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Guy Needham's latest solo exhibition, Shades of Otara, opened this week at Studio One in Auckland. < Back Shades of Otara opens 1 Jun 2015 Guy Needham's latest solo exhibition, Shades of Otara, opened this week at Studio One in Auckland. A black and white documentary series three years in the making, the Opening Night was attended by hundreds as part of the Auckland Festival of Photography. The exhibition is on until June 18. < Previous Next >

We both looked up. It was a strange sound, obviously unfamiliar to my host. “When was the last time it rained here?” I asked. A pause. “Um… this is the first time this year. Might settle the dust though,” said Nick laconically. Perhaps a good omen to mark the centenary of what some would say is Australia’s strangest town. < Back The Strangest Town in Australia 26 Apr 2015 We both looked up. It was a strange sound, obviously unfamiliar to my host. “When was the last time it rained here?” I asked. A pause. “Um… this is the first time this year. Might settle the dust though,” said Nick laconically. Perhaps a good omen to mark the centenary of what some would say is Australia’s strangest town. I was in Coober Pedy, located in the desert of the South Australian outback, a red dirt town under big blue skies. It’s a town that was founded 100 years ago on opal mining, a town where 50% of the population live underground, and a town that hadn’t seen rain for a while. As the showers gently eased Nick, the owner of The Lookout Cave Underground Hotel, commended me for visiting during the ‘colder’ months (it was 31° outside). In January it had been an unbearable 43°. The locals avoid the worst of it by living in ‘dugout’ homes excavated out of sandstone hills, giving them a constant 22° and respite from the harsh desert heat and dust. Unlike ‘mole holes’ these homes – like my underground hotel room – are generally at ground level, super quiet and thankfully not claustrophobic. When the rain stopped Nick pointed out the air vents that dotted the landscape, rising like metallic mushrooms giving air to the dugouts below. Google Maps had already shown me that Coober Pedy was going to be different: the reddy-brown landscape, few structures, fewer roads and lots of dirt. But what the town lacks in looks it makes up for in superlatives: it is, after all, the Opal Capital of the World, down the road is the Largest Cattle Station in the World, cutting through it is the Longest Man-made Structure in the World, there’s the Driest Golf Course in the World and of course, the Largest Underground Hotel in the World (capitals intended). I think it also has the most flies in the world. I’d timed my visit with the Coober Pedy Opal Festival, which this year was celebrating 100 years since fourteen-year-old Willie Hutchison found the first opal there. The festival kicked off with the annual Street Parade, hosted by jovial MCs keeping the crowd entertained under the blazing mid morning sun. Slowly the flotilla came into view, heavy mining trucks leading the way followed by local businesses, AFL fans and the obligatory Mines Rescue vehicles. In a town of only 3500 if you weren’t in the parade you were cheering it on from the sidelines. “Where you from eh fella?” asked the aboriginal man next to me, from under his Akubra hat. I told him and then David Mindi Crombie told me his life story. Born inside an open-cut opal pit with his twin brother. Famous for writing songs about Coober Pedy. Performed at the Sydney Opera House on a national tour. Named Coober Pedy Citizen of the Year (1992). A Justice of the Peace. Singing tonight at the pub up the road. I’d picked a good person to sit next to. Nick commended me for visiting during the ‘colder’ months (it was 31° outside). The Opal Festival also coincided with Easter so there was no better time to visit one of the town’s underground churches. Father Brian Mathews welcomed me at the door of Saint Peter’s and Paul’s and patiently took me through its history. “The parish is rather large I guess,” he said, standing in front of a wall map. “And we don’t always have a church everywhere. Last week I had mass in the dining room of a pub.” He drew his finger across the boundaries. It went up to Uluru, touched Western Australia, Northern Territory, Queensland and New South Wales. This priest was responsible for a parish area bigger