I forget how much I miss the shape of the hills. We’re in a rill crevice in the Otago peneplain – block-faulted ranges on one side and gently sloping flat-topped ridges all the way back to Dunedin on the other.
This rill hosts the Clutha river, so not really a rill, but wide open valley. It’s quote hard to explain just how different the geomorphology of this area differs from that in the rest of New Zealand. Everywhere else, you get used to hills that enclose and contain. Here though, the leading ridge is more or less flat-topped highway that used to take the early settlers to and from Dunedin.
That’s one of the the reasons we are here (apart from being our yearly couple of weeks at the farm): it’s the 150th anniversary this year of the first run being taken up in this little corner of Central Otago.
So of course that means it’s time for a bit of a knees-up. Lots of activities are planned, and tomorrow there’s a big day of events planned to celebrate.
I think there’s even a parade: this morning the girls cleaned one of my father’s antique Farmall tractors…