Today’s writing inspiration is a photo I took of an ocean going waka (canoe), Te Waka Maori o Ahuriri, in Ahuriri harbour, Napier, New Zealand.
Te Waka Maori o Ahuriri (‘The canoe of the Maori of Ahuriri’) in Ahuriri harbour.
This is a modern replica of the canoes used by the Polynesians to conquer the Pacific, from Hawaii to Chile – an exploration largely over by around 1250, when New Zealand became the last major land-mass in the world to be reached by humans. An inspiring achievement – and one that makes us think.
Coal is an irreplaceable resource, formed over millions of years, yet humanity has been burning it as if there is no tomorrow. Today it’s responsible for 43 percent of the world’s greenhouse gases. We stand at a cross-roads; and the story of coal – of which the New Zealand side is a microcosm and case-study – plays a large part in the journey.
Reviews of the print edition so far have been excellent:
Today’s writing inspiration is a photo I took of the Buller Gorge, one damp day.
A monochrome Buller Gorge, one wet day.
The gorge and river are both named after Charles Buller, the first pakeha explorer to venture into the district in the early 1840s. The original name of the river, Kawatiri (meaning, among other things, ‘deep swift’), is seldom used these days. It is a magnificent place where the prevailing cloud and mists add drama to a spectacular landscape. An inspiration by any measure.
Today’s writing inspiration for writers of all persuasions is a photo I took of Port Jackson – Sydney harbour – looking back from the north head.
Port Jackson – Sydney Harbour – on a sunny Saturday.
The first European to set eyes on it was James Cook, who passed by in 1770 and named it after Sir George Jackson, a Lord Commissioner of the Admiralty. It became the centre of a penal colony, 18 years later, partly by chance. The initial effort to set up at Botany Bay, a little around the coast, foundered for lack of water. But a stream was found in Port Jackson – the Tank Stream, running down between what are now George and Pitt Streets in central Sydney.
I find it inspiring to imagine the place as it once was, 250 years ago – a landscape bare to European eyes, yet a flourishing home for the Gadigal people among others.