“Here, catch this,” Dave heaved the giant rock at my feet.
I lept back and swore. Loudly. 
In the space where I had been standing, moments ago, was a decent sized rock….only it wasnt a rock. 
“That’s from King Kong,” Dave smiled
“What?” I said weakly, clearly still startled at why this man was throwing things at me.
“I made that for the King Kong movie.”
“Ooooooh,” I said as understanding dawned. “Cool cool cool! Can I play with it?”

*

I had been spending the afternoon with Dave Goodin, a sculptor on Stewart Island specialising in nephrite jade. His credits (of which there are many) include working on Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings films and King Kong. What he had just thrown at me was a mock boulder that had featured in the film about the giant ape. 

A few hours before The Rock Incident, I was bouncing along the Foveaux Strait from Invercargill to Stewart Island. My fellow Brits-Abroad-in-Gisborne Amar and Kat had warned me about this notoriously choppy ferry journey. Unfortunately for all involved parties, it was a warning that I only remembered when I tried to go for a wee on the ferry. Lesson learned. Once the boat landed on the island, I headed to Dave’s studio – a giant corrugated iron structure perched on the waterfront. It was like stepping into another person’s imagination. Every surface available was covered in sculptures, sketches and tools. Wings and horns and talons and feathers hung from the rafters, and I spotted an Alan Lee sketch of Helms Deep tucked away in the corner. Even at first glance, i could tell that this was a place for a master at work. He was mild mannered and softly spoken, tucked away beneath a beanie hat and beard which belied his creative genius.

What followed were some lovely hours of using various machines and hand-held tools under Dave’s watchful eye. It was great to be doing something practical and creative. The last thing that I can remember making was a piñata for my housemate’s birthday a few months earlier – using a papier mâché method that I’m sure I learnt on Blue Peter. The jagged piece of slightly translucent pale green jade that I was working with, slowly but surely edged towards a Toki (Adze)- a symbol of strength and determination in times of adversity.

My experience that afternoon was removed from the honour of being gifted a Pounamu (greenstone) talisman, but the process of carving the Toki symbol was a captivating insight into the craft and spiritual significance of jade in Maori culture. The honour here was to be on Stewart Island and to be working with Dave. I hung onto every word that he had to say about his career and he didn’t seem to mind my seemingly endless line of questions about his work on Fangorn Forest. He seemed equally interested in my own line of work which was pretty flattering. 

I emerged from Dave Goodin’s studio a little before 3pm clutching my new greenstone Toki and beaming. It really was a great afternoon. Part of me couldn’t quite believe that I was there. I’d been talking about visiting Stewart Island for such a long time – to finally be there at the bottom of the world and to get to talk with someone who had worked on one of my favourite film series….it was pretty cool! 

Buoyed by the success of that afternoon with Dave, I’m definitely more keen for some hand-on creative stuff. I don’t imagine that I’ll have the opportunity to do any carving any time soon, but I wouldn’t be averse to making a papier mâché boulder or two…

Saturday 14^th November, 09:35

Picton, New Zealand

In the height of Covid Lockdown, two Kiwis were walking on the beach in Gisborne, one day. They came across God who was also on the beach.

“Hey,” one of the Kiwi’s addressed God. “What are you doing here in Gisborne?”

“Working from home,” God replied.

***

That was just one of the stories from Tony in seat 17C. I was in seat 17D, also onboard a flight to Auckland – the first of my two leg journey to Dunedin, South Island. Tony was keen for a chinwag as we soared across the North Island. He regaled me with tales about his Whakapapa (Genealogy), his military days and a fantastic story in which, when invited to give an impromptu speech at a wedding on Barry Island, he opted for a Haka instead. I wish I’d heard this story BEFORE I gave a speech at my sister’s wedding. 

Thrown into daily life on the North Island and all there is to do, it can be quite easy to forget that there’s another island to explore (2 if you include Stewart Island). This trip would take me up the east coast of the South Island – from Dunedin to Christchurch and then Picton where I would board the ferry across the Cook Strait to meet a friend from Medical School in Wellington. 

