NEW ZEALAND'S NEED OF MOUNTAIN TRACKS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22391, 11 April 1936, Page 1 (Supplement)

NEW ZEALAND'S NEED OF MOUNTAIN TRACKS

By HENRIETTA McKAUGHAN

JTS 'scarcity of lengthy tracks for the mountain tramper is one of the few disappointing things about New Zealand. Its limited trips that one may take on foot are outstanding, but they are short and insufficient in number. New Zealand's topography, it would seem, lends itself well to a continuous track from one end of the Dominion to the other, by which those who enjoy Nature closer at hand than can be reached from an automobile can take a vacation on foot or by horse. Years ago, in tho Pacific north-west of the United States, the national forest Bervice conceived the idea of a continuous trail —the American term for track —along the crest of the Cascade Mountain range from Crater Lake National Park ta the Columbia River highway, east of Portland. Oregon, a distance of approximately 280 miles. I was particularly fortunate in being able to make the trip immediately after the survey party had passed through, while the blazes were still fresh on the trees and camp-sites were unspoiled. It was a route of wilderness beauty, following the mountain range at altituues ranging from 5000 ft. to 7000 ft., passing innumerable mountain lakes teeming with trout, and circling glaciered mountain peaks that invited the climber. We whiled away two months in utter bliss on that trajl; fishing, mountain climbing, taking pictures, gathering berries in season, lazing in camp and hiking along, filled each clay with the joy of life. Following the Trail

Two years later I made a similar trip across the state of Washington, over trails that dipped first on one and then on the other side of the Cascade Range, emerging from the wilderness in Canada. On this trip the trail was less continuous, the mountains being more rugged, but by deviations we were able to follow the mountains almost entirely by trail through some of the most magnificent mountain country I have ever visited. In the summer of 1933, while I was in California, I planned a trip into the High Sierras. Nearly a decade had elapsed since my other long mountain hikes, during which, time there had been a campaign of automobile highwayconstruction. I arn fond of driving as well as of walking, but these two pleasures are as remote as the poles. If I am travelling on a road, I consider the only proper place to be is in a car. If I walk, I must have a foot-track, completely away from highways.

"Primitive Areas" 1 was warned by friends that I would be unable to get away from automobile roads —that they had extended to every place of interest in the mountains, and that there was no longer any place to walk. That walking was, anyway, passe. But I discovered something that my friends didn't know —that, in addition to automobile highways, within this period "primitive areas" also had been created by the Federal Government. These regions, extending along the rugged backbone of the High Sierras, are reserved in their primitive state for the enjoyment of those who feel the need of occasional return to the wilderness, who love the mountains as they were in the days when only the American were familiar with them. As a bit of explanation, most of the high mountain country of western United States is owned by the Federal Government. Portions of it, containing spectacular natural features, have been made into national parks and are administered by the Department of the Interior solely from a conservation and

Inspiring Example Set by America

recreational viewpoint. Their development is similar to tourist resorts in New Zealand, with hotels and transportation systems designed to facilitate "sight-seeing" by as many people as Eossible. The less-spectacular regions, ut more enjoyable to the residents of the. district because of the absence of commercialism, are administered by the national forest service. In these national forests recreation is but one of numerous uses, others including timber sales, stock-grazing permits and water-power development. The extensive mountainbuilding programme was in answer to an increasing demand from motorists that the mountain regions be made more accessible, to automobiles.

Saving a Sanctuary • But there was also another element of the popidation to consider —those real mountain enthusiasts, members of mountaineering organisations and lone hikers who love the solitudes away from the honking of automobile horns, the smell of gasoline and the noise of crowded automobile camps. They feared that unlimited invasion of their wilderness haunts by motorists would destroy their last sanctuary from the hectic turmoil , of modern life. A cry uprose that could not be ignored. Creation of "primitive areas" was the result. In them no roads may be built. No hotels may be erected. There can only be trails. Everything is to be left as nearly as possible as it was in the beginning. And so, when I climbed out of the teeming "city" of Yosemite Valley, where thousands of people were enjoying the mountains in the approved national-park fashion, in accommodations ranging from tents to luxurious hotels, when I left it and crossed over a few mountain passes I entered a wilderness area. Stretching from Yosemite National Park to Sequoia National Park, California, is the John Muir trail, named after that famous mountaineer and botanist loved by all western outdoor people. It is not adver-

tised. Yon will not see it mentioned 011 tourist folders. But mountaineers know of it; and fishermen; and lone hikers with backpacks of concentrated food designed to last them for at least a fortnight, in addition to sleeping bags; and wilderness lovers who take along a few burros for pack animals. Oh, it's a fine trip, with no roads and no cars, and no noisy people who have forgotten the real meaning of mountains —if they ever knew in the first place. It's a fine trip in the rare atmosphere of the high country, over snowy mountain passes with breath-taking, far-flung vistas of forest and canyon, down into virgin valleys, around lonely lakes that fishermen love, and down the banks of foaming mountain streams.

And it's a good trail for all its climbing and dipping, for it's well graded and easy to follow. There are no hotels and no shelter —but there's all outdoors, clean and vigorous, with great trees for a roof and pine needles for a bed, and a roaring river for a tap. And there's plenty of firewood, although one must have a camp-fire permit and observe special precautions against starting forest fires. Return to Nature In recent years the eastern part of the United States also has constructed a continuous trail along the crest of the Appalachian Mountain range. While less spectacular in its scenic aspects, it offers the same opportunity for a return to Nature as does the western trail system. And something like that is all that New Zealand lacks to make its out-of-doors perfect—a track that a hiker can follow for weeks if he chooses, without turning back or being annoyed by automobiles. A track on which he can come close to the Nature ho loves, the bush on either side, except in the high country where he looks out over wide expanses of mountain land, where he can bear the birdsong and look up through the trees and follow the lines of the cliffs with no automobile to obstruct his vision; a track that does more than make a short circuit of something, but evening offering a restful, natural campsite, each morning inviting to fresh adventures.