Two Woeful Stories Of Far North Floods

Northern Advocate, 26 June 1946, Page 4

Two Woeful Stories Of Far North Floods

(Special) KAIKOHE, This Day. Serious—indeed, for some, terrifying—experiences have been had by people in the week-end floods, but the tragic experience of one and the humorous experience of another deserve to be recorded.

Tragedy undoubtedly was the lot of Mr Tony Markotich, winemaker, of Waipapa, near Kerikeri. Aided by a high bridge embankment, the waters of the swollen Waipapa River banked up until they crossed his orchard and vineyard, came over his lawn and garden, entered his house and rose to a depth of 2ft 6in. above the floor.

That was serious—but not tragic. On much the same level as the house stands Mr Markotich’s wineshed, in which great hogsheads full of the imprisoned sunshine from a blazing summer sat proudly on their, rails, row and row of them. When the floods swept in. things rapidly became disorganised. When the splashing had subsided, it was found that something like 500 gallons of good rich wine had moved on with the Waipapa’s waters, under the bridge and out to sea. That was definitely tragic. THE PLAYFUL RIVER

For the humorous, go to a certain gentleman who must for the nonce remain anonymous. With another resident of Kerikeri, he stood beside the bridge over the river mouth near the Old Stone Store. And he wished to cross that bridge. The flood swirled 3ft over the bridge decking—which is normally 10ft above stream level. So he removed his pants, as surreptitiously as may be. and braved the angry yellow torrent. Halfway along', struggling to keep balance on the perilous passage, his arm dropped momentarily. It was long enough for the fierce river to seize his pants and sweep them on its crest into the boiling estuary. Pantless, he made the crossing—but from there on, until next morning, there is a curious hiatus in his adventures.

It was early next day that, realising his wallet and cash remained in the lost pants, the man procured a boat and rowed down the tamed waters of the estuary. Well down—the story goes, miles down—he found his pants, hanging on a tree branch so high that he had to go away and get a long stick to fetch them down. The wallet and notes were there.

This story may have happened anywhere in the North, but the fact remains that it did happen in Kerikeri. And everybody in the place thinks it funny, except possibly the party of the first part.