To say Graham Hawkes is a dab hand in the kitchen is a massive understatement.He was running two of Invercargill’s leading hotel kitchens by the age of 25, with 10 years’ cheffing experience already under his belt.Graham Hawkes following being awarded an Honorary Life Membership of the World chefs Board in 1994. Photo: Supplied‘Hawksy’, as he’s affectionately known in hospitality circles, went on to become highly acclaimed, nationally and internationally, in what became a successful 60-year career.One of Southland and New Zealand’s most renowned, award-winning chefs and restaurateurs, Graham’s lost count of the culinary medal haul…dozens, and the honours bestowed upon his cooking prowess awarded by several countries.He served as secretary general on the World Chefs’ Board, which currently has 10 million members, for 13 years.As president of the NZ Chefs’ Association, he hosted the World Congress in Auckland, one in Melbourne too, and was Pacific Area Continental Director for World Chefs.Hawksy (right) and Scott Ritchson at the World Chefs conference in Thessaloniki, Greece. Photo: SuppliedGraham is now an honorary member of the World Chefs’ Association. He’s received the World Chef Award out of Singapore – International Chef of the Month in 2003, and was an inaugural member of the NZ Chefs’ Association Hall of Fame, along with Queenstown’s Grant Jackson.He was also named a member of the Hospitality NZ Hall of Fame in 2021.Graham retires in March (2025), aged 73, but not before he’s organised one more community fundraising degustation dinner, prepared entirely by his young Southland proteges.For him this voluntary work is the greatest honour of all, passing on the baton to an enthusiastic new generation of young culinary wizards, gunning for the big time in an industry where’s there’s increasing demand. His passion in recent years has been to pay his immense experience forward to that next generation coming through so those skills aren’t lost.Scott Ritchson with two SBHS students who won medals at the National Culinary Competitions. Photo: SuppliedGraham works closely with SIT the ILT and Southland Boys’ High School staff to encourage, mentor and nurture that new blood.Graham learned the old-fashioned way from the best, and pity help him back then if he got it wrong, starting out as a trainee restaurant chef from the tender age of 13, beginning a six-year apprenticeship at Invercargill’s Grand Hotel by age 15.A true Southlander, Graham was born in the back of his Uncle Allan’s Vanguard car on the way to the Herbert Street Maternity Home in 1951.Number two in a family of eight kids, the family lived in a garage on an empty section in Grasmere while his dad built their house.He and his brother would bike to their grandparents’ home in Otatara and dig for toheroa at Oreti Beach.“Grandma was a great cook. We’d return with toheroa and she’d say, “You got them. You can cook them’,” Graham says.“I’d always been inquisitive when she was baking or cooking, and she taught me to make the best toheroa soup. I’ve always used her recipe, for oyster soup too, and in all of our restaurants the seafood chowder went, ‘Boom!’.”She taught him to make ice cream too, after bringing him the cow to milk.Graham (left) and his brother John. Photo taken after one-year-old Graham had just won a baby show. Photo: SuppliedFreezers were a very new invention then.“My grandfather only had an ice box, so he got big sheets of ice from the butter factory and put them either side of the bucket. Grandma then made the ice cream batter with unseparated milk and it started to freeze in between the sheets of ice. It was delicious.”Graham’s maternal grandfather Ted Crosland was also a renowned Orepuki baker.Creating great food is definitely in the family.All three of Graham’s sons are now successful Southland restaurateurs and chefs.At 13, Graham simply “stopped going to school” and cooked for a shearing gang, refusing to return to school after the season.Instead, he set up a little baking enterprise from his mum’s kitchen.“We barely had a telephone then, so people left their order at the grocery store or a note in the letterbox. Mum had a Kenwood mixer, and I made a good money.”Graham's collection of medals includes gold and silver medals from the 1987 World Culinary Arts Festival in Vancouver, CanadaBy 14 he was working for Anio’s in Waikiwi, cooking great steaks in her steakhouse under her expert guise.“She also taught me how to bake her famous layered chocolate sponge.”Graham loved cricket and football but at 15 in 1968 that all ended when he scored an apprenticeship, one of the only two in Southland, at the Grand Hotel for manager George Mertz and his European chef.“If you did something wrong you got a kick up the arse back then as most of the European chefs coming out here had big expectations.”His job was to clean out the inside of the wooden fridges and freezers.“It was an absolutely great way to learn.”Pouring through his archives, Graham still has menus that read: ‘Leading Young Chef – G. Hawkes’.Married to Glenise at 21, they headed to Sydney where he gained invaluable hotel a la carte experience, and they both worked at Flannigan’s Afloat Seafood Restaurant.They returned home the next year then Graham took a chef’s role at the Ashburton Hotel in 1975, the ILT soon headhunting him to come back to the Don Lodge and set up The Hungry Knight.A 1968 The Southland Times newspaper clipping featuring Christmas dinner preparations at Invercargill's Grand Hotel. From left Graham Hawles (trainee cook), T.F. Wilson (fourth cook), N.A. Kooy (chef) and J. Graham (second cook). Photo: SuppliedBy 25, Graham was a father of two, managing two kitchens and dining rooms at the Kelvin Hotel, and relieving for the executive chef at the Ascot.“I was running around like a blue-arsed fly.”Finding favour with the board after some younger chefs got up to a few antics, Graham was promoted in 1980 to Ascot Park executive chef, also overseeing the Kelvin for six weeks now father of three at just 30.He thrived on the extra responsibility and before long was invited to be chef at a rundown hotel up for renovation in Whanganui.“Moving is how you learn,” he says.Time off to study Communication English followed before hotel management in Levin where the sister of a troublemaker Graham had pinned to the ground twisted his leg around snapping it in two places.It was back to Invercargill in 1987 where he became general manager of Avenal Tavern and Elmwood Gardens.He and Glenise become caterers to Air NZ, the Lorneville and Makarewa freezing works and Tiwai, bank canteens and the Southland Racetracks.Graham in front of their restaurant's Beef + Lamb Excellence Awards. Flannigan’s and later Paddington Arms was the only restaurant in New Zealand to receive the award for 23 straight years. Photo: Supplied“We had 120 staff when we finished in 1990. We were both knackered.”Graham and Glenise then set up their own businesses, Orchids Café in Queens Park first.Graham then became renowned for Invercargill’s upmarket Donovan Restaurant, which won Best South Island Restaurant, turning that into Flannigan’s Seafood Restaurant and Paddington Arms, helping his sons in their popular restaurants too.For 23 years Flannigan’s and then Paddington Arms received NZ Beef and Lamb Awards of Excellence, the only NZ restaurant to do so.The Hawkes family in 1992. From left, Jeremy, Matthew, Brodie (with Tess the dog), Glenise and Graham, outside their Donovan Restaurant. Photo: SuppliedIt hasn’t all been a piece of culinary cake, like the time the new apprentice dropped Graham’s perfectly prepared pea and ham soup just as it was to be served to former Prime Minister Rob Muldoon at a banquet for 500.However, Graham kept calm, whipping up another 50 or 60 portions just in time.There’s never been a day when he’s been unhappy in his work so it will be hard to retire, but there’s plenty more giving in this old legend yet.Southland Boys’ new Scott Richardson Memorial Chef Training Kitchen will probably not be the last beneficiary after Graham’s finale fundraiser with his beloved students come April at Hansen Hall.The next generation in training. Graham and Glenise's granddaughters, Sofie and Brie, at home learning to cook Afghans, Pistachio Brownies and Pavlova. Photo: Supplied

