that Wanaka tree

i recently found myself in New Zealand

if there was ever a double entendre, that was it. ten days by myself gave me enough headspace to think about life for a good long while. the additional irony was that it was 'an unexpected journey' to the land of the those charming adventurous hobbits. however, this story is not about that. this story is about

at daybreak

that Wanaka tree

is found roughly in the middle of the South Island. the Central Otago region they call it. the most wonderful pinot noir region is what i call it. i love pinot noir. it has a je ne sais quoi that to me, comes not so much from the wine itself (im no expert) but from its personality - juicy, full, bouncy, a well deserved arrogance as it meditates with your palate, a there-ness lulling you into a sweet sommeiller. bliss - and i was many times on this trip. the pinot from this small area on this small island at the end of the world is the third best pinot noir region in the world. imagine that! you could fit several Central Otagos into the size of Burgundy or Oregon. however this story is not about that. this story is about

at dawn

that Wanaka tree

amazingly sprouted into being about 80 years ago from an unassuming willow fence post which had hitherto kept the locals (sheep) from wandering into town. from that early start of a lumpy, rectangular piece of wood, it grew into a long limbed, delicate beauty in a classic ballerina pose reaching for the snow capped mountains surrounding it while the cool sweet waters of Lake Wanaka gently lap beneath it

it is the most photographed tree in New Zealand and whether in full foliage or not or submerged in water or not, it is simply spectacular in its solo performance. during the day, fat ducks serenely swim past the tree having conversations about important duck topics. at night the cormorants quietly keep the tree company, disappearing in the blink of a eye when day breaks. like the wines of the region

at dusk

that Wanaka tree

has a je ne sais quoi, a special mystical quality that draws you to it and keeps you there. weaving its beauty around me, it cast its spell and bewitched me. i photographed it in the late evening as the sun was turning the mountains a peachy orange. and then early the next morning in -3C as the sun rose turning the light from grey to gold to blue. neither could i capture the ethereal beauty of the tree, nor could i answer the question, why is it so special?

it just is. 

that early i had the tree for a rare time to myself. i was incredibly lucky. all i could do was stand there and look at it. in the poem Tree at my Window by Robert Frost he says "that day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her" - that was me and

that Wanaka tree

while the cormorants sleep (my favourite picture)

note: the tree earned its own hashtag on instagram #thatwanakatree