PALMERSTON NORTH TO FOXTON BY CANOE.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1247, 23 January 1896, Page 11

PALMERSTON NORTH TO FOXTON BY CANOE.

(Written for the New Zealand Mail.) It had long been the desire of the writer to make a trip down the Manawatu River to its mouth, and the fact that very few pakehas had ever attempted it, and those that had reported all sorts of difficulties to be met with down stream, only made me the more eager to try my luck.

Accordingly last Christmas, having a couple of days’ holiday, two friends and myself determined to risk any danger there might be lying in wait for us, and made arrangements to start on the 25th. At first we thought of relying on our own knowledge of boats and rivers to carry us through, but the advice of the one or two persons who had undertaken the trip was not to attempt it unless we had a really competent canoeist with the party as steersman. This advice was nearly the means of our abandoning the trip, but an offer came from Foxton of canoe and canoeist which was of such a nature as to be quickly accepted. The canoe was brought from that place in the train and landed at the Awapuni station, as it was very advisable to avoid the river course from the Palmerston North bridge to Awapuni. Here we were in some doubt as to the best road to take to launch our craft, there seeming to be three roads to the river : that past Mr Slack’s, the Lake road, and Mr Waldegrave’s, the last being chosen after a consultation.

A canoe is an awkward thing to carry in a waggon, and so we found, though luckily we managed to get it down to the river without mishap, though not without some doubt as to wnether we were not taking the worst road after all. Having decided to start at daybreak, we camped the previous night on the river bank. Here we were soon discovered by a large crowd of very animated mosquitos, who were more hungry than we had ever thought it possible for animals to be, risking life rashly in their greed for human blood.

Though tired and sleepy, we were not so discourteous as to sleep in the presence of our visitors, so smoked and rubbed our limbs until daylight, entertaining our little friends with sundry encouraging epitaphs. These mosquitoes are of a generous nature, for having broached us and found us “ not wanting," they hurried off for all their sisters, cousins and aunts, and towards morning we found ourselves so much admired and by such a large number that we were glad when at 4 o’clock our captain advised a dip in the river, breakfast, and then off. Pushing clear of the shore about 5 a.m. our eyes were soon opened to the necessity for having an experienced man as steersman, as it was evident that, for some miles at any rate, we were in for a picnic. Our captain, however, soon got our full confidence by the masterly manner in which he shot down the various rapids, avoided snags, dodged boulders, etc. The first serious rapid we encountered was close to the Longburn railway bridge, and here our captain landed and made a tour on foot to satisfy himself on the beßt channel, though the best to us was decidedly nasty, and we thought that we certainly would never attempt to shoot it—snags right across the river with but a small space between each, some under, some above water, the current running at a terrific rate right on to them. However, we were soon told that it was all right, and ordered to “ send her along all we knew," and away we shot, paddling our hardest, down towards the rapids. We had some doubt as to the result, but hadn’t time to remain in that state long, as the rapid was right in front of us, a rushing, angry sound, threatening snags all round, and, great Scott! we could now see a log under the water a few inches which it would be impossible to avoid, but our steersman was aware of it, and urging us to “ send her along now," he sent the canoe right over the log, between the snags, and after a sharp turn or two, into deep smooth water beyond, and at i such a rate were we going, that, although * we shot oyer the top of the log, we ex- j perienced no shock and the canoe no harm. The river for some considerable distance’ down is a repetition of these rapids. For the benefit of the unacquainted, it might be explained that, although the chief thg rnpids. danger is;

mostly the danger of getting wet and losing one’s property, and not so much life. At the rapids the water is shallow and if capsized the chances are all would land on their feet.

However, if future canoeists will take advantage of our experience, our one piece of advice is this : before starting secure everything firmly to your canoe, food, baggage, etc., tie it all down, make your packages as water-tight as you can, and you can then rest assured that if you capsize you won’t lose anything, and all you have to do is to look after yourself and canoe; otherwise you may have the pleasure of seeing your baggage go rushing down stream at twenty or thirty miles an hour, hopelessly lost, as after getting thoroughly wet they almost invariably sink.

