A raw, true passion for Owaka
Born in Te Kuiti, the place of the valley, and raised in Rotorua, the place of the second lake, newbie Clutha District councillor Dane Catherwood swears Owaka – the place of canoes – is where they’ll carry him out, like a Viking on a burning boat. He tell
In 2007 Dane Catherwood went to Jack’s Bay in the Catlins for an unplanned honeymoon with his wife, Sarah. After a hectic build-up to their wedding in Wa¯ naka, where they had met in the 1990s and had been living on and off until their marriage, the couple wanted a bit of peace and quiet.
‘‘We were driving through Pounawea, and Sarah said how much it reminded her of the family bach in Northland.’’
The former Aucklander promptly bought a bare section at the popular tourist spot, near the Catlins town of Owaka. To say her new husband had misgivings was an understatement. ‘‘I said to Sarah: ‘I’m never bloody living there. It rains too much.’ ’’
Famous last words, because quicker than he could say Catlins, the former central North Islander found himself getting out of Wa¯ naka, dodging the global financial crisis and high interest rates – and living in a caravan in Pounawea.
‘‘It was definitely ‘escape to the Catlins’. It wasn’t completely unfamiliar because I’d come through here in the 90s and loved how wild it was.’’
A guide in a former life, and still a fisheries officer, Catherwood lived the dream for six months, hunting, diving and fishing – until he got bored.
He’d sold developments in Wa¯ naka, and his automechanic skills had kept him financially afloat. So, when the opportunity presented itself he was in a position to buy some old buildings in Owaka.
He bought the former butchery building and was going to convert it into a cafe but changed tack when the town’s former diner came up for sale.
‘‘I spent about 1 1⁄2 years refurbishing it, for Sarah to become self-employed.’’
But plans and circumstances changed, and they sold the diner. ‘‘That was going to be it – we were going to move away. But because of my work at Owaka Motors, and getting to meet locals, I was approached by local identity Bruce Wilson to see if I’d be interested in buying the original bakery.’’
This rustically picturesque building now contains the Bake House Takeaways in the veranda section. It also has a chillout and artistic space, the Bake House Gallery, in the old bakery – complete with the old ovens, which Catherwood hopes to fire up one day.
The restoration led him to taking on the building next door, which houses The Catlins Country Store gift shop and the existing Dougie’s Shed, a man-cave crammed full of colonial bush memorabilia. Some of his own memories are there too, including the family’s original party-line phone in rural Te Kuiti. He has plans to expand and enhance both spaces.
‘Every one of my dreams I have done’
Catherwood has a passion for Owaka and its tourism potential. ‘‘This is a beautiful place. The tourists were coming through here but they didn’t stop. Let’s give them something to stop for. I didn’t have to build it. It was already there.’’
In the past 11 years, he has managed to finance the projects by doing a fly-in, fly-out job in Australia as a mechanic for a seismic survey company, and then managing Owaka Motors for three years, up until recently.
He and his wife sold the original section and are now renovating a 100-year-old cottage, as well as developing a farmlet at Pounawea. They sold the butchery building to businesspeople in Owaka, and six years ago became parents to a daughter, Casey.
They are committed to the Catlins. ‘‘I’ve thrown a hell of a lot of cash at those buildings, but there’s no turning back now,’’ Catherwood says. ‘‘Look out – there’s more to come.’’
A mad dreamer? The 47-year-old half disagrees. ‘‘Mad? Yes. I have driven myself mad a few times, [and] then there’s the inclement weather. But dreamer? No. Every one of my dreams I have done.’’
And just when life couldn’t get more complicated, he was elected to the Clutha District Council in October last year, edging out the Catlins ward incumbent, Hilary McNab.
A grafter gets back to basics
One of Catherwood’s main drivers for wanting to get on the council was what he was driving on. About 75 per cent of Clutha’s roads are gravel.
