AT THE FOOT OF THE MOUNTAINS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2244, 4 March 1897, Page 46

AT THE FOOT OF THE MOUNTAINS.

By Edith Seablb Gbossmakn*

111.-OTARASTA.

We varied the monotony of domestic retirement chiefly by walks and drives. The walks were unheroic rambles, and the ohief adventure I remember was my rescue of an unfortunate sheep. What impressed me was the remarkable sagacity and good oonduot of this much-abused animal. It was running backwards and forwards down the dusty road when we first saw it, distractedly looking for a gate, and when we returned half an hour later was still doing the same. It actually appealed to me, though with evident trepidation, so I went back and opened a distant gate, the only one in sight. The sheep stood warily on the other side of the road, still uncertain whether I might not be intending to brand or earmark it, or throw it into a sheep dip, or deliver it to the dogs, or cat ie up into mutton ; then as I 1 stood aside rushed by, leaped a ditch, and plunged amongst a flock in the turnip field, whence shortly a murmur of bleating welcome arose. I daresay it did not belong to that flock at all. Anyhow I gave it an hour of happiness, and enlarged my own ideas on the mental capacity of sheep. It was a little difficult to find an enterprising driver. Where did wo want to go 1 Well, couldn't our driver suggest a suitable journey ? Had we been to the Kowhai Bush, be would suggest. Yes, some other place. His countenance fell. There was no other place, and he did not see anything in the bash worth looking at. In a few days we got a really good guide, to whom we feel personally indebted. He had the knack of knowing exactly what would be interesting, and had himself a deep and unaffected admiration for the beautiful haunts of Nature. My first view of the Kowhai Bush was disappointing. It waa a dull, grey day, and the forest seemed all one monotonous hue. Bush scenery needs the lovely colouring of our blue atmosphere to give out its full effect. I saw the place later on on a clear, bright day ; a light easterly wind was blowing across the plain, but the wooded mountain was bathed in the warm glow of a nor'-west atmosphere. Bain clouds hung just above the summit, but the sky above was of the richest blue ; the trees on the slope stood out with that peculiar distinctness of effect we often get before rain. The smoke up the gully was pale blue and hardly marred the beauty of the scene. This was the best view I had of the place, its little settlement of farms, its burnt remnants of trees on plain and hill, its living wood, the fine birch forest on the slope of Otarama. I must not leave without a word the bed of the Kowhai River — one of the most characteristic of New Zealand scenes. The banks are of immense height, and form terraces of a singularly level appearance; it is almost difficult to regard their uniform symmetry as the work of Nature. Yet the general aspect is that of the utmost wildness and desolation. The sides of the channel consist chiefly of barren shingle, and at the top are but scantily clothed with tussock ; the bed itself, about half a mile in width, is of the same grey loose stones ; the only vegetation is rugged clomps of gorse and broom. Near this ford the Kowhai runs into the Waimakariri, and the two series of banks meet at a great promontory. On the farther side of the Kowhai is a fragment of black birch forest, which under the lovely sunlight and shadow of western rain looked like a hanging garden poised aloft amidst a terrific wilderness. We picnicked one noonday in a grove of trees, and I walked down the railway line to Otarama. The finest bit of scenery on the way seemed to me the view down the river bed over the high embankment — a stupendous piece of work it seemed in relation to the object in view. The whole line from Springfield to Otarama has been for years useless ezoept for occasional excursions. We all know the story of the Midland railroad to the West Coast ; how it was undertaken by a private company and got large concessions from the Government, and how upon the company not proceeding fast enough, the present Ministry took the management into their own hands. They may have been in the right, but the attempt to hurry on so difficult an undertaking is remarkably characteristic not only of our legislation but of our whole method of living. To a 'mere outsider the country seems prematurely developed ; resources of all kinds — the land itself — exhausted before the full time of their usefulness has come. Now, if the Government does not get on any faster than the company, who should have the right to carry on the work ? Genuine lovers of New Zealand can very well afford to wait. Enthusiasts will see the beauties of the West Goait without grudging the time spent on coaching and camping, and for those who cannot now take the journey there are plenty of beautiful resorts nearer at hand. As for opening up the country, in many cases the railway depopulates the country and more than makes up for any temporary increase of prosperity by ultimate decay — money and men drifting more and more to the large centres. The finest drive we had was over the Kowhai river bed, through the bush settlement, and along the course of the Waimakariri. As we drove along there were dense clouds of smoke on the west and flames leaping close to us. All down the Waimakariri cutting and along its course there was a scene of terrible desolation. Here, where the green forest had stood, the graceful birch and the clematis stars, the foliage, the white blossoms, and ferns— all the tropical fairyland of the bush— nothing was visible but charred blackened land stumps still smouldering, great scorched trunks still standing, and mounds of earth at the root of prostrate trees; as they fell they had torn up the ground at their roots. Every blade of grass was burnt away. Not a bird or sheep was visible. One hill I shall find it hard to forget as an image of destruction. Our forests are lightly rooted and thrive on barren and rocky soil, so that after the first clearing only stones and pebbles may be seen. 'Through this bill Era had passed

