NEW ZEALAND RUINS

Evening Star, Issue 19841, 14 April 1928, Page 13

NEW ZEALAND RUINS

The Romance of Maeetown

Concert Hall Still Intact

[Written by for the ‘Evening Star.’]

New Zealand, a young country, has ruins of her own. They may not have about them the historical atmosphere of antiquity surrounding the crumbling castles and abbeys of the Old World, but nevertheless any visitor who chooses to explore the buildings in a deserted mining township such as Maeetown would indeed be a materialist if he were not in some measure affected by the air of romance pervading them. For, two or three decades ago, Maeetown was looked upon as being a gold miners’ metropolis. Even a tin shanty must, in the course of time, attain the dignity of a ruin, and when the articles still lit(ered about many such dwellings include some which have been handed down to the late owners from several generations of ancestors, then it can he understood that the reverence' one feels for age can easily bo stimulated. Hut Maeetown, lying about nine miles up the river from Arrowtown, was never a township of tin shanties. The pioneer miners who went there in the iirst place had worlhy ideas of how a village should bo planned, and as far as substantial, homely architecture went they left nothing to be desired. There are not many dwellings still intact, the reason being that flic ma-

A THRILLING DRIVE

Hut, to reach Macetown. That alone provides .something of a thrill to I hose unused to (ravelling over wild mountain roads. When one's drive to (ho old township is spiced with the knowledge that, a toot’s deviation from the beaten track means, in many sectors, a quick despatch to eternity via a. fall of a hundred feet or so, one feels strongly tempted to get out of the car and walk. I am sorry I can't state that those of ns who made the trip not so very many Sundays ago were the first to reach Macetown by motor car. Still, we came so near to attaining that honor that we must lie forgiven when wo hail ourselves as belonging to the pioneer class. A big car,_ driven by one of the most reliable drivers in the district, did the trick for ns, and T must confess that, given a low river and a dry road, I would feel much safer in a modern chariot like that than in a horse-drawn vehicle. Horses are temperamental. They sometimes shy. Cars never do. Our car, carrying seven passengers and enough luncheon for twice that number, slipped quietly through Arrowtown early in the morning, and after jolting across the stony beach' where Bush Creek joins tire Arrow plunged into the 'gorge to commence the long second-gear run into the heart of the mountains. The first place of interest was Cooper's Terrace, a mining camp not a mile from the main street. By good-natured courtesy it is railed a suburb of Arrowtown, but it is to be regretted that the tram line has not yet readied it. Although the

jority of them, when evacuated, were found to be in a state of preservation sufficiently sound to permit of their demolition and subsequent reconstruction in Arrowtown. At the present time the habitable houses remaining on their original foundations at Macetown could be counted on the lingers of one hand. Standing out, however, among a desert of stark chimney and littered paraphernalia is a really fine public hall, an edifice built of the best timber procurable, and panelled, as regards its interior, in a particularly snug style. The floor, too, is really as good as ever, and when one slithers across it one’s mind immediately /lies hackinto the past when the sometimes sonorous, sometimes tinkling notes ol a piano blended in harmony with the sweet wailing of violins, formed a country orchestra which helped men and women to forget for a few joyous hours their routine of hard work and tread , the measure of a rollicking imlka, a mazurka, or a set of the Alberts. Happy days, these, when dancing was a pleasure which drew 7 all types of persons into social _ relationship, and when by an unwritten law the monopolisation of the village belles by selfish cliques was forbidden.

few old identities who still live there gave us a wave as we passed by we could not help feeling that they might be criticising ns in this strain: “Darn fools. We resent, your invasion in that mechanical gadget, Hope yon break your necks.” Up and up we' went, crossing the Arrow at practically every turn of the road, so many times in all that we lost count. Then wo left the river bed and droned up on to a hillside cutting which for several miles we followed until we reached the junction of the Billy and the Arrow. It was on this stretch of the road that most of the danger lay, and, as though our eyes were not sharp enough to make us realise this fact, the driver kept up a running fire of snappy remarks such as “ Here’s where A went over in a spring cart thirty years ago. Funny thing, the horse was unhurt, but he was killed outright. ‘ B’s ’ horse shied with him in the autumn of 1895 and sent him to glory.” Not very cheerful, of course. However, we kept cool enough to notice the sluicing claims high up on the_ opposite hill, and the tunnel driven through rock at the river bed in order that the stream should he diverted through it, thus giving gold_ seekers a chance to work the good-sized bend exposed. Scenes of modern activity were also there a-plenty, for it is not sn long ago that work in connection with the Arrow irrigation scheme was temporarily held over. Tunnels and rock cuttings designed to carry the pipe line from the intake at the falls wore a source of much interest to us.

BLACKBERRIES ANO A STORY

After passing the Billy wo crossed the river, and, still following it, bora away to the left, somewhere in the direction of Skippers. Again wo ascended to a hillside road, this time on the left-hand bank of the stream going up. Hero the country was heavily tussocked and not quite so nigged ns that around the corner behind ns. Acres and acres of blackberry bushes, laden with the- largest and most tempting fruit of flic species any of ns had ever seen, bordered the road for many chains. But so anxious were we to reach Macetown that we did not stop to pay homage to them. Tt was just about boro that one occupant of tiie car, Mr AV., a gentleman who know Macetown thoroughly and whom we had hailed as official guide, told ns a good true story. As far ns f remember it wont somehow like ibis; One evening a cartload of miners and others were driving down to Arrowtown to n, dance. An accident happened just- above a slope (hat fell away steeply to the river, and in a. twinkling the whole party was rolling towards the, water. It so came about that one burly follow (whom we will call Bill) arrived in the river first, ami all the others in quick sequence floundered in on top of him. When the human avalanche had ceased Bill was given up for dead. Ultimately, however, that individual rose dripping from the water and drawled whimsically: “ Is they any more of ynh coming’ down? If so, I'll stretch mesclf out agin.” .Inst before reaching Macelown we passed the shepherd's lint at the Eight Mile, together with the slice)) yards belonging to Soho Station. On the

