Just south of Oamaru, you’ve got this nice, sandy beach, right, but at a certain point there’s a collection of perfectly round boulders, some smooth-skinned and perfect, others fracturing along buttery veins of quartz, others eroded away to little more than a pile of quartzy rubble. Read the story . . .
If ever you should tire of the splendours of Dunedin — preposterous though that proposition may sound — there’s always the Otago Peninsula, extending from the city itself to the northeast, ending in the southern headland of the entrance to the harbour. Read the story . . .
If you’re reading this you’re a certain kind of traveller: one who knows how the vagaries of unpredictable weather can enhance the magic of a place, how a pristine place to stay and the enchantment of fine dining can distract one from getting beneath the skin of an area. Read the story . . .