TOE OLD COACHING DAYS

Otago Daily Times, Issue 20087, 2 May 1927, Page 3

TOE OLD COACHING DAYS

INTERESTING REMINISCENCES. Written for the Otago Daily Times By McBB.iT Thomsok. T)m journey to Clyde to-day is made m> easy by the present mode of transit, frhni. on© forgets the inconvenience that the traveller had to endure before the advent of the railway and the luxurious motor car. Fifty-one years ago, when I pi ad a my first trip to Clyde, passengers and mails were carried by the old and well-known firm of Cobb and Co., whose well-built coaches, good teams of horses, and experienced drivers carried thousands of passengers in safety to all parts of the province. Cobb’s headquarters were in Stafford street, in a big yard right opposite the present site of Kempthorne, Prosser's warehouse. The stables were extensive and well built, including harness jooms, lofts for food, and large sheds for housing the coaches. Her© also was a shoeing forge where men were busy making shoes and shoeing horses, spare horses and coaches being required to be ready at any moment to take the road. Then there was a well-conducted coach factory, where the coaches were built and repaired. Upstairs, facing Stafford street, was a large paint shop, at the back of which Was the trimming shop, where were mad© all the curtains, cushions, leather springs, and harness; here also was the repair shop. Though the staff was not large—some 20 afl told —yet a great amount of work was put through, and at one time a good deaf of work connected with fire brigades in different parts ol New Zealand was done. In all branches the best of material was used, the timber, oak, ash, and hickory being imported direct from America. The work having to be as light os possible all the workmen had to be and were the best bodymakers, wheelwrights, coachsmiths, etc., that were to be obtained. The booking office from which the coaches started was at first utuated at the south corner of Stafford and Princes street, afterwards fox a time at the old Empire Hotel (now the Grand), and finally in the old Commercial Bank, next to Wain’s Hotel, in Manse street. From here, coaches left every morning for north and south connecting with other coaches which ran to different parts of the province. Passengers could book their passagp right through to Invercargill or Christchurch. A staff of grooms under a competent manager saw that all coaches and teams left the yard in good running order. It was from the latter starting point, .Manse street, that the writer in the last week o December, 1875, found himself, along with about 20 others, waiting to get on board the north coach, which, punctually at 6.30 s.m., appeared round the comer of Stafford street, in charge of that famous whip, “Ned” Devine. In a remarkably abort time the staff, under the direction of William Pitman (“Billy”) had all the mails, papers, parcels, etc., stowed away. At 7 a.m. Sharp all was ready. The passengers were seated; the grooms held the horses’ heads. “Let them go,” shouted Ned. The grooms stepped aside, and away went the six greys in grand style, round the corner into High street, and down into Princes street. It was a bright morning, and the coach, with its wellgroomed horses, polished harness, and crowd of passengers was a sight as it passed down Princes street and George street. It pulled up at M’Gavin’s White Horse Hotel to pick up more passengers, among whom wer© Sir Dillon and Lady Bell and their son, who were returning to their home at Coal Greek, Waihemo. Leaving here we turned into King street at a four speed, then down the North-East Valley, and up to the Junction Hotel, where a man waited with buckets of water for th© panting horses. We then trotted along a fine length of road that would pard to beat in any part of Now Zealand. The great pine trees in the virgin bush towered over our heads, making a sight not easily forgotten. This passed, wi found ourselves driving down the hill t< Blneskin. As only a master whip could, Ned, without easing his speed, guided hi team round the big bend at the water troughs. At the old Blneskin Hotel we pulled up. Here Ned Russell, groom in charge, waited with a team of fresh horses. In a few minutes Devine’s voice rang out, “All aboard! Let them go,’’ and we were off on our second stage to Waikouaiti. Our fresh horses, a fine chestnut team, soon settled down to work, and went bowling at a great rate round the head of Blueskin Bay, passing Evansdale en route. Kilmog Hill was next climbed, and then we were off at a good rattle down the other side to Merton. Pulling up at Brunton’s accommodation house w© picked ud another passenger. At 10 o’clock we pulled up at Waikouaiti and were soon breakfasting at the Golden Fleece Hotel. After a brief but enjoyable repast provided by host James, “All aboard!” hurried ns from the table, and with another fresh team of six horses we were soon off on our third stage of nine miles to Palmerston.