Dunedin won me over instantly. Quite clearly a student town, it was full of bars, cafes, and lived up to its alternate name as Edinburgh of the South with tartan and shortbread for days. I’d flown out to New Zealand with chunky knitwear aplenty which I hadn’t been able to use in sunny ol’ Gisborne, so I was glad of the Dunedin chill on this trip. This is probably the best time to mention that I had only realised that Dunedin and Dúnedain (as in Dúnedain Rangers from Lord of the Rings) were pronounced differently, a few weeks earlier…which saved me some embarrassment in front of some of the hospital folk. 

I regret that I didn’t have time to visit Emerson’s or Speight’s Breweries, but had a wonderful evening stargazing on the Otago Peninsula, diving into star lore including that of Matariki and the six sisters. Matariki is the Maori name for what the Greeks called The Pleiades, or Seven Sisters.

Story time

According to traditional Māori knowledge, the Sky Father, Ranginui and the Earth Mother Papatūānuku were separated from their eternal embrace by their sons who were cramped between them and no longer wanted to live in darkness. All the brothers agreed to this, except for Tāwhirimātea, god of Weather. In anguish at the separation of his parents, Tāwhirimātea tore out his eyes and threw the pieces into the heavens from where they have looked down on man ever since. Matiriki and the six sisters rise after winter solstice and use their mana – power – to guide the weakened sun on his journey back south.  

It was a story that was told much better when I was huddled under a blanket (also clad in chunky knitwear) with a steaming hot chocolate, looking between the stars and the storyteller like a character from a children’s story. The time for Emerson’s and Speight’s pints would come later.

There was lots to see on the peninsula by day as well, including its wildlife and Lanarch Castle. I’ll admit, that with all my British snobbery, Lanarch Castle felt more like a stately home than a castle, but nevertheless it was a visit worthy of a few snaps that made their way onto my Instagram page. 

I had underestimated how long the journey up the east coast would be. While the coastal drive up through Waitati and Timaru was lovely, I pulled into Christchurch long after the sun had set, tired and ravenous. After a quick google search, I set off in search of Burger King – a large whopper meal being the only thing that could satiate me. To be honest, there was something quite ominous about Christchurch by night. I think it was something to do with the giant murals peeking through the shadows on partially street lit walls. But in the early morning light, the whole place transformed into something else entirely…

***

I’ll leave you with the image of me inhaling my burger by streetlight because my ferry to Wellington has commenced boarding and I should probably get a move on.  

More on Christchurch and onwards a bit later! Spoiler alert – I did in fact make it from Christchurch to Picton. 

There is nothing quite like that feeling of standing up on a surfboard, feeling the power of the waves surging beneath you. Nor is there anything quite like falling off, having seawater rush up your nose, into your sinuses and tickling your childhood memories. As Frank, our surfing instructor and Gissy legend likes so remind us…

The waves are a force of nature.

Before this Antipodean adventure, the only surfing I had ever done was the web, but it has been an absolute delight to take to the water. Everyone in Gisborne seems to be a surfer – the house officers seem to know what the waves will be like at any given time and location, and popping down to the beach before or after work to catch some waves happens more often than not. You’ll almost certainly bump into someone you know down at the water’s edge. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of Gisborne has seen me in the sea, emerging from the water like Daniel Craig in Casino Royale.  

In some ways, it has felt like a completely different culture with its own terms and etiquette. 

On my first day at the hospital, two of the house officers were having a conversation about whether it was warm enough to use a 3-2 instead of a 4-3. It being my first day, I nodded along politely, assuming that they were talking about duvets. It wasn’t until a week later that I realised they were, in fact, speaking about wetsuits! 

I am now the proud owner of a 3-2 wetsuit and with A LOT of practise, I hope that one day I’ll be carving up those waves like a turkey at Christmas.The first Saturday I took to the water was a glorious sunny day. After Frank had us practice paddling and standing up on the sand, we were in water, trying to ride the white water – spending more time in it than on it.  

I regret to say that I did also take a surfboard to the face. The score stands at:

Pacific Ocean 1 – 0 Yathu

As I emerged spluttering from the water, blinking sea water out of my eyes and clutching my lip where said surfboard had impacted, I caught Frank’s eye…who had seen the whole episode. 

“Watch out”, he said and then began to say something else. 

“I know,” I muttered, reaching out to drag my board back out into the water. “The waves are a force of nature.”