if their great Fuehrer own the earth?

“What is that to them if far away ‘neath Polish skies – the lad they love lies staring at the stars with sightless eyes? The boys may march to battle in a patriotic glow – But Mothers know the price of glory. Yes, the mothers know.”

                        J.E.J. Westbrook  2928      

L/Cpl J.E.J Westbrook's name inscribed in the Hall of Remembrance, Auckland War Memorial Museum

Text & Photographs  Pvte J.E.J. Westbrook & ©Neil Rawlins


My paperback books on my Overland travels in Asia, Europe & Africa in the early 1970s and the experiences of a tour guide on the Asian Overland routes & leading Camel Safaris in Rajasthan in the 1980s are available from Amazon.

Chatham Islands - Forgotten Islands at the End of the World

Sheep in a Chatham Island landscape

             It was a warm breezy afternoon. The field of brown grass smelled of late summer. Ahead lay the dusty, gravelled road stretching to a cluster of houses in the distance.  I was walking home from school, alone, shuffling along as a child does, poking with my sandaled feet at the dust-covered stones. A car approached and I scurried across the road away from the enveloping dust plume. Ahead I could see the girl with the blond curly hair, a classmate. I walked faster, closing the distance and called out… but then I awoke. It was a dream. I was about twelve or thirteen at the time and had recently read about the Auckland Islands, a group of uninhabited wind-swept islands to the south of New Zealand on approximately the same latitudes south of the equator as southern England is north, in a feature in the New Zealand Herald . There had been an abortive attempt in the 19^th century to colonise the Islands which has always fascinated me. In my dream, my family, along with those of some of my friends and current classmates, had moved to these Islands, presumably to farm, not that my family had ever had a tradition of farming, certainly not on my father’s side. However, it was the dream that remained deep in my subconscious, in that hazy region of memories that linger between childhood and adolescence.

A dreamscape come true - Chatham Island landscape

So it was quite a surprise when, on a warm spring day, I was picked up at the small Tuuta airfield and, as I was driven along the dusty island roads, something triggered my subconscious memory: “I have been here before!”  There were plumes of dust, grassy fields with a few sparse wind-swept trees. It was uncanny, this feeling of familiarity, even though I had never been here before. I had just arrived on the Chatham Islands, a windswept archipelago in the South Pacific some 700 plus kilometres to the east of New Zealand’s South Island, and further north than the Auckland Islands of my dream but, nevertheless, still remote, wind-swept, with just a small resident population. I had come over here to work the summer as the driver tour-guide for the Hotel Chathams in the main settlement of Waitangi. This uncanny realisation that I had been here before, albeit in a dream, helped me adapt to life in this small island community.

The sometimes-bleak landscape, with wind-swept trees, of the Chatham Islands

The Chatham Islands, an integral part of New Zealand, is 45 minutes ahead of that country’s standard time and are a reasonably large group of islands with a total land area of 966 square kilometres. The Islands are situated at latitude 44° South and longitude 176° West which should, in fact, place it on the opposite side of the International Dateline to mainland New Zealand. Practicalities when the dateline was decided, led to the adjustment bulge around the Chathams Islands. 

The original inhabitants of the Chatham Islands are the Moriori people who, like the New Zealand Maori, are Polynesian in origin. There is still argument as to how long they have been on the Islands. Some historians say they arrived from New Zealand as recently as the 16^th century, citing a lack of earlier archaeological evidence, but Moriori tradition speaks of earlier occupation going back at least a thousand years, very similar to the time that the first Polynesian navigators began arriving in New Zealand. These traditions speak of canoes coming direct from Polynesia and being wrecked on arrival, although there is at least one tradition of a return voyage to New Zealand, which would explain the presence of obsidian, or volcanic glass, found in a Moriori site on the Island. Whatever the truth, it did not happen the way we were taught at school; that the Moriori were the original tangata whenua, or ‘people of the land’ of mainland New Zealand and were driven to the Chatham Islands by the arrival of the more aggressive Maori in the mid-14^th century. This fanciful misinterpretation was concocted from mis-translations of Maori oral traditions by Victorian historians, adopted by the education authorities and taught to generations of young New Zealanders, like myself, for most of the 20^th century.  Maybe even now there are some who perpetuate this erroneous myth!  