The day was bright, and the stage waa a most enjoyable one. At every farm all hands turned out to see the coach and to give a friendly wave as we hurried past. Some waited by the roadside to pick up the Otago Daily Times, thrown from the coach as wo hurled along. FlagSwamp and Pleasant Valley were left behind, and we soon found ourselves running into Palmerston to Gilligam’s Northwestern Hotel. Being holiday time quite a crowd of people were awaiting our arrival, some to meet friends and all to pick up the morning paper. Palmerston before the advent of the railway was quite a busy place, being the chief town of the Waihemo. County. There the farmers of the surrounding district did all their marketing, and on this particular day there was quite a gathering of horses and riders, eingle and doable buggies, dog carts and spring carts. These were scattered through the township, giving the place a very busy appearance. Several wagoners were making this a halting place by the way, and refreshing their 10-horse teams. Here we parted with our coach. Two smaller ones were in waiting, one bound for Oamaru and the other for Clyde. After the horses were taken out, the different drivers’ assistants, helped by some of the passengers, transferred the mails, papers, and luggage to the smaller coaches. In less than half an hour all was ready. Most of the passengers got into the Oamaru coach, which was driven by Jimmy Duncan. Ned Devine, with the smaller coach and a fourhorse team, again started off with us on our next stage to Waihemo, a rather long stage of 18 miles. Soon the country had taken on a very changed appearance. The hills were brown and bare, the landscape being relieved just her© and there with the green of the few patches under cultivation. The drive up Shag Valley was most interesting. After the first fording of the river at the Grange we made a gradual ascent, pas ng first the Black Pinch and then the bailor's Cutting, this latter being so called from the number of runaway sailors who found employment there during the rush to the diggings. We were soon on the flat on the other side. Hero the Shag River make a big bend, and wo had <o ford It twice in a distance, of about SCO yards. In this bend between the two fords was the Two E : vers Hotel, built by a man called Dean. A short, distance further on Ned jailed up at the gate of the Coal Creek Station, where wc bade good-bye to our fellow-passengers, Sir Dillon and Lady Bell and son. The horses were whipped up, and in a few minutes, Ned pulled up at the Waihemo Hotel, a building constructed of stone from Green Valley, in the neighbourhood. After dote# justice to a very fine dinner provided by the proprietor, Mr Luke, wo were invited into an adjoinin'? orchard, belonging to our host, and helped ourselves to ns imr'the luscious fruit as we could eat. The now familiar call from Ned made us hurry for the coach, and with another fresh team wo were soon off on the last stage for the day, a distance of 12 miles, with Pigroot nt* the end of it. Although this waa the roughest stage of the journey, there being; little level road, all was very interesting.

After passing Morrison’* old accommodation house we gradually ascended the .Brothers Hill, a height of 17C0ft. A down-hill grade for a few miles brought us in sight of the Pigroot. Here w© all jumped out and enjoyed the luxury of stretching our legs, after the long cramped position in the coach. On this stage wo passed several road wagons drawli by their eight or 10-horso teams, toiling along on their wearisome way. It was no uncommon thing for a wagon to be bogged in the mud on the roads, or stuck up on a hillside, which had proved too much for the tired team, so for mutual safety they travelled in pairs, double banking, as the wagoner said, when necessary. The coach was the boss of the road, and it was good to see the wagoners hurriedly drawing aside to let it pass. Cheery words were exchanged between drivers and passengers, and soon the heavy lumbering wagons were lost’ in the distance. The old road wagoners were on the whole a fine, hospitable type of man. Many a weary, footsore traveller had cause to thank a sympathetic wagoner for a lift on his long journey and a night’s hospitality by a cheery camp fire. Only men with big hearts and plenty of pluck would undertake to pilot in all sorts of weather these heavily laden, cumbrous, old structures over the boggy, unmetalled roads the-- had to traverse. These heroes ol the road never failed to make their journey. Their remuneration was not great; they carried about four tons, for which they got anything from £8 a ton, but at the time of the Dunstan rush as high as £IOO a ton was paid. At Pigroot, the hotel, a low one-storeyed building, stood in solitary grandeur beside a prattling stream in a picturesque valley among the mountains. Hundreds of travellers from Dunedin to up-country townships must remember with gratitude the good fare and comfortable accommodation provided by their good hosts, Mr and Mrs Freeland. Often their accommodation was taxed to the full, but they always - managed to bed and sup all that came along. In those days the Pigroot was a busy halting place. Sometimes the number of wagoners camped round about made the place look like a veritable canvas town. The arrival of the gold escort, with perhaps thousands of ounces of gold, always created some excitement. The gold was in cast-iron boxes fastened under the centre seat of the coach. The escort troopers kept guard all night, using the front verandah of the hotel as a sentry box.