If there’s a job needing done in Bluff then ‘Flutes’ is your man.Third generation Bluff royalty as the grandson of the renowned Fred and Myrtle Flutey, famous the nation over for their iconic Bluff ‘Paua House’, Flutes pours out practical kindness wherever he goes.From organising mass pallet drop-offs to his workplace at Southfish, cutting them up for firewood or recycling them, also repurposing reject fish blocks for crayfishermen, all to fund the Awarua Boating Club, Flutes has had it sussed.He’s your ultimate DIY innovator, turning a rubber bobbin off a fishing boat and an old fishing net into a netball hoop for the local kids.Flutes has been one of Southland’s best rowers in his day, sporting a haul of World Masters and Australian Masters golds between 2004 and 2014.He took out New Zealand titles as a youngster cleaning up the lightweight doubles at the national champs with fellow Bluff rower Rex Ryan.Kevin (rear) and his faithful rowing buddy, Rex Ryan, pumping out the wins as Southland champions about 20 years ago. Photo: SuppliedHe also rowed for the NZ Lightweight Colts from 1979, based in Christchurch for two seasons. Eileen Keys and her husband billeted him.“She was like my second Mum.”The other rowers at Karapiro meets called him ‘Penguin’ because he rowed in Bluff.Flutes may have gone on to even greater things, but oystering is in the Flutey blood so when good mate Willie Calder came to Christchurch and said, ‘Come home and come oystering for me’, Flutes says he couldn’t resist.“I just love it, and you can’t take the Bluff out of the boy,” he grins.‘The Bluff’ represented a wonderfully, happy childhood roaming the outdoors, the eldest of four kids, racing homemade trollies down steep Bluff streets, making flax darts for street competitions, bows and arrows from lupins and toi toi weapons with nails in the tip. No OSH concerns in the 1960s.Kevin (left) and the kids with Grandad Fred and his dad Ian. Photo: Supplied“Mum would call us for tea and we’d be straight back outside again, kicking rugby balls over the power lines to the neighbours’ disgust,” he chuckles.“We even built an underground wartime tunnel from the henhouse to Dad’s workshop with old timber and a tin roof which we camouflaged with grass clumps and Mum and Dad couldn’t find us.”Flutes has had a few close calls, like the time his hand slipped off an oyster boat rail, eight-year-old Kevin plummeting into the ocean off the wharf, gumboots and all.“Thankfully, my cousin heard the splash, and Keith Templeton threw a rope to me, which luckily hit me on the hand.”At three he got into his dad’s shed and drank fresh paint, rushed to hospital to have his stomach pumped.“They thought they’d lost me.”Kevin, 28, shows how it’s done in the children’s playground in Queens Park, Invercargill. Photo: SuppliedMuch tastier was Nana Myrtle’s baking, her Drop Sponge a winner.Flutes was bound to become adventurous.Grandad Fred would get dropped off by the Wairua Stewart Island ferry at Chalky Inlet on its way to service the Puysegur Lighthouse.He’d live in a cave for two weeks while collecting washed up paua shells.“That was his holiday. He’d walk along the shore up towards The Five Fingers leaving the big bags of shells then collecting them in his 16-foot (4.8m) dinghy,” Flutes says.“One day he got stuck due to weather so he pushed that huge dinghy through the bush into Preservation Inlet where he could meet the Wairua.”Famous Grandad Fred Flutey polishing his beloved paua shells. Photo: SuppliedDad Ian also rowed in the 1950s and once a very slight Flutes had got a taste as coxswain, aged nine, he helped take the local team to stardom for seven years until he was old enough to take a seat.“We had some ding dong battles rowing against Invercargill’s Eade brothers and the Riverton club,” he recalls. The Awarua Club was humming then with 72 rowers and seven coxswains.A 21-year-old Flutes was right there amongst it helping fundraise and build the new club building in 1981.Photo: SuppliedHe was also a volunteer as camera boat driver for the World Rowing Championships in 2010 at Karapiro and served on the Southland Rowing Association executive for eight years, representing the province nationally.A man who likes to get the job done, not even Flutes could turn down the offer to row his first Masters in Hamburg, Germany, in 2004.“I’d just pulled our kitchen sink out to start a $20,000 renovation for my wife when Rex Ryan knocked on the door.”Another rower had fallen ill, and Flutes was needed to compete, his boss at Southport urgently helping raise the airfares.Fortunately, wife Debbie was a good sport about it encouraging him to go.“I’m halfway through that kitchen now,” he grins.Kevin (centre) in action in the Intermediate 8 in 1994. Photo: SuppliedHe’d be finished but Flutes is too busy volunteering his time to help others, something Debbie and his family have been fully supportive of.“It’s just who I am,” he says.With rowing numbers dwindling in Bluff, for the last eight years Flutes has coached young Invercargill high school rowers.“It was supposed to be for two days a week but that’s turned into seven,” he grins.The competition’s still in him though. “I tore my hamstring in four places trying to beat the school rowing girls at our May Ten Pin Bowling break-up.”Flutes has been at the helm of his dad’s 72-foot steel oyster boat from a young age, even helping out back then.Four generations of Fluteys, from left, Grandad Fred holding Kevin’s son Matthew, Dad Ian and Kevin (‘Flutes’). Photo: Supplied“Dad had lots of farming mates who’d come down and go out on the boat on a Sunday, sometimes getting a bit worse for wear so I’d steer the boat into the harbour,” he grins.A trained electrician, Flutes had been nagging to leave Kingswell High School and man his dad’s oyster boat.“He wouldn’t let me until I got a trade.”He trained as an electrician completing a six-year apprenticeship, working as an electrician while rowing in Christchurch.After 10 years oystering, forced redundancies in the industry saw him reluctantly working at a fish factory and driving trucks.Not even serious motion sickness held him back from those boats though.Flutes and Debbie with the grandkids. Photo: SuppliedTwenty years with Southport followed and for the past six years Flutes has been making salt ice at Southfish and delivering it to the fishing boats.The pallet drop-off he turned into firewood during Covid times was just typical of the heart of the man who delivered it to the elderly and those in need.“One guy nearly ripped the bag out of my hand he was that cold,” he says. But the work of a volunteer man never ends, it seems.“I always help out when someone asks me.”However, Flutes reckons it’s his wife and family, including three sons, who should be honoured for their years of understanding.“I’m an electrician and the lights on that new kitchen were hanging off the ceiling for quite some time,” he grins.There’s always time for the grandchildren though, who recently called on ‘Gong Gong’, as they call him, to collect the floats for the preschool Santa parade.A kind man’s work is never done.

