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Even the most ardent solo traveller at some stage will need a guide - someone who knows their cantons from their arrondissements better than you do. I’ve used more than 20 guides around the world, from well-known tour companies to random taxi drivers, so here are a few simple tips that might help you out. < Back Guiding Principles New Zealand Herald 12 Jun 2017 Even the most ardent solo traveller at some stage will need a guide - someone who knows their cantons from their arrondissements better than you do. I’ve used more than 20 guides around the world, from well-known tour companies to random taxi drivers, so here are a few simple tips that might help you out. Choose if you can. Often I travel independently and need a local guide / translator / fixer that can’t be found in a Lonely Planet. TripAdvisor’s online forums are a great starting point – if only to identify companies that specialise in where you’re going – and from there a little desk research will get you far. Don’t necessarily go for the cheapest, make sure they have a good grasp of English over e-mail, and be clear about what costs are and aren’t included. The tour company isn’t your guide. But the guide will be your company, so never assume that all the correspondence has been passed on to the person in front of you. Always check when it’s appropriate to do so, and share what is important to you so they understand from the start. If you’re after more culture than history, say so. If photo ops are your thing, ask them to take you to the most picturesque locations. Once they know your specific interest it’s a lot easier for them to pull you aside (if in a group) or point you in a certain direction. Ask ahead. The best guides I have ever had informed me ‘two steps ahead’. “Tonight we’re meeting here for dinner and then you have your own time, and we’re checking out at x o’clock and can then change your money at y.” Asking ahead will ease any planning anxiety and give you a sense of freedom knowing how much time you have before you need to be somewhere. Surprises are never good. This goes both ways. Make sure you’re communicating with your guide as much as you can from Day 1. Depending on your level of OCD-ness and if you speak the local language, this can be a fine line. However, if something seems at odds with what you were expecting, politely but firmly enquire. Once on tour don’t forget that you’re the client and your guide genuinely wants to do the best for you, so be as up front as possible. Buy The Gumboots. It’s a metaphor for, “The reason your guide is suggesting something, might not be the reason that you suspect.” This is where you have to trust your guide. In my case I had perfectly adequate tramping shoes and gaiters for the jungle; but I should have bought the gumboots he recommended. I had to take my shoes on and off at every house and I became a muddy time-consuming embarrassing mess. Once on tour don’t forget that you’re the client and your guide genuinely wants to do the best for you Be generous. Guides, by nature, tend to be curious about the rest of the world. Whether it’s showing them selfies on your phone or the wonders of the Remarkables, be generous with your time in telling them about New Zealand. Everyone is surprised we have so many sheep. And hobbits. Make the most of it. Like all occupations, sometimes you get a guide who is a bit of a dick. You’ll spot them; they’re more interested in their own comfort than worried about your needs; they tend not to translate unless you ask; and are very poor at letting you know what is going on. All you can really do is continue to push and ask questions, and reach out to others you meet along the way to find out what you’d like to know. Thankfully these guides are the exception. Above all, remember that your guide is just that, someone to help, assist and recommend, and all going well you’ll be wishing they were available for every trip you go on. Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

< Back Lubango Local chosen for Athens 19 Aug 2025 An image of a just-emptied train carriage at a railway station on the outskirts of Lubango, Angola, has been selected for a global travel exhibition in Athens, Greece. The image of bright blue seats and piercing sunlight under an array of diminishing ventilation fans, is one of Guy Needham's two photographs that will be exhibited at Blank Wall Gallery in Athens from late September. Part of a travel series taken in Angola for The Post, the image captures the stripped back utilitariuanism of public transport. < Previous Next >

< 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 >

