#Wellington walkways

[jontycrane]

Wellington walkways ranked

Wellington is home to six well defined walkways offering some of the best walking in the capital. They’re all excellent but this is how I would rank them… 1. City to Sea WalkwayThe longest and most varied walkway, with plenty of history and points of interest along with stunning views from the hills of Tawatawa Reserve. 2. Skyline WalkwayThe most epic and hardest walkway, which follows…

[ellayeet87]

[rorytait]

Oriental Bay from Roseneath

From the summit of Mount Victoria, you can follow the Southern Walkway north to Roseneath for what I think are some of the best views of Oriental Bay and the harbour. And to top it off, you get to finish the walk by walking along the promenade by the shore.

[17 October 2022]

[fatehbaz]

"The most fashionable bathing station in all Europe". British industrialists and American mining investors plotting the colonization of the Congo, while mingling at Ostend's seaside vacation resorts. Extracting African life to build European railways, hotels, palaces, suburbs, and other modern(ist) infrastructure. "Towards infinity!"

---

In 1885, King Leopold II achieved an astonishing and improbable goal: he claimed a vast new realm of his own devising, a conjury on a map called [...] the Congo Free State. [...] [A] fictional state owned by the king, ruled by decree, and run from Brussels from 1885 to 1908. [...] This was [...] a private entrepreneurial venture [for the king]. The abundance of ivory, timber, and wild rubber found in this enormous territory brought sudden and spectacular profits to Belgium, the king, and a web of interlocking concession companies. The frenzy to amass these precious resources unleashed a regime of forced labor, violence [millions of deaths], and unchecked atrocities for Congolese people. These same two and a half decades of contact with the Congo Free State remade Belgium [...] into a global powerhouse, vitalized by an economic boom, architectural burst, and imperial surge.

Congo profits supplied King Leopold II with funds for a series of monumental building projects [...]. Indeed, Belgian Art Nouveau exploded after 1895, created from Congolese raw materials and inspired by Congolese motifs. Contemporaries called it “Style Congo,” [...]. The inventory of this royal architecture is astonishing [...]. [H]istorical research [...] recovers Leopold’s formative ideas of architecture as power, his unrelenting efforts to implement them [...]. King Leopold II harbored lifelong ambitions to “embellish” and beautify the nation [...]. [W]ith his personal treasury flush with Congo revenue, [...] Leopold - now the Roi Batisseur ("Builder King") he long aimed to be - planned renovations explicitly designed to outdo Louis XIV's Versailles. Enormous greenhouses contained flora from every corner of the globe, with a dedicated soaring structure completed specifically to house the oversize palms of the Congolese jungles. [...]

---

The Tervuren Congo palace [...]. Electric tramways were built and a wide swath of avenue emerged. [...] [In and around Brussels] real estate developers began to break up lots [...] for suburban mansions and gardens. Between 1902 and 1910, new neighborhoods with luxury homes appeared along the Avenue [...]. By 1892, Antwerp was not only the port of call for trade but also the headquarters of the most profitable of an interlinking set of banks and Congo investment companies [...]. As Antwerp in the 1890s became once again the “Queen of the Scheldt,” the city was also the home of what was referred to as the “Queen of Congo companies.” This was the ABIR, or Anglo-Belgian India Rubber Company, founded in 1892 with funds from British businessman “Colonel” John Thomas North [...].

Set on the seaside coast, Belgium’s Ostend was the third imperial cityscape to be remade by King Leopold [...] [in a] transformation [that] was concentrated between 1899 and 1905 [...]. Ostend encompassed a boomtown not of harbor and trade, like Antwerp, but of beachfront and leisure [...] [developed] as a "British-style" seaside resort. [...] Leopold [...] [w]as said to spend "as much time in Ostend as he did in Brussels," [...]. Ostend underwent a dramatic population expansion in a short period, tripling its inhabitants from 1870–1900. [...] Networks of steamers, trams, and railway lines coordinated to bring seasonal visitors in, and hotels and paved walkways were completed. [...] [A]nd Leopold’s favorite spot, the 1883 state-of-the-art racetracks, the Wellington Hippodrome. Referred to with an eye-wink as “the king incognito” (generating an entire genre of photography), visitors to the seaside could often see Leopold in his top hat and summer suit [...], riding his customized three-wheeled bicycle [...]. By 1900, Ostend’s expansion and enhancement made it known as “the Queen of the Belgian seaside resorts” and “the most fashionable bathing station in all Europe.” Opulence, convenience, and spectacle brought the Shah of Persia, American tycoons, European aristocrats, and Belgian elites, among others, to Ostend.