than Texas. Across from the church was one of the town’s two dozen opal jewellery stores, which makes sense when you consider that 85% of Australia’s opals come from Coober Pedy. “They’re all individual, that’s what makes each one so special,” said George of Opalios, peering up with his jewellery magnifiers still on while polishing a stone. “It doesn’t matter what type of opal you like - cut, rough, milky, black, pinfire – it’s bound to be different to what anyone else has.” He pulled out a solid opal set in 18k gold. Price? A steal at $12,500. The dirty end of the business was found at Tom’s Working Opal Mine. After the briefing and donning a hard hat, I wound my way down 12 metres underground. Blower pipes, Caldwell shafts, pillar bashing, explosive setting, sump tunnels - there’s a lot to this opal mining gig. Which explains the numerous abandoned drill holes in the area (“Beware deep shafts” “Don’t walk backwards” the signs warn). Even the town’s name comes from the Aboriginal kupa-piti meaning ‘white man in a hole’. The landscapes weren’t just a potholed mess though; this was the scenery that had starred in Priscilla: Queen of the Desert and Max Mad: Beyond Thunderdome so I arranged to explore more. “Today we’re gonna go off road for about 600k’s,” said Rowie as I put my seatbelt on. Peter Rowe isn’t your typical tour guide. He’s an official Australia Post contractor and I was joining him on ‘mail run’ from Coober Pedy to William Creek to Oodnadatta. The 12-hour drive would take us across the Great Artesian Basin to the edge of the Victorian Desert. First stop was Anna Creek Station, the largest cattle ranch on the planet at a whopping 24,000km2 – that’s 6,000,000 acres. To give you a sense of scale, the distance from the property boundary to the unassuming homestead is further then the distance from Auckland to Hamilton. No one was home but Peter dropped off the mail, disturbing hundreds of screeching Corella birds all wanting to make their presence known. To get to Anna Creek we had to pass the Dog Fence, designed to keep dingoes away from livestock. The fence is twice as long as The Great Wall of China; 5600kms of protective barbed wire and posts weaving across three Australian states. William Creek (pop. 6) is a town so small that it’s entirely surrounded by Anna Creek Station. One thing it does have though – aside from a pub – is an outdoor ‘rocket museum’. I had to squint to read it but that’s what it said: the metal carcass in front of me was part of a rocket used to launch a British satellite from the nearby Woomera Rocket Range. Impressed, I went back inside for some Kangaroo Yiros and a Hahn Super Dry. The unsealed road that runs from William Creek to Oodnadatta is known as the Oodnadatta Track. Partially built on the old Ghan railway line the track is at times bone jarring, very geologically diverse and a little surprising. In the distance a dingo stared at us. “Hang on to ya hat!” Peter yelled, as he turned the 4WD onto the tundra and raced towards the now scurrying dog. That particular chase was futile but we did get close to kangaroos, camels and hawks. On the way back to Coober Pedy I was regaled with more stories – from the Afghan cameleers to the unfortunate souls who perished in the desert heat. We arrived back long after dark. The week of celebrations culminated with the Coober Pedy open-air cinema. Held every second weekend it seemed like the whole town had parked up, tuned in, sat back and enjoyed the free ice creams and cheap snacks. It was one of the few above-the-ground activities in town. Of course, like any movie theatre, it began with the “Patrons: Explosives are not to be brought into this theatre” slide, a joke flashback to the old days. Staying in Coober Pedy made me realise it’s not for everyone. To be honest, it can be a little strange – like that uncle you try to avoid at Christmas – but if you’re ready to exchange more than pleasantries and are willing to be surprised, you’ll find that there’s a lot more under the surface of this unique outback town. < Previous Next >

