Noel Peterson uses his powers for community good.
Perhaps there is a magical explanation for why it’s such a lovely warm winter’s day in Bluff. But if he has cast a spell, Noel Peterson won’t say.
It’s a valid question. After all, Noel is a wizard.
“When I cast spells from my lair, it sometimes does feel like I’m at the stern of a waka,” he explains as we look out over the steep hillsides of Bluff down to the harbour dotted with rainbow-coloured boats bobbing on a dark blue sea.
Noel, 71, does indeed cast spells on occasion, mostly from the garden at Dunvegan, his wizard’s lair. The garden has a fairytale, jungle-like quality. It’s full of native plants like leafy coprosma, pōroporo (they’re poisonous when green, but when orange and ripe can be used to make “settler’s jam”, though Noel says he’s never risked it), astelia (which look a bit like flax), shrubby broom, ferns and daisy-like olearia. There’s even a five metre-tall, and equally wide, kōwhai tree. Native birds abound, too: regular visitors include tūī with their white throat tufts, fantails (including some that are all-black), white-breasted kererū, brown moreporks, green and gold finches, grey warblers, flocks of little tauhou / wax-eyes, who come sometimes in their hundreds.
Pointing his dark wooden wand—one of several he uses—and uttering a “pffzt!” as he deftly flicks his wrist, Noel casts spell for positive things, like peace and understanding in both Southland and the wider world. Today’s spell is a blessing for safe travels and understanding. Noel says he has never practised dark magic, but he says there are wizards in the world, including in Aotearoa New Zealand, who sometimes do.
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Known as ‘The Green Wizard’ due to his affinity for nature, Noel first came to Bluff in 2017. He had been looking for somewhere to set up after many years in Tauranga, a place where he steered a waka ama as part of a team called the Flying Penguins and ran a horticulture course at the local polytech for at-risk youth, among other community-minded activities.
Bluff called to him both for its setting—at the very bottom of the South Island and forever at the mercy of the oft-moody Foveaux Strait and the fortunes of the shipping and fishing industries—and for its sense of community and connectedness. He soon joined the Bluff Community Board, championing environmental causes, as well as inclusive governance. With his flowing green robes, hat, and long wooden staff, Noel quickly became a local icon in Bluff and Invercargill. In full wizard dress, he’d often visit Queens Park, attend Invercargill City Council meetings, and greet people completing the Te Araroa Trail at Stirling Point in Bluff.
Noel gained his ‘Wizard’ moniker in Tauranga. It was 2011, and some young people with disabilities who he was helping in a community garden asked a support person about him. “Oh, he’s a wizard,” they said, in reference to Noel’s beard and his predilection for helping people. It stuck.
His wizard outfit came later, after he arrived in Bluff. The robes were made locally in Southland by Alice Bathurst. He’d seen her work at the Southern Institute of Technology (SIT) in Invercargill and asked if she could help create a more wizardly look for him as he became more well-known. The robes weigh about 10 kilos all up, and, helpful in Southland, are incredibly warm.
He may have a high profile, but much of what Noel does happens behind the scenes. I see this first-hand when we visit a Bluff woman who recently survived a stroke. First, we hop into Noel’s two-seater, 2014 Smart Fortwo electric vehicle and head down to Invercargill to pick up a box of her favourite chocolate. (Bluff and Southland are at the top of the world, he says, if you turn the map 180 degrees, meaning you go “down” to everywhere else instead of up.)
We return to Bluff and head for the woman’s flat, a large space above a museum, gallery, cine café and visitor centre on Gore Street. A huge, bright mural on the side of her building depicts a weka. We spend much of the afternoon keeping her and Biddy, her little brown dog, company, sipping piping-hot fruit tea and chatting. We clean the dishes before we leave.