Marden was ashen, it was obvious that the poison was starting to take effect. I knew what would happen next – the toxins making their way into his bloodstream, then his glands and finally hitting his central nervous system. With a small first aid kit there was nothing I could do. Not that he wanted me to. < Back Peru Navidad Sunday Star-Times 26 Jan 2020 Marden was ashen, it was obvious that the poison was starting to take effect. I knew what would happen next – the toxins making their way into his bloodstream, then his glands and finally hitting his central nervous system. With a small first aid kit there was nothing I could do. Not that he wanted me to. Marden, my Peruvian guide, has just taken kambo , a ritualistic poisoning sourced from the secretions of a spreadeagled giant monkey frog. Moments before, the village apo (chief) Julio had mixed the dried poison on a tamshi stick before applying it to two spots he had burnt into Marden’s shoulder. Kambo is renowned amongst the Matses tribe for giving a man more energy, greater strength and sexual stamina. The only thing rising right now though was Marden’s lunch as he began to violently vomit. Julio, his two wives and seven children looked on. I was deep in the Peruvian Amazon in a sleepy fishing village not far from the Brazilian border. I had come to spend time with the indigenous Matses (pron. ma-sez), who had only made permanent contact with the outside world in 1969. Since then spears and beads had been replaced with iPhones and adidas, but there were still some elders who followed the traditional ways. “ Passe ,” beckoned Julio, inviting me to the back of his house. Stabbed into the thatched roof were several piercing arrows which he used to hunt wild boar. As he drew his bow to demonstrate his hunting prowess, I could see a glint of pride in his eyes. Julio belonged to the last generation to have the mark of the Matses – a geometrical pattern tattooed from ear to ear. Now faded across his weathered face, his father had inked him half a century ago when he was 10 years old. It was the same marking shared by his wives, said to be done so a Matses ‘never gets lost’ amongst others. It was the same marking shared by his wives, said to be done so a Matses ‘never gets lost’ amongst others. Two of his children joined us. Beads criss-crossed their breasts and stripes of face paint represented the blood of their ancestors. One tried to hold her younger brother in place as he fidgeted with a palm headpiece. The Matses are known as the ‘jaguar people’ and older women insert whiskers of thin bamboo shoots into their noses to represent their feline association. A groan came from Marden as he supported himself against a pole. He didn’t look well. Cheers erupted outside. It was Navidad and the first fútbol match of the day was being played on a concrete court (due to the usual pitch being under the rain-swollen Rio Galvez). All the big names were here – Messi, Ronaldo, Neymar – although somewhat shorter in stature. A sharp midfield cross, a lunging header, GOOAALLL! A 7-year old crossed himself and pointed to the sky, frowning when his celebrations were cut short by the village loudspeaker crackling into life. “ Atencion, atencion!” Before the words had even finished the boys started running, shoving and pushing each other towards the community hall, knowing what lay in wait. There they joined the village’s other children, holding out plastic mugs for Christmas cocoa and waiting for a slice of panettone cake that had come all the way from Iquitos. Ahh, humid, wet, noisy Iquitos. The biggest city in the world inaccessible by road was my starting point for the Amazon, or to be precise, a Peruvian Air Force base. Grupo Aero 42 operated the Twin Otter seaplane that was going to get me and another dodgy looking turista into the jungle. There were strict weight limits for the flight so onto the scales with my luggage I went. “ Doce soles por favor senior”. Hmmmm, maybe one too many helpings of rice the night before. Handing over the 12 soles, soon we were onboard, powering forward until our wake on the Rio Morona was no more. Once landed in the provincial capital of Colonia Angamos it was then a 7-hour boat trip to the village which would become my home for a week. Julio helped Marden to his feet as colour returned to his pocked cheeks. We ambled back to where we were staying; there was no need to rush. Weaning dogs snoozed on broken footpaths as chickens lazily got out of the way. The slow creak of swaying hammocks filled darkened doorways and in the distance children laughed and splashed. Our house was typical of the Matses. Built on stilts with the family name painted on the door, the main room was for relaxing and eating. The kitchen area off to the side had an open fire (there was no electricity or running water) and behind us mosquito nets marked out sleeping areas. I climbed into mine, too exhausted to care about the oppressive heat. The slow creak of swaying hammocks filled darkened doorways and in the distance children laughed and splashed. The next day began before dawn as our host Sebastian had offered to take us hunting. Gliding his peka-peka boat over the glassy surface we drifted silently through the parting mist. A family of spider monkeys rustled from tree to tree, disturbing a pair of Blue and Yellow Macaws as they were eying the activity below. Once on land my newly acquired gumboots were proving their $11 worth, testing rotten logs and untangling twisted vines. Sebastian, gun in hand, stopped to point out a recent hoof-print of a majoz – a favourite edible rodent. Squinting at the undergrowth ahead he stealthily moved forward while we held back. Minutes later