Sometimes it seems as if the wind is settling down.
And then it roars back into life. I felt sorry for the passengers on the Celebrity Solstice in town yesterday in a howling Nor’Westerly. I watched some of them walking along the quay back to the ship, staggering as they struggled to make headway. It must have conformed all the worst stereotypes of our fair city.
In Evans Bay, the white-fronted terns were huddled on the old derelict wharf at the site of the Patent Slip. They were all weather-cocked into the wind.
Usually, a few there means that there is a bigger group sheltering elsewhere. Since the wind was from the North I suspected I might find hem sheltering on the slope of the beach at Petone where the Korokoro stream enters the harbour. A small group mingled with red-billed gulls were indeed sheltering below the shell bank at the top of the beach, but not the flock I hoped for.
And still it blows.