Leaving Longburn we went on at a good rate towards Kerere. The scenery during the first part of the journey is not of a very interesting character, and it is just as well for the canoeist, perhaps, that it is not, because he has no time here to admire scenery, he must be all eyes. The river was particularly low during our trip, and on this account we encountered more snags than we otherwise would have done. At one or two rapids we got out and pushed the canoe over the shallows. At first we took our boots off for this purpose, but the stony bed of the river made walking barefooted most painful and we soon decided to keep our boots on when walking in or out of the water. Snags and rapids down through Karere, in and out and round about, a very winding river indeed. One very bad rapid confronted us here and we got out and with a little hauling and guiding got into deep water again.

Near Mr Munro’s place we had a slight mishap, which detained us for over an hour and resulted in the loss of some of our loose packages. This happened at rather an easy part of the river, and through a misunderstanding between our look-out and the steersman. However, more alert and careful than ever, we pushed off again, and near Jackeytown came to some ugly rapids. , At this point the river divides into two streams, one half taking to the right and the other the left, meeting again half a mile further down, and thereby forming (when not in flood) a sand island of some extent. Here we paddled ashore to reconnoitre and ascertain which half of the river to take, but while still considering we came across a human being, the first we had seen on our trip, who advised for the right side. This we took, though we had to be particularly careful, the rate at which the current was flowing and the number of snags all round making it one of the nastiest bits of the river we had to encounter. However we got out once and with the help of our pointer managed to navigate our craft through the difficulties. On leaving Jackeytown the river improves, and after about an hour’s paddling you say good-bye to the rapids and the worst of the snags, and find yourself gliding peacefully along a quiet stream wooded on both sides, and here the tim’d can “rest on their paddles" and djjfc gratulate themselves that all the dangS is behind them. Danger it is, perhaps,” to those who can’t swim, but exciting, pleasurable danger. °

So charming does the river get as you proceed that you soon forget the little early troubles you have had, and hardly realise that it is the same stream upon which you started.

At Oropa Bridge there is a grand stretch of water, banks are well wooded on both sides, and here there are some delightful picnic spots. Paddling on we came to several Maori whares, the occupants of which were stretched in the shade on the bank or swimming in the stream. A passing “tenakoe,"“ Me°lly Klismas," or some good-natured barrack helped to vary the pleasant monotony of the trip. What one does see when without a gun! Bad shots as most of us probably were, I’m sure we could have shown a very creditable bag before we finished our journey. Ducks innumerable, black swan and native birds at almost every bend of the river. At Oroua Bridge we came upon a native fording the river, who upon closer acquaintance, proved to be old . The banks are rather steep here for good fording, and so found for when attempting to ride his horse up the i bank after landing the ground jumped up and struck both horse and rider, much to their mutual disgust. Paddling along one bend in the river where apparently all was sunshine and solitude, we were startled to hear all at once from the bushes the query, “ Where you flum fiom ?" Looking up we espied a dusky face peering down at us in some surprise, which increased considerably when we replied “ Palma tona." Evidently an unusual thing to see canoeists from Chicago. About three o’clock we came to the spot er ® Oroua River empties itself into the Manawatu. Solitude here reigned supreme, and everything to our eyes looked gloomy and desolate. The banks are high here without foliage, the river broad and slightly choppy. A house and sheds on the right bank, which, being empty only added to the dreariness of the spot, not a human being in sight or a sound to be heard, except a rather loud snore every now and then from our lookout, who had succumbed to the heat and comfortably to oblivion in the bow of the canoe, Qn again irjto tier bends, past empty huts and sheds, some of which had not so very long ago been humming At about four o’clock we ran where we hour, There