Sebastian returned and said something softly in Matses. “It was too fast amigo !” laughed Marden with a bounce in his step. At last, the kambo energy was beginning to kick in. Details Where: Village of Buen Peru, Loreta region, Peru Getting there: Fly from Auckland to Lima, Peru via Santiago, Chile, and then on to Iquitos. Take a military seaplane from Iquitos to Colonia Angamos. From there it’s a 7-8 hour motorised canoe trip to the village. Staying there: You’ll be hosted in local houses in the jungle but spoil yourself and check into the Hilton Iquitos on the way back. Eating there: Local food includes fish heads, turtle soup, paca rodents, green bananas and yuca (jungle potatoes). Only drink bottled water though. Currency: 1 Peruvian sol (S./) = $0.45. It is best to take small notes such as 10 and 20 soles and expect to tip your guide and porter at the end of the trip. Travel tips: You are going to get hot and wet so take breathable Gore-Tex and merino. Double the amount of mosquito repellent you were thinking of taking. Original publication: Sunday Star-Times < Previous Next >

< Back LA Center of Photography Member of the Month 4 Dec 2019 Guy Needham has been selected as LACP's Member of the Month for his Tribal series. Featuring imagery ranging from gritty monochrome to vivid colours, his multi-year project has so far included indigenous peoples in the Pacific, Africa, Asia and South America. This month he returns to the Amazon to once again spend time in the world's biggest rainforest. < Previous Next >

PROJECTS Māoriland Otaki, New Zealand The Māoriland Film Festival is New Zealand’s premier international Indigenous Film Festival. Eleven years strong, it is a cultural and arts event that invites New Zealanders to the Indigenous world through screen storytelling. Located on New Zealand’s Kāpiti Coast, Ōtaki is a vibrant seaside town where Māori culture and language thrives. Māoriland is celebrated for its manaakitanga and community spirit. Previous Next

“Hold on, I just need to scrape something off…” My guide had removed his gumboot and was reaching for a knife. Slowly he sliced the blade down his leg to remove the blood sucking leech that had attached itself to him. “Welcome to Mentawai!” he said with a broad grin. < Back The Mentawai of Indonesia New Zealand Herald 24 Oct 2017 “Hold on, I just need to scrape something off…” My guide had removed his gumboot and was reaching for a knife. Slowly he sliced the blade down his leg to remove the blood sucking leech that had attached itself to him. “Welcome to Mentawai!” he said with a broad grin. The leech and I were on the island of Siberut in the Indian Ocean, 150km west of Sumatra, on one of Indonesia’s 17,000 islands. I was there to spend a week living with the Mentawai tribe, a proud, independent hunter-gatherer people living off the land since the Stone Age. Far from your typical holiday, only a few people make it this deep into the equatorial rainforest, and had I not been researching for an exhibition I doubt I would have heard of them. So, here I was, three flights, one ‘fast’ ferry, 1 motorcycle ride, 3 hours on a motorized canoe, and 2 hours tramping through mud later. No electricity, no cell phone, no internet, no bedding, no toilet, no running water. “Anai loita” welcomed the tough, wiry sikerei (medicine man) who wore nothing more than a loin cloth, as his intricately tattooed hands firmly gripped mine. Aman Teutagougou was to be my host for the next few days, and after pointing out where in the uma (long house) I could leave my backpack – just under the monkey skulls hanging from the door frame – it was time to look around. Aman Teutagougou, like other Mentawai men, had multiple tattoos all over his body. He told me that the tattoos – which are tapped out painfully with needle and ink – each take a week. The men all have the same designs and start with the Sun, symbolising life. The final tattoo applied is to the face, signifying “I am finished”. Perhaps more disconcerting to the Western eye is the Mentawai women’s teeth. In a show of traditional beauty women sharpen their teeth to a point, which the Mentawai men find attractive. A beaming Bai Ibuk proudly flashed me her chiselled molars one night, as the jungle rains came down hard outside. Looking out into the torential rain it was easy too understand why the Mentawai consider themselves Keepers of the Rainforest. They are entirely self-sufficient, only taking what they need from the world around them and are at one with nature. I saw first-hand bark from the breadfruit tree stripped to make loincloths, water channelled to make sago, special leaves picked to mix poison for arrows, and left-over chicken bones fed through the floor boards to the snorting pigs below. What living with the Mentawai lacked in creature comforts, it made up for in spirits. Literally. While the rest of Indonesia is predominantly Muslim, the 64,000 Mentawai still follow a type of animalism called sibulngan, which worships the four main nature spirits of the Sky, Sea, Jungle and Earth. It was these spirits that were called upon when I was sick with fever towards the end of my trip. In a show of traditional beauty women sharpen