Leaving home on my photography trips is always filled with such mixed emotions for me. Ever since my feet touched this earth, and until the day they no longer do I will roam the lands. I am Irish, Kiwi, French and a bit of Gypsy, so there is no cure. But I am also a home body (well for a while) until I get restless and curious again. So out of the loft comes my pack and sleeping bag, the trip to phototronics is made for the camera gear cleaning, a bit of a domestic goddess clean up, a cuddle for the cat, and my partner if he’s around, then I am off!

The biggest thing I forget to pack…is my age. I still feel like that small child who loves to ride the hills, go possum trapping, build huts, and dig up rabbit nests.

So, a few months ago when I was approached by a young fella from Haast to join them on their annual calf weaning muster, I originally turned it down with “man I wished you had asked me twenty years ago”, and said no.

Lucky for me, the reply was…don’t worry we use Jet Boats and sometimes Helicopters, so you’ll be right!! On reflection one day out from leaving home, I have come to the conclusion I must indeed be absolutely nuts!

South Westland, once upon a time used to be a magical playground for the young and adventurous young woman I once was. I spent my days climbing, tramping, exploring, running, white water rafting, flying in wirly birds hunting for Thar.

As I write this down, I truly appreciate having made it this far in life at all! I have a new respect for my dissipating physicality.

So here we are…at the beginning of my journey…and the beginning of my blog.