MANAPOURI

Otago Daily Times, Issue 22286, 12 June 1934, Page 7

MANAPOURI

“LAKE OF THE ISLES” CENTRE OF SPORTING PARADISE STALKING, FISHING, AND CLIMBING Nobody who has ever experienced them can forget the charm and delight of the numberless islands of Manapouri. The indescribable shape and indefinite dimensions of the lake are themselves intriguing attractions, and the numerous bays and gulfs and arms afford endless scope for exploration. It is surrounded almost entirely by mountains, the only break in its erratic coast line being Sur-

prise. Cove, where it makes its exit by the Waiau River. Mountains sweep round it in the form of a giant amphitheatre, stepping back from the water’s edge in tier after tier of densely wooded terrace. But it is not the Hunter Mountains, the, : Spire Peaks, the Kepler Ranges, or any of the other mountainous piles which make the beauty of Manapouri. It is its marvellous fiords and its enchanting islands which have been sprinklel promiscuously all over the blue surface of the lake. These shirt-stud-looking isles which give such a charm to the loveliness of Manapouri are convex in shape, thickly wooded, and in their green robes they look like emeralds in the calm of a silver sea.' With the summer sun beating down into the tremendous basin which, the lake comprises the days arc broiling with a fiercer, hotter heat than coastal Otago ever knew. And in winter, with the

mountains decked in their glistening mantles of snow there is a cold as intense and extreme as the grim silence which settles over everything. But, summer or winter, when twilight comes, when the first sound of the rising breeze is heard among the trees, when the brightness of the sky ceases to bo unendurable to the eye, and a soft veil gradually envelopes its expanse, making the blue more deep and showing the faint white stars in its upper portion, while its fringes are still bright with the last, rays of the sun—then all at once the spell which seems to keep man and bird and beast immovable, is removed and the great open spaces seem to speak with voices. As night comes on darker, and darker, but never so dark in that pellucid atmosphere ns coast people experience it, stronger and stronger grows the glamour of this region. There are sounds which are foreign to the daylight; there is movo-

ment which the sunlight always seems to still, and the mind is suddenly very active with thoughts about what life and movement are pulsing in the shadows of the eternal hills and in the shade of,the murky,ghostly forests. It is then that the sportsman’s heart beats faster as he thinks of what the day might bring of the excitement of the chase. What secrets this region hugs to its comparatively unexplored breast have yet to be disclosed, but here, if it is to be found anywhere in New Zealand, is the sportsman’s paradise. It is a glamorous, bewitching country which will yet become the happy hunting ground of hunters and fishermen and trampers from every corner of the country. Once under its spell it is easy to believe the tale which relates how the last of the South Island Maoris, the Ngatimamoe, after the great fight with the east coast Maoris at Waitaramea, tied into the forests of the west across the waters of Manapouri. There is 'a tradition that such was the fate of the last remnants of the tribe under the leadership of their celebrated rangatira, Te Uira, and there are those who etill

like to think that their descendants live somewhere there to this day, and that just, as the scattered partridge covey that has outlived the sportsman’s gun call to each other and gather together when the twilight deepens, so the last relics of- the Ngatimampe tribe, gather round the “ mere pnnamn,” the symbol of their people, and withdraw deeper and deeper into the forest with every advance of civilisation into these regions. Actually there is no lack of life in this country. Waterfowl circle the lake and penetrate into its coves and creeks, j Teal, paradise ducks, and few though | they are, even the white crested grebe, i with their double croak. Back in,the | bush may be found the kakapo, the wingless parrot, with his bright green plumage and his hoarse cough, the drucl kea, the impudent wcka, and the inquisitive kiwi. Some of these may I furnish little sport, since they are pro-

tceted by a perpetual close season, but they fill the bush with surprises and interest. And in the matter of protection there protection is complete, for there are keen-eyed rangers in these untracked forests whose zeal is fed by a genuine love of the quaint bird life in their charge. The unfortunate “ shot ” caught shooting a kiwi, for instance, ■would probably find himself doomed to cat feathers and all as a penalty, and then conducted hurriedly out of this hallowed demesne. For the fisherman there are trout and Atlantic salmon which disport themselves in the lake and find their way also for a mile or two up the turbulent beds of the countless rushing mountain streams which empty themselves into Manapouri. These torrents are everywhere, and when their attraction palls | there are scores of tiny lakes and meres which arc come upon in the most tin- | expected places and at the most uncx-