their teeth to a point, which the Mentawai men find attractive. Ill, sweating, shaking, lying on a thin mattress under a mosquito net, I awoke feeling pressure on my stomach. Struggling to open my eyes, I could just make out a man kneeling over me pushing his hands into my abdomen. He slowly lifted my head and poured a crushed concoction of berries, leaves, water and dirt into my dry mouth. Delirious, I wondered why he was wearing my watch… When I awoke the next day I was told that the medicine man who came to see me was Aman Toikok, a village elder I had met at the start of my trip and who I had gifted my watch to. He heard that I was sick, and made the 3 hour walk to the uma I was staying in to call to the spirits of the Sky to heal me. While I was grateful for the relief, officially the Mentawai are not allowed to practice medicine, nor their indigenous religion. Pressure from the Indonesian government, including a 1950s decree prohibiting such customs, and the construction of ‘Government villages’ with schools, amenities, healthcare and free houses to entice the Mentawai from the jungle, are threating the traditional lifestyle and simple values of the tribe. Today the Mentawai people have to work harder than ever to preserve their ancient unique culture. Leeches and all. Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

The town known for those fat juicy you-know-whats, and the place where every New Zealand fundraising ride / walk / tour seems to end, is having a modern-day renaissance. Bluff is one of the oldest settlements in New Zealand but rather than resting on its oyster laurels its quickly becoming a destination of its own. < Back Why Bluff is the New Hotspot you must Visit New Zealand Herald 19 Mar 2024 The town known for those fat juicy you-know-whats, and the place where every New Zealand fundraising ride / walk / tour seems to end, is having a modern-day renaissance. Bluff is one of the oldest settlements in New Zealand but rather than resting on its oyster laurels its quickly becoming a destination of its own. So grab some cheese rolls, chase away the seagulls, start rolling your rrrs, and make plans to visit the most innovative town in Southland… The Bluffies “The demand never ceases to amaze me,” says Graeme White of Barnes Oysters, with a wry smile. Operating a number of Bluff’s oyster fleet, he’s already gearing up for what promises to be a busy season. Sustainability and health of the wild fishery is always top of mind, so scientific testing is regularly taking place. This year’s harvest is expected to outshine the last three. “The thing we hear the most from visitors? ‘These are the best I’ve tasted in the world’”. After a three year hiatus the iconic Bluff Oyster & Food Festival is back, having undergone somewhat of a revival. Expect to see those plump, succulent raw oysters freshly shucked by a pro, with just a squeeze of lemon or dab of vinegar added before being passed to eager hands. Once you reach peak oyster (can one even do that?), there’s all things oyster-adjacent to chow down on. The one day festival is scheduled for 25th May with tickets likely to be snapped up as soon as they go on sale. Don’t forget to pack a warm coat, hat and scarf, along with a decent appetite, and get that smooth, briny sweetness inside you. Kai with a twist Kaimoana from Te Ara a Kiwa / Foveaux Strait has been appreciated by local Ngāi Tahu long before the arrival of sealers, whalers and traders. Today Bluff is one of the few places where you can experience Māori cuisine with a contemporary twist. “We use sustainable indigenous ingredients all the time – I picked these this morning.” Haylee-Chanel Simeon was holding out bright pikopiko shoots that she’d foraged from Motupōhue / Bluff Hill just hours ago. Better known as Hayz, her eponymous restaurant Hayz @ The Anchorage is a full immersion experience. “We can tell you where the food came from, who brought it to us, and when they harvested it. It’s all about manaakitanga, treating those who come here with respect for sharing our love of the kai.” I looked at the menu. It was a toss-up between the tītī / mutton birds – a rich, gamey-flavoured delicacy only harvested in Rakiura / Stewart Island – and the blue cod. “If you don’t want to get food envy, this is the one to go for,” Hayz pointed helpfully. I didn’t want to get food envy. The Bluffie Board platter was spectacular: creamy pāua filling in a crispy wonton(!), salted tītī on toasted bruschetta with blueberry and balsamic glaze, freshwater whitebait fritters sourced from southland rivers, steamed Rakiura green-lipped mussels in a garlic sauce, the fresh beer-battered blue cod, all topped with those green pikopiko shoots. Gin Time A little further up the road is Ocean Beach, home to the country’s newest gin distillery and producer of Bluff Gin. The brainchild of local food entrepreneurs with the support of the wider community, it was officially opened by Sir Tipene O’Regan. Distiller Chris Fraser was there to meet me. Reaching behind the copper and stainless steel still, he handed me one of their signature bottles: a buoy-shaped cut-glass aqua-tinted vessel. “It’s a classic London Dry. Can you