MOKIHINUI GORGE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15646, 27 June 1914, Page 1 (Supplement)

MOKIHINUI GORGE.

BT C. B. BAMEDir.

Somehow, to me, though nothing could alter the fact of their magnificent scenery and awe-inspiring heights and depths, one goes to the big gorges of the West Coast so prepared to pay tribute at their shrine that they lose somewhat of the infinite charm that clings to the lesser gorges one more seldom hears of.' But Mokihinui lies by no means beyond tho beaten track, as the splendid bridge over tho river and the road to Karamea that .crosses it testify. But no clattering of numerous hoofs, and no tooling of motor-horns, disturbs the silence— plodding packhorse or two, perhaps, or a solitary rider, but beyond that the gorge is yours absolutely while you stay—for you alone the emerald waters of the river flow gently over tho granite rocks, and the hills, clothed withtrees to their utmost heights, shut off tho outside world, and even the singing of birds does .seem to break the stillness. A typical country road-though more typical of England than New Zealandleads from the nearest township. The few houses that follow it for a time hide themselves behind high, waving hedges, that seem to be but a continuation of the sweet-smelting greenness that greets you further on. A little stream comes soon to turn the- road into a a shallow stream it is in some places, with tempting stones so near the surface that you walk happily across them, albeit there is a tiny bridge of planks, supported on little heaps of logs, for the wise ones. A little turn in the track, and you are out of sight or real civilisation, though wire fences and occasional clearings, with their stumps and general forlorn appearance, tell you you are not yet entered into your kingdom. The, track is corduroyed hore in many places with pungas that send their green fronds up from tho earth still, as if to show that their usefulness has not done away with their. beauty. . Little bridges cross almost invisible. streams—you peer oyer their edges into a mass of greenne«>,; > and ;'i^t/ ; ?fieeping' through, 'the" trees,'"'" sometimes ** .'many 'feel : below, you,., see tho. silent? waters —silent at least ..to.,yon, -.bocause the "river- is riot far distant, and its yoice drowns '*• tiny ones of the streams that Clamber down to it. Some few oi the larger ones refuse to be silenced, and tipple down the hillside busily, seeming to- push the rocks aside in their haste, and needless- of the obtrusive person that scorns the bridges, and tries to cross, dryshod, in their path. And now the track begins to climb, but so gradually that the first glimpses of the river, coming now quite close, surprise you by. being so far below. Yon only know just now. that it is a river— sometimes you catch sight of a quiet-look-ing stream flowing rather rapidly along, and again, a little further on, you look down into the waters of a deep green pool, moving so.quietly and slowly that it scarcely seen* the swifter-moving, shallower river of further down. : The track is climbing still, and narrowing now—there is only room in some places for two people to walk abreast. A steep bank, witlr its thick clothing of trees, closes you in on one side, and on the other, though trees and shrubs still ding closely, to it, it slopes steeply right down to '.the. river—sometimes even the side curves in lower down, and you look over tho edge« through the'trees, to seo the water practically beneath you. Yet you are walking through an avenue of trees, whose tops meet over your head, whose pleasant) sweet-smelling greenness shuts you in in a world of your own. Tiny streams cross the road, but so-tiny that only the soles of your shoes get wet in crossing. Only the murmuring of tho river, and the gentle swaying of the trees breaks the silence that even the birds have observed. Perhaps they think to prepare you for the scene so near at hand. . Still the river hides itself, and the gorge seems far away, till suddenly you round a corner, and there before you is the bridge. You are crossing it, when lo ! the gorge bursts on your view in all its beauty. There it is—and you are standing in. the midst of it. No tremend ous overpowering gorge this, with great rocks and tumbling waters and vast heights that awe you-a tiny thing it is, if you think of some yon already know, but perfect in its beauty, and its sublime pride in itself. It has been preparing you so subtly—no previous glimpses do you get and half-concealed views; the river keeps its own counsel, but it, too, has hidden from you before, lest you should see that it holds some secret in its keeping. Even the man-made bridge somehow here loses its obtrusiveness— otherwise could you stand thus in the midst of it all. You wonder no longer ■at the silence of the birds, you almost hold your breath lest you intrude., The hills rise steeply on both sides', clothed with green to their topmost peaks, yet not with dense, impenetrable undergrowth, that seems to lie flat against the surface of the hills; instead graceful tree ferns look out everywhere ( and careless, tossing trees serene on their perilous footholdright up till you grow giddy with the looking. And among the hills the river comes curving, pouring its green waters happilv and 6erenely over the glittering rocks, "flowing quietly till a tossing, tumbling little stream bustles in —a rollicking fellow, rightly named the Rough and Tumble. Bumping and jumping among its rocks it comes, splashing against the banks with merry abandon. But here it seems to feel the spirit of the place, and only whero it enters the river does it disturb the even course of the green waters, then it, too, flows quietly. But where is the cleft lower down, that the river enters ere it goes out of sight? No opening in the hills is visible; instead, they seem to close around, and the waters spread out fill they lie in a deep, glistening pool of clearest emerald, with scarcely a ripple to show that tho water is not still. Rocks of purest white granite stand out with almost Btartling clearness, shewing through the peaceful waters, or leaning over the edge to peep at. their own beauty. And around, and almost above- it all, the sentinel trees keep watch jealously guarding tho sweetness of the spot from hold intrusion, and hiding the river that winds quietly away from it. No sound comes here of bustling life, of crunching wheels and hurrying feet--only the rustling Of ; the gentlyi swaying leaves stirs- the silence. Truly; thisis a place to worship in aa exquisite J [place of voting* peace, and puritsj