three successive years, and now it stood a mound of ashes like an accursed place. There is a pretty homestead on a terrace in the river bed, surrounded by English trees, a pleasant contrast to the stones and burnt logs. The fire had passed near it on both sides, but [spared it, perhaps through the efforts of the inhabitant?. They must have passed many an anxious night during those three weeks' destraciion. Emerging from the river bed on to the terrace above we got some grand views of promontories and islands of forest, the deep, blue river at their foot. This ie not a shallow stream, dwindling to nothing in summer, but a fall, deep river which does not look insignificant even at the base of its gigantic banks. We drove through the tunnel, and our guide then showed us a walk which he — I believe with justice — described as the finest in the district. We went to the trestls bridge, but, on account of the violent gusts of wind, were dissuaded from crossing it. This bridge is | the most picturesque one I have ever seen. !It is of lofty crosssbeams ; its great size gives to the structure the effect of interlacing boughs, bare and leafless, but yet part of the neighbouring forest. A poet might feign it to be the work of sylvan sprites and ! lengendary woodmen. It crosses a deep | channel of tiny mountain stream. Down the side of one bank is a quaint little settlement — huts of^ wood with canvas roofa or sides, with a few twig fences to keep in cattle. There were wild-looking bits o£ garden. When the rain fell the fowls huddled under well-worn carts or fences. On the other side of the stream we found a steep track up the hill through a dense forest of black birch. A report spread about, and was even published, that the settlement was destroyed, but both it and the neighbouring bush have been spared — a faot of whioh we were eye-witnesses, for the report was prior to our visit. This forest road is broken by the railway line and resumed on the other side, where there Ib a slight descent. The birohes were hers of great size and intermingled with tall konini bushes, broad- j leaf, and a few rare pines. Except for the track, it did not seem to have been ever cleared or destroyed. The openings amongst the group of trees seem to have been made by Nature alone, and gave some beautiful forest effects, especially when a summer shower fell. It can hardly be more than a mile or two in area, but is so deep and dense that once in we seemed buried within it, and the open land might have been hundreds of miles away — a common effect in thick bush in New Zealand, where men have occasionally been lost within two or three miles of human habitations. Ascending a little we found ourselves on the bank of the Waimakariri, and had a fine view down its course. The scenery here is bold and grand, yet the bush and the water prevent it from appearing ragged and terrific. Here as before was a high wooded peak, and at. its bass a deep pool of the most beautiful turquoise colour ; round it the river divided into two streams. The banks were partly wooded, but further down its course the tussock hills were visible. A return journey is rarely worth description. Why it is I know not, but the mere fact of returning seems to rob scenery of its enchantment. It is no longer undiacovered, untrodden ground, whose wonders are all to be sought for — it is the road to home and everyday life. So I shall close this sketch on the terrace above the Waimakariri.