Meanwhile, Noel says he wants to set a good example through his actions, in the hope people will do the same. The next day, as we visit op shops along Yarrow Street in central Invercargill—which Noel does often to support local people and charities, because “if you give to charity, you’ll get 10 times back”—he tells me about a new project. There’s a conspiratorial twinkle in his eyes as he describes it. It’s deliciously simple: collect aluminium cans—wherever they may be found—and either turn them into art or take them to the aluminium smelter at nearby Tiwai Point to be reused instead of discarded. He has a large bag expressly for this purpose. As we walk and talk, he stops to stoop and pick up cans. Sometimes they’re right on the footpath, sometimes they’ve been thrown in the bushes. Others are a little out in the street, already well-crushed by passing cars. Soon, I’m collecting every can I see, too. “Imagine if everyone did this?” he asks as I bring over an empty 250ml caramel brown can of Cody’s Bourbon & Cola that had been nestled against a curb. It’s so clean it looks like it might’ve been discarded just a few minutes earlier. “What a difference it could make.”
Back outside, Noel’s wispy grey beard blows in the cold Southland wind. Small acts of kindness like this help bring about greater positive change, he explains. But he also simply enjoys helping out.
Noel even ran for Invercargill mayor in the 2022 election on a platform that included environmental stewardship, smarter growth and stronger community connectivity. Part of a crowded field that included incumbent Sir Tim Shadbolt, he didn’t win—but it was a fair race. He insists he’d never cast a spell to win an election; that would be selfish.
“I think they [voters] just weren’t ready for a wizard. But that’s ok,” he begins, his smile never faltering. “I just keep calm, carry on, and look on the bright side. I went into it not necessarily to win, but to have my voice heard. To say, ‘climate change!’ I think it worked. I stood two years too early. Now everyone’s talking about climate change.” He thinks he might run for a seat on Environment Southland in the future.
He’s not wearing his robes today. He doesn’t as much anymore, for a few reasons. “Sometimes you need to adapt to the everyday,” he says. “My robes aren’t always the most practical.”
At each shop we visit, Noel chats with staff and customers. Maybe it’s his beard, or the way he carries himself, or even a touch of mystical aura. Regardless, people seem drawn to him, opening up about how they’re doing. It’s beginning to rain heavily outside. One man at a shop says he’s getting off at four. Noel asks him how he’s getting home, and the man says he plans on walking or taking a scooter. Noel promises to be back at 4pm to drive him, and he is.
Another day—a day so cold one’s breath swirls in the air with every exhalation—we visit a pāua farm at the north-west edge of Bluff. Sandwiched between State Highway 1 and the Foveaux Strait, the farm is in a sprawling old freezing works. It’s fascinating learning about the operation, which could have big implications for both the local economy and ecosystem.
As we tour the facility, Noel freely shares a few thoughts around helping Bluff and Southland economically, environmentally and socially. “I don’t mind necessarily if someone takes my ideas, because it’s at least progressing them,” he explains. These include keeping the Tiwai smelter open indefinitely, but producing “green aluminium” by using more environmentally-friendly technology and properly handling (or preferably reusing) dross, the waste byproduct of smelting. The facility is the region’s largest single employer. Its owners, Rio Tinto, have previously proposed closing the smelter, and it is currently running under a fixed-price power contract that ends in 2044.
Noel also argues that existing buildings and infrastructure should be repurposed, not torn down. A closed school at the edge of Bluff near the dog park is an example—it could be turned into a community centre or library rather than demolished. As well as minimising waste, saving old structures is a way of preserving Southland’s heritage and promoting pride of place. Noel notes that Bluff is one of the oldest towns in New Zealand. The Bluff Lodge—a popular backpacker hostel—dates to the 19th century, when it was the post office. Further down Gore Street, the Foveaux Hotel is one of the finest examples of art deco architecture in the region.
As sunset’s gold, orange, deep red, lavender and violet hues swirl and blend like a watercolour painting across a darkening sky above Dunvegan, Peterson cooks up a warm vegetable stew; many of the vegetables have come from his garden. The steaming, red broth warms the insides in such a way as to cause shivers. Eventually, the twinkling stars begin to come out. As they do, there’s a rustling noise outside. It’s possibly a brown morepork. Noel says they’re occasional evening visitors.
Powers or not, Noel says he plans to continue to do what he can to improve Bluff and Southland. “You can hope for something forever. But if you wish for it, it might well happen.” Possibly the surest sign of a spell: as we talk deep into the night in his wizard’s lair, I don’t realise until later he’s gotten me to eat broccoli and cauliflower without gagging or washing it down with water.
Words & Photos: Ben Mack
