Holiday Tramp

Dominion, Volume 30, Issue 131, 27 February 1937, Page 27

Holiday Tramp

The rain beat against the windows and a blustering north wind beat the trees over till it seemed they were on their knees begging for mercy from his rough play. Then a fitful ray of sunshine broke through the ragged clouds and the misty hills appeared to be clothed in rainbows. The clouds began to break and presently patches of blue sky appeared. Mother had had to go out’for the day. and my brother and I were alone. It was 10 o’clock, and I was still in bed, when my brother burst in. "What a day!” was his first greeting. I gazed out of the window and remarked, more to be contrary than anything else. “Not so bad. I

think it’s clearing. Mornings like this often turn into quite decent days.” There was silence for a time as we watched my words begin to come true. John they said. “M’m. Might be fine. What’ll we do?”

“I know what. I’m doing,” I answered,

turning over and fixing my pillow suggestively. My brother regarded his shoes. “Bill an’ me are going for a tramp.” he announced ungrammatically. I sat up quickly. “What about me?” “Oh, you are staying in bed aren't you?” Then, as a well-aimed pillow bounced on his head and off again, “My mistake —if you are coming, hurry up!” Off he went. I hopped up, and as I dressed planned our lunch. Yes, meat sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, cakes and biscuits, with fruit and ginger beer would be quite suitable. Imagine my surprise and dismay when I found no bread. John was dispatched on his bicycle to get a loaf. I spent a dreadful quarter of an hour cutting up new bread. The sandwiches were two inches thick! At last we were off. After a discussion we decided to reach Mount

Victoria for lunch, so we imide in that direction. It was a hard task pushing up the hill in the teeth of a northerly gale but we managed it, and arrived puffing at the top. We stood clutching each other for support and admired the view before us. Wide and blue ahead, fringed by tall hills on either side and low green hills, lay Port Nicholson. The wind ruffled the wave tops to a rough white edge. Thecity was on the left and we distinguished several buildings. > Turning round, we surveyed the landscape to the south. Cook Strait looked wind-toss-ed and angry, and on the rocks spray crashed, sending up clouds of fairy lace. We could even see our own house far away on the hillside. I was gazing fixedly at the horizon, straining my eyes to see the Kaikouras, when I was brought to earth by my brother’s voice, “Stop star-gazing, Flip (my detested

nickname) and let’s have some lunch.” We found a sheltered —comparatively 1 —spot behind some rock, and started on our provisions. Who cared if the sandwiches were two inches thick? The drawing-room variety would not have satisfied our appetites. The only accident occurred when Bill tried an experiment with his ginger-beer bottle. First he shook it. up for a few minutes, said “Watch me!” and removed the top. The spray at Lyall Bay could scarcely have been more drenching. Later we made our way down the other side of Mt. Victoria. Half-way down we came to a church whose doors stood open, so we went inside. After the bright sunlight without, the interior seemed very dim. It was hushed and cool and peaceful, and the stained-glass window figures seemed to smile on us kindly. After going some way round the coastal road we stopped at a little pier and dangled our feet in the cold water. Refreshed, we’ walked on until my brother informed us he was hungry and wanted something to eat. “Just like you 1” I said. “Is there ever a time when you aren’t hungry?” Nevertheless we stopped by a comfortable-look- I ing group of rocks and started on the j remains of lunch. An icy rock pool ' happened to be nearby, so we placed j our stone ginger beer bottles in it and had a cold drink to finish off with. We made friends with a snowy white seagull who had an enjoyable meal of biscuits and scraps. Another ten minutes’ walk and we had reached the patent slip, where the boys insisted on remaining to watch the men painting two ships which were on it. ' From' there the distance was made shorter to Evans Bay by our lusty singing of “The Toy Drum Major,” “Gentlemen, the King!” “Marching Along Together,” and other popular tunes.

From Evans Bay—home, tired, happy, swinging our empty bottles, we marched after a day of almost perfect enjoyment. —“Annie Laurie” (14) Wellington.