A LADY'S TRIP OVERLAND FROM NELSON TO HOKITIKA.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1204, 29 March 1895, Page 11

A LADY'S TRIP OVERLAND FROM NELSON TO HOKITIKA.

Probably few people in Wellington have any idea of the extraordinary beauty and magnificence of the scenery of theßuller Gorge. For fully forty miles the great river (the largest but one in New Zealand) follows its turbulent course, between high mountains clad with forest and undergrowth of the densest description from the waters edge to their summits, so far untouched by the hand of man. The following account of a holiday trip, written in simple language, gives a good idea of the beauty and grandeur of the scenery, and will be found interesting. From Nelson we went by train to Foxhill, and after travelling through a sheli tered valley, past and meadows I where the men were harvesting, reached there in time for tea. It is a charming little place; the inn is so quaint and oldfashioned, and. very comfortable too. After tea we went for a stroll,-and formed the opinion that Foxhill would be a pleasant place in which to spend a holiday. The coach left next morning with four through passengers on the box seats, we on the top one, and the full number inside. At Belgrove station we had the mails and luggage put on, and then were fairly off on our journey. Just at this time a drizzling rain began, which, though it did not last long, enveloped the hills in mist, so that when we reached the top of Spooner's Range we had not such a good view as we should otherwise have had. However, coming home we obuld see the whole of the Waimea plains, and as far almost as the. French Pass on one side, and on the other range upon range of bush-covered mountains. Descending this hill we P ass tne Motueka road, cross the Motupiko River, and. drive through the valley of that name. The floods of a month before have left their marks on the surrounding country. Hops and grain have been washed low: one can see on all sides traces ot the river's passage, and yet that little peaceful stream looks as though it could more than a few inches. Through the quiet valley we drive till we reach Corlett's, where wa stop for dinner. We are much amused at the idea of dinner at half-past ten, but there is no other suitable stopping place. Soon we are off again with a change of horses, and go merrily along till we begin the ascent of the Hope Saddle.- The driver suggests that those who would like a walk should take one, at which the coach is emptied in a moment. It is a steep pull, and when we reach the top we are told that we are 2400 ft above sea level. And from that height we can see nothing but hills. Higher and higher they rise, all covered with bush, no two peaks the same size or shape, till towering above all these rise the rugged peaks of the Southern Alps, with patches of snow her© and there. We take our seats, and in a moment are driving down hill, going quickly round the sharp curves of the road and enjoying the fresh breeze and the swift motion. Stopping again to change horses, we are invited into an orchard, where the gooseberries are just waiting to be eaten. They seem more like grapes than gooseberries, growing in clusters on the bushes, and we pick them by handfuls.* ;

The horses, are fresh at starting, ba soon settle down, and we drive on, cross*

lag the Hope Elver several times, and always travelling farther into the bush. Presently we come to a great slip where the road is washed away ; the coach fords the river and comes out on the other side, while we walk on oyer the remains of the road. The coach that was brought from the other side when the slip first occurred is still there. The road is now very pretty; dense forest on both sides, and on the left the dark river, quite overhung by bush, and looking so cool and quiet in some parts, while in others it rushes and tumbles over large boulders like a miniature Niagara. It makes one long to leave the coach and spend the day by the side of the river,, listening to its gentle murmuring and the songs of the birds, and looking at the glimpses of blue sky visible through the trees. But the coach will not wait, and on we go, soon reaching the letter-box for the Lake Station. Here the Buller River comes rushing down to join/the Hope, and our quiet gentle little stream is lost in the brawling foaming river. Even the colour is changed, for the Hope is dark and clear, while the Buller, though as clear, is of a peculiar deep green colour. The drive for the rest of this day is through a natural avenue bordered with forest trees on both sides, sometimes close to the river's edge, sometimes farther away. The effects of i light and shade in the bush are very pretty, reminding one of one's idea of fairyland. We see many pretty waterfalls on the opposite side of the river, one especially having Seven leaps. We reach Longford, our stopping place for the

night, at 6.45 p.m. This i 3 merely an accommodation house for the coach passengers, the other buildings in the place being the post office, and one or two farmhouses. After tea—the delicious scones at which I shall never forget—we stroll down to the river, and sit on the bank till it grows dark. It is a very romantic scene; on all sides dark, forestclad hills, at our feet the river, very swift at this place, rushing and leaping over the boulders in its path, and looking very deep rand dark in the twilight, and above it all the silent sky with the stars coming out one by one; We are awakened next morning at 4.30 i »n<l in an hour's time are off again with a change of coach and driver.

We pass a coal mine in the side of the hill, and farther on can tell by the waterraces that we are n earing the haunts of the gold- Sometimes we catch a glimpse of them at work, but, as a rule, they are hidden from view by the bush. We.cross the junction of the Matira and Buller Rivers by a good bridge, and then to our disgust it begins to rain. However, it does not last long, and we can tell that when the sun is stronger it will be a fine day. After travelling for some miles over Fern Flat, we enjter the -famous Buller Gorge. Right ial the, heart of the bush, shuT in—as its6eined----on all sides by high mountains, we leave the river ever farther and farther below, but never out of sight. The sun is trying to break through the veil of mist in which the hills are shrouded, and gradually succeeding, disperses it in soft masses along their sides, and shines with redoubled radiance on the dripping foliage and foaming river. As we go slowly uphill we have time to look more closely at the bush and ferns than before. The bank on our right is one mass of ferns and lycbpodium; in every sheltered nook we see the lovely Prince of Wales Feather ferns (Todia Superba) with their soft moss-green fronds; all kinds of ferns and native trees, many of them quite new to us, we find growing in great luxuriance. Every curve of the road is a picture in itself, with the little waterfall tumbling down to theriver ■below, among huge mosscovered boulders, between banks overgrown with ferns. The air is very cool and fresh, and the odour of the bush lingers round us. We reach Lyeil, where we change horses, about J 0.30 a.m., and are very glaa.of a : cup of tea. The town consists of one street (the coach road), the houses being, perched on the side of the hill facing the road. We are now right in the gold-mining district, and all the way down the river see signs of the miners. In some places there are cages worked on wires by which to cross 'the river to their huts on the othgr side. As the river lies many feet belOWv rushing, swiftly among the rocks and- boulders, it does not look a pleasant undertaking. The drive downhill is steep, the road is narrow and overhung .by bush, and far below us is the river. We pass the hut of " Biddy of the Buller," who comes out as the coach drives by. For nearly twentyfive years she has earned her living by picking gold in the river, and is now quite a recognised character. As we travel onwards the river widens and flows more smoothly; indeed, from Lyell to the mouth it is navigable for canoes. As it twists and turns in its course, great bluffs, with bush growing to the water's edge, stand out like huge castles with turrets on each side. Words fail to describe the wonderful beauty of it all, which needs to be seen and felt to be understood. (To be continued.)

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