At 81, Bill South’s had more than a few brushes with death, but this hardy Southland farmer always seemed to escape unscathed, and in the end his spelling ability wasn’t what saved him.In 1963, aged 20, Bill applied to join the Police and was told he needed an extra six months’ training to learn to spell. Bill wasn’t having any of that, so the Police force’s loss became the NZ Army’s gain.Not only would he serve bravely in the jungles of Malaya and Borneo, but Bill served in Southland too, the volunteer Parade Marshall organising local Anzac Dawn Parades and services for 50 years, the longest serving southern marshall to do so.This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of Macdonald & Weston Funeral Directors“I’d walked down the street just after the Police turned me down and I met my mate, Tom, who said, “I’m joining the Army and I’m going to Malaya,” Bill says.“I said, ‘That sounds like a darned good thing and on 3rd June, 1963, I was on my way to Burnham Camp to train until October, ready for two years in Malaya.”However, during a training camp in Rotorua Bill contracted deadly spinal meningitis.20-year-old Bill South during basic training at Burnham Camp. Photo: Supplied“They gave me 12 hours to live and flew my mother up to say goodbye. They said if I survived 12 hours I’d make it.”He reckons he had the Army to thank for that.“I lost four and a half stone, but my 14 and a half stone weight after my training saved me. I’d never been so fit in my life, but I was pretty sick.”After recovering in March 1964 Bill was off to the main British military base in Terendak, Malaya, to prepare for his battalion’s first posting on the Thai border.Bill South during camouflage training in Malaya. Photo: Supplied“The Indonesian CT’s (Communist Terrorists) had threatened to take out Malaya and Singapore before the cock crowed at midnight, but we managed to hold them back,” Bill says.“More than 250 of them landed one night amongst our seven battalions, so not many survived. They all surrendered.”It was a baptism of fire for a young country boy from Grove Bush, Southland.He’d been a night rabbit shooter as a teenager, but the stakes in the Malayan jungle were a lot higher.Private Bill South (Sixth from left - Centre row) with the 1st Battalion Royal NZ Infantry Regiment. Photo: Supplied“There were that many shooting you just knew that’s one of theirs. There was no choice,” he says.“We became the 1st Royal NZ Infantry Regiment – the Gurr Battalion.”In 1965 they moved to Sarawak in Borneo for six months, another target for the CTs, the first European battalion and second division there where they relieved the Gurkhas.“We fought under the 28th Commonwealth Brigade Unit, led by the British.”Bill South's first army parade in Malaya. Photo: SuppliedHere Bill endured his first contact with the enemy, their rounds firing back at him.Out on patrol in the jungle, they’d start ‘harbouring up’, digging shell scrapes to hide in while patrols were out checking.“Our luckiest escape was walking back to camp after three weeks in the jungle near Sarawak when my cover scout yelled, ‘Grenade!’. Everyone flew in every direction, but it had been raining three days earlier so the fuses must’ve got damp.”Head scouts were handy. Another told them a tiger had just been lying on the track where they were marching, and they had a run in with a giant 17-foot (5.1m) python coming down a stormwater drain too.Bill ran over it with the Land Rover then finished it off with a hoe.He and four others were sent to hunt down some escaping enemy ‘soldiers’ in a mangrove swamp.Bill, far left, with the Otago Southland Regimental Association winning team after the JJ Walker Trophy Shoot. Photo: Supplied“After 10 days we found them in a bus shelter by a remote road with no weapons, the youngest was 14 the other 16,” Bill says.“They told us they’d been sent with no training to ‘shoot anybody not dressed the same as them’. It was very sad.”In November 1965 Bill got his wish to be a policeman, posted to the Garrison Military Police, 17 miles (27kms) out of Melaka, overseeing law and order among 7000 troops, breaking up fights, and directing military traffic and families to church.There were tragedies – two trucks in a Malayan regiment smashed into a mosque killing 44 of their own people.Then there was the mass brawl at the beach club that lasted 23 hours after a smart-mouthed Aussie soldier swore at and punched an Irishman walking past the military camp bars.Bill finished his three-years’ service ranked as a Warrant Officer Class 1 Substantive – the highest non-commissioned rank, having earned a Chief of General Staff Service Award for Outstanding Service to the NZ Army, among multiple other service medals.Warrant Officer Class 1 Substantive Bill South being presented with his NZ Defence Medal by the Brigadier in Auckland. Photo: SuppliedBack home he continued working at the freezing works, shearing and driving trucks, then after a break he joined the local territorials in 1973, serving in a voluntary role in Southland for 27 years.“The late John Dawson, a prison officer, asked me to fill in with just a couple of days’ notice in the first year as he wasn’t well. Then it happened again the following year,” Bill grins.“They just kept me coming back.”His first parade in 1973 attracted about 2000 people and his last a few years ago attracted between 4000 and 5000, many of them children which was lovely to see.“It was challenging at times, but very rewarding.”This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of Macdonald & Weston Funeral DirectorsThroughout those 50 years Bill’s always tirelessly turned up as volunteer organiser of Invercargill’s weekly Wednesday Night Territorial training and parades.The RSA presented him with a framed photo of himself as Parade Marshall in recognition of the years of service.There were still World War I vets marching in every dawn parade when Bill first started in 1973, while now there are very few World War II ones remaining and only the odd ‘tough fella’ Korean vet hanging on.While society now honours returned servicemen and women as they should be and lest we forget, Bill says those old diggers would rather they did: ‘What happened over there stays there,” he says.Wrights Bush senior rugby team 1972 - winners of the Gordon Grieve Conduct Shield. Bill South is 3rd from left in the back row. Photo: SuppliedFarming at Waianiwa and Branxholme Bill only retired to Invercargill early last year.He’s been at the forefront of Southland rugby in his day, serving as a member of the Central Southland Rugby Selection Committee on its executive and has been president, secretary and player for Wrights Bush Rugby Club.Son Brad played for Southland in the 1990s while son Nathan is a Southland Claybird Shooting Champion.Bill’s also been president of the Drummond Golf Club, his lowest ever Handicap, 11, winning the club Junior Championship in his day and enjoying regional team wins.A serviceman all round, it’s now time to kick back and enjoy his retirement.

On Saturday, 19 October, Te Anau lost a ray of sunshine.On that gloomy spring day, a well-known local personality, Raymond William Herbert Willett, or Ray to everyone who knew him, passed away.Activist, environmentalist, eccentric, tireless community mover and shaker, comedian, supporter of good causes, animal lover and outdoor enthusiast – these are just some epithets that spring to mind in relation to the man whose association with Fiordland went back more than half a century.Originally from London, at 16 Ray saw a sign in a window saying, “Come to New Zealand”.He went in and picked up a form to fill in.At home, when he told his parents, Edward and Catherine Willett, about his plans, they tried to persuade him to stay, but he said he wanted to be a farmer and that his mind was made up to go.Ray Willett holding his niece on the day of his departure from England, 6 August 1953. Photo: Ray Willett’s private collectionHe qualified under the child migrant scheme and joined a group of 15 youngsters on a voyage from London to Wellington aboard the ocean passenger liner RMS Rangitata to arrive in New Zealand on 9 September 1953.Ray was placed with Joe and Marl Burnside in Northland to help with milking cows.The young lad’s love affair with Fiordland started in 1956 when he embarked on a motorbike tour of New Zealand which took him from Auckland to Milford Sound.He came back for the 1958-59 summer season to take on a job of a guide and track hand on the Milford Track for the Tourist Hotel Corporation (THC).In 1961 while working at the Chateau on Mt Ruapehu Ski Field, Ray met an attractive Kiwi blonde, Helen Shepherd.Freshly back from a 3-year stint in the UK, Helen got a job at the Ruapehu ski field cafeteria while Ray worked in the boot room.At the end of the winter season, they came to Te Anau to work on the Milford Track.Two years later they were married.Ray Willett at Mackinnon Pass on the Milford Track with Clinton Valley below, 1958. Photo: Zygmunt Kepka (with permission)The couple managed the Pompolona Hut on the Milford Track during the summer 1964-65, before THC asked them to run the Lake Waikaremōana motor camp for six months.Half a year turned into five and a half years in the Urewera National Park, but the grandeur of Fiordland lured them back for good in 1970.The Willetts were both involved in the Save Manapouri campaign back in the ‘70s to prevent the raising of the levels of lakes Manapouri and Te Anau as part of the construction of the Manapouri Power Station.Passionate about the environment Mr Willett had been involved with conservation since 1959, when he came to Fiordland to work on the Milford Track as a mountain guide.This is when he saw his first stoat and learned about their impact on the New Zealand native birds.Later as a National Park Ranger he set up predator trap lines at the Eglinton and the Hollyford Valleys, and continued trapping to the end of his days.Ray Willett with a ferret he caught on his Kepler Track trap line in 2023. Photo: Beth MasserAll this work has earned Ray the conservation champion title he received in 2008 at the Department of Conservation annual awards for his extensive contribution to various conservation initiatives in Te Anau and Fiordland areas.One of the founding