a ferry here, but at present it is laid up for repairs. From this on the river is a succession of delightful bends lined with willows and native bush on either sides Past Barber’s Himutangi and on to Motua, where the natives were holding fece ; canoe races, horseraces, man races and a good dinner, all for two shillings. Almost at every, bend we passed canoes tied to the bank under the willows, showing the means of navigation used by the inhabitants on the bank,. and for a comfortable easy boat commend me to the Maori canoe. I Having a moon we travelled in the i evening, gliding down quietly, sometimes paddling, sometimes lazily admiring the ever-changing scenes until nine p.m., when the Shannon ferry- gradually j appeared to view, first the house and j sheds on the bank, then the 'ferry poles, [ finally the wire across the river. One can j understand the winding nature of the. river from the fact that from Shannon to | the ferry is only a little over a mile, i Here we campei for the night. j Hearing the noise made by us on the , ferry in emptying our canoe, Mr P , the genial ferryman, was roused from his slumbers, and, being somewhat surprised, asked what the mischief we were doing down there. Evidently satisfied when we told him we were “ taking away the ferry," he waited until we climbed the bank, and after a few enquiries he led the way to his house, and with the help of a most opportune and appreciated tumbler of toddy made us feel quite at home. We were evidently expected, as no sooner were we inside than hundreds, thousands, nay, millions of mosquitoes rushed at us, and so systematically did they proceed to business, some regiments taking the face, others the arms, legs and so on, that wo were glad to bid our host good night and seek the darkness of a shed placed at our disposal for camping in, where we were agreeably surprised to find our little enemies very scarce. Being a believer in evolution, it struck me very forcibly that, fudging from their numbers, the Chinese Jjjjigt at one time all have been mosquitoes. While I was considering this a young Chinaman was biting me, and I only hope I didn’t interfere with the proper evolutionary course", but I killed that mosquito." Bising before five we found our host Mr’ P already up, with an offer of a cup of a snack which was gratefully accepted/ It isi on a. trip like ours that the old maxi.'H strikes home “Better have a friend on the road than .gold or silver in your purse." Pushing off again shortly after five a.m., we paddled contently along humming snatches of songs, telling yarns, and being generally merry. About seven a.m. we turned into very pretty bend of the stream on the right bank of which is Mr Gardner’s house and flaxmill. Here there is another ferry, the successor evidently of an oldtime river cage, the receptacle house for which is still standing, Gardner’s to Foxton by river is about twelve miles. From this point down we found dozens of little fish floating- on the top of the water. We came to the son- ■ elusion that they had been killed by th& from the flaxmills deposited in river at various points. r again, native bush and willows linin T *° osfc of fche river * until we & radu ’ allv 'cared wbat is exiled the Bong Beach ,'vhere the river keeps a straight; course fc' r three miles', and a beautiful reach it is a broad sheet of water, willows on both side % cattle sleeping on the banks or walking di a watar near the willows day when Foxton grows in to 8 ' a thinks Bong Beach will be fan.^** 3 regattas, as nature has evident., V designed jt for that purpose. At the ernT ‘thus reaeh is situated the "Wirokino xP orry under the . charge of Mr Hillary Wishing that gentleman the complimen 'f* kbe season we passed on. Turning a tve found we had a favourable br. towards Foxton, seeing which our cap tsin .opened out the sails and away we n e W, pavi Simmonds’, the look-out hill With w© telegraph post on top, the Maori village on the left bank, and on tp Foxton j J® full view situated on the right t'unk. i Near the Maori village we passed an native up to his chest in water sawing & . tree, and a comical sight it was too, none | of the tree visible, the whole saw being immersed in water, except the handle, which at every stroke bobbed out of the water for a second. Seeing the perspiration running down the native’s face we generously offered advice and called out to him to “ oil his saw." This brought : him to a full stop for about a minute, during which a puzzled expression was J plainly visible on his face, and then with a far away look: in his eyes, as if he had never seen or heard us, he went on. with bis novel occupation. A ketch, the Emma Sims, was along- *• s j L le the wharf, flying all her bunting in hon our either of Boxing. Day or our arriv We took it to be the latter and cracio twly raised our hats ; then passing the boa * shed we carae t 0 a ‘ final halt near the wha'rf, with a keen feeling of satisfaction on having done the trip and finding It worth i'oing. and regret to think that 11 ■ not the pleasantest trip we had 01 ’Jjt was at an. end. Distance travelled Ibc'nt sweaty miles.—J. C, McC. -