RIVERS TO CROSS

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22551, 5 November 1938, Page 21

RIVERS TO CROSS

UPBCUTLY WEIII'M FO* TH»- WM.) [By BRUCE STRONACH] , (I)

MOST of the rivers of Canterbury and Marlborough are accessible. At least, they are for a good Jew mi\es up itom the mouth. The Clarence is different. From Clarence bridge the river runs straight up to the hills, and cannot be seen again from a motor-car, except for a small stretch just over Jollie's Pass. Down a valley known to us musterers as the Princess Valley—appropriately enough, the mountain at the head of it we called the Fairy Queen —flows a small creek, ending in Lake Tennyson, and from the lake issues the Clarence river. There is a hut there, the Serpentine Hut, and hear it was a small foot-bridge, slung on wires. I never saw it, but one night, in the driving snow, I helped to chop the last of the footboards off it for firewood. Most musterers leave vandalism to the lower sort of hiker, that fortunately rare kind of hiker who would rather shoot a few sheep than go home empty handed. But when it is a case of freeze or chop up a bridge or so —what is one to do? From the hut the river flows on, past Fowler's Hut, another welcome refuge. Then it goes past St. James's homestead and on to the Clarence accommodation house. When going to Tarndale and Molesworth this was the jumping-off place. When coming away after a season, this was the place where one first felt the influence of civilisation. Here one shaved off the beard and sewed up that rent in the trousers with a length of seaming twine. Here were sheets on the beds, and plenty of eggs to eat, and news of the latest Hanmer scandal, if any.. The river is wide at this point, and easily forded, and one feels excited when starting on the last short lap for home. The last time I forded the Clarence there I stopped in mid-stream to photograph a waggon and six or eight horses. My horse stumbled and I dropped my precious V.P.K. into the water. I rode straight on, for what was a camera, with home [ and the city almost in sight and a mustering cheque in the pocket? The Clarence is increased in volume here by the Acheron, flowing out of the Molesworth country. Into the Acheron flows the Alma, the Swan and the Saxon, which carry quite a lot of water at ordinary times, and can all become "raging torrents" at short notice. Down river from -the mouth of the Acheron is a stretch, of country I do not know, until the boundary fence between St. Helens and Molesworth is reached at the Tweed creek. Out in the bed of the river, and easily seen from up on the hill, is a large block of red stone over which»-the water flows. On the other side is the Clarence Reserve. For a long way downstream this station and Molesworth occupy the opposite banks. Well down, on the inland side, is a small creek called the Lizard. Generally, 'when mustering round here, we would see and hear the reserve chaps at their work. One morning I saw one of them across the river,

The Untamed Clarence

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and he kept yelling at me as w% went along. I shouted an answer, thinking that he was just passing the time of the day— and the time of the day \akes sotive passing over a swift running river! Years after I met him in town and he told me that he had been trying to make me understand that they had ridden over the day before and left a bag of pears for us. They would have been welcome, too, on those hot summer musters. Near this place, opposite Quail Flat, a rabbiter lost his life. There were two camped there, and it was their habit to let their packhorse loose. He would not go far but sometimes took a stroll over to the Molesworth side. One day he could not be found, and they concluded that he must be across the river. One of them stripped and dived in. He never came up. The sad part of the story is that the horse was found on their side of the river after allAfter passing Molesworth and the reserve and the Bluff, the river run* past Coverham, Glen Alton, Waiautoa and some places that I do not know well. Here used to roam the wild sheep in thousands. Here were pigs and deer. Here were white goats, blue gcats, black goats and brown goats. And here were goats that were black and white and blue and brown! And pigeons. And quail. And rabbits. And a wonderfully coloured bush—pink broom. When the river takes the final bend towards the sea, there is Waiautoa on one side and the downs of the coast on the other. The contrast is terrific. Towards the coast are rolling downs— a musterer would refer to working on that country as being "on the carpet." No country could be worse to muster than that on the opposite bank. Further down comes the "Harkaway"—a glorious name; and there I will stop. For then comes the bridge, and for a river that has run so far and so freely it must be humiliating to exchange the noise of dogs and sheep for the noise of motors and railways, and to be bridged and tamed like any ordinary river. (To be Continued.)