Georgia Merton

  • A date with death

    A date with death

    There’s no telling when death might tap you on the shoulder. When your name is called, there are no ifs or buts; as the saying goes, “you can be a king or street sweeper, but everyone dances with the Grim Reaper.” Many of us spend our time avoiding this fact. Others, however, invite it in…

    Read More …

  • Contagion magic

    Contagion magic

    Travels with Rocinante. It was the end of autumn. I was sitting on my bedroom floor, staring at the bones of a bike. Metal debris littered the carpet. My phone stood propped against the cardboard bike box as YouTube explained how to screw pedals on. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. …

    Read More …

  • The wheels of history

    The wheels of history

    How the quest for a nicely fitting knicker suit changed the world. IN MAY OF 1894, THE NEW ZEALAND RATIONAL DRESS ASSOCIATION (NZRDA) LAUNCHED IN CHRISTCHURCH. The aim was to “bring about that change in women’s dress which her wider life and increased activity seem to demand”. Basically, it was about the right to wear…

    Read More …

  • Ode to Port Emo

    Ode to Port Emo

    Fringe dwellers, story tellers, and a used-to-be-bar that somehow still is. At the bottom of a small staircase, in a low-ceilinged basement, the darkened space is lit by candles and the flickering of an open fire. People in coats swarm the bar. There’s a microphone stand in the corner. It feels intimate, familial even. The…

    Read More …

  • The Cabin

    The Cabin

    The unlikely journeys of an Antarctic hut. The fawn-coloured, three-by-four hut perched atop Godley Head is neat and unassuming. It sits quietly, overlooking the Pacific and the Kaikoura Ranges, but if walls could talk, these ones might just chew your ears off. This cabin has been to Antarctica and back, weathering relocations, heartbreak and more…

    Read More …

  • How to dance on a liquid spaceship

    How to dance on a liquid spaceship

    At the bottom of the world. AOTEAROA IS FULL OF TOWNS WITH QUIRK, AND THOSE WHICH HAVE SPROUTED UP NEXT TO THE GREAT SURF SPOTS HAVE THEIR OWN PARTICULAR CHARACTER. WELL-SUNNED LOCALS WITH ONE EYE ON THE WEATHER, THE SCENT OF WET WETSUITS AND WAX, A GENEROUS RATIO OF ARTISANS TO OTHERS: THEY DOT THE…

    Read More …

  • The tortoise and the bare

    The tortoise and the bare

    Sprinting starkers for charity in the shadow of the Darran Mountains. WILLIAM BLAKE ONCE WROTE THAT ART CAN NEVER EXIST WITHOUT NAKED BEAUTY DISPLAYED. IN FIORDLAND, THEY’RE ON THE SAME PAGE, AND THERE’S PERHAPS NO GREATER EVIDENCE OF THIS THAN THE SIGHT OF A CROWD OF LOCALS DASHING NAKED THROUGH A DARK, COLD TUNNEL EVERY…

    Read More …

  • When the white gold’s running

    When the white gold’s running

    Little fish, little fish, swimming in the water. It’s dawn on a small stream near Haast. The stream can’t be named, the river it leads us to can’t be named. It’s all very mysterious, for reasons that may soon become slightly less murky. A highlighter-yellow kayak, nose jammed into the muddy shore, tail bobbing softly…

    Read More …

  • A cranking good time

    A cranking good time

    Hokitika socks it to the world. Lurking among the innumerable Facegroups, alongside Genuinely Stoked Goats and the Comic Sans Appreciation Society, there is a 5.5K-member sock knitting community. Not just regular sock knitters. These are Circular Sock Machine knitters, also known as crankers. Conversation centres around yarn tension and brass cylinders, and images show an…

    Read More …