---

Leopold’s interventions and the Congo Free State personnel and proceeds played three pivotal and understudied roles in this transformation, all of which involved ABIR [British industrialists].

First, it was at Ostend that an early and decisive action was taken to structure the “red rubber” regime and set it in motion. In 1892, jurists such as [E.P.] had ruled, contravening [...] trade laws, that the king was entitled to claim the Congo as his domanial property [...]. Leopold [...] devised one part of that royal domain as a zone for private company concessions [...] to extract and export wild rubber.

Soon after, in 1892, King Leopold happened to meet the British “Colonel” John Thomas North at the Ostend Hippodrome. North, a Leeds-born mechanic [...] had made a fortune speculating on Chilean nitrates in the 1880s. He owned monopoly shares in nitrate mines and quickly expanded to acquire monopolies in Chilean freight railways, water supplies, and iron and coal mines. By 1890 North was a high-society socialite worth millions [...]. Leopold approached North at the Ostend racecourse to provide the initial investments to set up the Anglo-Belgian India Rubber Company (ABIR). [...]

---

One visible sign of Ostend’s little-known character as Congo boomtown was the Royal Palace Hotel, a lavish property next to the king’s Royal Domain, which opened in 1899. With hundreds of rooms and a broad sweep of acreage along the beachfront, the palace “occupied the largest space of any hotel in Europe.” [...]

King Leopold met American mining magnate Thomas Walsh there, and as with North, the meeting proved beneficial for his Congo enterprise: Leopold enlisted Walsh to provide assessments of some of his own Congo mining prospects. The hotel was part of [...] [a major European association of leisure profiteers] founded in 1894, that began to bundle luxury tourism and dedicated railway travel, and whose major investors were King Leopold, Colonel North [...].

At the height of Congo expansionism, fin-de-siècle Antwerp embodied an exhilarated launch point [...]. Explorers and expeditioners set sail for Matadi after 1887 with the rallying call “Vers l’infini!” (“towards infinity!”) [...].

---

Text above by: Debora Silverman. "Empire as Architecture: Monumental Cities the Congo Built in Belgium". e-flux Architecture (Appropriations series). May 2024. At: e-flux.com/architecture/appropriations/608151/empire-as-architecture-monumental-cities-the-congo-built-in-belgium/ [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Italicized first paragraph/heading in this post was added by me. Presented here for commentary, teaching, criticism.]

[corner-stories]

polaroids and mist

Pieck Finger. Porco Galliard. First Meetings. Photographs. Rain. 2511 words. (ao3.)

Late November brings shorter days and longer nights. 

On his day off, he’s not sure what to do with himself. Yet when his alarm rings he opens his eyes and spends a few minutes looking at the ceiling while thinking about how tired he is. For a moment, he seriously contemplates staying in bed all day. 

When he finally rolls off the mattress, he takes a look outside his window to see Seattle being misted by a sky full of clouds. Days like this are usually as good as it gets, especially at this time of year. It could be another week of torrential downpours until the weather decides to clear up.

So after a breakfast of fruit and yogurt, he grabs his art satchel and wellingtons before heading out the door. 

With every step he takes he can feel droplets collecting on his hair. He’s used to it, even if he has to wipe water off his nose as he crosses the street. A bus takes him from North Beacon Hill to Pike Place Market. Despite the touristy nature of the place, he finds himself drawn to it whenever he has the time. 

Perhaps it’s the variety of people frequenting the place. The fisherman, the merchants, the tourists, or people like him — locals who just want something to do. 

He finds himself inside the market, keeping his hands deep in his pockets as he browses items that he admires but cannot purchase. His job fixing motorcycles is enough to keep his basement warm, but it puts limits on his income, barring him from things like flower bouquets or artisanal jellies. 

He finds a table and chair at a communal area, which he sits at while unpacking the clutter in his satchel. With his headphones playing a song he’s loved since high school, he opens his sketchbook and begins diligently drawing a neon sign advertising a butchery, of which hangs above a pathway full of guests. 