smell the juniper forward and citrus and spice? Goes best with East Imperial tonic. Plus it doesn’t have any seaweed or oysters!” he laughed. “We’re having it available here first ‘cause it’s all about Bluff, and then it’ll be available online and at your flash Auckland bars!” The distillery is the centrepiece of what will be a new hospitality venue looking out to Ocean Beach’s pounding surf and the silhouette of Rakiura – a bonus view as you take another sip of Bluff with a wedge of lime. Tours with bite Beyond that pounding surf lies the Northern Tītī Islands, their waters home to the great white shark. Foveaux Strait is one of only five places in the world where you can go cage diving to see these majestic predators close up, and Bluff’s Shark Experience is New Zealand’s sole shark cage diving operator. Never dived before? Not a problem says Shark Experience’s Nikki Ladd. “We’re not just for experienced divers – 90% of the people on our boat today are novices.” All the dive gear is provided and if you’re new to the underwater world you can learn how to use a regulator as part of a training session, so by the time the boat anchors you’re ready to go. You can even hire a GoPro to earn those Insta likes. Great whites are the most common sharks they see, with Mako and Blues joining in as well. So, what attracts these protected white pointers to the area? “We call it ‘amorous activites’,” says Nikki with air quotes and a broad smile. As we were leaving another two tourists came in and added their names to the waitlist, mesmerised by the close-up photos decorating the walls. Not your usual farm Bluff’s newest tourist attraction is a farm, but not the type you’d expect. Based out of the former Ocean Beach Freezing Works, Foveaux Pāua’s farm tour is a fascinating insight into Bluff’s land-based aquaculture industry. I was lucky enough to get a sneak preview of the tour from Foveaux Pāua director Blair Wolfgram. “This is the only place in the world you can tour a 100 year old meat works that’s been turned into a pāua, whitebait and seaweed farm!”, he grinned. The tour starts by paying homage to the site’s past life, passing through the old Working Men’s tunnel and walking by faded signs of stock kill numbers. On the mezzanine level, Blair patiently explained what was happening in each of the pāua tanks, from larvae through to fully grown adults. No question seemed too dumb and as we reached the ‘touch tank’ he spoke of the importance of pāua to not only Māori but also other indigenous peoples who know it as abalone. The best thing about the tour launching soon? At the end of it you can buy some pāua to take home to eat. The Heritage While the old freezing works is more recent history, it’s been 200 years since the first European was granted permission from local Māori to settle at Motupōhue / Bluff Hill - a man by the name of James Spencer who was a veteran of Waterloo (the Napoleonic one, not the ABBA one) and a survivor of two New Zealand shipwrecks. Of course, Motupōhue / Bluff Hill has always held a special place for Ngai Tahu, which was recognised with a statutory acknowledgement in the Ngāi Tahu Claims Settlement Act and also granted Tōpuni status (a legal recognition of its importance) in 2020. From the top of the hill you can look down to another slice of history – ‘Rotten Row’. This ships graveyard is a ccessible from SH1 via a 15 minute walk along a palm-fringed boardwalk to Green Point, where at low tide you can see the remains of scuttled ships left to rot on the mudflats. Former Norwegian, New Zealand, Samoan and Australian ships of the Bluff oyster fleet rest there, with viewing panel descriptions such as ‘accidentally sunk by explosives’ and ‘known for its uncomfortable crossings’. Made for walking Most people know that Bluff’s Stirling Point is the start – or end – of New Zealand’s 3000km Te Araroa trail, but lesser known are the short walks, bush walks, coastal walks, and hill walks throughout the surrounding area. After you’ve got your mandatory photo of the Stirling Point sign (all directions, all the time), why not give the coastal track a go? It’s a good 50-60 minutes one way but an easy grade with coastal scenery. If you’re after something more challenging take the Tōpuni Track – a little steeper so wear good hiking shoes – and make your way up to the 360 ° panoramic view at the top. With a little luck you’ll come across kereru and tui amongst the native rimu and rata. History bluffs (see what I did there) will be drawn to the Bluff Heritage Trail centred around historic sites associated with the town’s most famous son, former Prime Minister Sir Joseph Ward. Along the way you’ll learn about the role whaling, oystering and farming played in the development of the township. The full trail is 20km long but if you’ve got easily-distracted kids you can do it in bite-size chunks. Take in Morrison Beach on the way to the Bluff-granite War Memorial, before venturing to the Bluff Maritime Museum, and visiting the statue dedicated to the messenger boy who became Prime Minister. Street Art When you think ‘Bluff’, art might not be the first thing that comes to mind – but it will be the first thing you