TO PARADISE AFOOT.

Otago Witness, Issue 3195, 9 June 1915, Page 85

TO PARADISE AFOOT.

By W. R. S.

A MAGNIFICENT TREK. 11.

The one and a-half days’ bracing walk from Elfin Bay to Howdcn Huts—a distance of approximately 26 miles—made lusty trenchermen of the four of us, Julia and Jock the Guide included, and was conducive to sound slumber when we repaired to our sleeping bags in the bunks with their couches of dried fern. —The Roar of the Mountain God !

A deafening crash, that shook the hut, and thrust upon the halt-awakened faculties a staggering impression of sundered mountains and a general collapse of thq. universe, brought everyone suddenly to a sitting posture, with thoughts ot the judgment Pay, at dawn on Sunday morning. “An avalanche !’’ And we strained through the window to see the wondrous spectacle. A blinding flash 1 And then we knew it for thunder and lightning—something less than a cataclysm, or even an avalanche 1 For the space of half an hour flash was followed by report, and the thunder rumbled in endless mutterings away back to the uttermost mountains. It was wondertully impressive. For us it meant a day’s halt indoors, for rain fell steadily throughout the day, and Jock declared he would not dream of taking us along the next stage—the heaviest of the journey—unless the weather was fine. For Jock it meant a day of woodcutting in the rain, for he must always leave a store of cut firewood, as well as food stores, at each hut, never knowing when he may bring in a party of tourists, cold, wet, and hungry. For us, indeed, it was quite a cosy, tolerable day, largely because of the presence of the Mount Cook guide, a Scotsman of magnificent build, who could tell interestingly of his travels and observations over the greater part of the world. —The Valley of Wondrous Beauty.—

Sunshine again, and an early start upon the most arduous part of the task, Routeburn huts being the goal! From Howden hut ono may branch off to the west and make Glade House, or proceed north, cn route lor the Lake Harris (Saddle and Routoburn Hut, and Paradise, as we did. Or one may descend into the wondrously verdant Hollyford Valley and follow the Holly ford River to Lake M'Kerrow (10 miles long, and navigable by a fair-sized vessel) to Martin’s Bay. Our route lay round the mountainside, skirting the Hollyford Valley, to Lake Mackenzie, and up an untracked sidling to join the track to Lake Harris Saddle. The original track for tourists making for our destination clipped into the valley and up the other side, involving a wearisome climb "of about 4000 ft to Lake Harris Saddle. The route we took outs out most of that climb, and at the same time the attractiveness of the view is enhanced, as for the greater part of the way the eye is feasting upon that glorious panorama of one of the most beautiful valleys conceivable, flanked by a rampart of majestic mountains, with white crested peaks piercing the clouds, while the Hollyford River, winding like a silver thread through the birch forest, carries the enraptured vision right away to the Pacific Ocean just observable In the blue chstanco. It was a day to be remembered for the supreme beauty of everything. The ram loft the forest sparkling and sweet scented. The kakas with their strident call, follow cadi after us, perching upon boughs close bv, answering our imperfect imitations of their calls, and generally conducting amongst themselves an animated discussion Concerning the strange creatures invading their privacy. The Earland Fall (bearing the name of the first photographer to visit it), leaping with one graceful bound into its rock-bound pool, margined with white and yellow eelmisias and veronica, flashed in the sunbeams. It was a fairy spot. —“Slinging it in !” About three miles out from Howden Hut wo came upon the embers of a fire by an overhanging rock on the bush track. The paper covering of chocolates sticks gave further evidence that this was the place at which a lady of 00 years of age, her two daughters, end a stout captain, walking from Paradise to Glade House, had “slung it in’’’ —Jock’s picturesque expression for giving in—a few weeks previous when overtaken’by darkness and worn with fatigue. The guide had candles and guaranteed to got them through to the hut, but they simply refused to foot, preferring to take their chances out all night. Bv the mercy of Providence the night was ■mild, otherwise a catastrophe was an easy possibility. The elderly lady, it appears, had refused to be dissuaded from embarking on the trip. “What my daughters can do, I can do t I’m going !” she snapped. And go she did. In the morning after their night out the party reached the shelter of the Howden Hut, and after a day’s rest did fairly good walking to Glade House. “ I don’t want no side lines of that kind on mv trips,” was Jock’s dry comment. —On the Edge of a Catastrophe.— Wo spenlr an hour and a half over lunch at Lake Mackenzie, in the shallows of which some of us waded. The guide gave us an option of a short cut over snow on Ocean Peak. We wore attracted by the prospect, as we recalled that it was by a forced march ever this snow that Messrs Brasoh and Fcls and Miss Fels had three years previously narrowly escaped a night out In a snowstorm— a case of “slinging it in ” for good, Jock opined. As we had

time to spare we finally declared for the j longer way round as offering the better \ view. This day wc wore carrying packs, the way being impassable for horses. From the lake the guide had simply to pick a way through the bush up the sidling, and it was for all of us tiie stiffest task of the whole trek. Treacherous moss-grown trunks let you down into unsuspected holes, and when crawling through narrow opening ycur pack pulled you back. One perspired with rare generosity,- but had to laugh. Beyond the bush there was still a sleep climb in the open along : a shingly face. Julia was always at the I guide’s heels. Walter and I followed later j with our packs, crawling almost on all fours. I like a brace of giant beetles. Above us, on a crag, a kea screeched persistently. It was here that wo were like to end our days. The sound as of a pickaxe above came down to me. Jock smiled at the suggestion, and I shrank to the size of a piece of chalk. Presently it came again. This time Jock heard it. “That’s not a pick; it’s a drill,” he ejaculated, surprised out of his usual drawl, “they’re going to blast!” At once we sent up a chorus of shouts, and presently a workman peered cautiously over the declivity. When wo got to the top we found a party of roadmen, who were engaged on the work of hewing a track to minimise the strenuous climb we had just completed. As soon as we were safely'at tiie top the charge was exploded, and, with mixed feelings, wo saw the sidling wo had just negotiated swept by a fusillade of rocks.

Tiie remainder of the day’s walk was fairly plain sailing. It being- Julia’s birthday. we gathered, as we approached the Lake Harris Saddle, a nosy of chaste mountain lilies (the first, we had come across in flower), celmisia, and veronica, with which to decorate the table in’ celobrat'on, and later we found a few plants of eidelweiss. But the birthday compliment Julia probably appreciated most was Jock’s spontaneous remark that she was “ a woppin’ good walker —one of the best lady walkers I ever had with me.” We reached Routeburn huts as night fell. Irish stew and a plunge in the Routeburn River in the semidarkness put a period to an exhilarating and raose delightful day, on which we had covered about 18 miles. —Paradise Gained.—

On the fifth morning, when the frost was just yielding to the influence of a genial sun, we understood, as we swung along the charming valley, why the trip up the Routoburn, with its pretty blue river, attracts so many people. At the Dart we were met, by arrangement, by a conveyance, and by midday the final stage of about 10 miles had been accomplished, and we were bathing in Diamond Lake to remove travel stains preparatory to resuming the garments and comforts of conventional society and partaking of the good things for which Mrs Aitken’s house at Paradise is deservedly noted. In the five days (one of which had been an idle one) we had walked over 50 miles, and, while the gc’ng was infinitely rougher, we found the scenery grander' and more satisfying than that of tire Te Anau-Milford track. It was a trek that was eminently enjoyable in actuality, and will be not less so in retrospect.