NEW SCENIC TRIP

Otago Daily Times, Issue 21976, 10 June 1933, Page 7

NEW SCENIC TRIP

HEART OF FIORDLAND MANAPOURI-MIDDLE FIORDS . By E. E. Muir. ii. Where'er we gaze, around, above, below, What rainbow tints, what magic charing are found! Rock, river, forest, mountain all abound. And bluest skies that harmonise the whole. —Byron. Are there any virgin forests still left in New Zealand, forests which have been in no way interfered with by the depredations of the white man and the ravages of plant-eating, animals, and which flourish as Captain Cook first saw them in 1773, the rarest and most

fojrests in the whole world? Among those who are conversant \ with the present-day conditions of our native flora there are few who would care to answer that queetion in the affirmative. , Owing to- the steadily-increasing penetration of deer, cattle, and goats, it has been doubtful whether any such forests remain even inj' Fiordland. It will, therefore, come as a'pleasant surprise to many people: to learn that in the hinterland of Lakes Manapouri and Te Anau virgin forests still adorn the freeman and Camelqt Valleys, and that, owing to the cutting of the new track of 29 miles from the North Arm of Lake Manapouri to ‘ the Gaer Arm of Bradshaw Sound, it is possible ndw to inspect them at leisure in all their 'pristine glory. - - BEAUTIES OF THE FREEMAN ' CANYON. ■. In going over the new sound trip of 110 miles which has-thus been opened

up between Lake Manapouri and the Middle Fiords, the actual heart of Fiordland, it was, therefore, not without a feeling of elation that one set foot on the new track at the head of the North Arm of Lake Manapouri, and, except for the cutting of the track, found the forest in its original, state,, wholly unspoiled byman or beast, and in such a wonderfully beautiful setting. And the further one progressed along the track and saw the hitherto untold splendours of that extraordinary canyon—for it is that and nothing less—the more that feeling of elation grew. Here was a scenic paradise unequalled along any other scenic track in New Zealand, surpassing even the Milford Track, which, till now, has ranked as “ the finest walk in the world,” but along which the forest undergrowth in the past has been so much destroyed by cattle and goats. The Freeman Canyon, which runs north for about 16 miles and then west for about a mile until it is walled across by Fowler Pass (3200 ft), is about a quarter to a third of a mile in width, and is enclosed on both sides by precipitous mountain ranges, unmapped, unnamed, and unclirabed, averaging, perhaps, 5000 ft in height with one or two peaks reaching, | possibly, 6000 ft. Below the 3000 ft line it j is clothed in dense beech forest of the most luxuriant description, and through J it winds the beautiful Freeman River,

which is remarkable for the richness of its colourings. It was a perfect day—brilliant, warm sunshine with clear blue sky, and, at first, a faint, fitful breeze, which soon died away. While all around stately trees, notable for their straight barrels, perfect symmetry, and lovely foliage, reared their heads 70ft and 80ft above us, and some of them rose even 'higher, golden shafts of sunlight streamed down between their branches, creating the rarest visions of loveliness, and revealing in all its delicate beauty the, richly-carpeted floor of many varieties and shades of mosses and ferns, all growing in the wildest profusion, and studded with jewels in the form of beads of moisture which sparkled as they caught the sun’s rays. Here and there fallen monarchS, cowered with mosses and ferns, lay rotting away, providing sustenance for the new, while ail around young trees were growing up ready to take their turn in “ the scheme of things.”

REMARKABLE MOUNTAIN WALL. Peering up, through the handsome foliage one caught fascinating glimpses of the mightly mountain wall on the left, rising sheer for 2000 ft or so, bearing only the scantiest vegetation in places, and being surmounted by a series, of magnificent naked granite peaks, mostly wedge-shaped and facing broadside on, which glittered in the sunlight against the azure sky. It was not the peaks that were so astonishing, however, but this amazing mountain wall, which, apparently unbroken, ran seemingly in a straight line continuously for seven? or eight miles! It appeared as though it had been sliced down by a knife the whole way, and in one blow. The writer, who had seen something of the Southern and had been over the Milford Track five years before, being specially impressed with the mighty wall of Mount Balloon at the head of. the Clinton Canyon, had never seen anything like it before, and wishes he had had more time to confirm Iris impression. -The range on the right, though mostly precipitous, and crowned by many fine peaks, ran in and out more, and was clad wholly in bush and scrub up to the snow line, and was, adorned by several noble waterfalls, which, in milk-white foam, fell from great heights for many hundreds of feet.

