In a somewhat ironic intersection with myth the original Styx (after which the Styx creek was named) was so awful that one could bind an oath just by using its name, and if you drank from it the waters would render you voiceless for nine years…
As I work in the duchy of Hamiltonia, I like to joke that I have to cross the Styx to get to work..
I thought that the rain we got the other week would result in a banker but it was such a slow, steady fall that the creek just rose, nice and slowly, and then fell, nice and slowly. The kind of rain the farmers love.
I always have mixed feelings about rain after a prolonged dry period. The creek gets so clogged up with gunk and rubbish that it’s kind of cathartic to have it all swept away by one huge, cleansing flood. But then I know that all the crap has just been shunted down to Carrington mangroves, or the harbour, or the beach.
It’s still … THERE … even though I can’t see it.
There was an article in the Herald about the OdysSea group, who are encouraging people to litter-pick along the beaches. They’re great, those young folk, and I must admit I rather envy them. The…
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Mark Maclean’s Hamilton North blog chronicling his continuing adventures down the Styx. As I currently work in an office very close by (actually in the old Clyde street lightbulb factory) it’s pleasantly odd to see where you spend so much prosaic time from another perspective.
The guns of the old fort salute Anzac day in the cold dawn light.
The old fort late at night, funny to think that I got married here a couple of weeks ago. 🙂
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How many people look to the right or left of them when passing between the gates? If you do (and even more so if you stand still and regard the view) you’re rewarded with a very odd feeling… Continue reading
At one time I was the Design Manager for the Hunter Rail Car project. I parachuted in late in the day to sort out the second toughest part of any project, the finish. Y’know where the money and fun has run out and all that’s left is fixing the problems …
Good times, and a great little doodlebug*. 🙂
*Doodlebug is an American term for what RailCorp rather anemically call a Diesel Motor Unit Rail Car.
A quiet Thursday night looking across the harbour.
Newcastle harbour on a glorious dead calm spring afternoon, the sea rising and falling in a slight glassy swell.
Views of the Obelisk and Newcastle’s maritime precincts from the top of King Edwards park at dusk.