members of the Fiordland Tramping and Outdoor Recreation Club (FTORC), in 2023 Ray was granted a lifetime membership of the club.Known for his zest for life many younger individuals might envy, at 65 he was the oldest person to complete the 2001 New Zealand Coast to Coast race in one day for which he was awarded the Endurance trophy.He competed in 25 Kepler Challenges, finally retiring from this mountain endurance race in 2013, aged 77.His other achievements include climbing Mitre Peak (1692m) in Milford Sound at the age of 76, completing an 8-day Outward Bound course at 77, and at the age of 80 participating in a 15-hour epic caving journey down New Zealand's deepest vertical shaft called Harwood Hole.The popular Te Anau restaurant, Redcliff Café, was built and owned by Ray and Helen Willet in 1978.Ray Willett and local GP Dr. David Hamilton (left) on top of Mitre Peak, Milford Sound, Fiordland, 2011. Photo: SuppliedOriginally used as a craft shop, it was converted to a Restaurant & Bar in 1993 and quickly became a favourite meeting place for locals, travellers and performing artists.Its manager, Megan Houghton became a close and life-long friend to Ray and Helen.In 1990 Ray Willett was named the Fiordland tourist personality of the year which acknowledged his part in playing Te Anau’s first European settler, Richard Henry during the town’s centenary in 1983, and explorer Quintin Mackinnon during the Milford Track centenary celebrations in 1988 and again in 1989. No doubt Ray’s long-time involvement with Fiordland Players, the local theatrical society, has helped him to play these roles convincingly.Ray Willett with a statue of his hero Quintin Mackinnon, 18 May 2015. Photo: Alina SuchanskiRay never shied from putting himself out there for a good cause.Being blessed with the natural “gift of the gab” and quirky sense of humour has landed him many MC roles and speaking engagements at dinners, meetings, conferences and as part of the DOC’s Summer Programme.He loved making people laugh, be it reciting long humorous poems or walking his pet pig, Penelope, on the shore of Lake Te Anau.Ray's distinctive signage can be seen at numerous places around Te Anau. Photo: Fiordland Trails Trust/FacebookRay Willett died aged 88, leaving behind his infectious love for the mountains and rivers of Fiordland, his appreciation of everything this amazing region has to offer and of course his distinctive signage.He will be missed by many.A memorial service to celebrate the life and times of Ray will be held at 1pm, Friday 1st November 2024 at the Fiordland Events Centre, Luxmore Drive, Te Anau.Messages to 24 Charles Nairn Drive, RD 1 Te Anau 9679 or to Ray's tribute page at frasersfunerals.co.nz/tributes where the livestream can be accessed.

She’s been a whistleblower the world over, exposing foul play and making tough calls. Colleen Bond’s done herself and New Zealand proud and she wouldn’t have it any other way.Colleen might be married to James Bond – a real one, but she’s pretty famous in her own right.A highly acclaimed and sought after international netball umpire for some 50 years, Colleen may have retired from the world stage, but she’s still top of her game, mentoring and inspiring young proteges rising through the ranks.This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of AWS LegalShe’s been appointed to call the shots at dozens of the world’s top netball clashes and test matches during her time, touring everywhere from Scotland and England to Jamaica, Southeast Asia and the Pacific Islands.It's an honour she doesn’t take lightly and a role she takes very seriously.“You have to really work hard on your fitness and skills, to be your best, as you just can’t get it wrong,” she says.NZ Umpire Colleen Bond at the 1982 England vs Wales test match. Photo: SuppliedIt’s involved countless hours of commitment, Colleen driving from the home farm near Mataura to Dunedin every Wednesday night during Coca Cola Cup days.“I had to do that. It was my job to build on that experience and prepare,” she says. “You aim to be the best you can.”Things don’t always go smoothly, especially when there are big titles at stake.Colleen once found herself surrounded by an angry Jamaican team on court in Sydney, televised live, after calling out one of their players with a warning for being offside.Even their angry coach chimed in, threatening a mass team walk off, but Colleen stood her ground. Often travelling to strange countries alone, she’s found herself in some compromising situations.“It was a real education at times.”She may supposedly be retired but regular Zoom meetings are the norm and as an international testing panel member, Colleen has just returned from Umpire Panel duties at the Netball Smart NNZ Open Championships.Born in Tapanui, Colleen’s dad managed a farm at Edievale, where she walked 1.5 miles to school. Times were tough then and her mum washed with a copper and worked a butter churn, while raising four kids.Colleen in 1970 with the horse 'Airfare'. Photo: SuppliedSeveral moves to farms outside Gore saw Colleen develop a love of farming and animals and after scoring an admin job at Bannerman Brydone & Folster in Gore, at 16, she was allowed to leave school.A Southland Country and age-group rep netballer from her mid-teens, Colleen was a talented Wing Attack and Centre in her youth, also versatile enough to star when needed as Goal Attack.Colleen played for Southland Country from 1965 to 1968 and was vice captain one year.After marrying her James Bond at 20 they moved to Pukekohe to further his horse training career, and Colleen worked in an accountant’s office, playing for South Auckland/Counties in the Opens for two years and achieving zone level in umpiring.In 1971 they moved back to Mataura where they’d purchased a property.Colleen played and umpired Southland netball, quickly passing her qualifications up to her NZ theory badge.This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of AWS Legal“Violet Lynch (Anderson), my Ex High Club coach, was responsible for me taking the whistle,” she says.“We’d run from Wigan Street in Gore up to the old netball courts in Preston Street, about two miles, for training. She never let me off shuttles either,” grins Colleen.“Violet was a NZ umpire and always encouraged me to work through the qualification levels to achieve my NZ Practical level. I worked my way through, and I enjoyed it.”Colleen’s also umpired at 28 NZ Nationals and after many trips overseas with the Silver Ferns as one of NZ’s top umpires, she’s now retired.“It makes you feel very humble when you get an appointment with the Silver Ferns,” she says.Dame Lois Muir would always ensure Colleen felt part of the team, her first trip out of NZ with the Ferns to England and Wales in the early 1980s.“For me it was quite daunting, but she was amazing.”Colleen being recognised at NZ Nationals by NZ Umpire President Fay Freeman. Photo: SuppliedIt was also Rhonda Meads’ first trip with the Ferns and the overseas media only wanted to interview her because she was Colin Meads’ daughter.“Lois wouldn’t allow her to go on her own, so she’d have the captain attend with her, where the interview, supposedly about netball, turned out more about rugby,” Colleen says."Lois was very inclusive, even with me.”Dame Lois, Lyn Gunson, Yvonne Willering, Wai Taumaunu were among the wonderful names she worked with.Colleen umpiring the Australia v's Jamaica test match. Photo: SuppliedShe had been reserve for the World Championships three times and was about to give it up in 2003 when she was appointed to her first World Tournament in Jamaica. Colleen, a Kiwi household name umpiring the National Bank Cup, went on to the World Games in Germany and Holland and appointments in Fiji and Samoa before retiring.Colleen still treasures those memories, the James Bond bolts and chains hanging on her hotel door when one player prankster was at work and the little clogs team manager Lady Sheryl Wells gave her in Holland.In Germany once Colleen was concentrating hard on the goal line controlling a shooter when the players all roared with laughter. “I thought, ‘What have I done? I hadn’t seen that the pole had slipped down from 10 foot to 3 foot.”Colleen brings prestige to the game and strives to maintain that high standard. It’s imperative that umpires present with high level standards and rules knowledge for games and dress smartly in whites.Colleen Bond coaching the Southland Smokefree Champs. Photo: SuppliedUnfortunately, two new hips prevent her from running at her old pace, but she’s coached the Ex High Premier team for more than 20 years.She’s pretty chuffed that they won the Eastern Premier Competition and the (new) Centre’s Premiership Competition this season.“I did help umpire one game this season and I’d never normally lower myself to wear track pants, but I told them I’m not getting dressed in whites or tanning my legs,” she laughs.Colleen presenting her trophy to umpires Sasha McLeod and Kristie Simpson. Photo: SuppliedFor many years Colleen’s been inspiring new umpires and coaching for Netball South, covering Otago and Southland, mentoring many southern international successes.She’s even entertained the entire Namibian netball team at home.“They each had a ride in a sulky driving a horse around our home race training track, also fascinated with climbing our haystack.”Colleen receives her Member of the NZ Order of Merit Honour from former Governor General Jerry Mateparae. Photo: SuppliedProudly displayed in her kitchen is her Member of the NZ Order of Merit Honour, awarded by former Governor General Jerry Mateparae, and Gore District Civic Award.You won’t catch her skiting about them though, quite the opposite, just like you won’t catch her giving out her age. “You’re only as old as you feel,” she grins.Colleen’s a dab hand with the reins too, now an accomplished harness horse driver and stable hand for husband Jimmy’s trotters, her workouts on the home racetrack keeping her looking ripped.“Horse driving is part of life now. It keeps me fit.”But Colleen clearly gets the most joy from helping grow new quality umpiring stars, and seeing southerners reach international ranking.“They don’t come along every day, but to work with the ones that really want it, for me, that’s just so exciting.”