The statue of Tommy Solomon, the 'last' Moriori at Owenga

Europeans first discovered the Islands in 1791, with the arrival of HMS Chatham under the command of William Broughton, who claimed the island for Britain. He named the island after his ship. The Moriori name for the island is Rekohu, or 'island of mists', and the Maori name is Wharekauri, or 'house of kauri', an interesting name as the kauri tree only grows in the northern North Island of New Zealand. Evidently an early Maori sealer settled on the Island and built a house out of the kauri timbers of a wrecked ship – the name was given to the entire Island after the Maori arrived in 1835, with European assistance. The arrival of the Maori was disastrous for the Moriori people, as not only were hundreds slaughtered and enslaved but European diseases killed many others. The Moriori population declined rapidly throughout the 19^th century. I was always taught at school that the last Moriori, Tommy Solomon, had died in 1933 and the race had become extinct. Tommy was the last full-blood, but today there are many of Moriori descent on the Islands and in New Zealand.

My first tour on the Island was with a horticultural group from New Zealand, who had flown in from Christchurch. We set off in the Hotel Chatham's old Toyota bus on a series of day trips, radiating out from Waitangi, the main town on the Island. The Chatham Islands have unique endemic flora and the best known garden plant is the Chatham Island forget-me-not, or Myosotidium hortensia, to use its botanical name. These now grow in gardens in New Zealand and around the world, but the only natural habitat is on these Islands. A big-leaved megaherb, the Chatham Island forget-me-not has a mass of showy blue and white forget-me-not-like flowers in the early Spring. We found several sites where these beautiful flowers grew, resplendent in their natural environment. 

Naturally-growing Chatham Island forget-me-nots on the coast near Kaingaroa

At the north of the Island there is a magnificent wetland and beach area known as the Ocean Mail Reserve. The name comes from the ship Ocean Mail which, on a voyage from Wellington to London, was wrecked just off the coast. 

Ocean Mail Beach, named after the ship that was wrecked off here in 1877

We braved the cold blustery winds and odd showers to walk through the Chatham Island flax of the wetland area, looking for the small flowering plants endemic to the islands. We found the delicate and beautiful Chatham Island gentian, and a couple of small thelymitra sun orchids, the Chatham Island speargrass which was just coming into flower and the very beautiful blue to purple flowers of the swamp aster, a small shrub daisy endemic to the Chatham Islands.

Flowers of the Chatham Island gentian - Gentiana chathamica - in the Ocean Mail Reserve

Very little remains of pre-European Moriori habitation, but what does is extremely interesting. First and foremost are the dendroglyphs, known as momori rakau or tree-carvings which are unique. These stylised figures were cut into the bark of kopi trees – Corynocarpus laevigatus – the karaka of mainland New Zealand, some 220 to 250 years ago. Unfortunately these old trees are fast disappearing as they reach the end of their natural life. Perhaps representing ancestors, these dendroglyphs are a link to the past inhabitants of the island and the grove at Hapupu has a distinct spiritual feeling to it, as if the ghosts of the lost race still move among the trees. While some dendroglyphs are difficult to interpret, others are quite distinct in form and there is a definite eeriness to the grove. 

A ghostly spectre from a past age - a Moriori dendroglyph on a kopi tree at Hapupu Historical Reserve

The other, more permanent, relic of this early civilisation is the cave of the petroglyphs, known as Nunuku’s Cave. These rock carvings are stylised representations of seals which once abounded around the coasts of the Chatham Islands, and were the major food source of the Islanders. Seals were virtually exterminated by the early 19^th century European sealers but the population has since rebounded. Nunuku, for whom  the cave is named, was an early Moriori chief who, sickened by the incessant warfare and cannibalism among his people, introduced a code of pacifism whereby:

“...because men get angry and during such anger feel the will to strike, that so they may, but only with a rod the thickness of a thumb, and one stretch of the arm’s length, and thrash away, but that on an abrasion of the hide, or first sign of blood, all should consider honour satisfied.”