Drawing is only a hobby for him, so his linework is imperfect and his ability to shade leaves much to be desired. He had never felt the nagging desire to become an illustrator like the kids in his high school’s art department. He never thought he could make a portfolio good enough to get into a fancy art college, let alone scrape together the tuition to attend. 

At least he’s in a city like Seattle, one with a vibrant indie art scene and a determination to create something of the cold, dingy weather. 

When the sketch of the neon sign is complete, it’s nothing to write home about. So much of the markings scream amateur, but he’s okay with that. He’s not not too fussy with his art and likes it that way. After gathering his drawing materials back into his satchel, he goes to a nearby cafe to purchase an espresso before leaving the market. 

The rain remains light as he traverses the walkways of Waterfront Park. When he looks out towards Elliott Bay, the only thing he can think about is hopping on a ferry to Victoria and spending the weekend checking out Canada. He’s never been. 

Soon he finds himself at a pier just north of the market. It’s soaking wet and empty, so alone he walks between the empty damp tables and goes to the railing. He keeps his hands deep in his pockets as he takes in the sight of the Great Wheel. He wonders when he’ll finally take the plunge and actually ride the thing.

When he looks across the water he can see Bainbridge Island between the sea and the cloudy sky. He’s never been there either, he never had a reason to. The wind blows at his hair and makes him wonder when that reason will finally come. 

Taking in a breath, he closes his eyes and focuses on the mist creating water droplets on his face. 

Then Porco hears the sound of a camera shutter. 

He turns around and finds that he isn’t alone like he previously thought. 

Standing several feet away from him is a young petite woman. She’s clad in a wet rain slicker and sports a wooly cap above her long, dark hair. The contraption she’s holding is an instant camera. As she lowers it from her pretty eyes it begins to whir before dispensing a photograph out of the front slot. She looks happy with herself, but Porco is anything but. 

His face remains grim as he walks up to her. “Hey…”

“Sorry, it was too good of a picture.” She’s immediately apologetic. “I couldn’t let it go.” 

Porco sighs. There’s no point in asking her to delete it, but he wonders how she’ll feel if he asks her to throw it into the Elliott Bay. 

Somehow, she smiles lazily as she holds the photograph between her nimble fingers. She holds it up to him and he sees that the image has yet to develop. 

“You’re facing away, so no one can tell that it’s you.” 

Porco lets out a grumble. “Good.” 

He’s clenching his fist in his pocket as he walks back to the rail. He looks back towards the waters and wonders what else could happen to him today. First the rain making his hair look like a drowned rat and now his own person paparazzi — what next? He spends a few moments in silence leaning his elbows against the bars, his face remaining in a grimace. 

Then he hears footsteps beside him. The young woman places her arms on the railing as well, just like him. She gives him a smile so content that one could never guess that she had been standing in the rain. 

“I’m Pieck, by the way.” 

Porco tries not to scowl too hard. “What kind of name is Pieck?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her voice is playful and he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. 

In her hands she’s still holding the undeveloped photograph. “You’ll need to give it a minute.” 

“I know.” 

“I didn’t get your name.”

With another grumble, he relents. “It’s Porco.”

The grin on her face gets just a bit brighter. She spends a moment mockingly pretending to think. “Hm… now what kind of name is Porco?”

Porco gives her a stern, humorless look which she seems to find amusing. Whoever this Pieck person is, she has a clear fondness for teasing. 

Taking in a breath, he tries to refocus his gaze on the water. The Pacific Northwest continues to do what it does best and keeps the constant drizzle above the city.

“Listen, I don’t wanna get off on the wrong foot,” Pieck says to him, her voice sounding just a bit more gentle. 

When he looks at her, the playful look in her eyes has softened. 

“Could I buy you some coffee?” she offers, then holds up the undeveloped photograph. “Maybe make up for… this?”

At first, Porco is unsure what to say. They’ve just met and she’s being so forward. She’s looking at him like they’ve met before but he swears that he’s never seen her in his life. Not even in a dream.

Driven by curiosity, confusion, and the late November chill biting at his fingertips, Porco nods his head. 

“Alright.” 

…

…

…

They find a cozy cafe in the midst of Downtown Seattle, a place with warm, incandescent lighting and glossy, wooden tables. 

As they wait in line, Porco shakes the rain from his hair and he listens to her talk. Pieck Finger is apparently a student at the University of Washington — she’s only a few terms away from a biochemistry degree and is already making plans to enter grad school. It’s a lot more education than he’s used to, as his few years at community college can attest. 