I first saw it through a 1973 Holden Belmont station wagon’s smoke-stained window. Staring back at 11-year-old me was a blue and yellow sign: ‘Pig Dog Training School / Bookbinder’. Located just outside of Torere, Joshua Kauta’s iconic landmark still stands, symbolising the next 300 kilometres. Known yet mysterious, friendly yet wary, this is the East Coast. < Back Cruising down the Highway 35 New Zealand Herald 5 Mar 2024 I first saw it through a 1973 Holden Belmont station wagon’s smoke-stained window. Staring back at 11-year-old me was a blue and yellow sign: ‘Pig Dog Training School / Bookbinder’. Located just outside of Torere, Joshua Kauta’s iconic landmark still stands, symbolising the next 300 kilometres. Known yet mysterious, friendly yet wary, this is the East Coast. State Highway 35 is its vein, an artery of townships that have risen and fallen with the tide of resources, people and politics. And yet this narrow, storm-beaten road attracts more passion than perhaps any other. ‘35’ logos proudly sit across low-hanging trackies, XXL tees and well-worn bucket hats. 35, the TikTok sensation by the 24-rangatahi choir Ka Hao and Rob Ruha has over 5 million views on YouTube. Driving the road you can see why. Honour guards of rata canopy across the sticky tarmac while almighty ponga stand sentinel over isolated coves. Beehives and bulls fall into the rear vision mirror, as a new Haere Mai approaches. Each township has its own unique ways. Te Kaha is home to the strikingly carved wharenui Tūkākī, next to a memorial dedicated to the Māori Battalion's C Company. Just before it is the Te Kaha Beach Resort complete with swimming pool, sea views, restaurant and event facilities. The Coast, authentic yet polished. As the road curves a bright star appears on the isthmus. Raukokore’s church, its external beams glistening, is as picturesque as it is isolated. The Pacific laps metres away as a stallion nonchalantly looks up. A single ute’s exhaust splutters and then the quiet returns once again. Further on the gears shift down, as does the pace. Fans of Taika Waititi pay homage to Boy’s Michael Jackson moves in front of the Waihau Bay Post Office, as kuia roll their eyes and chuckle. Fisherman patiently wait their turn to use the popular boat ramp as the sea begins to settle. After Hicks Bay the first straight heads towards Te Araroa and a carpet of needles under Te Waha o Rerekohu, the largest Pohutukawa in New Zealand. I played on it as a kid; there’s now a sign politely asking you not to. The most easterly point of State Highway 35 is at Tikitiki. Atop its hill sits the historic St Marys, widely considered to be the most beautiful Māori church in New Zealand. Sunlight strikes the stained glass window depicting two soldiers kneeling at the feet of Christ, below them sit glowing pews. Kowhaiwhai and tukutuku panels bathe in the light, embracing the intricately carved pulpit. The church, which was built as a memorial to Ngati Porou who sacrificed their lives in the Great War, has been lovingly restored over the last two decades. State Highway 35 is its vein, an artery of townships that have risen and fallen with the tide of resources, people and politics. Under the watch of the maunga Hikurangi, the first place to see the Sun, lies Ruatoria. Home of Pa War s - officially the Ngati Porou inter-marae challenge – every year over 20 marae come together for a day of competing fun. As varied as the Coast’s landscape the battles range from sprints to karaoke to euchre. A chorus of ‘chur bro’ sings out as kids collapse over the finish line into the embrace of cheering whanau. Pa Wars is a welcome respite from a tough 18 months on the Coast. Floods, road closures, and of course, COVID-19 restrictions have all affected it. Erosion is no stranger to State Highway 35 either; the roads can be as uneven as the weather. Following another vehicle on the Coast forges an anonymous bond, a shared sense of navigating dips and swerving rocks, until they break away for their own journey as the road winds on. The gastronomical pull of Tokomaru Bay is too strong to drive by. Served fresh and creamy, Café 35’s famous Paua Pies fuel locals and tourists alike. Heads turn as trays breeze past, the waft of hot flaky pastry delivered with a knowing smile, making the wait worth it. The pies travel well, making their half-eaten way to nearby ‘secret’ Anaura Bay. This stunning bay embodies ‘getting away from it all’, its long sandy beach bookended by DOC and commercial camping grounds. The biggest township on the East Coast happens to have the longest wharf in New Zealand. Buttressed by easterly swells the Tolaga Bay wharf can be a stirring sight; a reminder of the respect