see. Bright, lively, site-specific murals have given the town a ‘glow up’ thanks to South Sea Spray, Southland’s mural and street art movement. Street artist Deow is the creative mind behind the community initiative and his Kaua e mate wheke, mate ururoa (Don’t die like the octopus, die like a shark) is one of the most vibrant sights on Gore St. The whole collection of aerosol artworks is stunning: works by Flox & TrustMe, Dcypher and Shane Walker, and my personal favourite, Bring the History to the Future by artist Koryu, featuring an old fisherman looking out past a rusty whaling ship to his next destination. The Pace The next destination for over 20 international cruise ships this season has been… Bluff. Now that the secret is out the town is more than just a day trip from Invercargill. Accommodation options have increased recently with new Air BnBs joining the line-up of holiday homes, local hotels, the camping ground, and the Bluff Lodge backpackers - run by the indomitable Kay Cowper. “Why wouldn’t you want to stay if you’ve come all the way to Bluff?!” she exclaims with mock indignation. It’s an enthusiasm shared by others. “There’s no need to rush your visit,” Tammi Topi of the Bluff Community Board told me, “We’re all about the people, the place and the pace. You can really slow down and enjoy it here.” It’s true that staying overnight gives you a great insight into the community, and enough time to meet some of the town’s unique characters. Thanks to Great South, there’ll soon be Bluff Ambassadors in place to welcome you and share insider knowledge of the must do’s and must see’s - no matter how long you decide to slow down for. Do it for Burt Speed more your thing? Legendary racing motorcyclist Burt Munro, whose record-breaking exploits were celebrated in The World’s Fastest Indian, is honoured every February with the classic Bluff Hill climb. Part of Southland Motorcycle Club’s five day Burt Munro Challenge, riders from all over the country race for the honour of lifting the Fastest Time Trophy. They need to be quick though: this year’s winner took out the 1.4km climb in 44.09 seconds. The crowd certainly gets behind them (and the safety barriers) as the bikes roar round the bends, weaving their way to the top. At $20 a spectator ticket it’s a bargain for some only-in-Bluff high-octane cheering. MTBing It’s not just motorbikes that love Motupōhue / Bluff Hill. Long popular with members of the Southland Mountain Bike Club, and past venue of the National MTB Event Series, the hill is about to become even more of an MTB mecca. Work is currently underway to create new trails as well as upgrade the existing ones , and when the new Bluff Hill Motupōhue Active Recreation Precinct opens in July it’ll consist of 11km of world class mountain biking trails. Catering to total beginners like me (Grade 2) up to the super experienced pros (Grade 4 and 5), there’ll be enough squiggly lines to keep any rider happy no matter what your age, skill or fitness level is. On ya bike then! Details Bluff is 25km southeast of Invercargill on State Highway 1 by self-drive/ride. Air New Zealand operates non-stop flights to Invercargill from Auckland (2 hours), Wellington and Christchurch. Discover more Bluff Tourism Bluff Oyster Festival South Sea Spray murals Hayz @ the Anchorage Bluff Gin Shark Experience Foveaux Pāua Burt Munro Challenge Southland Mountain Bike Club Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

We’d been in the village for less than half an hour before we were propositioned. Usually, I’m a little wary of strangers inviting me to their house but the tall man in the grey hoodie insisted. “It’s only three minutes away,” he said with a straight face and slight accent. “You should come.” So we slowly followed him down the road. < Back Magical Māpua The Press 29 Sept 2025 We’d been in the village for less than half an hour before we were propositioned. Usually, I’m a little wary of strangers inviting me to their house but the tall man in the grey hoodie insisted. “It’s only three minutes away,” he said with a straight face and slight accent. “You should come.” So we slowly followed him down the road. Not that there was anything to worry about. The inviting local was one of the Māpua’s many talented craftspeople, industrial designer Sebastian Roccatagliata. In the workshop below his house, he pointed to thin boards of rimu, matai, and rewarewa, ready to be crafted into lamps for his Studio Deco Design showroom. Sebastian, like many of Māpua’s residents, had moved here for the lifestyle and natural beauty. The name says it all: Māpua means ‘a place of abundance’ in Māori. Only 30 minutes from Nelson, the township is best known for the historic and revitalised Māpua Wharf – an eclectic mix of boutiques, restaurants, bars, galleries, and a bike hire shop. “You want a step thru? A hardtail?” Establishing that I was a novice, the staff at Kiwi Journeys carefully wheeled out my first e-bike. “Go round to the left, between the buildings, down the ramp, onto the sand, we’ll meet you there. We drive the ferry too.” The flat-bottomed Māpua Ferry is the cycle-friendly link to nearby Rabbit Island and the only ferry crossing on