Photography is a hobby she does on her days off, stemming from a desire to capture little moments in time. Instant photography is her forte, there’s just something romantic about holding a printed picture that she can’t deny — the moment is not merely just frozen, but actualized, something she can hold between her fingers. 

Porco is tempted to relate with his own habit of sketching, but a part of him tells him not to say it yet. They’ve only just met, afterall. He’s not sure how she’ll react to him waxing lyrical about how a part of him just melts away when he draws, then comes back to life in the aftermath of completing a successful piece. 

By the time Pieck’s oat milk latte and Porco’s hot chocolate is served to them, the polaroid photograph has already been developed. The two sit near the cafe’s window as they look over Pieck’s masterpiece. 

When he sees the image it’s exactly how she described it — he’s facing away from the camera all broodily and sad, staring at the unmoving Seattle Great Wheel under a cloudy sky. 

Perhaps it’s the lighting or the shade of Porco’s jacket, but the colors of the image are slightly desaturated. It gives the whole image a sense of unearthliness, disconnection, a separation from the norm. 

In contrast, Pieck is smiling from ear to ear as she holds up her picture. 

“This one’s a keeper.” 

Porco’s expression remains unchanged as he blows on his drink. “Guess so.” 

At this proximity he can get a better look at her messy, unkempt hair and the lazy look in her gaze. It’s only more confirmation that Porco has never met her before — he would’ve remembered those eyes. 

“I meant for you, by the way,” Pieck clarifies. “It’s your likeness and all…” 

Porco tilts his head to the side like a puzzled puppy. “Oh, uh… thanks. I thought you said you couldn’t let this one go.” 

Pieck shrugs. She puts the photograph on the table and slides it towards him. She doesn’t seem torn up at all. 

“Yeah, I did… but there’ll be others.” 

Morning drags into the afternoon as Pieck Finger and Porco Galliard continue to share what made them. 

Porco brings up how his parents still live in Tumwater, the town where he was raised alongside his older brother. Marcel was the star soccer player while Porco was the lacrosse team’s third best midfielder. Nowadays, Marcel is working at some start-up in Portland while Porco’s fixing motorcycles at a shop in the Industrial District. There had never been any favoritism shown to the Galliard Brothers, yet Porco had always gotten the implication that Marcel was the golden child of the duo, the one with better grades, more cheers when he scored a goal, slightly more post-secondary opportunities. 

Sometimes he imagines Marcel living it up in Oregon, doing whatever Pacific Northwest tech bros do to celebrate their apps making them a million dollars. 

All while Porco is here, living in a Seattle basement suite and drawing in his spare time. 

Deep in his heart, he reminds himself to give his brother a call. 

Pieck’s life fares differently than his. She grew up in Port Angeles with a single father, her mother passed away when she was young, and as a child she did ballet until an ankle injury took her out. Her father had been the one to encourage her to study what she wanted, and it was his kind words that helped her through every science fair and every test. 

It seemed only natural that she pursue a STEM degree, as well as branch out and look up where she could go for grad school. She’s trying to keep things realistic in terms of how far she can go, but out there she just knows that there’s a timeline where the odds are in her favor and she’s able to study chemical engineering at Stanford. 

When Porco asks why she chose biochemistry in particular, Pieck can only shrug — the gesture is not of disinterest or even lethargy, but of simplicity.

“I just think it’s neat,” she surmises. From the way she beams at him, it’s all she really needs to say. 

Once their drinks are finished, the pair leave the cafe with the photograph tucked into Porco’s pocket. Pieck has to head back to the University District, but she’s forward enough to ask for his number, which he gives out. 

He ends up accompanying her to a bus stop. At this point of the day, the morning drizzle has finally stopped, giving the citizens of Seattle a few dry hours before the sun sets. 

Pieck is surprisingly chipper as she skips to the stop. 

Porco is still unsure what about him drew her in, aside from a photographic opportunity that she couldn’t pass up. As Pieck fishes around her bag for her metro pass, Porco pulls the polaroid out of his pocket and gives it another look.

It’s the same as it was when Pieck showed it to him in the cafe — gloomy, gray, but framed so well that he understands why she had taken it. 

“You sure I should keep this?” he asks. 