LOVELY COLOURINGS OF THE ! , RIVER. Then there was the river, the most beautiful the writer had ever seenj far surpassing in his opinion the Clinton River on the Milford Track. Averaging 80 feet to 100 feet in width along the lower portion of the canyon, some eight miles in length, it is decorated on both banks by stately beech trees, their branches reaching far out over its waters, which, running crystal clear, reflect the most vivid and delicate shades of green, splashed here and there with sunlight, and’ so wonderfully shaded’ oif, the one into the other, as to evoke constant admiration. No artist could possibly paint such studies in all the varying shades of green, or even • hope to reconvey to human eyes their wonderful sheen. From special points of vantage one was able to obtain memorable vistas of long reaches of the river and of the canyon in all

its magnificent grandeur. . At one spot, far away, the strange Turret Range, flanking the West Arm of Lake Manapouri, could be seen. . . . Though not as abundant as one hoped for, the native birds were fairly plentiful. Now and again we saw paradise ducks, blue ducks, occasional bellbirds, tuis, and kakag, tomtits, fantails, a few parakeets, a robin or two, bush canaries, grey warblers, and pigeons, and we were privileged to hear some of them in song mingling their notes with the voices of the gently-flowing river rushing streams, and tumbling waterfalls. ■Occasionally we heard the call of wekae, but did not see any, and from far up among the mountain tops came,the mournful cries of the keas. The tomtits, those silent friends of the New Zealand forest, were always in evidence, and welcomed us as friends, and several flocks of bush canaries or yellowheads, after the manner of the whiteheads on Little Barnet’ Island, came to inspect us, twittering, and peep, ' peep, peeping down through the densest foliage they could find. A “ BRIDGE ” OF THRILLS. Amid such delights of Nature it was not surprising that one was thrilled, but there' were' thrills of quite a different description awaiting us. “Pioneering has its drawbacks. About miles up we had to cross the river. There was, of course, a “bridge,” but it was a bridge in name only, comprising two strands of ordinary fencing_ wire bound together as one upon which a Person sidled across on his feet, and two additional strands, elbow high, placed on either side for gripping with each hand as aids, to maintaining, a perpendicular position.' The passage of this ‘ bridge, erected about 20 feet above the river, could certainly be regarded with the satisfaction of “ something attempted, something done.” The other members of the party negotiated it quite easily, but the writer confesses that, after one not very bold A graceful attempt, he gave the “bridge” best, and preferred to ford the river! Finding a suitable ford some way down,, with water only up to the knees, though there was a strong current flowing, he got across without mishap, and then had quite an interesting time struggling through the virgin undergrowth until he got back on to the track. Had the river been high, such a fording, naturally, would have been impossible, ana for the benefit of future Hampers it will, perhaps, be acceptable information that substantial plank and wire bridges are now being built over this and the second crossing (about two miles further up) of the Freeman River, and also over the Camelot River where .similar string bridges at present exist. CHARACTER OF VALLEY CHANGES.

Taking numerous photographs en route we reached the first camp, five miles up the river, at 1.15 p.m.. and the second camp, seven and a-half miles, the end of the first day’s stage, at 2.45 p.m., where we had lunch, and then, owing to the sleeping bags being at the high camp, proceeded on the second stage of eight miles. Half a mile beyond the second camp, at an elevation of about 1000 ft (which, in a distance of eight miles from the mouth of the Freeman River, involves an “ascent” of only 400 ft from the level of Lake Manapouri), the whole charactm of the canyon immediately changes, ifie unnamed range on the left ends abruptly in a very deep, dark, and narrow gorge (“really rough stuff,” said Les. Murrell, who, with others, cut the track) out of which flows the Gilmour Burn into the Freeman River, while the freeman River itself takes a half-turn to the right into another weird gorge, about a mile or so in length, and then in the form of a huge letter “S” winds through the mountains to Lakes Freeman.and Mmem (2400 ft) and Fowler Pass (3200tt). .On the left of the Freeman River gorge rises another bold mountain mass (about 5000 ft), which ascends from the nve* bed in another sheer and absolutely straight precipice, like the facade of < buildiii", for 2000 feet or more, while on the right the valley floor narrows and rises abruptly 1000 ft into an elevated shelf, about 300 ft to 400 ft wide, and m a switchback formation, with drops ot from 400 ft to 500tt and less, follows the course of the river up to Lake Mmem with bold granite peaks, many of them vertical, sticking up on either side' en route for thousands of feet. Crossing the river, for the second time below the Gilmour and Freeman Goiges —the writer again preferred the told—we immediately commenced -the steep ascent of 1000 ft up through the dense forest on to “ The Switchback, ’ and, now among mountain scrub, came out upon an outcrop of rock ( Look-out Point ). There we obtained magnificent views of the lower Freeman Canyon, the weird, wild, dark, and narrow Gilmour and Freeman Gorges, and of the mighty precipice and mountain mass opposite, which, about a mile further on, plunged into still another huge abyss, revealing on its north side a still higher mountain range running west and jutting in at right angles into the Upper Freeman Valley and terminating in a hold peak which .we called “The Flat Iron” because of its shape. This range boro some fine snowfields, and

