SKIRTING THE HORNING SEAS.

Marlborough Express, Volume XLV, Issue 60, 11 March 1911, Page 3

SKIRTING THE HORNING SEAS.

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THE SOUTH COAST ROAD AND

CHEVIOT

CROSSING THE FORD

" (By Will Lawson.) At six o'clock on a clear, fresh morning the Cheviot coach swung away from the Kaikoura post office, passed with a roll of wheels and clatter of hoofs through the West End and turned up the hill road that leads across the Peninsula to South ;Bay. From the elevation there was a splendid view over the sunlit ocean, while directly behind us the snowclad Lookers-on looked steadily on like guardians of the bay and all it held; It was the last glimpse of Kaikoura, the dipping road lifted the curve of the hill between and as a recompense brought into view that noble sweep of coast scenery which extends from Kaikoura Peninsula clear down to Amuri Bluff—twenty j miles of beach from point to point, j though the distance in a straight line is about, eleven miles. It is only m recent years that this south coast coach road las been built—formerly all traffic on wheels went to Waiau and Culverden. But with the railway creeping northwards to Cheviot this is now the quicker route, and what was only a rough pack-track has | been converted into a fair road, ' though tortuous and narrow in places. ■ Rocking down the hill-road to the beach a sharp southerly breeze brought its knife-edges to bear on hands and faces already glowing from the keen morning air, for the sun's rays still lacked warmth. A broad valley lay before us beyond which the steep cliffs and bold hill-sides stood bravely out in the level sunlight. • "We'll lose the wind," the driver said "when we cross the rivers and get. under the hills." It seemed incredible, since the road round the cliffs is all exposed, yet the voice of experience commands belief. Over the grassy sward, beside the newly-metal-led road, the four phlegmatic coach, horses plodded, quiet-footed with jingling pole-chains. The creaking^ leather springs of the coach; carried a solid load. There were seven passenr gers and the driver, a heap of luggage and numerous mail baskets and bags. Altogether the horses had behind them a load 0$ more than a ton and doubtless experience had taught ■ them that calmness under the circumstances was the best policy. Presently we were crossing the Kowhai' River, which sang and bubbled and swirled at the crossing. New-fed by the rains of yesterday the stream ran strong. A little further on and the Kahautara River gave us a safe crossing and then we were out on the hard rockroad, under the hills and out of the wind though we looked the south in the eye. Both these rivers are dangerous. Like the Hapuka on the north these are the dragons that guard the fair lands _of Kaikoura, and many a valiant man and horse have gone to their doom close to their journey's end.. From the Kahautara to the Oaro Valley, where the road sweeps inland, the South Coast road is one of New Zealand's most magni- j ficent places. With the sea booming on the abutments of the rock road arid with beetling cliffs so near, the coach rolled away, and suddenly there came into view a steep gully all fern and bush-clad, snuggled in between* hill bluffs. Then a high wide tunnel hewn out of the living rock gave passage trrough a craggy point, whose base was flogged by the thundering breakers. Another twining narrow piece of road and then another tunnel. These tunnels are buiß high and wide enough to allow loaded" wool waggons to pass through. The road curves into them suddenly, and on one occasion at least a wool waggon met the coach in the tunnel with/ disastrous results so far as that valuable item Time was concerned. For they could not back the coach, and certainly not the wool waggon. How the difficulty was settled is difficult to understand when one has seen the place of the meeting. Beyond the tunnels the road runs into less rugged country. There is thick native bush interspersed with fruit trees that have run wild. Long ago there were whalers living here who planted fruit trees. In one place there is an orchard, the trees covered with dwarfed fruit that made a vivid blaze of colors amid the quiet foliaged ngaio ake-ake and other native trees. Here and there the road twists in and out of the bush, giving short, glorious peeps of the waters of Goose Bay and the wide seas beyond in thf intervals of the screen of light-leafed ngaio that hems the traveller in. There is a Maori farm on the near side of the entrance of the Oaro Valley, where a mail bag was flung off. A well-built cottage stood back from the road in level ground. Beyond this the road took us away from the sea. Up the valley, which is dotted with the houses of small farmers, the four calm horses went with a ton of assortments trailing behind them. They had travelled sixteen miles and there were six miles more ere they reached their stables. And this last six were worse than all the sixteen that lay behind them. Leaving the level of the Oaro the road winds up the hill-side upward ever upward and the rain of the previous night had made the dirt-roads sticky. The whip sang and cracked, and often smote an hide, for there is a train to catch at Cheviot, and the whole fortynine miles must be covered1 in seven hours, which is a fast time-table. But though the provocation of the whip was great, not one of those calm horses did anything on the spur of the moment that he would have regretted afterwards. They were .the best-behaved horses one could imagine, and their driver a man of wonderful self-control.

In due course the Half-way House was reached, where tea and scones were obtainable. A new team was harnessed, and very soon' the coach was sailing away down hill to the Conway River. It was a swift .loyous ride, all too short, and towards the end we had as a pace-maker, a fleetfooted calf, whose only idea was to ke^o ahead of the black leaders. With tail aloft he flew on foj; a good two miles, turning; aside nt If^t in abroad space as though he had done his share and thereafter we must got alonp- ourselves. . °

_ The Comvay River appeared in sight, and by a deep ford its stream wascrossocJ, and then came five miles of river-bed road. Not quite so- rouph jas it sounds, for much of it is old-river-bed, that is not often under water, but after the pleasant coast j road and the downward rush, of the ( last few miles the dreary expanse of ■ gravel struck one as dull and slow, | and it was a relief to pull agrain on I to the solid earth and pass by Hawke-