Tangaroa commands. Light-coloured driftwood touched by fingers of ocean tentatively rests as the tide comes in one more time. A determined father with stroller heads towards the end of the pier, hair askew and hands clasped tightly. Waiting for him when he gets back are Broad Bills’ cheesy wheezies curly fries, a just reward for such a long walk. Beyond Tolaga Bay the road straightens as it makes its way to Gisborne. Behind it is a unique unspoiled land, threaded with a living, breathing highway. The Coast, like State Highway 35 itself, is still a little rough around the edges, but nothing a 1973 Holden Belmont station wagon can’t handle. Details Getting there: Self-drive from Opotiki to Gisborne or vice-versa. 4WD is best. Accommodation: Te Kaha Beach Resort, Hicks Bay Motor Lodge, Freedom camping Stop at: Te Kaha, Waihau Bay, Te Araroa, Tikitiki, Tokomaru Bay, Anaura Bay, Tolaga Bay Web: tairawhitigisborne.co.nz/see-and-do/statehighway35/ Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

Nashi Boy, as featured in Metro magazine and the Royal Photographic Society's The Decisive Moment, has been selected for a street photography book and exhibition in Italy. < Back Tales of the Unwritten 21 Apr 2021 Nashi Boy, as featured in Metro magazine and the Royal Photographic Society's The Decisive Moment, has been selected for a street photography book and exhibition in Italy. The 'Tales of the Unwritten' exhibition opens on 10th October, at Stelio Crise State Library in Trieste. The image of young Semi popping out amongst the nashis was part of Shades of Otara - a three-year personal project to pay tribute to the workers of the Otara Markets. < Previous Next >

The runway was approaching and we still didn’t have clearance. We’d reduced speed but the control tower was looming closer. Suddenly we got the green light. “There it is,” pointed Geoff, “Up in the tower”. Sure enough, a green light beamed back at us, permission to continue on the railway that cuts through Gisborne’s airport. < Back Hidden Gisborne New Zealand Herald 9 Aug 2023 The runway was approaching and we still didn’t have clearance. We’d reduced speed but the control tower was looming closer. Suddenly we got the green light. “There it is,” pointed Geoff, “Up in the tower”. Sure enough, a green light beamed back at us, permission to continue on the railway that cuts through Gisborne’s airport. Geoff was a guard aboard Wa165, the only remaining Wa class steam locomotive in the world. As President of the Gisborne City Vintage Railway, over the clack clacks he shared the history of an engine that first ran when Queen Victoria reigned. After years of neglect, it was lovingly restored by rail enthusiasts and now plies its route as one of Gisborne’s hidden treasures. “You’ll want to see this,” Geoff nodded ahead. We started to slow as the Waipaoa River Bridge came into view. Passing over the longest rail bridge in the North Island made for a vintage scene before picking up steam through the fields to Muriwai. Once the train had safely stopped it was the kids’ time – selfies lying in front of the cowcatcher and oohs and ahs as they clambered into the cab under the watchful eye of the driver. John the fireman (in a steam train sense) took me through the stats: half a tonne of coal, 4,000 litres of water, and a whole lot of levers to get the three carriages here and back. As a trainee driver, it was his job to manage the ‘run around’ – when the engine is shifted to the ‘rear’ of the train in order to lead the way home backwards. As we rumbled back to the city and scenic views gave way to urban landscape, the piercing whistle reminded cars that a 200-tonne train was headed their way. At journey’s end Wa165 braked to a stop and 150 beaming faces disembarked. Quite conveniently the railway depot is just a five-minute walk from New Zealand’s oldest independent brewery. The home of Gisborne Gold, Sunshine Brewing is a boutique brewery, pizzeria and off-licence all wrapped into one. Kahu was there to greet me, passionately explaining what it takes to create such locally-inspired drops as Life’s a Peach, Pipeline Pilsner and Stockies, before generously pouring me a tasting flight from a selection of their 20 tap beers. Spilling out onto the patio was a melting pot of jandals and John Bulls, mullets and bangs. Spilling out onto the patio was a melting pot of jandals and John