Taking a trip into the past

Herald reporter Matthew Littlewood returns to the city where he spent much of his youth, this time as a tourist.

You can never go home again. Or so I thought. When the call went around the Herald office for the chance of an all-expenses-paid trip to Dunedin, I thought I should throw my hat into the ring. Not that I ever expected to win the contest, as I never win anything.

Yet the unexpected happened. I won a trip to Dunedin. Talk about sending coals to Newcastle. The place was my home for more than a decade, and many of my "formative experiences", from secondary school to university, happened there. I wondered exactly what new delights the place could have in store for me, how would they try and sell it to me? I desperately hoped they wouldn't mention "scarfie" or "Speight's".

Surprisingly, they were able to show me things in Dunedin, or at least just outside it, that I had never got around to seeing in my time there. Tourism Dunedin found a way to keep me so occupied I almost forgot I was back home.

I was welcomed with grey overcast skies. Some things never change.

First stop, Larnach Castle. The "castle" is one of the city's main attractions, as much for its story as for its views.

William Larnach and his family came to Dunedin in 1867, at the height of the gold rush.

He was an entrepreneur with interests in mining and banking, and eventually won a seat in Parliament.

He ordered the materials to build the castle from places as farflung as Wales, France and Italy.

More than 200 men spent three years building the shell of the castle, and it took another 15 years to finish the interior. Further additions were made in the intervening years, but the home, which Mr Larnach called his "camp", proved to be an unhappy one for him.

A string of bad financial decisions left him struggling for money, and in 1899, he shot himself in Parliament buildings.

The castle remains as a monument to him, and thanks to the work of people like Margaret Barker, the gardens are among the city's most spectacular – a haven of native flora, beautifully arranged.

Mrs Barker and her husband bought the place in 1967, and over the years restored it to its former glory.

The castle's neo-gothic architecture and extravagant interiors are fascinating, but did Mr Larnach's sordid history leave something sinister behind? Paranormal enthusiasts have detected rumblings in the castle. Perhaps Mr Larnach still keeps a lookout.

Ghost Hunters, the bafflingly successful American television series, once did a special on the place.

You can see clips of the brave crew on You Tube, fumbling around for nothing in particular.

What some people consider as paranormal, I just reckon is physical – in other words, some rooms are slightly cold.

Still, I have always admired Larnach Castle for its odd mix of the extravagant and the rustic.

Not that we had that much time to admire it – soon Tourism Dunedin whisked me onto the Monarch Wildlife Cruises vessel to venture out towards Taiaroa Head. By then, Dunedin had treated me to its traditional weather – that slightly cold, damp breeze that brushes at you without really battering. I really felt at home.

The truth is that it's spectacular once you venture out from the Otago Peninsula – and by now the albatross were in full flight, or glide.

The average Royal Albatross has a wingspan of more than three metres, and can apparently glide for two years without landing, which might explain why there's something so hypnotic about them.

If it weren't for the high winds, I could stay on that boat watching them for hours.

In no time, we were back on terra firma, and off for a tour of the Otago Peninsula, including viewing the local wildlife, courtesy of Nature's Wonders.

It's not as if the peninsula needs selling, but manager Perry Reid makes sure you're left in no doubt.

A man of seemingly boundless energy, before you walk through the door he has quoted customer satisfaction results, comments from the visitors books, and international endorsements.

It's exhausting, but strangely endearing. He has a puppy dog's sincerity and half the time I wondered whether it was all some sort of put-on. But our representative from Tourism Dunedin assured me that he is like this all the time.

"So what do you think?" he asks. "Pretty great, isn't it?" he answers immediately for you.

But he's right.

Perry takes visitors around the site on "Argos" – eight-wheeled all-terrain vehicles, which seem almost excessive for the task at hand, but are mighty entertaining to ride in nonetheless.

Partly, that's due to the fact that Perry drives them with the enthusiasm of a child in a bumper car – out of nowhere he will switch direction, or put the foot on the pedal, just because he can. Apparently the penguins don't seem to mind.

Perhaps he was right – the penguins, separated only by the lookout enclosures, get right up close. They even seem to enjoy the company.

Again, Perry asked us what we thought. Again, we could only reply: it's great. It's the clearness of the views – Perry describes it as a 720 degree panoramic, "because you have to turn around twice".

This man clearly has a dream for the area. And a good one, too. Already, the place boasts one of the largest fur seal breeding colonies in New Zealand, while Yellow-Eyed and Little Blue Penguin numbers remain good.

Perry strikes me as part of the scenery there, too. By the end, we didn't want to leave.

Tourism Dunedin, perhaps realising that we were getting too attached to the place, whisked us to the final visit for the night. The Speight's Ale House and Speight's Brewery Museum.

Crushingly inevitable? But who was I to argue.

As we gorged on our food and drank our ale, one thing remained clear. Even if you can't quite come home again, you can at least see things you missed the first time. It was a pleasure.

- © Fairfax NZ News