Pieck looks just as confident with her offer as she was a few hours ago. “Of course. No strings attached, I promise.”

Porco rolls his eyes. As she filters through the cards in her wallet, he catches a very brief glimpse of several photographs she has tucked inside. He sees one of her next to an older man who has her nose and eyes, which Porco presumes is her father. There’s also one of what’s obviously a young Pieck holding a puppy — perhaps a childhood pet?

Then his eyes glance upon her student ID. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with the surname ‘Finger’ before,” he remarks as runs a hand through his hair. 

“Then you better get used to it,” Pieck assures him in a confident, husky tone.

Porco tries to ignore the burning sensation in his face. 

Moments pass and a bus pulls up at the stop. The door opens and Pieck turns to give him one last look. 

“See you around, Porco” she says before stepping onto the vehicle.

For a reason he doesn’t even know, he cannot take her eyes off her as the door closes. As the bus begins to drive off, he watches her find a seat behind the rain-covered windows and puts on a pair of headphones. 

He can only give a wistful wave as the vehicle drives away. 

…

…

…

Porco spends the rest of his day off in his basement suite. He removes his rain-soaked clothes and puts a pair of dry socks on his feet. To pass the time before a good night’s sleep, he takes out his sketchbook again and begins to draw in the light of his desk lamp. 

He could draw anything, yet the only thing on his mind is the girl with so many plans in her life while he feels stagnant, the girl with a head of long, messy hair and a pair of beautiful brown eyes, the girl who will be the last thing he sees before he finally goes to sleep that night. 

Maybe he has seen her somewhere before. 

[wellingtonnz]

Lost highway.

Once the main road north from Wellington - State Highway 1 - now replaced by an inland route, and renamed SH59.

Has cycleway/walkway on the sea side, minimal traffic, ideal for my morning walk from Pukerua Bay to Paekakariki about 10km.

[bjsmall]

11.05.23

Aldershot. Part 4.

We nipped into the Wellington Centre on our walk. 

Some cool pictures of the glass atriums in the centre!

The now exposed walkway, with the mall now under cover for safe removal.

We walked towards the back of the Galleries.

[ashleysingermfablog]

Wk 18, 30th of July, 2024

Studio Work development

Making matter sit

Ashley Singer, petal arrangement, 2024, found petals on a pathway

Ashley Singer, observed magnolia flowering, 2024, research image

Ashley Singer, fallen petals, leaves, stems and other plant parts on a walkway and concrete gutter seen on a Wellington hillside, 2024, research image

Ashley Singer, fallen camellia petals and flowers on a pathway, 2024, research images

Ashley Singer, poem reflection, 2024, poetry

Ashley Singer, a line of flowers, 2024, found flowers, grass

[prowashwellington]

The Benefits of Water Blasting In Wellington Homes: A Comprehensive Guide

Keeping your home’s exterior clean and well-maintained is crucial for preserving its value and appearance. Water blasting, also known as pressure washing, is an effective method to remove dirt, grime, mould, and other contaminants from various surfaces. This guide explains the benefits of water blasting in Wellington homes and why it’s a smart choice for homeowners.

What is Water Blasting? 

Water blasting uses high-pressure water to clean surfaces, effectively removing stubborn dirt and stains that traditional methods might miss. This technique is ideal for driveways, walkways, decks, fences, and exterior walls. Over time, dirt, mould, and mildew can accumulate on your home’s surfaces, making it look old and neglected. Water blasting enhances curb appeal by restoring your home’s original beauty, which is especially beneficial if you’re planning to sell or host an event. 

Additionally, mould, mildew, and algae can damage your home’s exterior if left untreated, breaking down materials and leading to costly repairs. Regular water blasting prevents this damage, extending the life of your home’s materials and avoiding expensive maintenance issues. A well-maintained home with a clean exterior can also increase property value, making it more attractive to potential buyers. Water blasting ensures your home looks well cared for, potentially increasing its market value.

Benefits of Water Blasting

Enhances Curb Appeal

Water blasting removes dirt, mould, and mildew, restoring your home’s original beauty. A clean exterior boosts the appearance of your home, making it look fresh and well-maintained. This is especially valuable when selling or hosting events.

Prevents Damage

Regular water blasting removes harmful mould, mildew, and algae that can deteriorate building materials. By addressing these issues early, you prevent long-term damage and avoid costly repairs. This helps extend the lifespan of your home’s surfaces.