a series of bold, crappy peaks which, judging by the snowfields below them, must be about GOOOft iu height. CHASMS, MOSSES. AND WATERFALLS. It was 5 p.m. On the elevated shelf at the commencement of “ The Switchback ” we were in the shadow of the mountain massif opposite, and looked down into the dark and fearsome chasm where the unseen river roared 1000 ft below. There must bo some magnificent photographs to lie obtained ,down there when the morning sunlight for a brief space fills the gorge, but it will be an adventurous photographer who gets them. Where they faced west the granite peaks soaring above ns were all bathed in magnificent sunlight. The air was such as only mountaineers . know. Along “ The Switchback ” we trudged, keeping for a' while close in to tho huge granite cliffs on our right, and then descended and began to climb round the “ Flat Iron” in a wide semi-circle with the Freeman River and “The Flat Iron ” on our left. Here the valley, still bearing fine beech forest' is specially distinguished for its wealth of mosses, spun in the loom of the ages, which carpet the whole floor, making it soft and springy to walk upon. Here we saw two freshly-bored holes in the track where a kiwi, evidently a big one judging by the size of the holes, had been after a worm. He was certainly the early bird of the proverb, for the twilight was just beginning to fall. Rounding the back of “ The Flat IrOn,’ we came to the superb “Staircase Falls,” where the Freeman River plunges down

a series of platforms for hundreds of feet, and to that perfect jewel of Nature, the Kanfurly Waterfall, surely one of the most beautiful waterfalls to be seen anywhere. Framed in beech trees, with a bold rocky foreground, the Freeman River here plunges 150 feet over a granite precipice in feathery snow-white foam, a truly lovely sight, and iu such a picturesque setting that it promises to become one of the best-known scenic gems of New Zealand, and certainly one of the most photographed. LAKE FREEMAN—ANOTHER SCENIC GEM. About 100 feet above the Kanfurly Waterfall, the track, now. in the midst of alpine shrubs and flowers, leads out on to another outcrop of rock from _ which an excellent view is obtained of still another mountain gem, Lake Freeman, a beautiful sheet of water half a mile long by about 100 to 200 yards across. Its waters, apparently deep, lay placid and still, and were coloured a pale almond green; the bluff on the east side upon which we stood was about 90 feet high; opposite a sheer wall of naked granite rose straight from the waters of the lake for many hundreds of feet and then became lost iu the peak above which we could not see. In the fast-failing light, in the still, refreshing mountain air, it possessed, a beauty and an atmosphere of peacefulness all its own from which one was loth to depart. It was now 7 p.m., and would goon he dark. Continuing along The Switchback,” up and down, in and out among suh-alpiue

flora, through alternating patches of mountain grass and beech groves, and across mountain sedges, one or two ot which were as large and almost as level as football fields, we reached the shores of Lake Minerva in the dark. There was no moon; the stars shone brilliantly in the heavens. Yes, the lake was certainly well named. Even in the dark the mountains on either side were still clearly reflected in it, and deep down in the bosom of its waters the stars shone and twinkled as brightly as they did above. Proceeding along the western shore, crunching over white beaches of hard quartz sand, winding in and out amongst the scrub, and; crossing a stream or two, we reached the high camp, snugly ' ensconced in a grove of beech, at 8 p.m. Warm in our; sleeping bags and lying comfortably on canvas "bunks, we listened to the occasional calls of wekas, kiwis, and moreporks, spun a yarn or two —and fell into a dreamless sleep in the heart of Fiordland. The third article will give a description of the trip from the high camp at Lake Minerva to the camp at Bedivere Falls, five miles and a-half from the mouth of the Camelot River.