TO THE RESCUE

During a sojourn 1 tookalono just before lunch a strange incident came my way. For the purpose of finding a few souvenirs I had picked a difficult passage through a rambling orchard towards an empty house, and was just rounding a corner to approach the back door when the white head of a bullock poked out at me from the window of the spare bedroom. I could have knocked his eyes off with a stick, and for a low moments T believe my own occupied in their sockets positions of similar protuberance. A ghost! No, surely. The animal was snorting at mo through nostrils which quivered with fright. A short investigation soon proved to me that T was witnessing the predicament of a poor brute that seemingly had gone into the house for shelter, and while lazing gently in this particular apartment had been made a prisoner as the result of a slamming door. .Judging from its likeness to a hat-rack, it must, have,suffered many days’ starvation in its loi'k-np. Excited at the thought of effecting a rescue, f made straight for

THE TIPPERARY MINE

Alter lunch we men folk naked Mr W. to lead ns on to some of the old mines and batteries up the Twelve Mile Creek, the ladies wisely deciding to rater for onr stomachs by remaining to pick fruit. Several times during onr walk up the creek lied we stopped in an endeavor to find specimens of that vague lint alluring thing called “color.” Needless to say, however, the. creek had been thoroughly worked out, and although we did see a, few specks of gold, the rocks in which they shone were hardly ■ orth carrying home. ■>The first quartz-crushing battery we came to was situated near the mouth of Scanlan’s Creek. Although this battery has been relieved of a good deal of its apparatus there was enough of it left to. enable Mr W. to explain to ns just how it worked. Most of the batteries still further up the Twelve Mile have been dismantled, at least one of them having been transferred to the Head of Lake Wakntipn. Stampers and stamper heads from those parts have been used largely in helping to till up the ballast boxes on the Kawaran Dam, the big ten-ton iron receptacles which balance the flood gates and make the winding of them a one-man job. Instead of going further up this creek we turned to the left up Scanlan’s Gully and made for the site of the Tipperary mine about a mile and a-half away. There is not much to he seen of it now. The tunnels are either blocked up at the entrance or they

opposite side (to the left) wc caught a glimpse of a .similar hut, the property of Coronet Peak. At last wo purred into the main street of the deserted township and pulled up outside the hall. The outward journey was completed. The first impression we had was one of beauty—arid desolation.* The streets, overgrown with grass, merely constituted a commonage from which grazing cattle had fled at our approach. Hedgerows, plantations, and orchards had grown wild and shaggy. Within sight only four houses remained standing. Everywhere wo looked we saw those trees and hedges trying desperately to hide the ruins which lay behind their bowers. On an old store site, opposite the hall, were strewn scraps of good tiinhcr, packages of old hooks, and business documents. A few stones adjoining the hall marked the position of an old hotel, a place still quoted hv oldtimers as being the scene of many good-natured high jinks. To hoil the hilly, not to mention a pot of ready-peeled potatoes, was work made easy on account of the fuel available. In the meantime the ladies of the party had invaded the hall and had commandeered a tabic quite capable of bearing up under the strain of our huge luncheon. Everything was interesting within that hall, from the excellent stage scenery to the infants’ blocks stowed there when the sehoollionse was pulled down and converted into a residence at Arrowtown. Old books, maps, charts, and plasticeno hoards all helped to give (he place a scholastic atmosphere.

the bedroom door and tried to open it in the orthodox fashion. The bullock, however, did not appear to understand my good intentions, for I hadn’t opened the door more than eighteen inches when he lashed out with one ol his him! legs and slammed it in my i face, the impact knocking me back among a pile of dead marines and frying pans. Fortified with a big stick and considerably more cunning, I carried on with the rescue from a point of vantage outside the window. With the aid of the stick, poked through the broken frames, 1 managed to ease tlie door sufficiently wide to allow the bovine prisoner to charge through. In doing so he made as much noise as the whole of Ernie (‘rev’s “Thundering Herd.” Fortunately for me he chose to go out the trout door, and a crashing in tiro undergrowth of the orchard announced to me that my good deed for the day had been completed. However, 1. felt more hungry than virtuous, and willingly obeyed a call to luncheon.

have caved in a short distance from the month; the smithy is a mass ot twisted iron, and the stone dwellings which stood on the_ sunny taco are ruins indeed. A big wooden house whore the manager (Mr Stanford) used to live has been removed to Arrowtowu. As a matter of fact, it was Mr W. himself who bought this residence and had it transported in sections hy means of a wagon and a six-horse team, the driver being Mr C. Callaghan, now of Dunedin. It is such driving feats as tin’s that have made knights of the reins famous, for, to look at the road now, winding tortuously down the rugged gully, one would think that keeping the vehicle on a, track very little wider than 'the space between the wheels wa,s an impossibility. [ have seen Mr Callaghan since my return, and in reply to a question he admitted modestly that the feat took “a bit of engineering.” We arrived back at Mactown to find that the Indies had collected divers baskets of apples and plums, not to mention a number of souvenirs, which included two old books inscribed and dated as far hack as 1832. A half-pint pewter pot, dented probably by much impatient thumping on a bar counter, was immediately appropriated by one of tlio men. Motoring back to Arowtown was more difficult even than going up, and this time our driver, with his eyes fixed on "the'road, refrained from entertaining up with morbid reminiscences.