Bulls, mullets and bangs. Piping hot pizzas landed with ice-cold pints as beer-matching is an art here: Rip Tide pizza accompanied by Mahia Pale Ale, slices of Shore Break with the award-winning No Access East Coast hazy IPA. As I left it was obvious that the locals appreciate it too as ‘double dozens’ were carried off to be sipped elsewhere. Tūranganui-a-Kiwa has always had an active arts scene so it was exciting to come across Toi Ake. Located in the Ballance Street Village, its teardrop banner gave little away. Randomly popping in I was welcomed by co-founder Henare Brooking (Ngati Porou, Rongowhakaata), himself a painter, tā moko, pounamu and paraoa (whalebone) artist. “We wanted to create a hub for local artists to work from, a place where they could grow their art”. Now one of the country’s leading Māori art studios, the gallery features work from across the motu. Paintings and prints cover the walls. Carvings look down and sculptures stand proud. While the front of Toi Ake is a gallery, it was out back where the action was taking place. One of the five full-time tā moko artists was carefully applying fresh ink to a client’s ankle; the concentration was evident. On the other side of town, there was a different sort of concentration: wild stingrays. 24 years ago diver and underwater cameraman Dean Savage was befriended by a curious stingray, planting the seed for what is now Dive Tatapouri’s Ecology Reef tour. Today these kaitiaki of the ocean, sacred to the area, feel the vibrations of people from all over the world who have come to interact with them in their natural environment. Thorough safety briefing done (“avoid the barbs”), waders on and pole in hand, we entered the reef at low tide. My partner's trepidation quickly evaporated as Stevie Ray glided up beside her. Graceful, serene, Stevie Ray investigated the line of legs before being joined by eagle rays Aroha and Rachael. Our guide Matt handed out bait. “When you go to feed them take your hand right to the bottom, all the way down – their mouths are under their body.” Aroha came up to my partner’s hand and sucked the food in like a soft vacuum, despite pushy kahawai trying to get in on the action. Matt was encouraging: “Go ahead, gently stroke them if you like.” I nodded affirmatively as if I was a marine biologist. A hand went into the water and the report came back: slimy but cool. Soon it was our turn for lunch and the city’s inner harbour beckoned. Years ago, when I was wearing Nomads at Gisborne Boys’ High, the Kaiti Freezing Works was a major employer in Tairāwhiti. Today the only remaining building is a gable-roofed structure that houses one of Gisborne’s best eateries, The Works. With an industrial-meets-casual vibe that wouldn’t be out of place on Ponsonby Road, the brick restaurant is less ‘hidden’ and more ‘destination’. Like many a hospitality venue over the summer post-COVID, it has been “smashed as”, but you wouldn’t know it judging by what was coming out of the kitchen. Cradled in a halved brioche was my Pork Belly Karaage, a perfectly coated tonkatsu topped with honey soy sauce… which instantly got ‘shared’ with uninvited forks. The Orecchiette Pasta was nearly enough for two: prawns sitting atop lemon pangrattato and thinly sliced zucchini. There was no need for dessert, tempting as it looked. It’s a little-known fact that the National Arboretum of New Zealand is… in Gisborne. To be accurate, the arboreal ark that is Eastwoodhill is a 30min drive away through the Ngatapa valley. Upon arriving I instantly regretted not putting more time aside to see the largest collection of northern hemisphere trees in this part of the world. Autumn sees the 100-year-old gardens come alive, a deciduous cloak of orange fluttering upon a bed of needles and cones. Another little-known fact: it's not only the Giant Panda and Bizarre-nosed Chameleon that make the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species; Eastwoodhill helps protect over 150 threatened or endangered trees on the list. We took the Yellow Walk to see them, zig-zagging through the woodlands before the scent of eucalyptus led us to The Cathedral. Originally an outline of Westminster Abbey planted in Lawson cypress, the enchanting smell comes from the tallest tree in the arboretum. There is something soul-fulfilling in walking amongst giants and my partner couldn’t help but say hello to the