My Account
From the mud and sawdust of the old Leigh Sawmill, the Guinness family has built a business with an international reputation for hospitality, entertainment and good food. It’s the sort of reputation that has seen it featured in the traveler’s Bible The Lonely Planet and recently drew the likes of Russell Crowe, Bonnie Prince Billy and the Black Seeds to its stage. Patriarch of this enterprising family is Timaru-born Grattan Guinness whose vision has simply been to see his family working together at something they enjoy. However, as he told Jannette Thompson, he gives the credit for his hardworking happy family to his wife Marguerite ….
I was born in Geraldine during World War II and lived in the Timaru district until I was nine. My grandfather Edwin Guinness was one of the founders of Pyne Gould Guinness Limited (now PGG Wrightson) and Mayor of Timaru for awhile. He’d lost two sons in World War I and my father’s condition after the war was “fragile”. He died when I was nine, and that’s when my mother Margaret decided to move with my sister and I to England. It was in the days of the wool boom and we’d owned a part share in a station so this made it possible financially.
Was it difficult to make the shift?
England was a more liberal place than New Zealand in the 1950s. I spent eight years at school there, firstly in Berkshire and then at a public school in Dorset. Although we’d come from a farming background in Timaru, there didn’t seem to be any problems fitting in. England was a more go-ahead country then.
What brought you back to NZ?
I did some aptitude tests which showed my abilities were towards being either a farmer or a property developer. There were more opportunities in NZ in these fields so I returned to Timaru when I was 20 and bought 128 acres at Temuka. We grew wheat and barley, and ran some sheep for 18 months before I sold 100 acres to purchase 520 acres in the Kaipara Hills for 13,500 pounds.
Why Kaipara?
The land was cheap. I had a cousin at Cleveland at the time and he put me on to it. At the time of sale, the farm was basically just six paddocks. We used State Advance Loans to break in new country, fence and develop the property, but it was pretty hard going. One year we used Fijian labour. They came over on a project to raise funds for their church and spent six months with us. We only really started to make any money out the farm when we added a further 300 acres. At one stage we were running 3000 sheep and 200-300 cattle. It seemed remote to us compared to Timaru but we were fortunate to have good neighbours like Trevor Dill.
When did you become a family man?
When my mother returned from England, a Dutch family, the Van Camps, were also on board. They had 10 children and the third eldest daughter was Marguerite. When Maguerite and I married, she moved to the farm at Kaipara where we raised our four children – Nicola, Annabelle, Edward and Benjamin. Eventually, we sold and moved to Auckland.
Was that to retire?
Nicola’s boyfriend ran Oblios Restaurant in Ponsonby where Annabelle was training as a chef. It was a very popular restaurant until the share market crash. The Government tightened up on the claims that businessmen could be make on their expense accounts and was devastating for the restaurant. I think Benjamin may have been working there at the time as well, so we decided to buy the restaurant lest all our children find themselves out of work. The whole family ended up being involved, even Marguerite and I found ourselves washing dishes. Although we eventually sold the restaurant, it sowed the idea in our minds that we’d like to be in a family-run business.
How did you discover the sawmill?
In 1994, I saw the ad in the paper for the sale of the sawmill. It was owned by Murray Birch then, and had been on the market for a while. We knew the area because we’d had a bach at Mathesons Bay for 25 years. Marguerite, Annabelle and her husband Phillip inspected it and said that although it was terribly rundown, they could see the potential. I rang the real estate firm that day and told him to consider the property sold.
The Wyatts shifted the mill buildings to the site in the 1930s, although some of the equipment like the breakdown saw goes back 100 years. I guess most people would have knocked the buildings over and started again, but we liked the idea of building the café from something authentic. It probably wasn’t a logical thing to do but I think it’s what gives the place its unique atmosphere. Overall, the community was pretty supportive when we started although I think they were intrigued that someone could dare to think they could make a business out of what was basically an industrial wasteland. Yes, we did have to cancel a Neil Finn concert because of neighbours’ concerns about the noise but it wasn’t long before local real estate agents were bringing clients in saying “this is what you’d get if you came and lived here.”
Did you have a plan?
Initially, we thought we might run the mill as we renovated the site but it was impossible to compete with the cheap timber being turned out by the automated mills. We’d also had the idea that we might run the café during the summer and the mill would provide an income over the quiet winter months, but the two businesses were incompatible so eventually the milling side ceased completely. The seven-acre site includes the dive shop and in 1999, we added accommodation. More recently, the Leigh Sawmill Brewery opened, owned and operated by Peter Freckelton. Eventually, I’d like to see us expand the on-site accommodation and add some recreational facilities like a pool. The limiting factor in Leigh is the lack of services. We provide our own water and treat our own wastewater on site, but it’s a fulltime job keeping up with the provision of amenities. I can’t see Leigh ever being able to tap into the tourism market until the town has proper services. It’d make a great upmarket tourist spot. If there was a nice hotel in town then everyone would get a shake.
Are there any perks for being one of the café owners?
I get half-priced pizza on Sundays and a good flat white on most other days.