New Zealand’s cycle trail. It took a whole five minutes to get to the other side. “See you in a few hours” came the cheery wave and off we went, doing a majestic 20kph with the help of eco and sport modes, peddling the coast track before heading towards the beach. Beyond the protected bird nests lay total solitude, undisturbed sand as far as the eye could see. Further inland we doubled back though the pine forest, navigating pinecones and debris before taking on the Conifer Park Track. Along the way we came across other cyclists who were doing the Great Taste Trail, one of the Ngā Haerenga Great Rides of New Zealand. Once back in Māpua it was time to eat, and The Jellyfish’s sun deck was calling. Located in a prime position on the wharf this well-regarded restaurant was bustling despite the chilly spring day. I rued not choosing the BBQ brisket dripping in caramelised onion that she-who-doesn’t-like-to-share ordered. Oh well, there was always Hamish the heron to watch on the pier (spoiler alert: it took me a while to figure out Hamish is not a real bird). Not far from the restaurant are the old apple coolstores, now converted into an art lover’s paradise. Where once 100,000 cases of Granny Smiths and Galas sat ready to be exported, today it is pīwakawaka sculptures of recycled spoons (Forest Fusion), hand-painted scarfs (The Mapua Collective), and mini terracotta vases (Coolstore Gallery) that take pride of place. But it was a pop of fuchsia nearby that caught my eye. The brightly painted beacon that is Kandē was a magnet to my oh-so-sweet tooth . Seated behind the smallest counter in the world was college student Aidan Porch, purveying jars of Grow Some Balls and Stop the Whining Gums . “How would I describe this shop? Small!” he laughed, going on to explain that the candy store was a family affair - built by him and his dad, with mum doing the ordering – giving him the flexibility to work when he can. Like many seaside towns, opening hours in Māpua vary by season : the Golden Bear Brewing Company was still ‘hibernating’ in early September; the ferry timetable was operating on winter hours (weekends / school holidays); and many of the pop-up shops hadn’t popped-up yet. Thankfully this wasn’t the case everywhere. “Open every day but Christmas,” shouted Tim over the Wega coffee machine at Java Hut, a little further up Aranui Road. Complete with self-identifying grumpy old men sitting out front and an overflowing tippo-potamus, it was obvious that Java Hut is a local’s local. “I love it when we get visitors, but there’s more to Māpua than just the wharf.” He wasn’t wrong. Staying in a converted warehouse apartment at Pohutukawa Farm, with its expansive views of tidal Waimea Inlet framed by the distant snowy ranges, it was easy to forget how much the wider area had to offer. In a region renowned for its wines we headed to Moutere Hills Restaurant & Cellar Door in search of lunch. Mistake #1 : not making a booking during a potentially busy period (I’m looking at you, Fathers’ Day). Mistake #2 : not giving ourselves enough time to take in the surrounds. We laser focused in on deserts. Dark Chocolate Ganache Tart? Yes please. Orange Cake, Safron Gel and Aquafaba Meringue? We’ll have that too. A trio of Feijoa Cake Limoncello, Tiramisu, and Ginger Loaf Icecream? Go on then. It’s fair to say that we didn’t have dinner. We had one last stop though: Brook Waimārama Sanctuary, a shortish drive away. The South Island’s biggest predator-free sanctuary is home to 65 tuatara and 41 kiwi pukupuku (Little Spotted Kiwi), as well as the critically endangered kākāriki-karaka (orange-fronted parakeet). We were warmly welcomed to the visitor centre by Chris McCormack, CEO, enthusiastic conservationist, and our tour guide for the night. Red-light head torches on, puffers zipped up, we headed through the double doors into the forest valley. A few hundred metres in Chris froze. “Hear that?” he urgently whispered, “It’s a male.” A high-pitched whistle. A pause, and then another one. “No, he’s a different male.” Then a lower call, slower, a short of trill. “Wow, she’s responding! That’s two kiwi males and a female you’ve just heard”. This was going to be hard to beat. We followed the path through the sanctuary, Chris shining an infrared light to bring the hidden glowworms alive, stopping occasionally to open a wooden ‘weta hotel’ (it’s OK, they’re in cases). This time there was a sharp “Shhh”. Leaves rustled to our right. Then suddenly, out popped a kiwi pukupuku metres from us and shot up the side of the path, it’s powerful legs too quick for us to get a photo, its soft shaggy feathers shining in the full moonlight. We were stunned. To see this taonga in its natural habitat really did feel like an honour. “That has never happened on a tour,” Chris said, when we all got our breath back. The wide smiles continued all the way back to Māpua. The next morning, still excited about our kiwi encounter, we coffee’d in Māpua one last time. As we left the wharf we passed Sebastian’s lighting showroom, his whale-shaped lights still on, grateful that this stranger had taken the time to proposition us. Original publication: The Press < Previous Next >