It’s 24 years last week (September 9) since Richard Mills – one of New Zealand’s most seasoned helicopter pilots, crashed into dense jungle working in Borneo. It was a life-changing experience that grounded him in so many ways, leaving him incapacitated and hospitalised for months, unable to fly and work again for four and a half years.It was a long and painful recovery but with the support of his family and mates ‘Millsy’ eventually got back behind the controls, regaining his pilot’s licence and resuming a 40-plus year commercial flying career.Raised in Invercargill holidaying with family at Stewart Island, Riverton and Queenstown, the south was always home, so Richard found a way to combine an international flying career with Southland life.This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of Southland Helicopters LtdFor 25 years he flew helicopters month on, month off, everywhere from the UK and Southern and South Africa, to Malaysia, Papua New Guinea, Mexico and Canada.Many of these missions were in extremely challenging terrain working in searing heat, conditions that make helicopter flying risky and at times dangerous.From agricultural spraying in Southland and counting zebra in African game parks, to conducting seismic surveys in oil fields in Papua New Guinea and logging in Malaysia, Richard was living the dream.Richard Mills provides the transport for local bride Jackie Davies on her wedding day. Photo: SuppliedIt was hard work and while there were big family sacrifices it certainly got them ahead financially.“I reckon I spent more time with my wife and sons than the average working man,” he says. “But I couldn’t have done it without my wife, Sue, and her parents stepping in while I was away.”From the age of 14 Richard knew he wanted to fly, saving up for his first flying lesson mowing lawns for $2.50 and working at the Woolstore for $1 an hour.“Mum and Dad paid $5 for my first lesson on my 15th birthday in 1974.”This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of Southland Helicopters LtdStill at school and 18, he passed his private pilot’s licence, clocking the 60 hours necessary.Working on a Hunt International Petroleum oil rig in the Southern Ocean for 18 months, and at the freezing works, helped get him through - a first day pupil at Nelson Aviation College along with Southland Boys’ High mate, longtime Air NZ captain Wayne Swinburne.“I went loose to the helicopter side,” Richard laughs.Both sons now successful pilots – Andrew an Emirates training captain and Willie an agricultural pilot, Dad gave them some advice early on:“Everything you do for the rest of your life will be challenging but fulfilling. You may help save lives, even bring babies into the world, and facilitate last farewells. You’ll never be bored, but never believe the myth that it will be hard work. It beats working for a living.”Taking a break - Richard Mills in the early days at Mount Linton Station. Photo: SuppliedHe’s flown both fixed wing and helicopters, starting out with deer recovery in the late 70s and for Mount Linton Station, also doing Northern Hemisphere summers in Scotland and England.After working as an agricultural pilot for Southern Aviation in Otautau, Richard and Sue bought the helicopter in 1984 forming South Coast Helicopters.Unfortunately, that prized Jet Ranger – an exact replica to that used by Police in cannabis operations, and their hangar, were mysteriously burnt to the ground.Richard also flew missions to the Muttonbird Islands, where he gained a fresh insight into Rakiura Maoridom.Working alongside aviation legends like Te Anau’s Bill Black on the early Kakapo Restoration Programme, Richard gained the utmost respect for Rakiura kaumatua Harold Ashwell.“He introduced me to the significance of the history behind the Tītī Islands and Rakiura.”(L-R) Michael Glynn and Richard Mills. Richard and Sue established South Coast helicopters in 1984. Photo: SuppliedHaving flown the length of NZ under a watchful instructor at the age of 16 flying was very exciting stuff.It’s a risky career and in Richard’s first crop spraying season in Britain seven people he knew were killed back here in NZ, mostly in venison recovery.On a happier note, Richard was a popular stand-in for Santa Claus when the reindeer were out of action, flying in by chopper in the big red suit. “Probably for reasons of my ample girth,” he grins.In their dating days it became hard leaving Sue, but he flew stock counting operations in South Africa’s Natal Game Parks, chasing baboons down ridges, and hyena and zebra.Once their boys arrived, international flying was well established.“It worked out really well as I was away for half of their formative years,” Richard jokes.Richard Mills (left) stops for a fruit juice with locals in Papa New Guinea. Photo: SuppliedFrom 1990 until 2012, pre and post his accident, Richard flew extensively in Papua New Guinea, logging, supporting oil and gas operations and mining.There were many cultural and language lessons along the way, as with the seismic work in Mexico.“I got 19% in School Cert French but even then, I managed to pick up pieces of Spanish.”However, when you’re at the controls of a Russian logging helicopter plummeting into the jungle near Borneo after an engine fails there’s not much that knowing the lingo can do to help.He and his Kiwi colleague spent three hours in the wreckage doused in jet fuel.Badly smashed up in a Malaysian hospital with multiple breaks to his arm, shoulder and legs, Richard was pleased to survive, and to see Sue and her dad arrive soon after.A newspaper clipping of Richard Mill's accident near Boreno. Photo: Supplied“Sue said, ‘Did the Greenpeace fairies catch up on you?’,” Richard grins.He flew home post-surgery with just 4% use of his arm, a plate inserted in his femur and a catheter in, spending another 10 weeks in Southland Hospital, then confined to a wheelchair.He rebroke the femur falling while attempting physio exercises at home, his bum jammed up against the searing hot woodburner.“Sue reckoned the surgeons had got titanium and tin foil mixed up.”For the first three years ‘Fox Trot Charlie’, as he was affectionately known, didn’t want to look at a helicopter, but gradually the boys coaxed him back, Richard eventually back flying in Papua New Guinea.In 2012 ‘Millsy’ came home for good, working as general manager for mate Sir Richard (Hannibal) Hayes at Heliworks in Queenstown as general manager.Richard and the team in Sarawak, Borneo, in front of the largest helicopter in the world - the Russian made Mil 26. Photo: SuppliedThroughout his career in NZ his most satisfying work has been his involvement in Search and Rescue in the mountains and over the treacherous waters of the southern seas.However, he’s quick to point out there are no individual heroes in SAR. It’s a team effort with skilled rescuers on the ground.A memorable job was the last chance rescue of a 16-year-old Bluff boy who’d been clinging to a life ring in Foveaux Strait for almost 12 hours after a fishing boat overturned. The two older men who’d been with him had drowned.“The Police had exhausted their search after a week, and I was going to pick up two hunters so offered to search on the way. About 8 miles(12.8kms) out somebody spotted something, so I hovered down and saw the boy in the ring, barely hanging on with one arm.”Richard tried to throw him his life jacket and radioed a nearby boat, whose crew hauled him in.Trying to do a good deed, Richard later flew the two grieving widows over the site throwing their special wreath out his door, supposedly into the sea, only to discover upon landing it was caught on his helicopter skid.Richard Mills (front) stands in for Santa, alongside his Heliworks colleagues. Photo: Supplied“I had to discreetly stuff it down my overalls before I went to offload them.”He flew back and did the honours.Richard’s also served on the Lakes District Air Rescue Trust.This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of Southland Helicopters LtdBut these days, happily retired, he drives the Southland Boys High hostel van, encouraging young boys keen on a flying career.He gets a real kick out of mentoring and connecting them with established operators.“I just know how hard it is to get your first break in this game.”

