‘There’s gold in the Aorere’

Press, 2 July 1986, Page 19

‘There’s gold in the Aorere’

By

HEATHER SMITH

“There’s gold in the Aorere.” So began the first whisper that turned into a roar when news of the Nelson Gold Strike broke in 1856. Strangely, the fact that gold had been discovered in the river in the early 1840 s had not led to a rush of miners such as descended on the area in 1856-57. It was only after the Californian and Australian gold rushes that the possibility was considered of New Zealand’s untouched landscape harbouring the precious metal. The settlers of the 1840 s were farmers. To them, carving out a living from the surrounding native flora was triumph enough; spending unproductive hours searching for gold was not a respectable way of employing one’s labour. So it was mere accidental discoveries by surveyors in the 1840 s and, in October 1856, by farmers who

stopped to drink at a contributary creek of the Aorere, that brought Murderer’s Bay to the attention of the gold seekers. Since then gold has played a varying part in the history of Golden Bay, even to effecting a name change. For it is the 1856 gold discovery that led to the area’s being renamed Golden Bay, and not because of the beauty of its golden, sandy beaches. Gold is a fickle mistress. For every miner who finds her riches, many show nothing more for their search than a handful of deceptive pyrite — fool’s gold. But in those heady first months of the Collingwood gold rush there seemed to be enough gold, and more, to go round. Huge fortunes were being made ... and spent, just as quickly, in Collingwood’s seven hotels and several stores.

A traveller who now ventures over the Marble Mountain (Takaka Hill) and drives to Collingwood, would be hard-pressed to imagine that just over the bridge on the road to Puponga there was another thriving township. Ferntown, named either in irony or anguish, boasted a further three hotels, a boarding house, and a billiard room. For a few short years during the boom, the Collingwood area supported a population of almost 2500. That represented about 2 per cent of the population of New Zealand in those days. It prompted a serious proposal that Collingwood be established as the seat of Parliament. Yet, within a decade, as so often happens in mining towns, the miners were gone in search of other gold fields and the town had shrunk to little more than its present size.

The easily accessible gold had been flushed from the rivers; fire had chased the get-rich-quick business people back to Nelson; and the larger gold strikes in Otago, Westland, and Thames had enflamed the gold fever of the remaining miners. Collingwood settled back to farming; those who had supplied the boom-time population with meat and fresh produce were now well established on their land. In the Takaka Valley, gold mining of any quantity was confined to the Anatoki diggings. These excavations were well up the river, in old glacial flats and terraces. Some say there are still large reels undiscovered. So far they have proved elusive. It was into. this area, however, that

many men, unemployed in the 19305, went to seek some relief from the Depression. The Government assisted men to the gold fields in what some uncharitably describe as an attempt to rid the cities of workers who were threatening trouble, for the beleaguered Coalition Ministry. In 1933, a Takaka Unemployed Mining Executive Committee was set up. Despite the ambiguity of its title, the committee was to administer funds available through the Unemployment Board. This money was spent on supplying meagre bedding and tents for miners who were also given a small allowance. The miners were predominatly city men, and from a less enlightened age. For many it was

the first time they had faced the necessity of cooking and caring for themselves. Among the knowing folk of the Takaka Valley stories circulated about the latest, hilarious fiasco of the "green city-slickers.” ( Like the story of the miner who decided to cook himself some rice for dinner. He boiled up a large pot of water. So far, so good. Then into the pot he poured a full cup of dry rice ... Those who know reckon he ate rice with his meals for a week. Then there was the bold baker who mixed up sufficient bread dough'to fill his camp oven. Up came the lid, so he skimmed off the top. Up came the lid again, off came the top. When the bread was finally baked, it is said, he had more skim than bread. Wild goats were available as a supply of protein, but their flesh

has little fat. For men whose dream of heaven was a pat of rich creamy butter, the sight of a stray sheep was often too tempting. Sheep lard, at least, was a passable substitute to spread on their bread. When the miners struck it lucky, or it was allowance day, they might treat themselves to some fresh vegetables. Unlike the original gold rush, the spending of these miners did not make any farmers rich. There were several mining camps, the main ones being on the Anatoki River, the Waingaro, and at Pupu near the site of the power house which is being restored. The Depression miners used methods very similar to those of the 1850 s. Rocks were lifted from the creek bed and stacked along the river banks. Sometimes water was diverted away from the river in hand-dug

trenches so that the miners could follow a reef. Apart from a few of these diversion channels, little is left today to identify the sites where the miners worked.

Today it appears that the rough ranges of Upper Takaka have regained their golden allure, for the multi-national company C.R.A. is at present operating an exploration licence over several large tracts of land in the vicinity. One of the areas, Sam’s Creek, already shows signs of the company’s presence. In contrast to the work of the miners of the 1850 s and 19305, the Golden Bay landscape today is likely to suffer severe change at the hands of large-scale mining. One thing is certain, though. If the company finds one of those elusive reefs they will be keeping it for themselves; there will be no second gold rush. '