He then followed it up with the curse: “May your bowels rot the day you disobey.” This was obviously effective as the Moriori lived in peace for around 500 years, until the Maori invasion of 1835.

Moriori petroglyphs in Nunuku's Cave, Chatham Islands

German Moravian missionaries arrived on the Chatham Islands in the early 1840s and although they made very little spiritual progress among the locals, they did leave behind a legacy of stone houses, the remains of which are the earliest European constructions on the island. In Mission Bay near Kaingaroa, are the remains of the earliest of the German mission houses, but at Maunganui, beneath the great bulk of the hill, is the intact cottage of Johann Baucke, now with a category one listing from Heritage New Zealand.

The 19th century cottage of Johann Baucke, Lutheran Missionary, beneath Maunganui

A more recent European relic is an old Sunderland flying boat, once operated by the RNZAF which struck a rock while taxiing to take off on Te Whanga Lagoon in 1959.  As it began taking water, the flight was abandoned and a subsequent survey deemed the aircraft, NZ4111, un-flyable. The Air Force recovered the engines, radio and radar equipment and fuel, and the fuselage and wings were cannibalised by the locals, serving as implement sheds and stock shelters. In recent years, an Air Chathams pilot has undertaken the mammoth task of finding and piecing together what is left of this flying boat, restoring for posterity a small piece of the Chatham Islands' aviation heritage.

The fuselage & a section of wing of the Short Sunderland flight boat under restoration near Kaingaroa

While many people will have heard about the geological phenomenon in Northern Ireland known as the Giant's Causeway, here on the main Chatham Island is a very similar formation. Just known as the Basalt Columns, they are located on a small wind and wave swept section of coast at Ohira Bay. These polygon-shaped columns are some 80 million years old and are of the same basic structure as those of Northern Ireland but, unlike the Irish version, paua in numbers inhabit the wave-splashed kelp fringes of this interesting geological feature.

The basalt columns at Ohira Bay on Chatham Island

Nearby is Port Hutt, a small settlement with a fish factory, whose dominating feature is the wreck of the HMNZS Thomas Currell. This ship had originally been a trawler, but during World War 2 had been converted into a minesweeper. In later years she evidently had been used as a freezer-hulk, before being abandoned and blown ashore in a storm. There was also an old fishing boat named the Betty T anchored, literally, to the Port Hutt wharf.

The wreck of the HMNZS Thomas Currell, a former World War 2 minesweeper, at Port Hutt

Bird-life in the Chatham Islands is, in many instances, unique to these Islands. Probably best-known is the Chatham Islands black robin whose population, in 1979, was just five specimen with just one being a female - Old Blue. Due to a concentrated conservation effort, these little birds now number around 250, all restricted to Little Mangere Island, an uninhabited smaller island in the group. I unfortunately did not get to see this wee bird, but one another bird that was also on the brink of extinction is the parea, or Chatham Islands pigeon. This bird, which in 1990 numbered only 40, is very similar to the kereru, or New Zealand pigeon, but is up to 20% heavier and has a yellow tip to its beak. Again conservation efforts and predator control has been successful in restoring numbers to an estimate of over 650. The Chathams also have their own sub-species of oystercatcher and pipit, and also a number of rare pelagic birds, including the taiko, or magenta petrel, until recently thought to be extinct.

The parea, or Chatham Islands pigeon - Hemiphaga chathamensis

Centrepiece of the buffet at the Kaingaroa Club.

 One of the highlights of a visit to Chatham Islands was the seafood buffet at the small but friendly Kaingaroa Club, some 50 road kilometres from Waitangi. Kaingaroa is the second largest settlement on the island and is primarily a fishing port. It was also near Kaingaroa that the Moriori people first made contact with William Broughton's HMS Chatham, with unhappy results, especially for a native called Torotoro who was killed 'defending his fishing gear'. The Kaingaroa Club sits right on the harbour and the gourmet spread put on by the local ladies always includes a large 'packhorse' crayfish. Other delights include a crayfish curry, paua (New Zealand abalone) lightly fried, also a paua and egg pie, smoked eel, muttonbirds (these are from Stewart Island) and ‘doughnuts’ cooked in weka oil. And there is a dessert selection to die for!

