Sky Tower

Stand at the base of the tower and tilt your head back. The grey concrete shaft rises straight up, smooth and pale, until it narrows to a needle against the sky. Around you, buses rumble along Victoria Street and the air carries a faint salt edge from the harbour a few blocks away. Somewhere far above, a lift is climbing, and a few people inside are watching the city shrink beneath their feet.

This is the Sky Tower, and at 328 metres it is the tallest freestanding structure in New Zealand. When it opened in 1997, it was the tallest freestanding structure in the Southern Hemisphere. It still holds the skyline of Auckland in a way no other building does. From almost anywhere in the city, from the beaches, the motorways and the volcanic hills, you can see it. Many locals use it as a compass.

The tower is part of the SkyCity complex, a casino, hotel and entertainment centre that fills this city block. That was the plan from the start. The tower was built as a landmark for the new casino development in the 1990s. Not everyone welcomed it. Some Aucklanders felt a tower this tall did not belong in a city of low hills and wide harbours. Over the years, most of those voices went quiet, and the tower became part of the city's identity.

The design came from the New Zealand architect Gordon Moller. His idea was simple in outline. A slender concrete shaft carries a cluster of viewing levels near the top, and a steel mast rises above them. Look up at the pod. It does not sit like a heavy ball. It wraps the shaft in layers, with decks, a restaurant and plant rooms stacked one above another. The shape is clean and easy to read from far away... which is exactly what a landmark needs.

Auckland sits on a volcanic field, and it faces strong winds from two seas. So the engineers had to plan for movement. The tower was designed to cope with high winds and with earthquakes. In a strong gale, the top can sway a little. Visitors rarely feel it, but the structure is built to bend slightly rather than resist rigidly. That small flexibility is part of what keeps it standing.

Inside, the lifts are the first surprise. They rise fast, and some have glass panels in the floor or doors, so you can watch the shaft rush past. In well under a minute, you go from street level to the main observation deck. Your ears may pop. Then the doors open, and the whole region spreads out in every direction.

On a clear day, the view runs for many kilometres. To the north, the Harbour Bridge arches across the Waitematā Harbour, with yachts scattered on the water. Out in the gulf, you can see Rangitoto, the youngest volcano in the Auckland field. Its low, even cone looks almost perfectly symmetrical from here. Turn around, and the green cones of other volcanoes rise between the suburbs. Mount Eden and One Tree Hill are two of the best known.

Here is a detail many visitors miss. Auckland lies on a narrow neck of land between two harbours. From the top of the tower, you can see both. The Waitematā opens to the east, toward the Pacific Ocean. The Manukau lies to the south-west, and its waters lead to the Tasman Sea. Few cities let you see two different oceans' harbours from one window. Take a moment to find both.

Now look down. Parts of the observation deck have thick glass panels set into the floor. You can stand on them and look straight down the shaft to the street below. The glass is built to carry the same load as the solid floor around it. Even so, many people hesitate at the edge. Watch the children. They usually walk out first, while the adults hold back.

For some people, a view is not enough. The tower offers two adventures that draw a steady crowd. On the SkyWalk, visitors in harnesses walk around a narrow ledge outside the pod, with no handrail. On the SkyJump, people leap from the tower on a guide wire and drop toward a landing pad near the street. If you stand in the plaza below, you may hear a shout, and then see a small figure falling fast toward the ground.

Above the main deck sits a revolving restaurant called Orbit. Its floor turns slowly, completing a full circle in about an hour. You can sit at one table and watch the harbour, the hills and the gulf pass by the window. It is a quieter way to see the city. There is no rush, and the view changes while you eat.

At night, the tower takes on a second life. Lights on the shaft and the pod change colour for festivals, sporting events and causes. You might see red and green at Christmas, or special colours for Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. During Matariki, the Māori new year, which is marked when a star cluster returns to the winter sky, the tower often glows to honour the season. The colours tell Aucklanders what the city is celebrating.

As you leave, step back to the corner and look up once more. The concrete is plain, the lines are straight, and the steel mast thins out into the clouds. Around you, people walk past without a glance, because for them the tower is simply part of the daily scene. Notice the light on the shaft as it shifts through the day. Then follow the street down toward the water, and every few blocks, turn around. You will find it watching over the city behind you.