Increases Property Value

A well-maintained exterior can significantly enhance your home’s market value. Clean surfaces attract potential buyers and make your property more appealing. Investing in water blasting can lead to a higher return on your home.

Saves Time and Effort

Water blasting efficiently cleans large areas in less time compared to manual methods. It simplifies the cleaning process, saving you both time and effort. Professional services can quickly handle the task, allowing you to focus on other priorities.

Why Choose Us

When selecting a water blasting service, it's crucial to review customer feedback and testimonials. Positive reviews ensure the service's quality and a strong track record of customer satisfaction indicates professionalism and effectiveness. By checking these reviews, you gain insights into the reliability and performance of the company, helping you make an informed choice.

For expert water blasting services in Wellington, contact us at ProWash Wellington. Our team is skilled in handling projects of all sizes using advanced equipment and techniques to thoroughly clean your home's exterior without causing damage. We are dedicated to delivering high-quality results that our customers appreciate. Visit our gallery to see examples of our work and witness the impressive transformations we achieve. The before and after photos highlight the significant improvements professional water blasting can make, giving you confidence in our services.

Contact us,

Business Name: ProWash Wellington 

Address: 10 Halifax Street, Wainuiomata, Lower Hutt

Phone: 0221323578

Google Map: https://maps.app.goo.gl/jJ59MiAdUuRDACeW9

[toughgirlchallenges]

Sarah Williams - Reflections & Learnings from the 3,000km Te Araroa Trail, New Zealand.

Hey Hey, it's Sarah Williams from the Tough Girl Podcast, and I'm thrilled to share with you my latest solo episode reflecting on my unforgettable journey hiking the 3,000km Te Araroa Trail in New Zealand.

Sponsored by Zoleo #ChallengeWithZOLEO, this episode dives deep into the highs, lows, and everything in between of my epic adventure.

Join me as I address questions from listeners about a wide range of topics, including solo hiking as a woman, hitchhiking, hygiene, nutrition, and more. I share it all.

I'll take you on a journey through the stunning landscapes of both the North and South Islands, highlighting memorable moments like canoeing adventures and breathtaking views on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing.

Whether you're a seasoned hiker or dreaming of your first big adventure, this episode offers inspiration, practical advice, and a glimpse into the transformative power of outdoor exploration.

Listen now and be inspired to take on your next personal challenge or adventure.

***

Show notes

Intro

Sponsored by Zoleo #ChallengeWithZOLEO 

Who am I? 

The challenge - to hike 3,000km on the Te Araroa Trail

Planning & Preparation episode 2nd November 2023

Why it’s not your typical wilderness thru hike

North Island Stats 

Questions from listeners, tribe members etc

Safety for a solo women - men on the trail, wild camping, hitching

Hitching

Purist and EFK (Every F***king Km)

Inov8 trainers - get a 15% discount here 

Trail Angels V Trail Entrepreneurs 

Koha V Donations

Enjoyment of the North Island

Canoeing 

Highlights - Timber Trail, Tongariro Alpine Crossing, Colonial Knob Walkway

Costs from the North Island 

Reaching Wellington and having a Christmas break

South Island 1st January 2024 - 6th March 2024

Planning…. Verses being spontaneous

Breaking down the challenging days

Rivers in New Zealand

Hiking in Wales, Tryfan and Welsh 3000s 

TA - Navigation and GPS

Whittakers Creamy Caramel Chocolate 

Food, resupply, bounce boxes, being gluten free

Wildlife encounters, sandflies 

Hygiene - Pee, Poo Periods

Equipment - loves and hates

Department of Conservation (DOC) Hut pass  

Highlights from the trail

Advice for hiking the trail

TA Resources page on the Tough Girl Website 

Final stats 

Regrets

Learnings

What’s next 

  Social Media

Instagram: @toughgirlchallenges  

Facebook: @ToughGirlChallenges 

Youtube: @ToughGirlChallenges 

  Check out this episode!

[jontycrane]

City to Sea Walkway

The most varied of Wellington’s six walkways, the City to Sea Walkway is a wonderful day walk between Wellington CBD and the south coast through 14 parks and reserves, cemeteries, botanic gardens, and golf courses, with plenty of history and some stunning views. It it well marked with yellow poles, and overlaps with a couple of walkways in places. It starts at Bolton St Cemetery, demarcated in…

[rorytait]

Island Bay to Mount Albert

Starting from Island Bay, I walked round to Houghton Bay following the signposted Southern Walkway.

