HILLS AND THE SEA.

Auckland Star, Volume LXVIII, Issue 1, 2 January 1937, Page 1 (Supplement)

HILLS AND THE SEA.

MARLBOROUGH'S SOUNDS. A MAZE OF BEAUTY. (By CYRANO.) Looking down th* Sound from the waterfront at Picton on a fine mornin" or evening, the visitor sees one of those drop-scenes that are so numerous in New Zealand. The distant land shuts in the sea so that it looks like a lake, and the colouring on the steep hills, blue and purple and gold, is mysteriously beautiful. Picton itself is a place not to be missed. It is perfectly situated at, the end of a narrow arm of Queen Charlotte Sound; hills cluster round it, some, alasl bared of their bush, others covered; deep quiet water comes right up to the town; and even the freezing works across the bay look to be embowered in trees. Picton, however, is only one corner of the Marlborough Sounds, that astonishing area that stretches from Tasman Bay to Cook Strait and contains more land-locked water than any other part of New Zealand. Are the Marlborough Sounds sufficiently appreciated? One doubts it. They suffer perhaps by confusion with the grander sounds of Western Otago; a reference to "The SoundV' may mean one or the other. Round the Otago Sounds, those entries into a land of alpine peaks, Nature has built on a gigantic scale. The Marlborough Sounds have their steep slopes falling to deep water, and the highest mountain in the area reaches the respectable height of just under 4000 feet, but the points of difference are striking. The Otago Sounds are stern in their beauty, aloof, inhuman; there is only one place of permanent habitation in their vast wildernesses. The Marlborough Sounds are mild and inviting. A Maze of Waterways. Most New Zealanders have a vague idea of the configuration of the Marlborough Sounds, but it is a revelation to see the Sounds mapped out on a fairlv large scale, as in the chart that the advertisers of the district have wisely printed in their information folder. Seen like this, the Sounds are a very different thing from the Sounds at the north-east corner of the South Island on an ordinary map. The extent and ramifications of these inland water ways, the number of their folds and indentations. come ae a new fact in local geography. There is nothing in New Zealand like this maze of protected waters. Ido not know what the whole coastline amounts to in mileage, but it is stated that in Pelorus Sound alone there are 300 miles. The bays and coves and beaches are innumerable. Standing at one of the guest-houses and looking down Kenepuru Sound I was reminded, by the combination of land and «ea, of Whangu'-oa, but, so I told myself, there must be a score or more Whangaroas in these sounds. We came by Tory Channel (passing the hundred-year-old whalinsr station Te Awaiti, where they hunt now with fast motor boats) and we went from Picton to Kenepuru and on to Havelock by Pelorus Sound, but we did not see more than a twentieth part of the great system. We did not see Ship Cove, Cook's landing place, or the crown of all the Sounds for beauty, remote Tennyson Inlet, where the carefully preserved forest flows to the water's ed«re. and birds sing as they sang when Cook came.

Forest and Sheep. We saw enough, however, to make us realise what a magnificent playground this is. What a country, was the thought that occurred over and over again, that these Sounds should be only one of so many attractions—all these miles and miles of sea-washed mountains, these landlocked water lanes, bush here and there meeting the sea, coves that call to the camper and the yachtsman, and mild days and nights embracing all. Yet all this is not so fine as it might have been. Far too much bush has been taken off these hills. Originally all, or nearly all. the Sounds country, I take it, was like Tennyson Inlet to-day. A great deal of it, however, has been cleared of forest for the sake of sheep, but it is generally admitted that much of this clearing has been a mistake. Aesthetic considerations apart, snd they are, or should be, patent, the land is not worth it. It is a mistake that has been made in many parts of New Zealand, the cutting out of bush without due forethought. Here it has marred what is a unique scenic asset. Gardens and Tea-tree. Against this spoliation of Nature has to be set the beauty that man has brought. Some of the seaside homes in the Sounds are most attractive. It is very encouraging to find proprietors of boardinghouses taking pains with their gardens. A holiday boardinghouse is not merely a place for eating and sleeping; one appreciates the amenities of flowers and trees. We were fortunate enough to stay in a place where the louse was surrounded by a garden laid out with unusual taste. It was a blaze of colour. One could walk among roses and look out on to the blue loveliness of sea and hills. Incidentally photography is apt to do scant justice to the beauty of the Sounds. The hill mosses come out black; the softness and variety of their colouring are lost. The water is the great highway of the Sounds; settlers must have been very isolated before the launch era. There are few roads, but there are tracks round the hills not far above the ■water, and very delightful are the walks along these. When we were there the tea-tree was in full flower, and the flowering was so wonderful that we repeatedly stopped to look at it. I thought I had never seen blossoming so profuse; we would see sprays so thickly covered with flowers that hardly any green was visible. I asked a botanist if tea-tree bloomed better in the South Island than the North. He said there might be a difference due to the harder ■winter in the South; these conditions in the South might narrow the blossoming period and force the plant to produce a larger number oFflowers. However that may be, there was this amazing beauty of a common plant, pt>ured out prodigally on the hillsides. We recalled a remark by a much-travelled American, that teatree was the most beautiful wild flower she had seen anywhere, and that we did not appreciate it enough. We don't, of course; it is tod common. Yet it is our national flower. I have not yet seen or heard of a New Zealand bride carrying a spray of tea-tree "along her bended arm," but why not? Then there was red tea-tree in the gardens of Picton and elsewhere. In Auckland this variety has seemed to me rather disappointing; it does not fulfil the promise of its colour. In the Sounds country and Nelson its sunlit beauty almost took one's breath away. In the words of the poet, every bush was "afire with God."