THE FAR NORTH.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 13414, 16 February 1907, Page 6

THE FAR NORTH.

FROM KAITAIA TO AH I PARA

THE HEREKINO GORGE

LIFE OF TIMBER WORKERS. [BY OUR SPECIAL COMMISSIONER.] No. IV. From Kaitaia to Ahipara, the most northerly of west coast settlements, is an easy day's vide by a very good summer road, and though the day was exceedingly hot I finished the journey in good time, and saw the greatest beach in New Zealand under conditions that I shall not soon forget. It was a perfect North Auckland summer afternoon. There was not a cloud in the sky, and scarcely a movement in the air when I struggled to the summit of a conical sand dune, and saw the coastline of the Farthest North stretching away to inlinite distance in a mighty curve that lent grandeur to the clearly marked lines of sandhills, beach, and surf. The sea. dazzling in its brightness, slumbered under a low, gray-blue dome of sky, and the breakers rolled lazily on the warm sand almost without sound. Those who think there is not a touch of the tropics in North Auckland should see Ahipara in late January. That grand curve of sand dunes, almost lost in perspective ere it was lost in the haze of heat, suggested the vastness of Australian plains. It brought back to my mind memories of Far-Western Queenslaud, beyond the Grey Ranges, and a ride that lasted for months, and seemed to last for years, when each day brought the monotony of sand and glare and merciless heat. Where all day long the sun seemed to fill the whole of a blazing sky. and day dropped into night at the dip of a crimson orb, and night broke into day as the sun leaped above the empty horizon. But the heat there smote one with its fierceness, the air was arid in its dryness. At Ahipara, every soft movement of the air brought coolness from the Pacific, and the heat was- but the glamour of midsummer. Can there be beauty in an endless line of sandhills, in a boundless stretch of beach, in long lines of white surf tumbling ceaselessly, yet never seeming to move? Swinburne might have written of it: "Miles and miles and miles of desolation. Leagues on leagues on leagues without a, change." And yet it held a marvellous charm. It fascinated one more than beauty. There was a strangeness and a wildness in it, a suggestion of mystery and romance. Behind the sand dunes were great swamps, and beyond the swamps monotonous gum hills, and the smoke from burning scrub showed where the gumdiggers of the Farthest North were at work. I could think'of wasted lives, and lost opportunities, of grim tragedies and bitter despair. The vivid light and glare of a midsummer day needed strange contrasts, and I thought of a gumdigger's solitary whare on a. dark, cold winter's night, when a westerly gale drives the surf thundering to the very crests of the sand dunes. There are men beyond there who know the. bitterness of such nights, and God have mercy on their souls, for their lives seem tragic, even on a summer's ;' dav.

i looked on that wonderful coastline till the glaie of it hint my eves, and the sand dunes literally danced in the. quivering air. I could well believe what I have been told that shifting winds reveal the bleached white bones of dead men far above the waterline, and that shifting sands cover them up again. Hosts of warriors may have been buried there, ten thousand victims of the sea may have been tossed there by the waves, arid the sand could take them all, and thousands more, and still seem just the same. Those barren wastes lake no count of life, pay no heed to death ; they are lifeless and soulless, and it is only the passionate beauty of an Auckland summer day that gives them their charm.

A MAORI LEGEND. A few hundred yards southward of my eyrie rises a quaint, pyramid-shaped hill, named, 1 believe, Whanga-awatea, and at its base lies tin' kainga, of the Ahipara natives, and on its' lower slopes -are extensive kuinara plantations, the eool green of their, vine--' contrasting vividly against the white shells that cover the soil. This pyramid-shaped hill lias a history. At one time it, was clowned with a strong pa, and a strong war party came against it and surrounded it. tutting off its defenders from their food supplies, yet were unable to capture it ; and while the besieging forces were uniting a. great whale was driven upon the beach especially for their benefit, and they feasted on its flesh under the hungry eyes of its rightful owners, the defenders of the pa. And' then one, of the invaders —surely lie must have heard the story of Troyevolved' a. plan worthy of those who made the wooden horse. He hid a number of picked warriors in the body of the great leviathan, and then the investing forces were withdrawn. The starving occupants of the pa thought that their troubles were over. They rushed down to take their fill of whale, and lo! out of, its body sprang the hidden warriors, and already the investing forces had advanced up the other side of the. hill, so that- the Ahipara .people were caught in the trap and many perished. Perhaps this accounts for the bones among the sandhills.

