A Newsy Letter

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 286, 2 December 1936, Page 22

A Newsy Letter

4 C/o Mr. Beck, _ Mangapelii. Dear Wendy,— Would you like me to tell you about the country surrounding the town where I live ? Mangapehi is just a email milling settlement, situated in a narrow valley. If you climb one of the high hills that surround it you are well rewarded by the marvellous sight of mile upon mile of rolling hills. On a very clear day Mount Ruapehu, Tongariro and Xgaurulioe are visible. In the winter time the summit of the higher hills are veiled in mist till late in the morning, but not a cloud can be seen from sunrise to sunset. It is about this time that we get our winter rain; the frosts come in June, July and August.

Fourteen miles up the locomotive line are three bush camps and five log haulers. I have not long been back from a fortnight's stay at the largest camp, Pukemako. A new log hauler was being assembled four miles in the bush. Each day I went to the hauler and spent the day gaining a wealth of knowledge about trees and birds. To me, each tree was something new, something different, something alive. I have only seen one bush equal to it, and that was the Great Barrier kauri bush.

, In one part of the district round the camp there stretches a vast plain, hemmed in by bush, and covered with pumice tussock grass.' A few years ago wild horses were there in plenty, but the white man's gun took its toll of the beautiful beasts., On the west side the bush is only a mile through and separates this plain from a mucli larger one. There are parts of the surrounding bush that are sacred to the Maoris. Once,' six or seven poplar trees stood in a row, each tree being a little higher than the one before it. An old Maori prophet said that these were the steps that the gods used to come to earth. Each year a chopping contest was held nearby, until a few white men tried their skill on the poplars. Now there are no chopping contests! Also, there stands a wooden, twostoreyed house which is the sacred tomb of a great Maori. This house is painted white, and is a patch of brightness, against the dull green of the hills. The locomotives go out daily and return with a load of logs to be sawn. For many miles the line runs through a dreary waste of blackened stumps, the last sign of disappearing beauty, of New Zealand's pride —her wonderful busliland. Best wishes from your faithful Budgetite, | Mona D. Maguiness. |