Rob McMurdo was born to ride. From that very first Raleigh Chopper with its ape handlebars to the teenage touring bike that got him safely to Nelson and back, Rob, like Forest Gump, just ‘kept on riding’.“I just love it,” he enthuses. “Riding a bike is where you sort out all your problems.”He’s equally enthusiastic about sharing that passion with his customers from the very young to the very old, from the extremely excited 7-year-old who squeals with delight to 90-something track cyclist Peter Grandiek.“You never get too old to enjoy that wonderful appreciation. We’re changing lives with the humble bike.” Rob on the job at Wensley’s in the early days, aged 19 or 20. Photo: SuppliedNow the long-time owner of Wensley’s Cycles, Rob was once that little boy.Sadly, his father died of emphysema when he was 7 – something he’s managed to keep under control himself.He vividly remembers his hardworking mum saving for a year to buy Rob his first bike, a Raleigh Chopper from Wensley's.“It was the best thing that ever happened to me. It changed my whole life. I was never off it,” Rob says. It gave him independence and freedom and started his cycling career. “If you had one of those you were really made, the coolest kid on the block. As a 9-year-old I did the Myross Bush circuit. Cycling’s been big all my life.”Born in Gore in 1962 where his dad was a car painter, which led to emphysema, the family moved to Invercargill when his father became ill.Rob out collecting bikes in the late 1990s, early 2000s, for Avanti which was sending them to Africa for people in need. Photo: Southland Times/Supplied“Losing Dad so young made me grow up quickly and appreciate things. It taught me patience and understanding. It made me who I am today,” Rob says.“Mum did an awesome job, and it was a happy childhood, but I had to stand on my own two feet.”Cycling wasn’t permitted as a sporting option at high school back then, and Rob refused to play rugby or cricket, opting for detention instead.At about 15 he and mate Garry Brown took up touring“We put bags and tennis racquets on our bikes and biked to Lumsden, camping out for a weekend and playing tennis,” he grins.At about 17 they biked up the West Coast to Nelson to holiday with Garry’s parents.It’s opened up a whole new world for him, touring Southland extensively and the South Island with many memorable trips.“I love the freedom, the people you stop to say ‘hello’ to,” Rob says. “People don’t have that much time for themselves. Biking sorts your head out. You don’t get angry on a bike.”Rob biking over Arthur’s Pass in 1991. Photo: SuppliedSo, when long-time Wensley’s manager Doug Boyd, who knew Rob’s stepdad, offered him an after-school job, Rob was over the moon. After six months he was offered a fulltime cycle mechanic’s apprenticeship – New Zealand’s first.“I remember being way out of my comfort zone on my first day but very excited as well. We didn’t have a till – just a drawer, and giving change freaked me out.” “Doug took me under his wing and taught me so much stuff. He and Graham Yates were wonderful mentors. I valued those older guys. I fed off that as I had no dad,” Rob says.They became his father figures.He was taught the ‘old fashioned way’ – the right way, the way he still operates today.“If I got something wrong Doug would guide me, showing patience and understanding.” Discreet Christmas Eve deliveries were the Wensley’s norm back then, dropping off bikes late into the evening and while shopping styles may have changed Rob still honours that free delivery loyalty to Wensley’s customers. He’s even delivered to Wanaka.That integrity, good honest service, and generosity to Southland has kept the customers coming back for almost 80 years and counting – 17 of those with Rob and wife Sandra as immensely proud owners. Through former owners Ross Wensley - son of founder Jack, and Alan and Joy Lindsay, and now as owner, Rob’s kept some of Southland’s top athletes, including Olympians, peddling. “We’ve gone from normal, traditional bikes for kids to adults competing on the world stage,” he says.Rob’s other passion – photography. Taking a break from his bike in the Catlins. Photo: Supplied“There’s a huge array of unbelievable technology available today, from electronic gear shifting, carbon fibre frames and forks to electric bikes now that have changed our landscape.”Rob remembers a very special moment back in 2010. Wensley’s had sponsored some up-and-coming athletes that were achieving very well, so well that they become world champions, Junior World Champ Aaron Barclay, triathletes Robert Huisman, Penny Hayes, Matt King, and Eddie Dawkins on the Velodrome.Wensley’s Cycles has proudly supported and sponsored many local cycling events. The Southland Triathlon Multisport Club for 30 years, the SBS Tour of Southland teams’ classification sponsor for over 20 years, and the Yunca Junior Tour of Southland (Time Trial) for 17 years.Rob’s volunteered as a mechanic for the annual Westpac Chopper Ride fundraiser for over 10 years, an event that has raised just over $1m for Southland.Wensley's is co-sponsor for the 8-hour Mid-Winter Solstice enduro race at Sandy Point, and more recently, main sponsor for the Surf to City.He’s even been known to give free dietary advice, unsolicited maybe, but the newly, unrecognisable recipients return months later to thank him.Rob during a river crossing in the Motatapu in 2009. Photo: Supplied“People come in saying the doctor’s said they need to lose 40kgs, but I tell them a bike is only a tool. They need to change their diet,” Rob says. “If they’re serious about losing weight, I’ve had a few take up the challenge over the years and win.” “You’re often selling a bike and people stop at the counter to say, ‘I’m buying this because you look after the cycling community. That’s why we’re supporting you,” he says. “We get that a lot, but I love giving back to the community that looks after us.” For Rob and Sandra, it’s “such a joy” to have a great team of people around them, all equally passionate about cycles.“Our staff are our biggest asset.”  It’s always been the Wensley’s way.When Doug retired in the 1980s Rob secretly restored the trusty old commuter bike that Doug had built himself decades earlier, painting it up with the name ‘Wensley Boyd’ proudly displayed across the bar. That became a family treasure.He’s worked alongside some “pretty amazing people” in his time and has a huge amount of respect for them and what they’ve contributed to Wensley’s and cycling.Rob takes a photography break during a bike trip in the Von Valley. Photo: SuppliedRob’s sometimes on foot. He loves tramping and has been known to ‘walk’ the Routeburn Track in a day taking 14 hours return from Glenorchy to the The Divide, a 60 to 70kms hike.Apparently, he’s even done 80kms - the Kepler Track, in a day, but a humble Rob prefers not to mention that.There’s still time to stop for his other passion, landscape photography too.“Southland is such a wonderful place to live with so many opportunities for adventure in the outdoors.” 