I have only ever cycled along this part of the coast, so it was nice to see it both on foot and heading in the other direction (I only cycle westbound but walked eastbound).

At Houghton Bay turn up the valley and head for Buckley Reserve. It's not a super obvious entry to the Southern Walkway and but just cross the grass field and trust me that it becomes clearer.

Up above Houghton Bay you reach a ridgeline offering expansive views cross to Lyall Bay and the Cook Strait. If you're lucky you can catch the Interislander entering the harbour.

Continuing on, you reach Mount Albert, a favourite spot of mine for watching planes coming in and out of Wellington Airport.

Mount Albert also gives views across Miramar over to the East Harbour and the Remutakas.

[28 May 2022]

[fwl22]

A Storm and a Flood, pt. 2

Continued, 8 November, 2023

So, given that the power was down, I decided to take advantage of the moment and run to the garden to get the salad to surprise my wife. I put on my hiking boots and realized immediately that I should have gotten my Wellingtons because outside in the piazzale things were already flooding. The walkway above the swimming pool had a large puddle and the water was running off down to the gravel, and the pool deck was already filling on the wall side, and with no drain it was going to build and then go under the door into the in-law's garden. The drain on the upper side of the piazza where the older brother in law normally parks was blocked with debris and the water was, as happens often enough, running like a river down the whole of the piazzale under the tress to the small wall at the lower end. I waded through the puddles with my plastic bag and knife for collecting the goods, grateful that it wasn’t raining to hard, in addition to all the water on the ground. Through the gate and down the road by the parking area, the water was draining well and the channel next to the Appassitoio was flowing strong with water.

Turning left again at the end of the Appassitoio's lower corner, I was confronted by the water that was draining off of the piazzale under the trees and pouring like waterfalls from the drainage openings and splattering on the road below the house. The streetlights were already on in the falling light, and looking up I could see the rain drops falling and catching the light. It was just a bit more than a drizzle, but the sky remained dark, and the storm clouds were swirling in the wind.

The road was flooded, but was draining quickly enough, and cars were parked as usual during the olive oil season by the clients of the frantoio. A group of men were milling around the doors waiting for the power to come back on so that the work could go on. In the meantime the olives sitting in the intake bin and the already ground up olives in the mixing and separating chambers were going nowhere. I went down the stairs to the garden, and in the still fading light I cut a couple of heads of lettuce from the mud, put them in my bag and retreated back the way I came. The ground was wet and spongey, but I managed to get back to the road without taking too much earth with me. As I walked back to the house, the rain began to fall again.

Back in the kitchen, as I began to wash the salad, the skies opened up and it started to pour again. There was only a bit of wind it seemed, as the weight of the rain seemed to drive down with not a lot of water hitting the windows. Given that the lights had been off before, I lit a few more candles. I love the glow of the candlelight, and I had two candles in cups in the bathroom as well as the four in the kitchen. Working by candlelight gives me a nice feeling, and even though I was sure I couldn’t properly see if I was getting all the dirt off the lettuce, I performed the ritual according to Giovanna’s rule of three thorough rinses and then a double spin in the salad spinner.

By this point it was night outside, and as I sat to work at the computer I noticed how I could hear the rain, falling hard on the ground. And as is my particular habit, I concentrated on what I was writing and reading and didn’t think much more about it, letting the sound of rain act as a replacement for the hum of the frantoio. Ignoring the storm outside, there was a comfy sense of home and hearth on the inside of the house.

In the big, old house, time passes like this, and one is lulled to a peace that comes from sitting behind the heavy stone walls that have stood for 500 years. An hour later, my wife's oldest brother stopped in the kitchen with a flashlight and saw me by candlelight. He invited me to come up to his house and gave me an extra headlamp to use. He mentioned that he couldn’t remember having seen it rain this hard for this long in his entire life (He’d be 68 in a couple of weeks). In fact, outside it continued to pour with a ceaseless abandon. Downstairs I put some towels and rags against the metal door to front garden where, at this point, around 7:30 - 8:00 pm, water was coming around the door, top and bottom, and trying to run down the stairs into the back hallway. At the other end of the connecting corridor between the former tower and the 15th century house, on the angle of the L, where there is a small atrium skylight with a window on the landing of the stairs going up, the water was beginning to run down the wall around the window, and more extreme, the water was soaking through the wall and sweating out through the plaster and whitewash. I put more towels on the ground there to keep the puddles from getting too big.

