AS OF YORE.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 211, 7 September 1933, Page 10

AS OF YORE.

A SURVEYING TRIP. TALE OF SOUTH WESTLAND. HARDSHIP AND ADVENTURE. If any part of New Zealand to-day might be deemed to be unexplored, that part is ill Central Otago and the southern portion of Westland. So much is it unknown that tales have grown up of a vanished tribe of Maoris, of the fresh imprints of nioas, and of a mysterious "taniwha" which used to emerge from the waters of the Sounds and prey on the cattle. So it is to-day. How much different was it in the early days, when it was first surveyed and prospected? While the older generation of miners and surveyors scout such romances as moas and taniwhas, they have such tales to tell which make their conversation sound like a tale of the American backwoods. Just such a story is told by Mr. J. C. Potter, of Devonport, who was a Government surveyor in that region at different periods for a decade round about 1875. He described one trip he and some half-dozen others made, surveying from Jackson Bay, over a multitude of ranges, rising to a height of 2000 ft, to the junction of the Pyke and Hollyford Rivers. Though the actual distance is not much over 00 miles, the trip took nine months. The country is a series of ridges and ravines cut by steep, fast rivers, which have their source in the Southern Alps, and whose average length was not much more than 30 miles. Provision Arrangements. "That waa in 1870," said Mr. Potter. "In those days, of course, there were no roads, not even tracks. We had to cut our own, and 'swag , anything up to 801b 'of gear on our backs as well. We had to make our own arrangements about { provisions, arid that was our first care. ; All wo had we had to carry on our backs, so you can imagine that we did not have many luxuries. And, more than that, we had to carry our camping and surveying gear. No wonder that our progress was slow. "Before we left we had arranged for the' vessel which traded in these parts to leave a supply of food at Big Bay, which is just north of the outlet of Lake McKerrow to the eea. At the bay we built a hut, which, though rough, properly so-called, was weather-proof. It was built on piles, and round each pile was cut a wide groove, polished smooth, so that the rats could not climb) into the interior and attack tho food. Often we would time the arrival of the vessel, and be there to receive the stores, but if not then the vessel would simply leave tho food for us. I tell you, such a trip meant some careful planning, because, as every tramper or camper knows, a food supply is of major importance. There was no going up the road to buy a pound of butter or a loaf if we ran short. Our menu was remarkable only for one thing—its sameness — but we used at timee to vary it with a dish of eels. And there were eels in those rivers! A weight of 241b to 301b was not uncommon. A Typical Day's Work. "Each day of those nine months was a full day, apart from the actual surveying. We would set out from our camp morning at seven, leaving our gear behind. Then some of tho party would set to work to cut a track through the bush. That had to bo done, otherwise wo could not have got through, since the forest is very dense there, on account of the rainfall, I suppose. Then, when wo had done that for about a mile, back wo would all go and bring along our gear, anything up to 801b, over the country. When that was done we would start surveying, taking levels, setting, pegs and making trials all over the country. It would be difficult country to road; anyway, though wo completed the survey, tho roads were never made. Having done that, we would begin all over again, cutting tracks and swagging gear. We would make camp each night just where we happened to stop. Sometimes we followed tho course of the river, if it happened to be going our way, and there were dozens of little lakes. "Then one day, when we were camping just near a lake on the Pyke River, Lake Wilmot, we happened to hear—-I forget how —that there was a punt at Martin's Bay, just below Big Bay. We decided that if we could get that punt it would make our transport considerably easier. So the party divided. Finally they managed to get the punt to where we were. "And then our adventures began. We loaded the punt with all our gear, and ourselves as well, and started. At times in the Pyke Eiver there arc level stretches where boating is all that can be desired, but at others there are rapids, when we all hung on for grim death and hoped for tho best, A slip would have meant the loss of everything, even if we had not been drowned. But it was easier than toiling over that steep, broken country. "Eventually we arrived at our destination, the junction of the two rivers ; Our next task was to get back to civilisation. Another fellow and I decided to walk to Lake Wakatipu, a distance of 35 miles. We did it, too, though I almost got drowned in fovding the Greenstone River for the last time. 1 From there we crossed the lake to Queenstown, and took the steamer back home." During that time in the bush, Mr. Potter said he saw many kiwis, and many more Maori hens or wekas. "They were so cheeky that they would take anything," he- said. "If we did not sot our pegs firmly in the ground, they would make off with them. In camp they would stroll right in and steal any--1 thing lying loose." Story of a Whale-boat. At Jackson Bay, where he had been stationed for 18 months, Mr. Potter said that they had a whale-boat. It was built in Auckland, and was used to land stores from the steamer, which anchored half a mile out in the bay. "I used to pull bow oar," said Mr. Potter, "and I will never forget the thrill of riding the surf, the thunder of the wall of water that rose high on each side of the boat, the great 20ft steering oar that bent like a whip, and the shouted instructions I from the man steering. As wo rode I with the wind, in the crest of a comber, I a slip would have meant death. Every river that came out on to the 10-mile > beach had a bar, and each time it was ' the same. Always we used to wait for the third wave, as it was the biggest, and then the foam would hiss and scream from under our bows, and the whale-boat would leap like a thing alive. "But," ended Mr. Potter. "I could talk for hours on those days, about the sandflies and the mosquitoes, our negro cook, who cooked as well as ho swore in brood Scotch, about our excursions away back .into the bush, about cutting tracks ! where there were none, and swagging ' 801b every. day."