Tony Dawson knew he wanted to fly from the age of four when an Australian Air Force jet plane flew over his South Invercargill home.“I remember standing on a big wooden cable reel in the yard thinking, ‘I’m going to do that one day’.”This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of PR LawAnd he did – fly that was, achieving impressive qualifications and recognition in New Zealand’s tightly regulated aviation industry. Tony, now retired from flying at 63, was a born teacher. He reached NZ’s highest ranking for a flight instructor (Category A) and became renowned for his commercial light aircraft and search and rescue pilot experience, navigating many a testing mission over the southern ocean’s most treacherous waters.Sometimes there was no saying ‘no’. Pigs not only might fly, they must. He’s flown Sir Tim Shadbolt’s Auckland Island piglets to Auckland on some very hairy night-time flights, all in the name of medical research. “One night flying back over Dunedin in a violent thunderstorm my rattled co-pilot sought reassurance, asking if the outcome of our flight would be a happy one,” Tony recalls.In his 20-plus-year aviation career there were quite a few such moments, including emergency landings in single and twin-engine aircraft, one headed towards a tumultuous Foveaux Strait. On another occasion he flew from Ardmore to Invercargill only to have his newly assembled Partenavia P68C, shipped from England, conk out on the runway on landing. “Small balls of PMC sealing compound had formed in flight blocking the filter screens in the fuel tanks. But thankfully, I’ve never broken, bent or damaged an aircraft, apart from flying through a flock of seagulls, on a night landing in Auckland,” he says.However, to a humble Tony, who’s spent his life giving to others, it’s the hundreds of well-schooled young pilots he’s trained that are his most remarkable achievement, most now flying commercially, domestically and internationally. “That gives me so much satisfaction.”Tony as a kid with his first brown trout out of the Mataura River. Photo: SuppliedYou could say Tony was destined to fly. “As kids, we were falling out of the neighbourhood gum trees in South Invercargill and “flying” off the frame of the backyard swing breaking limbs. It was almost a badge of honour,” he grins.He’d bike to the Oreti River fishing alone, aged seven, and by 11 or 12 was a Southland age group swimming champion. He also bred NZ champion bantam and heritage breed hens, showing at national level, thanks to elderly Mr McGinnis up the road who mentored him.There was always an entrepreneurial streak and a firm determination, Tony having to support himself from his mid-teens. Besides the numerous after school jobs, he’d fit in some duck shooting on the way to school. “I’d ride my motorbike back from Tisbury to Kingswell High and hand in my shotgun and ducks at the office, do a quick change, then collect them after school.” However, despite a strong academic performance his eccentric ways soon had him “asked to leave” in 7th form, his parents also unimpressed.Cows, kids and building a future - Tony, with daughter Laura, right, and baby Andrew, back during his farming days. Photo: SuppliedTony worked and lived on farms, gleaning all he could, especially about dairy farming and sharemilking. “I was a sponge. I was determined to achieve and succeed.” By 30 he’d saved, and proved enough to the Rural Bank, to purchase a 64ha (160-acre) farm at Dacre and build a high performing herd. Now married to South School sweetheart Bronwyn, he bred pedigree Holstein Friesians, using the best global AI genetics and leading the way with embryo transplant technology, showing his cattle and becoming a junior judge.A powerful spiritual encounter at 18 cemented a Christian faith that became a consistent thread throughout his life. Following that childhood passion to fly while farming at Dacre, he also became Rural Chaplain to the Mataura Valley in the early 1990s supporting the mass migration south of dairy farming families, initiating an Edendale Dairy Factory workplace ministry, and caring for freezing works’ families amid meat industry turmoil. “We nurtured and supported hundreds of North Island sharemilkers and new farm conversion owners arriving in Southland.”Here he got his first taste of journalism along with Geoff Heaps, setting up ‘The Pioneer Press’ publication with the Southland Dairy Co-op, aimed at supporting these families.Tony enjoying farm life. Photo: SuppliedOnce off the farm he seized the opportunity to fly commercially dropping trampers and hunters to Stewart Island, then flying and instructing for Southland Aviation College, as Southern Wings was then known.He was Senior Coastguard Pilot for 16 years, then president of Southland Coastguard Air Patrol, unfortunately seeing too many people die at sea, despite battling sometimes atrocious weather to search for and drop life rafts to them. “We could be operating as low as 250 feet (76m) above 9m waves in gale winds down near the Auckland Islands in unforgiving waters,” Tony says. “I recall searching for a missing Korean seaman and having my co-pilot complete a turn as the windscreen on my side was obscured by sea spray.”The Stewart Island Cessna 402 crash was another significant mission, crews only managing to save some of those on board. However, as a pilot you try not to focus on the sad and traumatic times. There have been many victories but having witnessed too many tragedies and having weighed his aviation past and future in the balance, Tony rolled into Southern Wings’ hangar for the last time in 2015. That ended 20 years as an A Category Instructor, Flight Examiner and Chief Ground Instructor. It was time to pursue other passions.A keen fisherman and freelance fishing writer, he was offered a role editing one of NZ’s most popular fishing magazines – an immensely satisfying five or so years. Tony, right, with Chatham Islands fisherman Richard Goomes and wife Elizabeth, delivering the message in a bottle back to him. Photo: SuppliedThe story of the year came in 2018 when a Chatham Islands ambergris hunter phoned. Tony had written a message on the back of a beer carton while hunting with mates at Big Kuri Bay, Stewart Island, in 2001, put it in an empty port bottle and tossed it into the sea. “This guy found the bottle 17 years later on the Chathams, ironically on ‘Ocean Mail Beach’, and rang to say he’d found it.” The guy invited him to the Chathams where this time Tony attached approved research tags to some of the dozens of blue cod he caught while in pursuit of a world record size catch.“Blow me down, I got a call several years later from a fisherman, who’d caught one of those,” he laughs. In 2011 Tony’s love of the sea and compassionate heart had him volunteering as first mate’s assistant on the Pacific Hope mission ship, sailing the Pacific Islands from Japan to Auckland, no autopilot on that mission.The minister in me - Tony while christening little Kinley at Richmond Grove. Photo: SuppliedAsked to “fill in” at Richmond Grove Presbyterian Church when the minister moved on in 2003, Tony, a gifted public speaker, rekindled his passion for preaching and ministry. After studying theology and training, he was ordained as a minister, that ‘filling in’ role only ending recently after more than 19 years of service.He’s also served as PSS Southland Trust Board deputy chair and PSS Retirement Villages chairman, so several years ago it was time to pursue his own long-held creative passions.One of Tony's paintings. Photo: SuppliedTony wrote his first children’s book then spent 18 months in Tauranga being mentored and developing his reactivated artistic gift, while also designing and maintaining bespoke gardens. He’s now happy painting in his studio in the old Invercargill Railway Station where his incredible works are already turning heads.“I’ve had a great life. I’ve looked up from the absolute pits of despair and surveyed the world from the absolute pinnacles of achievement, but that’s life.”This Local Legend story is brought to you with the kind support of PR Law

