THE VALLEY OF ARARIMU.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXII, Issue 19210, 26 December 1925, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE VALLEY OF ARARIMU.

Ii Y E. WILSON WIT. SON'.

A SPAN OF SIXTY YEARS.

" The rich and fertile valley of Ararimu "—so it was described over sixty years ago when Captain Jackson and his Forest Rangers attacked and severely punished a largo band of marauding natives who had terrorised the settlements of Wairoa, Papakura and Drury during the early days of the Maori War. After tracking thorn for two days through virgin bush tho Rangers, early one Sunday morning, surprised their rendezvous in the valley. % Here, in tho heart of the Hunua Ranges, with supplies of succulent fecn root and the spoil of many raids, tho Maoris were resting on their way back to the Waikato. After routing them, Captain Jackson burnt large stores of loot. 'lhis victory proved that the skilled bushman could beat the Maori at his own game of bush fighting, and secured the safety of the settlements between Auckland and the Waikato. The Maori flag which hangs in tho vestibule of the Auckland Public Library was captured that day.

Immediately the war was over, there was a rush to take up lanA. A group of young miners from the West Coast of the South Island came north. It may have been that they had read the newspaper account of the fight of the l'orest Rangers with the Maoris and that, they sought the fertile valley hidden among the hills. At all events they became Ararimu's first white settlers. Tho nearest village was Drury, nirio miles across the ranges. Ihe valley lay far off tho line of blockhouses studding the Great South Road. Through it ran tho Maori tracks from the Hunua Ranges to the Waikato. The Te Kooti Scare.

Although the Waikato war was over, the rise of the Hauhau fanatics caused these early settlers much anxiety. r l he escape of 'le Ivooti from the Chatham Islands and the terrible Poverty Bay massacres in November of 1868 augmented their fears.

Therefore it was with foreboding that the women of the valley watched their men ride off, early one summer morning in 1870, bound for the • cattle market at Remuera. If their buying were successful, it would take at least two days to bring home the cattle. Thus they expected to be away throe whole days. Only one man was left in the valley. The day was filled with the many duties of the house and the farm, but night brought realisation of loneliness and isolation. "With doors and windows tightly barred, each woman stood alone in her home, debating whether she would undress or lie down in her clothes. However, the night passed in safety. Daylight brought once more the homely duties that fill the mind and drive awav fear.

Suddenly, the silence of afternoon is broken by the sound of a galloping horse. It Stops at the gale. A horseman comes pounding across the paddock. " Hillo! llillo!" shouts the rider pulling up beside the garden fence. " I've been sent to warn you people that Te Kooti is on the warpath. They think he may come this way through the ranges. They advise you to go down to Drury. Where's the next, farm ?" She runs down the path between the rose beds to point out the shortest way. " Tell my neighbour to get ready. I will come over and help her with the children." The bearer of bad tidings rides on through the valley. Nearly all the riding horses have gone to Remuera. The road to Drury is a rough track over the hills. " Come," says one woman, " we must make a start. " I will carry Freddy on my back."

She is young and strong, and has no children of her own. Freddy's mother, however, has a baby a few weeks old.

She cannot face the long miles over the ranges. Others of the women are equally unable to walk. It is" evident to the only man left in the settlement, |Jiat the task of getting the women and children to Drury is beyond his capability. He proposes that they all take refuge in his house which is well off the track. If the marauders come, they will find empty houses and conclude that the valley has been complete!* deserted. Provisions are hastily collected and the women and children of Ararimu gather in the little cottage. Beds are laid in corners for the little ones, but the mothers sit hand in hand through the long hours of the night. Dawn and a Welcome Return. Just before dawn, the sound of galloping horses is heard. The man slips out of the back door with his gun. His wife stands ready to open quickly. The sounds die away. For some fifteen minutes, that seem like hours, nothing more is heard. Then shoots como from various directions. A woman buries her head in a friend's lap to shut out the sounds as long as she tnay. Some creep to the various corners of the room, there to clasp lit tio warm fornix to trembling bosoms.

The noise draws nearer. Suddenly, their protector is heard shouting, " Hillo! Hillo!" Voices answer. Their men have come home! There is a rush out into the starlit dawn. Sweating horses lumber wearily into the yard. Tired men fall out of the saddle.

Since the news of Te Kooti's threatening raid had reached them at the close of the sale, these men had stopped only to breathe their horses. The cattle were left behind. Each man rode with a deadly fear at his heart. Reaching the valley, they had found house after house deserted, but though there were signs of a hasty flitting there was none of the passage of a merciless foe. The sun rose on a scene of jov and gladness as weary men and women returned to their homes. Night, and day a patrol kept the valley road, until at. last word came that Te Kooti had turned back to the Urewera country. The Valley To-day.

The isolation of fifty years ago has passed. The motor-car on a graded and metalled road has brought the valley of Ararimu within little more than two hours journey of Auckland. Nevertheless, it still lies quietly behind its hills, unknown to the majority of motorists. A steep, but metalled road, branching off from the Great South Road at Ramarama, has replaced the old hill track. It is also possible to reach the valley through the Hunua Gorge. There is always the chance that a night's rain in the hills has swept away a bridge, which means turning back, otherwise this is a very beautiful road to take. Down through wide fields, where the cows stand kneedeep in grass, pleasant brooks How across our way. We boil the billy above a deep pool where school children come to bathe, and to cat their lunch.

Some of the pioneers still live in the valley, enjoying a vigorous old age, and the fruits of their years of thrift and hard work.

The falls that are probably the site of the victory of the Forest Rangers, now generate light and power for a milking shed. A very old settler tells me that the Maoris come, each year to camp for a few days near the spot. It would be well worth while having this historic place definitely marked.