AHIPARA. At Ahipara 1 had the good fortune to meet with friends, in the persons of Mr. Herbert Masters and his wife, Mary Morton Masteis. New Zealand's most popular animal painter. Mrs. Masters has a most. charming studio, rich with many interesting mementoes of famous English artists " Briton Riviere," " Herkomer.'' and otherswho remember still the New Zealand gill, who lived for a time among them and studied' so (ardently. Mis. Masters works haul at- her profession. She has subjects in plenty at her command, and can paint them under the most favourable conditions. "The Gables." as the Masters' place is called, is a typical Par North farm, still largely in its pioneer state. Bullock teams are largely used, and I quite enjoyed watching the ceremony of yoking up. When one sees the great animals loose and restless with the heat one wonders how they can be ordered into harness, but the gentle swing of a long hide whip, in the hands of my 6ft 3in host, reveals the secret of bullock mastery, and " Whoa, Nugget," and "Back, Jake," means ready obedience. It takes a man with iron wrists or special knack to yoke bullocks, and when one sees a short Maori lean over the near bullock's neck with a great wooden beam on his shoulder, and fix the iron bow on the offsider. one is inclined to admire his skill. It is interesting also to see what. a. bullock journey means in this part of the world. Difficulties, without doubt, for there are axes to clear the scrub, mattocks and shovels to make roads, planks for impromptu bridges. New country evidently.

A NORTHERN LANDSCAPE. I saw the Furthest North under a new aspect, for I rode with Mr. Masters up a steep hill spur, and looked down on that narrow strip of country between its dunes. The .stretch of swamps in the foreground really dwarfed the distance. Still 1 saw Houhora. Harbour girdled with sand like a- desert lake, with Mount Camel guarding its portals; and far away Hukatere, the pudding-shaped hill, the only break in nearly 80 miles of west coast sand.

On Monday I rode on to Heiekino, between wooded hills and through the picturesque Herekino gorge. In almost any other part of the world this route would attract touri.«ts, and, no doubt, when a good buggy road is made through to Hokianga, people will begin to "do" the Far North as a holiday excursion. THE STORY OF PICKY.

1 overtook a Maori riding a very dejected pony, and he entered into conversation with the usual native freedom, and the usual native curiosity. I answered tho usual "Where you coim:':"- "Where you goT

"What, von do?" satisfactorily, and, as is the custom, asked the same questions in return. He came from Hukatcre; he was going to Whangape; and he was flax-cut-ting. I asked him what flax-cutters were paid nil North, and he told me 12s per ton, and this brought up the subject of Ttcky (Dicky). " You know Ticky'.''

'• What! You not know Ticky. He white man. He come Wanganui. P.v kolly, he cut flax. He cut rive ions one day. '

" One week, you mean." - No, pv kollv. 'one day. Te poss and Ticky tight, Ticky say he cut rive tons flax 'between sun up and sun down. Ihe poss he sav ' no fear.' Ticky say he pel £5. The poss he bet £5 and Ticky lie cut the live ton. By kolly. Ticky the .-mart teller, he get £8 that day." The dejected pony halted at a Maori bullock team, and refused to go further, so 1 lost the tale of Ticky and pushed on.

KAURI FORESTS. The road through the Herekino gorge is in excellent condition. It runs through an avenue of white manuka, through which one can see the noble forests on the mountain sides lifting steeply to the sky line. At the bottom of the gorge runs a swift clear creek, and every few chains smaller creeks tumble over rocky falls to join it. The kauri timber industry is in full swing here. On the slopes of Horehana mountain the Mitchelson Company are said to have 30.000.000 ft of timber, and their' is not the onlv kauri bush. If the farmers sutfei- I ed by the recent floods some of the timber men" have benefited. In one place I saw a wreat mass of logs piled one on another bythe roadside—the fresh had swept them from the upper reaches, and had deposited them right on the road. I was told that the heap of logs contained nearly a million feet of timber. The massive logs had evidently been tumbled about like matchwood, , and their inextricable confusion was testimony to the enormous force of the water. Men were at work erecting a hauling engine, in order to drag the logs on to skids, so that waggons can load up and haul them to the tidal waters of the Herekino Harbour, from where they can be rafted down to the mill at Owhata. THK LIFE OF THE BUSH. Seine New Zealander ought to write the life of the timber camps before they disappear from the land. 'there is plot enough in the schemeing for kauri rights, incidents enough in the logging work, successes and failures in the big contract-'. When most people were sheltering from the terrible rains that Ho. did the. country in mid-January, the timber men were working their hardest. Gau s were 'out in many a wild ravine and lately creek bed: dams had to be tripped, though men risked death in the work, and there was rafting to do. The timber men cannot seek bunk or fireside when the floods are loose; they must labour at top speed to make use of the huge forces that Nature sets in motion at such times. A year's work may be lost by shirking, but there is no shirking. Oaring deeds were done in those torrential rains, skilful work performed, but the publie hear nothing of their deeds, because, like all strong men, the timber workers are silent, and as they labour in the seclusion of deep forests their skill has no witnesses. If we have any writer ambitious enough to essay the task of telling the story of the Far North timber workers, let him visit Herekino. It is not work for anyone who cannot stand long, rough tides and longer walks and rude food and rude beds. But Herekino is a good field for the subject, and the timber life there is set in picturesque surroundings. It is pleasant enough to ride day after day through these Northern districts, but the roads are solitary, and one rarely gets company 7 for the journey; still there is always a new camp at the end of the day and new scenes and new faces. I. have had some interesting talks at these way-back ; hotels and boardinghouses. The Far North evidently develops the imagination, and the life of it is unconventional, and in some phases romantic.