On a Tuesday about 20 years ago, my brother and I loaded up the boot of my Toyota Corolla, and hit the road. It was 1999; the new Millennium was a few days away.
Our starting point was my flat in Grafton, Auckland. The finish line was Bluff and the boat that would take us to Stewart Island/Rakiura, New Zealand’s third-biggest, and most isolated island.
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At the end of 1999, much like in recent history, humanity was stocking up their pantries, filling their cellars with canned and dried goods. What would happen at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve? Would Y2K create havoc across the world. Would the Millennial bug crash the stock market? My brother and I weren’t bothered, but we decided to get out of town. You know, just in case.
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