While we were loitering round, waiting for dinner, the down coach rattled in. The reins were in the capable hands of a noted driver—Henry Albert Nettlofold, known as “Harry.” To-day one does not think of Ned Devine without recalling Harry Nettlefold. On this occasion Harry had a full coach of merry travellers, most of whom were light-hearted diggers with well-filled purses of gold. They were on their way to Dunedin to enjoy the Caledonian Games and other New Year festivities, and, incidentally, to empty their purses, when they would return once more to draw from mother earth their hard-won gold. The dinner bell rang, and soon all were seated at the well-filled board. Ned Devine sat at the head, and this being the festive season of the year, Mrs Freeiana had provided a fat roast turkey, which Ned carved in a moat masterly style. We were entertained by jokes and stories from the two drivers, and by the talk of the light-hearted diggers, who, no doubt, had bad a very satisfactory Christmas washup. We were loath to leave such jovial company, but as our coach started at an early hour in the morning most of the passengers went off to bed, but none to sleep. The walls were thin, and the continual chatter kept us awake till the small hours of the morning. We were up at 5 o'clock, and after a hurried wash and a hasty cup of coffee, we hurried out and found Harry Nettlefold already in the driving seat, and the horses eager to get away. Harry’s ‘‘All aboard,’’ hurried ub on, and with a hearty good-bye to Ned Devine we were away on our first stao-o for the day, a distance of 12 miles to the Kyeburn. The morning air was bracing, our horses were fresh, and we made good time up the Pigroot hill. Wo soon topped the large ridge of the watershed of the Shag and the Taieri River. ' Here Ncttlafold pointed out a long length of wooden fluming which he explained was part of a scheme that failed to bring down water from the head of the Shag to the deep sinking at Hyde. A miscalculation was made in taking the levels, and the scheme was abandoned, the wooden fluming remaining as a monument to somebody’s mistake. As we descended. a fine panorama of the Maniototo gradually unfolded before us, with Rough Ridge and Rugged Ridge away in the distance. The morning sun was gradually dispersing the fog from the hills, the whole making a very fine sight indeed. After .crossing the Swineburn we ran along a pretty length of level road which brought us to the Kyeburn River. The water reached no higher than the horses’ knees, and we had no difficulty in crossing. We pulled up at Malloch’s Kyeburn Hotel, where we again changed horses, then set off for Nnseby, a distance of 15 miles. Here we had barely time to view the wonderful terrace of waterworn sand or gravel on the right bank of the river when the old familiar call “All aboard” made us hurry for our seats on the coach. The road now turned to the north, following a long ridge covered with silver tussock. On this stage wc met only one human being, a horseman up from Scobie Mackenzie’s Kyeburn Station, who was waiting for the mailbag and other packages. We exchanged the season’s greetings, and with breakfast in view at Naseby, we sped on through monotonous tussock country, with the grand mountain scenery in the distance. The eye could easily follow the Kyeburn River right up to the gorge, some six or seven miles distant, with Mt. Kyeburn 5500 ft high towering above, while the Mount Ida Range ran away to the right above Naseby. Further away to the left rose the Rock and Pillar and other high lands. It is 51 years since I viewed this sight, and I can still recall it, so great was the impression it made on me. Home Gully was crossed, and we were soon on the top of the hill above Naseby. We wound down the road, and the town lay at our feet looking very inviting in the warm sunshine.

Running up tbe main street, we turned in at Ned Oswells Royal Hotel, where our appetites, sharpened by onr early ride, did full justice to the royal breakfast which awaited us. Breakfast finished, we wandered up and down the main street, the most striking feature of which was the large number of hotels that seemed to carry on a profitable business. Nnsoby was at this time n thriving mining town. Many thousands of ounces of gold were won from the surrounding claims, perhaps the most noted being the Buster claim, 3000 ft up on Mount Ida Range, and the Dead Level Company's claim on the same level as the township. On returning to the hotel, we found Nettlefold on the box, gathering In the reins of his four fresh horses and ready for the start. Wc were soon seated, and with friendly wave of hands from the onlookers, wc set off on our seventh stage to Hill's Creek. Wc had a fine run over the Maniototo Plains, extending several miles to the hills on onr left, while the Mount Ida Range lay close on our right. On this part of the journey Nettefold was in a talkative mood. He pointed out all the places of interest, and told tough yarns of his own past adventures in this part of the country.