trees in their native language: “Konnichi wa” “Ni hao” “Hola” ”Bonjour”. The arboretum isn’t all exotics though; there are plenty of natives for the kids to learn about if you can tear them away from the carved lion. The fading sunlight was our cue to head down the road to our final destination, Gisborne Astro Tours. Pulling up outside a paddock and a large portacabin shed, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. Our host, John Drummond (MSc Astronomy, Fellow of the Royal Astronomical Society of New Zealand) strolled out to meet us, extending his hand like we were old friends and inviting us inside. As we took a seat John explained how we were in a perfect position: zero light pollution and the best view of the universe. As he started his interactive 30-minute presentation I realised that this astro-scientist was the epitome of Gizzy: friendly, knowledgeable, enthusiastic and authentic. Nebulae, clusters, supernovae, constellations - it was (excuse the pun) all so clear now. John put up with my inane questions (“Why did Pluto get demoted?”) with the skill of a science teacher and the patience of a saint. Then it was time to see the real thing. Leading us out past wool-shedding Wiltshire sheep, John disappeared through a low door before popping up to roll back the roof of his custom-built observatory, revealing two large Newtonian Reflector telescopes. This is where stargazing guests spend most of their time, marvelling at the celestial worlds before them until reluctantly having to share the eyepiece. As we were leaving John casually mentioned Gisborne Astro Tours’ Introductory Course to Astronomy: six lectures over six weeks focusing on how to use the telescope, astrophotography and solar system viewings. Humble as he was, I think it’s one part of the Gisborne experience that doesn’t deserve to be hidden. Details Getting there: Air New Zealand flies from Auckland and Wellington on a daily basis to Gisborne Gisborne City Vintage Railway: www.gcvr.org.nz Sunshine Brewing: www.sunshinebrewing.co.nz Toi Ake gallery: www.toiake.art The Works: www.theworksgisborne.co.nz Reef Ecology Stingray tour: www.divetatapouri.com Eastwoodhill Arboretum: www.eastwoodhill.org.nz Gisborne Astro Tours: www.gisborneastrotours.com Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

An image of Domi Logo, one of the elders of the Dani tribe, has been selected for an international Portraits exhibition in Athens, Greece. < Back Domi Logo goes to Athens 9 May 2023 An image of Domi Logo, one of the elders of the Dani tribe, has been selected for an international Portraits exhibition in Athens, Greece. The portrait which was taken outside the village's pilamo or men's hut will be on show at the Blank Wall Gallery from June 9-21. Although thousands of years old, the Dani tribe was unknown to the rest of the world until 1938. Today they still live a simple life and their traditions have endured, including their formidable appearance for celebratory occasions. < Previous Next >

If you want to read about why I disappointed a Nun while gazing out from ancient monasteries perched atop towering pinnacles of rock in Meteora, Greece, pick up a copy of this Tuesday's New Zealand Herald. < Back Castles in the Sky 18 Aug 2019 If you want to read about why I disappointed a Nun while gazing out from ancient monasteries perched atop towering pinnacles of rock in Meteora, Greece, pick up a copy of this Tuesday's New Zealand Herald. In the cover story of Travel you'll also find out how these amazing monasteries were built, and the best way to get to this UNESCO World Heritage attraction. < Previous Next >

Webb's upcoming Material Culture auction, a celebration of the mastery and skill of indigenous artists and their craft, will feature images from The Hull of Papua New Guinea. < Back The Huli at Webb's 20 Jul 2023 Webb's upcoming Material Culture auction, a celebration of the mastery and skill of indigenous artists and their craft, will feature images from The Hull of Papua New Guinea. The Webbs's catalogue traverses continental regions of Africa and Australia and on through Oceania and Aotearoa, and covers a vast period of time from as early as some five thousand years ago to present day. In keeping with the artefacts a number of Guy Needham's signed, limited-edition prints will be up for auction, featuring one of the last remaining tribes that still wear traditional dress. You can find out more about the auction here . < Previous Next >