pectcd times. No map has yet been drawn that has charted them all, and the virtually unknown character of the country is illustrated by the fact that new lakes of varying size and beauty are always being found, even to-day. Red deer roam the forests in hundreds and offer the best stalking that could bo found anywhere in New Zealand—real stalking this, with a 50-50 chauce or perhaps a bit more, for tlie deer. They may not be as easily shot as in many other parts, but they are all worth the chase, and the chase is always hard. Anywhere between the West Arm of Manapouri and Deep Cove, at the head of one of the many tremendous fiords of Doubtful Sound, the stalker will find deer. Through the bush along the banks of the Spey River, in the shadow and on the slopes of Koinga, Pahiri, Wilmot, Barber and Plaistcd, all of them rising 500 feet into the blue, along the Lyvia River and on the bushclad sides of the Stellaburn and the Mica Burn, the red deer roam at will, tearing the native bush down and ruining some of the finest growth of its kind in the island, and incidentally committing the

crime that entitles the stalker to be • more than usually ruthless with them. The bush from the West Arm to Deep Cove is well tracked, and at any point along its 11 miles of length the hunter may camp and stalk the surrounding country. On the now track from the head of the North Arm of the lake to where the Camclot River inns into the Gaor Arm at the top of Bradshaw Sound the deer arc fewer, but there is still fishing, and above all there , is all the climbing that the most ardent tramper or alpinist; could desire. This track stretches for 28 miles through the bush, cutting straight across from the 'North Arm to Lake Tuaraki and' Fowler’s Pass, and following the Camclot River on its last stages into the sound. To get to the moose country from Manapouri is not quite so easy, but Loch Maree and the Seaforth River region arc

connected by tracks even though they are not in a direct lino. And once there it is only the experienced stalker that gets his moose. They arc cunning cattle and very hard to stalk, but the prizes that are to be had here arc worth the rigours of the chase. A 14-pointer with a four-foot spread is the best trophy yet brought out, but that was from a young animal, and there arc certainly far better heads to be had on the shoulders of the older beasts. The only difficulty is that the Mg' fellows contrive to look after their heads too well. Moose cows and young bulls are comparatively easy to bag, but the cunning of years seems to be gathered into the hard heads of the maturer sires. Turning in the opposite direction there are wapiti to be had in the mountain fastnesses of Te Anan. They have not yet found their way into the Manapouri and surrounding districts, but in the Stuart Mountains and the Franklyn

Mountains, back from the Middle and North Arms of Te Anau, parties of sportsmen every year find diversion and to spare. The wapiti, like the moose, is remarkable for his groat cunning. He will hide like a dog behind the scantiest of shelter and lie and watch the stalker almost walk over him, or he, having picked up the scent, will load the hunter the merriest dance over the roughest of country and then in all probability get clean away. The really good wapiti stags are never encountered by chance, and if a head is secured it is the result of long and arduous hunting. Some splendid heads have been brought out of the Te Anau back country, ranging from 12-pointers up to 45 inches in length to 16-pointcrs with somewhat less length. But the wapiti, like the moose, tan only be hunted at present after tremendous preparation and under considerable difficulty. The opening up of this tiordland country by such enterprises as the Milford-Te Anau road and the tracks from Manapouri’ to Deep Cove and the Gae.r Arm arc rapidly making one of the sporting paradises of the Dominion more easily accessible.

Another attraction that fiordland will have for the sportsman in the near future is its big game fishing. The sounds abound in fish of very description, large and small, and great sport and excitement have been enjoyed by the few who realise what possibilities there are in this connection. To date those who have sampled the excitement of big game fishing are largely those who have spent a lifetime in and around the sounds, but one or two overseas visitors have stumbled upon the sport and found it greatly to their liking. Mako sharks are not difficult to find, and. thresher and tiger sharks are always ready to rise to the bait. Even tuna find their way into the sounds, and they have been seen even in Hall’s Arm, 30 miles from the open sen. More than once small boats, out in the sounds in search of the kingfish whiyh shoal there, have hooked 10,12, and 14 feet thresher sharks

and tigers, and their occupants have had all the pleasures of speed boat cruising as they were towed at high speed for an hour and two hours on end round and round the sound by an enraged shark.