The Kaingaroa Club, Chatham Islands

Direction sign to Alzon, France in Waitangi

One day as I was bringing a tour back to the hotel, I noticed a strange yacht anchored at Waitangi. You did tend to notice these things after a while! In the hotel dining room were a group of Lithuanian sailors. They had called in for a feed of fish and chips, before the long, hazardous haul through the Southern Ocean to Cape Horn on their voyage around the world. Just to emphasise the islands remoteness, virtually at the end of the world, is the sign, next to the courthouse in the centre of Waitangi, that points to the little French town of Alzon in Provence, the antipodes of the Chathams, 12,800 kilometres away, straight down through the centre of the earth!

The reciprocal direction sign to Chatham Islands in Alzon, France

Text & photographs (except the French Alzon sign)  ©Neil Rawlins 

My paperback books on my Overland travels in Asia, Europe & Africa in the early 1970s and the experiences of a tour guide on the Asian Overland routes & leading Camel Safaris in Rajasthan in the 1980s are available from Amazon.

New Zealand - a Photographic Essay

As the aftermath of the corona virus has left borders closed and world travel an uncertainty for the foreseeable future. Perhaps the time is now ripe to have a closer look the homeland, a land of special beauty.

For over 40 years I have been a tour guide, with 30 of those years being in Aotearoa/New Zealand. During that time I have amassed a good number of photographs of this beautiful land. So come with me on this journey and experience, in twenty-two photos, a small portion of what this extraordinary land has to offer.

Cape Maria van Diemen, Northland

Up in the Far North, where the land begins are two Capes. Cape Reinga with its lighthouse, is where the spirits depart and the road begins. Here the South Pacific meets the Tasman Sea and, just to the south, at the end of sandy Te Werahi Beach is Cape Maria van Diemen, the only mainland feature named by Abel Tasman, New Zealand's first European explorer, when he sailed along this coast in January 1643, and still in use today.

Coloured seashells on Omaha Beach

Coloured seashells washed up on popular Omaha Beach, near Warkworth.  Little Barrier Island sits on the horizon.  

Flowering pohutukawa in the summer at Army Bay on the Whangaparaoa Peninsula

Summer comes to Army Bay on the Whangaparaoa Peninsula. I have a sentimental connection with this small bay, as for most of my formative years the family bach was near this beach.

Evening in St Patrick's Square in the centre of Auckland

Auckland City has many secluded parks and squares. St Patrick's Square, dominated by St Patrick's Catholic Cathedral, is particularly pleasant in the late afternoon sunlight.

The Sharktooth, off Motueka Island in Mercury Bay, Coromandel

The rugged Pacific coastline of the Coromandel Peninsula has many dramatic coastal features. This nightmarish rock, off small Motueka Island,  is known as the Sharktooth.  It was taken on a day of mild swells from what is locally known as the 'Washing Machine'.

The Devil's Bath, Waiotapu

The volcanic zone between Rotorua and Taupo is famous for its many thermally-active springs. Minerals present add colour to the waters and have led to these features being given interesting names. This brilliant yellow-green spring at Waiotapu is known as the 'Devil's Bath'.

Sunset on Mt Ngauruhoe, Tongariro National Park

Tongariro National Park has a wealth of dramatic volcanic landscapes which are ever changing in the light & cloud effects. Sunsets and sunrises, particularly, bring a sense of mystery to the land and it is not difficult to see why this was the 'Land of Mordor' in the Lord of the Rings film trilogy.

Vintage motor vehicles on the road in Napier during Art Deco Weekend

Napier, the Art Deco city of New Zealand, was re-built in that modern style after the devastating earthquake of 1931. Each year the city holds its Art Deco weekend, with the locals dressing the part and many old well-kept vehicles taking to the roads.