Guy Needham was recently interviewed by D:Photo Magazine. < Back Splendid Isolation in D-Photo magazine 27 May 2014 Guy Needham was recently interviewed by D:Photo Magazine. Freelance photographer Guy Needham travels to the little seen parts of the globe to document unique cultures, and for this year’s Auckland Festival of Photography he turns his lens of Papua New Guinea’s indigenous Huli. < Previous Next >

An international visual journalist, Guy has traveled to more than 60 countries, bearing witness not only to turmoil and conflict, but also to hope and the power of the human spirit. Covering topical events from military occupations to civil unrest to emergencies in North and South America, Asia and the Pacific, these images have appeared in newspapers, magazines and websites. PHOTOJOURNALISM Current Affairs Global An international visual journalist, Guy has traveled to more than 60 countries, bearing witness not only to turmoil and conflict, but also to hope and the power of the human spirit. Covering topical events from military occupations to civil unrest to emergencies in North and South America, Asia and the Pacific, these images have appeared in newspapers, magazines and websites.

In this coming weekend's Sunday Star-Times you can read all about how I helplessly watched on as my guide was slowly poisoned... < Back Jaguars in the Jungle 20 Jan 2020 In this coming weekend's Sunday Star-Times you can read all about how I helplessly watched on as my guide was slowly poisoned... ... how children celebrate Christmas in an Amazonian fishing village, how the 'mark of the Matses' is slowly fading with generations, and how I ended up on a Peruvian Air Force sea plane trying to reach the middle of the jungle. < Previous Next >

“When the alarm goes you grab this,” Officer Cadet Dusan said as he pointed to my lifejacket. “And this.” An orange survival suit. “We muster on C Deck, starboard side.” I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that my welcome was bringing up Titanic-like thoughts. < Back Off-grid Ocean Journey 5 Feb 2015 “When the alarm goes you grab this,” Officer Cadet Dusan said as he pointed to my lifejacket. “And this.” An orange survival suit. “We muster on C Deck, starboard side.” I didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing that my welcome was bringing up Titanic-like thoughts. I had just boarded the ANL Bindaree, a Liberian-flagged freighter that was slowly pulling out into the Hauraki Gulf laden with 30,000 tones of freight, 24 crew and 1 other passenger. I was following a little-known tradition of passengers on cargo ships, harking back to the days when cabins were set aside for owners and VIPs. Today they’re taken by people looking for a slow alternative to air travel, who are independent, have time to spare, and who – like me – just want to do something a little different. I’d chosen a rather circuitous route as was pointed out by Adrian, the bemused Chief Engineer. “OK, so you’re leaving here to come back here to go nowhere?” “Uh huh,” I replied. From Auckland around Cape Reinga across the Tasman to Melbourne, up the Australian Coast to Sydney and then into the South Pacific to disembark at Tauranga. The journey would take two weeks. “You are very strange,” he chuckled. Adrian was one of the Bindaree’s band of officers from Croatia, Romania, and Montenegro; the crew were all Filipino. As is maritime tradition there was strict segregation between the officers and the crew including socialising, eating and sleeping. This irked my fellow passenger, Naomi, a Canadian environmental educator, who was telling me so when we were interrupted. “Attention all crew. Attention all crew,” boomed the PA system. “Clocks go back one hour tonight. One hour.” That marked us entering international waters and that meant the Slop Chest was open. The Slop Chest (official name: Bonded Store) was a duty free treasure trove of alcohol, treats and cigarettes. You pick what you want from the checklist, hand a slip to the officer, it gets delivered to your door, and you pay in $US before disembarking. I made the landlubber’s mistake of thinking I was paying US$18 for a dozen Becks beer. 24 bottles turned up. No matter, there was more than enough room in my quarters. Officially the “Owner’s cabin”, I had a