Colin Macnicol doesn't like to sit idle, so when he and wife Jean supposedly 'semi-retired' from their Southland farm to Arrowtown in 2006, Colin got busy.A former Southland Deer Farmers Association chairman and national selection panelist, long time Rotarian and talented musician, Colin's probably best known locally for his jive - churning out old favorites on the piano accordion on the back of the Arrow Miners Band truck.His warm, friendly farmer smile has also calmed many a first day nerve on the Arrowtown and Wakatipu High school buses for almost 20 years.His farmer skills soon had him driving for Gibbston deer farmer Murray McWhirter and then carting grapes in the truck for local wine growers.Colin has emotional ties to Arrowtown, his dad the brother of Mount Aurum Station's legendary Archie Macnicol."My dad, Duncan, was born in Arrowtown - the first of seven kids, taken home to Skippers on a horse with his mother, aged three weeks."He managed Mount Aurum Station from the age of 16 or 17 until he was 21.He then managed southern stations, eventually farming in Woodlands.Colin Macnicol on piano accordion and long-time band mate Wayne Sinclair on lead guitar. Photo: SuppliedAt 15, Colin discovered a love of music after taking up the piano accordion - "an excuse to drive the car to Kennington on the outskirts of Invercargill for lessons."A natural, he was quickly invited into an adult band with renowned musician 'Mrs Lemin'.Colin and his high school mates formed a teenage dance band - The Naughty Knights, played dances and parties at almost every hall in Southland for some thirty years.Eventually Colin graduated to the electric organ.A farm boy at heart, he was heavily involved in Young Farmers and later Federated Farmers.He soon met his match in Jean, a farmer's daughter from Mokoreta, and well-travelled, champion debater."Don't argue!" he grins.When they married in 1968 Colin's dad helped them into a 400-acre (161ha) dairy and sheep farm."We milked our own cows and made our own butter in those early days", he says.Colin in the deer shed. Photo: SuppliedThey've always been a team so when Colin, ever the innovator, wanted to try the new craze of deer farming in 1978 Jean was right behind him.Lamb prices had been low, so they bought three live capture hinds for a hefty sum, borrowing the money from "The Firm".Always up for a challenge, Colin was then the first to host a young French agriculture exchange student."We'd be driving around the farm sorting out a lot of swear words", he chuckles.At 62, Colin had a heart attack, also losing his sister around the same time."I thought, 'I've got things to do before I finish up'."With no family keen to take over, they sold the farm near Dacre and moved to Arrowtown where Colin, stent in place, had a new lease on life.Colin, left, and the family, from left, Kirsty, Lynette and Paul, with Jean in front, before leaving Lone Gum farm. Photo: Supplied"My first job was driving the Arrowtown School bus," he says."I love the kids. They're great."On his first day the first stop was Hogan Gully Road."I was being very careful, and I picked up a boy who could recite all the Roman Generals. I asked him to help me with the stops as it was my first day," Colin says."He said, 'Yes I know, cos you went so slow down the hill and around the corner'," Colin grins.On another occasion a first-day newcomer quietly hung on until the last stop at Gibbston, last one on the bus, where he finally asked, 'Is this Jack's Point?'Colin's served as valued Rotarian for almost 40 years - Invercargill East and Queenstown, including a stint as president down south.As chairman of the Southland Deer Farmers Association, he oversaw one thousand members and is now a life member, also representing Southland on the National Selection and Appointments Panel in Wellington.In Queenstown he landed the dream job, carting millions of dollars' worth of deer for high profile, ex-Otautau deer farmer Murray (McWhiter), who dealt in trophy stags.Colin is a well-known foundation member of Arrowtown MenzShed, has served on the Arrowtown Village Association, Queenstown Districts Historical Society and Arrowtown RSA, somehow fitting in time to help Jean with Meals on Wheels.However, Colin's probably best known for his lively renditions and beaming smile radiating from the back of that unmistakable old Arrow Miners Band truck."I've done that since I arrived. There are only three or four of us left now," he grins, just a few months from his 80th birthday.Reporter: Sue FeaRepublished with permission from the Lakes Weekly Bulletin and the Queenstown App

He was New Zealand’s longest running breakfast radio announcer, starting out as the youngest at 24 and clocking more than 40 years in the game. ‘Boggy’ (John) McDowell and his on air, alter ego 4ZA mascot, Bertie Budgie, who joined him for daily breakfast birthday calls, were as essential as a cuppa and toast to kick off Southland’s day.Starting as a NZBC (NZ Broadcasting Corporation) cadet at 18, Boggy’s job ranged from wrestling celebrity cook Alison Holst’s feet free from camera cables during TV show recordings, to choosing music for radio stars like Neil Collins. He was taught by the best, quickly promoted from programming to announcing in 1979 where he infused his own unique style.“All the other announcers were embarrassed by Bertie, but I embraced him,” Boggy grins. The pair became Southland celebrities, visiting schools and community shows.Boggy, left and Bertie doing their thing back in the day. Photo: LWBUnfortunately, a 4ZA receptionist put paid to that taking Bertie, who lived in a birdcage in the station foyer, to a vet because she believed he was suffering from nervous tension. The vet agreed and Bertie was supposedly sent to Hollywood for ‘a movie role’, a staff member flying to Christchurch and returning in a large budgie costume to mass crowds of hundreds waiting to greet the bird ‘on return’ at Invercargill Airport. “So many people turned out that they were worried the terminal tunnel would collapse,” Boggy chuckles. “I still get people in the (hospice) shop here in Queenstown who remember me, and Bertie.”His 33-plus years in breakfast radio gained him national acclaim, earning him a QSM for broadcasting and community service and the country’s top honour for outstanding contribution to broadcasting.Not bad for a farm boy from Boggyburn in Central Southland, the place that would earn him a nickname that stuck when an American consultant asked for one, as the newsreader was also John (O’Connor). “The DNTV2 staff in Dunedin rolled around laughing when I said I was from Boggyburn so this guy said, ‘Great! You’re Boggy’.”A strong tennis player from age seven at tiny Otapiri School, Boggy was soon under the watchful guise of Southland kids’ coach Neville Hoskin and playing at national tournaments. “Kevin Hamilton and I fancied our chances in the NZ U15 Doubles, but we played Russell Simpson and 12-year-old Chris Lewis in the first round and that was it,” he grins. He raised funds for national tennis trips plucking dead sheep and ‘rouseying’, while at 14, an entrepreneurial Boggy and his brother raised up to 100 piglets which they sold for a handsome profit.Rugby was always strong and while Boggy was a self-confessed ‘ratbag’ initially at Central Southland College, new English teacher Michael Deaker swept clean, and Constable Cooper soon put paid to the underage drinking in the main street. “I got my act together.”After 4ZA’s Ross Fenton gave him his big break, Boggy was sent to Dunedin as floor crew boy on TV shows. “I had to hide under the sink ready to free Alison Holst when she turned to the oven and always got her feet caught around the cables,” he grins. That progressed onto the Miss NZ Show, cueing the contestants left and right, making his country mates back home very jealous.Flatting with his student brother, the partying was sometimes a bit much. “I wound the auto cue for the likes of Charles Joye’s gardening show, lying on the floor under the hot lights. I fell asleep once and they had to start again.”He and Winton Kindergarten sweetheart Ann married in 1977 and, after training in Wellington, Boggy started his 4ZA breakfast role in 1979, private station Foveaux Radio arriving in 1981, requiring 4ZA to keep ahead of the game.“I was never in radio for my own ego,” he says. “I was driven by what radio could do for the community.” Boggy’s been at the forefront of so many high-profile fundraisers. From raising money to get NZ’s first heart-lung transplant recipient Ann Crawford to London for lifesaving surgery, and telethons, to pushing old baths from Edendale to Invercargill with teams of nurses and police, and organising All Black celebrity matches, it’s all been immensely satisfying.He’s also served on the founding board for Southland Stadium and Velodrome for over 20 years.But after short stints for Coast and Hokonui Radio, Queenstown beckoned and Boggy bowed out of radio.At work in his current role as Hospice Shop Queenstown manager - Boggy McDowell. Photo: LWBCleaning out to move to Queenstown in 2015, he went to Southland Hospice where regional manager, powerlifting champion Sonia Manaena, suggested he apply for the Queenstown Hospice Shop manager’s role. “It was the last thing I thought I’d do, but I love it.”At 69, while there are no more super early rises, current work hours mean a little less time for his beloved golf. Boggy played to a single figure handicap for more than 25 years and has won club championships at Green Acres Golf Club, where he was also president, and twice at Queenstown Golf Club.Reporter: Sue FeaLakes Weekly BulletinPublished by permission