As a mechanic, Catherwood said he had been far too up-close and personal to crashes and crashed vehicles. ‘‘Bad driving? Unfamiliarity with the roads? Maybe. But it’s more to do with bad roads.’’
Getting on the council was not something he’d ever aspired to, but he thought he’d give it a go ‘‘after years of being laughed at and fobbed off’’. So, with just days before nominations closed, he paid his $200 and put his floppy fishing hat in the ring.
‘‘I had a pretty simple campaign. It went on an A4 sheet of paper, in which I pulled apart the council’s financial pre-election report. I’ve watched our core infrastructure, especially our roads and sewerage, go into decline. Does the Catlins have to turn into a onelane road before anything gets done? So, it was game on. Let’s get back to basics.’’
Catherwood would describe himself as a grafter. His parents owned a 21-unit motel in Rotorua, which he could run himself by the time he was 12 years old. He was a fishing guide at 14.
On leaving school, he became a motor mechanic, but had a yearning to travel. During a cycling trip in the early 1990s he stopped en route at Wa¯ naka – and fell in love with the southern lake town. He got a job on the ski fields and as a driver and guide.
They took him to Africa for five years, where he drove and guided overland safaris from London to Cape Town. The job also entailed replenishing the fleet with a trip to Germany every year, to purchase an ex-military truck and convert it for safaris.
When his dad died in 2000, he returned to New Zealand to help his mum dispose of the motels so she could retire. Then it was back to Africa, to Zambia, where he and two other guys developed a houseboat business on Lake Kariba, the world’s third-largest man-made lake and reservoir, along the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe. He did this for about four years. They were based at Sinazongwe, on the north shore of Lake Kariba.
‘‘You’d wake up in the morning to hippos, but life in the bush could be trying at times.’’
The local people had lost their ancestral lands when the lake was created and were moved to much poorer land. It was overpopulated and Aids was rife, along with malaria. ‘‘Oh yeah, I got it [malaria] lots. There’s not much that I don’t know about it.’’
Eye on freedom camping
They returned to Wa¯ naka in 2006. Catherwood said his overseas experience had taught him that nothing was free – and nor should it be, in his opinion – which was why freedom camping was such a contentious issue for him.
However, he laid responsibility for sorting it out with central government. ‘‘Unfortunately, the ratepayer is left to pick up the tab.’’
Central government had to sort its mess out and soon, he said. ‘‘I don’t believe we should be giving New Zealand away for free, especially here in the Catlins, because of the fragility of the environment.’’
In Africa and Europe there were two rates, one for locals and the other for tourists, which was a model that New Zealand should follow, ‘‘so that New Zealanders aren’t paying for a bunch of freeloaders who aren’t leaving any money behind and are wearing out our infrastructure’’, he said.
He was keeping a ‘‘friendly’’ eye on the new freecamping site that the council recently introduced in the middle of Owaka. He was not opposed to the site, so long as it ‘‘discouraged irresponsible camping’’ elsewhere in the Catlins.
Tourism was vital to the district’s survival, and the Catlins shouldn’t sell itself short. ‘‘I’d rather be down there at Jack’s Bay with 20 people spending $200 per person than 200 people spending $2.’’
The Catlins also needed to attract the people who were tired of Queenstown and would spend money in the district. ‘‘People say to me: ‘This is the real New Zealand. This is what it used to be.’ ’’
Wardrobe upgrade
While toiling away at his businesses, he was also coming to grips with the reality of being a councillor.
‘‘I’m still winging it. I’m looking forward to the winter when I’ve got a bit of downtime to do some webinars and get right into it.’’
For the first time in his life, he’s wearing a suit and a tie. ‘‘I didn’t even get married in one.’’
He had not toned down his exuberance. ‘‘I thought about that . . . but nah. I’m raw and true. I won’t be rude. But raw and true is what I am.’’
‘‘People say to me: ‘This is the real New Zealand. This is what it used to be.’ ’’