dayroom (two couches, table, writing desk and chair, fridge, LG mini-system, DVD player and TV) as well as a bedroom plus shower and toilet. My porthole (ticket note: “View may be restricted by containers”) looked all the way to the bow. As the days went by the low rumble of the engines was occasionally punctuated by the creaking of container lashes. I spent as much time as possible on the Bridge. Being allowed in the Wheelhouse is one of the perks of being a passenger on a merchant ship, but it definitely wasn’t what I expected. Sure, I’d done my research – if watching Captain Phillips counts – but I hadn’t reckoned on was how automated it all was. There is no grand wheel any more; this one was the size of a PlayStation racing control. “Surprised huh?” Third Officer Paul called out with a grin on his face. “Everything is automatic now, see”. He pointed to the navigation console. “Of course, we still do things manually. Every two hours we plot our exact position on the charts behind you. Don’t want anything to go wrong,” he said understatedly, still smiling. As Officer on Watch he wasn’t actually steering the ship; he was checking it was on track. Just to humour me though he opened a small hatch on the bulkhead – out popped a Morse code machine. The following day I joined Chief Officer Aleksandar on the outer Bridge – him with cigarette and coffee in hand, me with sunglasses, both of us looking out to the horizon. “People don’t understand,” he said passionately. “We are the life blood of the world economy!” He jokingly jabbed his finger to his forearm. “No planes, no trains, ever carry as much as economically as us. This is why shipping will never die.” I nodded in agreement. We were heading west at a majestic 14 knots. He opened a small hatch on the bulkhead – out popped a Morse code machine. Seven decks below the powerhouse of the ship thundered on. In the engine room nine turbines pumped out 720RPM of raw power. “140°” said the engineer, “That’s how hot these pipes are. Don’t touch them.” I didn’t need to be told twice. As awesome as all that power was it was a relief to be topside again. My favourite place was at the bow with 250m of container ship behind me, the hypnotic sound of the swell and the gentle rocking of a massive ship. The mornings were fresh and tingly; the afternoon’s hot and tan-worthy. It wasn’t until Day 6 that we saw land again – Australia. The mood on the Bridge noticeably changed and focus replaced humour. It was as if the ship had been given a talking to at half time and came out with guns blazing. In Melbourne I saw first-hand the life-blood of the world economy. Every container was positioned on the deck according to its declared weight, need for power, displacement of cargo and final destination. Massive cranes, hoists and lights worked 24 hours to keep the infrastructure pumping. After ‘shore leave’ I was back up the gangway in time for dinner. Meals were at set times (7-8am, Noon-1pm, 5-6pm) and eating in the Officers’ Mess was a chance to get to know the men onboard. On freighters the meals are dependent on how good a cook you have and ours was good. Chef Leonardo and Messman Rodel invited me into the galley to proudly show off their honey-glazed chicken, Thai-inspired beef and ice-cream sundaes. Evenings were spent chilling. There was time to read, watch DVDs, work out in the gym or just stare out to sea. More than once I caught up with the ship’s Master, Danko Grgurevic, a typically friendly Croatian who was usually dressed in shorts, a company t-shirt and tennis shoes. We arrived in Botany Bay under a full moon. By then I’d learnt that you’re not supposed to take your passport off the vessel when entering another country (oops) and you have to sit at your allocated place at the dining table even when you’re the only person there (oops again). But despite all those idiosyncrasies there was one great benefit: being “off the grid”. No cellphone, no Facebook, no hashtags, no selfies. After another five days we arrived in Tauranga. I left the crew with a few magazines and beers, and descended the gangway one last time. It had been a privileged insight into a rarefied ecosystem, one with rules and norms that could be daunting to the uninitiated. Luckily, I had the best hosts I could have asked for. And I was rather pleased that I never had to put on that orange survival suit. < Previous Next >