Incoming!  Australasian gannet colony on Cape Kidnappers, Hawkes Bay

Room for one more? An incoming Australasian gannet makes a landing among adults and chicks at the seemingly overcrowded Plateau Colony on Cape Kidnappers in Hawkes Bay.

The remote Bridge to Nowhere in the Whanagnui Natioanl Park

The remote 'Bridge to Nowhere' over the Mangapurua River is accessed from the Whanganui River and bears evidence of the failed Mangapurua Farm Settlement, established in this valley after World War One.  The bridge was completed in 1936, but hardly any road traffic was able to use it down to road damage further up the valley. The bridge has been isolated since the road was finally closed during World War 2.

Chinese dragon street art in Te Aro, Wellington

Wellington has some interesting street art, as this 'Chinese Dragon' mural in Vivian St., Te Aro attests.

The clear waters of Totaranui Beach in Abel Tasman National Park

Although the smallest of New Zealand's National Parks, the Abel Tasman has some of the most beautiful beaches in the country. Here the sparkling blue-green waters contrast with the rich yellow sands of Totaranui Beach. 

The distant Southern Alps appear above the waters of the Tasman Sea from Cape Foulwind

A sight rarely seen from the Cape Foulwind Walkway, except on exceptionally clear days. The mountains of the Southern Alps & particularly Mt Cook, appear to rise directly from the waters of an uncharacteristically calm Tasman Sea.

Trams & post-earthquake architecture of the Christchurch rebuild.

Devastated by the 2011 earthquake, the Christchurch CBD is steadily being reconstructed with interesting new architecture and new stores. The trams survived the earthquake and the network has since been extended.

Daybreak over downtown Greymouth and the Grey River

Greymouth, named after Governor Sir George Grey, is the largest town on the West Coast and is situated on the Grey River. Its prosperity has always relied on coal mining. In this photo, morning mists slowly rise as the town wakes up to  new day

.

Jetboat on the Haast River in Westland

Perhaps the most fascinating river on the West Coast is the Haast, and the best way to see the river is on a jetboat excursion from the one-laned Haast River Bridge to Roaring Billy, a waterfall an hour's journey upstream.

A fanciful mean machine at the Steam Punk HQ, Oamaru

Something from Mad Max? A fantasy creation constructed around a former railway carriage and one of the lager pieces on display at the Steam Punk HQ in Oamaru.

Sunset on Lake Te Anau, Southland

The sun sets over Lake Te Anau, New Zealand's second largest lake. The lakeside town of Te Anau is regarded as being the gateway to Milford Sound.

Morning mists wreathe the Fiordland mountains as the sun rises over Doubtful Sound 

Doubtful Sound is the second largest of the southern fjords, after Dusky Sound. It is much larger than Milford Sound, and has three major arms and several islands. To see the sun rise through the early morning mists in Hall Arm is a magical experience. 

An Otago Harbour tug passes the Dunedin suburb of St Leonards 

Otago Harbour is made up of several flooded ancient volcanic craters and a cruise down the Harbour to Taiaroa Head passes several outer suburbs, including St. Leonards and Port Chalmers before arriving off the Royal Albatross colony on Taiaroa Head.

The lighthouse at Nugget Point in the Catlins, Southland

The lighthouse on Nugget Point, in the Catlins, warns ships of the obvious dangers the scattering of 'Nuggets' pose. Beyond the Point the Southern Ocean stretches southward to Antarctica. 

The ferry leaves Half Moon Bay on Stewart Island for Bluff on the Mainland

Stewart Island, New Zealand's third Island is to the south of the South Island. Most of the island makes up the Rakiura National Park, and the Island's population of around 450 live mainly in the settlement of Oban in Half Moon Bay. A ferry operates twice daily to Bluff in the South Island and there is an air service from Invercargill.

Text & Photographs ©Neil Rawlins

My paperback books on my Overland travels in Asia, Europe & Africa in the early 1970s and the experiences of a tour guide on the Asian Overland routes & leading Camel Safaris in Rajasthan in the 1980s are available from Amazon.