The most Scottish town outside Scotland... and penguins!

Dunedin is billed as the most Scottish city outside of Scotland - Dunedin is actually Gaelic for Edinburgh. The city filters East onto the beginnings of the Otago Peninsula (a British mispronounciation of the Maori name for their settlement on the peninsula, Otakou). The city is a bit of mishmash of old, historic buildings build of grey and black stone, and uglier modern structures, but it's more appealing than other cities on South Island. The population is about 25-30% students, so it's got a great cultural scene, cafes, bookshops, kooky shops and nightlife. I like it; it's cold as, but definitely the kind of place i could imagine living, unlike, say Nelson or Queenstown.

My hostel is Hogwartz, a large old house up on the hill about the harbour, reached through a creaking gate and up a winding flight of stone steps, the building itself obscured by the bushes and ivy until you reach the frontdoor. It's a brilliant hostel - no bunkbeds (i have a permanent bruise on my head from hitting myself on the top bunk, so this is a definite plus!), large dorms, and, in my four-bed dorm, fantastic views across the city (picture coming soon). They also have two extremely cute jack russels, the old and antisocial Bella, and friendly Asterix, both of whom have perfected their starving-puppy begging eyes as they loiter around travellers cooking, or eating their dinner.

On my second day there, I'm booked onto the Elm Wildlife tour, which takes you out in a minibus to the far reaches of the wild and rugged Otago Peninsula to first the Albatross Centre, where we see the giant birds (with windspans of 3 metres!) soaring on the high winds. They're endangered birds, and the colony at the centre unusual in that it's a land-based colony - mostly the birds nest out at sea, on rocky islands, and spend most of their life at the sea. The albatross mate for life, but only produce one egg every two years. On their 'year off', the couple seperate, one maybe going to Chile while the other might remain around the East coast of NZ. (the guide rolls out the slightly predictable joke about the biannual gap-years being the only reason the albatross can mate for life.)
We then drive out to the Elm reserve, a protected area closed to the public, further out on the peninsula. On the way we pass trees which have been blown almost horizontal by th 'roaring 40s', the strong winds which batter the coastline at between 40-50 degrees latitude. In the reserve there are seals, seal lions and yellow-eyed penguins living wild. We visit the fur seal breeding colony first, where female fur seals and their pups live on a large rocky outcrop, protected from the raging seas. The baby seals - twenty or thirty of them - frolic in the rockpools, squeaking, fighting and playing. We even get to watch a female seal swimming up and clambering over the rocks to the colony - she battles against the strong waves for five or ten minutes before finally managing to reach the rocks, where she clambers on and collapses. It's pretty amazing - she looked like a twig being battered about the waves as she fought to come ashore.

Next we clamber up the hill and down again to another beach where five sealions are napping on the beach. Our guide warns us that they sometimes, but rarely, chase people - before revealing that he himself was chased with a group on the tour four weeks ago. Apparently they can run at up to 25km/hour! (I ask which way we should run if they come at us, meaning towards the grass sand-dunes or the cliff path. "Just AWAY!" Warren the guide responds. ... Fair point)
Everyone approaches the sealions a little more warily after this revelation, but we get within metres of them anyway - it's fantastic to be able to get so close to such clearly wild animals (who clearly couldn't be less afraid of us). They're huge blubbery lumps on-land, leaping up and roaring at each other for a minute or two, fighting, and then collapsing back into the sand, which they flick onto themselves to keep them cool.

The penguins come in to sleep on the grassy cliffs further up the beach, and we pile into a makeshift 'hide' to watch them. Some are already on the beach close by, their white chests, black capes and the New Romantic-style yellow band of colour around their yellow-irised eyes clearly visible. Then we spot others coming in from the water, one by one (they're quite anti-social animals). It's brilliant - they approach the shore looking like just another seabird, then suddenly they get to their feet and become penguins! They waddle across the sand to the rocks looking like little old men in baggy pyjamas, very, very cute! It's a little strange to see them in a sandy, warm climate though, when penguins are always so linked to snow and ice.

written by  LizIsHere on March 14, 2010 from Dunedin, New Zealand
from the travel blog: New Zealand & Australia 2010
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