A journal of journeys around Wellington harbour by bus, car, and on foot on 17 winter July days. (Header photograph by Kathleen Martsch)
A chill blue-grey rippled sea.
Across the darkly shaded harbour, hills in mist. The sea glows with reflected light, and the city shines a promise for the day ahead.
Don Binney hills folded and defined against a white cloud azure sky.
The evening sea like a topaz lake settled in the hold of the hills.
Sun on the hills, shade on the sea, the city awaits.
A cross-hatch of shimmer and ripple on water tell of the unstill surface.
Faded grey sea, muted sky, the city unstirring, activity seemingly suspended.
Grey, grey and more grey. Dull grey sea, light-filtered grey sky, dark grey hills.
Patches of luminosity draw the gaze amid a sea of grey.
Five o’clock stillness, still light, the distant lights of cargo ship and ferry herald the night.
Mist obliterates all but the foreshore grass, coprosma and harakeke.
A continuous string of lights at sea level marks the limit of the impenetrable black sea.
Blue sea and blue sky interrupted by a swathe of flat grey cloud.
The blue water glows, white houses snuggled into the hills reflect sunlight.
Muddled blue-grey sea, a middling day.
Blue blue sea all the way to the white city settled amid green hills.
On a grey muffled day, cars edge silently citywards.