We pulled up at Woodney’s Eden Creek Hotel, where, after horse and man had been refreshed, we trotted down to the Ewebnrn Crossing, climbed up to the neck of the Rough Ridge, and then down again to the head of the Ida Valley, where we nulled up at Drysdale's for a few minutes’ spell. At Inder's Hill's Creek Hotel, at, the top of the next ridge, horses were again changed, and the road led down a gentle slope to the Manuherikin Valley, passing Holland’s station on the left. At our first fording of the Manuherikia the river was mnch swollen owing to the melting of the snow on the hills, but without a

moment’s hesitation, our Jehu put his horses to the ford, and although we shipped a little water where the shingle had been scooped out by the force of the stream, we reached the far side without mishap. A pleasant run down the valley, with the Dunstan Range on our right and the Blackstone Hill on our left, brought us to Beck’s, where wo pulled up at the White House Hotel. Here w© sat down to a well-remembered dinner of roast lamb Harry had addressed as the representative good-byo to two of our fellow-passengers who were bound tor the Drypread diggings, one of them having an interest in the Blue Duck sluicing daim. Drybrcad was named by a Finn, who complained that the diggings were so poor that he made only “dry bread” out of it. Starting with another fresh team, Becks was soon far behind, and after crossing the Manuherikia for a second time we reached Blacks. Whil© the horses were emptying their buckets, we were all interested in a heated argument between our coachman and a short dark man that Harry had addrssed as the representative of the Bank of New Zealand. It was evident that Harry was getting the worst of it, so using the advantage at hand, he whipped up his horses and postponed the argument tor another day. Another passenger had joined us at Blacks, Mr Janie? Tyrrell, master plumber, of Clyde, who had been fitting up in one of the residences a bath, a great luxury in these days. After fording th© Manuherikia for the third time, we travelled over some rough country, where we saw for the first time our now ever present “bunny.” I now r n call that the majority of these rabbits were not grey coloured as new, but were brownish and ginger coloured. Wo were now working down the river valley, the river being away on' our left. At Chatto Creek we pulled up for our last change of horses, The road from Chatto Creek to Clyde was in good condition. Nettlefold and Tyrrell pointed out and named the surrounding hills and mountains, and vied with each other in telling tales of hardships endured by drivers and passengers in the rush for gold in the early days. Here also we were show ■ the crossing of the Manuherikia at Campbell’s station, where the old Rock and Pillar road emerged from the hills. Tn the early days this was the regular road for wagons and coaches. From Dunedin, it passed through Outram and passed over Maungatua and the shoulder of the Rock and Pillar. The road was a short cut, but being very rough it was abandoned when the Dunedin-Palmerston road was opened. The end of our journey was now in sight—Clyde at last. Wo pnlled up at Hawthorn's Hotel at 7 o’clock, and -.the landlord met ns in person. Nettlefold and our two remaining fellow-passengers were taking up quarters at another hotel, so wc said good-bye, and were soon enjoying a very welcome tea, served in good style by the lady of the house.

Thus ended our never-to-be-forgotten trip. In spite of minor discomforts, we enjoyed every part of the way. The journey covered two long days. The roads, though dry, were full of ruts, over which the coach rattled and bumped along—yes, bumped so badly sometimes that one had to hold on to the seat to save his head from being brought into contact with the roof of the coach. Horses were changed ten times, 46 horses in all being used to do the trip. Fifty-one years is a long time to look back, and I trust that any slips of memory will be overlooked, and that my humble attempt to recall the good old coaching days in Otago will be read with some interest by others who, like myself, still remember with delight the genial drivers who, in all seasons of the year, over the worst of roads and through swollen, treacherous rivers, carried their human freight, mails, etc., safely, though sometimes very late, to the desired haven. Reverently I raise my hat to those daring coachdrivers and wagon drivers who may still bo with us, and wish them a happy and easy end to their long journey.