I was calm about all of this. I had seen the rain push through cracks around windows and doors many times at Canneto, and especially during the intense summer thunderstorms that would thrash the southern facade of the building. And I had seen the water running down the corridor behind the work rooms on the ground floor of the 14th century house, moving gently down the mud floor. It was really coming down, but I just had to try to keep things dry on the inside.

Meanwhile, there were paying guests in the house. My sister in law had set out lit candles in the entry hall, the living room, and in the hall and stairways leading up to the guest rooms. We probably weren't going to get the power back tonight. Thank goodness it wasn’t actually cold outside.

My first visit to the Villa Rucellai di Canneto in April of 1997 was all the things that most people experience on their first visit. Coming from spring in southern California, however, I was greeted by winter in Tuscany. There was fresh snow on the ground and the skies were grey. My fiancé and I stayed in the tower room of the 14th century house which was still, nominally, her apartment. The house seemed empty and cold, but the spaces were so unfamiliar and old that the inexperienced couldn’t help but find the atmosphere to be “magical”. Over the years I found that the overall dark and the irregularity of the electrical power in the old building was such that my mother-in-law had flashlights and candles ready in strategic places all around. During this storm I was reminded of Giovanna’s presence, and the omniscient sense that the building itself would continue to be there long after we were all gone.

[cassiocantdrink]

hahah i was there way back when trying to catch a train to braga in the middle of the railroad strike so oops. but the super helpful guys on duty there told me to go to the intercity bus station i guess they stayed behind to shepherd idiot tourists like moi and he station looked like a hole in the wall from the outside so i walked past it at least twice and then thinking WTF?!? i entered! a cave! with all those buses the size of ice breaker ships just sitting there and i didn't notice the pedestrian walkway so one of them had to squeeze past with me and another idiot trying to become one with the wall. holy shit that was scary. the rest was pretty uneventful, oh and braga architecture museum is super boring which is a CRIME bc braga literally stands on top of a roman town. you dig 50 cm in, you get a (yet another) treasure.

oh and the most stunning azulejo was in the Buçaco Palace, because it was! about! wellington! (i used to geek about wellington's spanish campain, thanks, rifleman sharpe haha). i broke down reading the recollections of rifleman harris though, bc they were, well, boring.

[allstarcleaningfl]

Transform Your Outdoor Space in 5 Minutes With Pressure Washing

Is your outdoor space looking a little grimy and neglected? Do you want to spruce it up without spending a lot of time or money? Pressure washing Wellington FL is the answer! This blog post will give you the lowdown on how to pressure wash your patio or walkway like a pro.

Step 1: Gather Your Supplies.

Before you get started, make sure you have all your supplies together. You'll need a pressure washer, a long-handled brush, detergent (for tougher jobs), gloves, and safety glasses. Don't forget the water hose too!

Step 2: Pre-Rinse the Surface.

Start by pre-rinsing the surface with just water from your garden hose. This will help loosen any stubborn dirt and debris that may be stuck on the surface before you start pressure washing.

Step 3: Determine the Need for Detergent.

If there are still stubborn patches of dirt that won't come loose, then it might be time to break out the detergent. Use a long-handled brush to scrub away at these areas with detergent mixed into warm water before proceeding with the pressure washer. Make sure to follow all safety instructions when using cleaning agents and wear gloves and safety glasses at all times!

Step 4: Pressure Wash Away!

Once everything has been prepped and pre-rinsed, it's time to get down to business with your pressure washer. Follow all manufacturer instructions for properly using your pressure washer. They vary depending on the model. Also, make sure you don't exceed any psi limits when washing concrete surfaces, especially as this can cause damage! Work in small sections simultaneously and move back and forth until finished. When finished, allow the surface to dry completely before continuing with any further steps, such as sealing or painting.

Conclusion

Transform Your Outdoor Space in 5 Minutes With Pressure Washing! Who says outdoor cleanups have to take all day? With these simple tips for pressure washing Wellington FL patios or walkways, you can transform your outdoor space in minutes without breaking the bank or requiring hours of laborious scrubbing! Now go out there and start transforming that outdoor space!