< Back The Vatwa go to Melbourne 6 Oct 2025 Melbourne's Ladder Art Space will be showing the Vatwa exhibition as part of their 2026 programme, bringing to Australia one of Angola's most intriguing tribes. Regarded as the first indigenous inhabitants of the Angola's Onconcua region, no-one knows exactly where they originally came from, not even their chief. In May next year a curated selection of captivating portraits will be on show in Melbourne accompanied by texts sharing the lifestyle, history and social structures of this semi-nomadic tribe. The Vatwa are the ninth in Guy Needham's Tribal series, which to date has included indigenous peoples in Africa, Asia, the Pacific and South America. < Previous Next >

Vasillia gently touched my arm and leant in. “You are an Orthodox at heart,” she whispered, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, yes, I can see it inside you!” For the first time in my life I had to disappoint a nun. < Back Disappointing a Nun New Zealand Herald 21 Aug 2019 Vasillia gently touched my arm and leant in. “You are an Orthodox at heart,” she whispered, her eyes lighting up. “Yes, yes, I can see it inside you!” For the first time in my life I had to disappoint a nun. Upon learning of my Protestant upbringing Vasillia feigned disappointment. “Ahh, we all have our crosses to bear!” she laughed, her round face beaming out of her habit. We were standing in the nave of the Monastery of Agios Stefanos, gazing up at a fresco of the Second Coming of Christ. Vasillia was handing out candles. “I have been living here now for 15 years - there are 32 of us. Meteora is my home,” she said proudly. Meteora, a collection of ancient monasteries perched atop towering pinnacles of rock, is one of the holiest sites in Greece. Derived from the Greek meaning “suspended in the air” it literally lives up to its name. We were half a kilometre up in the sky. The history of Meteora dates back thousands of years, with Homer’s Iliad talking of six men from the area who fought alongside Achilles. More ‘recently’ in the 11th century, it became a refuge for monks fleeing inland from pirates. The monks’ need for sanctuary combined with their quest for austerity made Meteora the perfect place to escape to. Setting up solitary cells in the caves dotted across the cliff faces, they established the first hermitages still visible today. There is even a ‘monk jail’ where those who had sinned would be banished to. “Ahh, we all have our crosses to bear!” she laughed, her round face beaming out of her habit. By the 14th century, monks who had formed a community attempted to climb higher, using stakes and ropes to work their way up the rock pillars. When they finally made their way to the top they built their most important structure first – a pulley. It took hundreds of years to lift up provisions and materials to create what is now an UNESCO World Heritage-listed site. Until the 1920s the only way to reach the peaks was by a network of rope ladders, hauled baskets and nets. Local legend has it that a curious visitor asked a monk how often the ropes got replaced. His reply? “When the Lord lets them break.” Once home to 24 monasteries, there are now only six remaining including two run by nuns like Vasillia, who was now walking me to the edge of a precarious garden. “See there?” she nodded towards the town of Kalambaka far below. “The whole town and this monastery were destroyed by the Nazis. Greece was the first to resist. We had to rebuild our spiritual home.” It was a sobering thought. Even from above the sheer rock formations were impressive as the winter mist rolled in. Unsurprisingly a favourite for climbers, it was easy to see how the other-worldly landscape was chosen to feature on Game of Throne s. Each pillar topped with a monastery looked like a giant finger pointing to Heaven. We stepped back towards the katholikon , Agios Stefanos’ main church around which the convent is based. Inside, the alter faced east to meet the rising sun. Vasillia restocked the candles. “We do what those before us have done. We get up early. We prey. We eat. We do our duties.” The life of a nun has not changed much, Vasilla added with a smile in her voice. As I was leaving she reached out. Still not discouraged by my lack of piety, she placed a small green crucifix in my palm. “You never know when your calling will be.” And for the first time in my life, a nun winked at me. Details Getting there: Fly to Athens via London on Air New Zealand / Aegean, train to Kalambaka Tours: www.visitmeteora.com Activities: Pilgrimage, visiting monasteries, hiking, rock climbing Visa: No visa is required for New Zealand nationals for stays up to 90 days Travel tip: Splash out the extra euros on a first class return train ticke Original publication: New Zealand Herald < Previous Next >

< Back Colour Nature II released 15 Oct 2016 Guy Needham's latest project, a departure from his tribal work, has just been released for sale as Colour Nature (II). Available as 500mm x 500mm square prints on Hahnemühle Rag Matt 308gsm archival art paper, the full set can be seen at colour-nature.com and are available from The Frame Workshop in Auckland. < Previous Next >