THE COSY CORNER CLUB.

Otago Witness, Issue 3205, 18 August 1915, Page 66

THE COSY CORNER CLUB.

FOURTH MEETING. TRAVEL MEETING: OUR OWN COUNTRY. So many trips abroad that had been planned and looked forward to long ago will not materialise this year that many people will perhaps learn more of this country instead than they would otherwise have done. Members are therefore invited to make New Zealand better known to New Zealanders by describing any beauty spot or any place worth visiting that they know of. Will North Islanders please take note—the kind of North Islander I mean who says to tourists and holiday-makers from overseas, “Whatever you do, don’t think of going down to the South Island—there’s absolutely nothing to see there!” The members of the Cosy Corner Club had the whole of the Dominion to write about, and, except for Scarlet Pimpernel, who takes us out of New Zealand altogether, all the contributors have chosen to describe some South Island beauty spot. I admit, of course, that most of the. Witness readers live in the South Island, particularly in Otago, but still many of them know of other places by personal experience, or by hearsay, and yet they find their material in the despised south, traversing it from Canterbury to Riverton, from Dunedin to Milford Sound. Personally, I hold no brief for either island in particular. One has as many beauties as the other, and I have very happy recollections of more than one holiday in what I found the truly fascinating north. All the same, it has been a source of much satisfaction to have in these papers proof that this half of the Dominion, and Otago in particular, is not a land of mud and macintoshes, as our northern friends are prone to believe. As is only right and proper, we will start our journeys from the home of the Witness, and I therefore ask Lex to show us something of Dunedin, to which he makes himself our guide. Dear Elizabeth, —At this meeting of our club you ask members to make their own country known, and invite suggestions for any beauty spot or place or town worth a visit to during a holiday. I have pleasure in inviting members who do not live in Otago to pay a visit to Dunedin and Otago. I think they will be well pleased indeed if they could spend a fortnight or month on a visit to Otago. I have a friend who was a member of the C.C.C. who belongs to Auckland, and last year came down on a holiday visit to Dunedin and the Lake district of Otago, and was so delighted that she carried away very pleasing memories of that holiday and visit to Dunedin and Otago. The residential part of Dunedin is chiefly on the hills sloping upwards and overlooking the bay and harbour, a reserve of land called the Town Belt encircling the background of the town, which belt cannot be built upon or alienated from the inhabitants of the city. From the entrance at Otago Heads to Dunedin wharves by sea is about 13 miles. The view from the steamer’s deck coming up or going down the harbour on a fine day is very pleasing, and compares favourably with the most beautiful bays an\where. Although there is nothing grand or majestic, the bright, green hills sloping gradually up from the water’s edge, with little farms and

white buildings here and there, harmonise with the darker backgrounds and make a very pretty picture.- There are very many interesting spots to visit in and around Dunedin, and I think the visitor would require about a fortnight to spend in the city to see them all. The Winter Gardens that are placed at the Botanical Gardens are worth coming a long way to see. The plants are all housed under a glasshouse, and the glasshouse is kept warmed. St. Clair is another spot worth a visit. It is easily reached by tram, and the ocean from St. Clair has a very lovely appearance as the sea breaks upon the beach. During the spring the lupins are all out in flower on the sandhills, and are very pleasing to the eye. There are many other beauty spots in and around the city that the visitors would see for themselves when they came. From Dunedin, the Cold Lakes and the glacial district of Otago, including Lakes Wakatipu, Wanaka, Hawea, Manapouri, and Te Auau, -Milford Sound, and Sutherland Falls, are most conveniently reached, and are all worth a visit. For the visitor who could make only a. short visit to Dunedin and the surrounding district a short run to Queenstown would well repay him. There are cheap excursion fares from Dunedin to Queenstown during the tourist season, and it is quickly reached. The air at Queenstown is very fresh and bracing to the system. An early morning walk round the lake district would be to the lover of Nature one of the joys of life, and a pleasing memory. “In "the early morning the world is always in-its springtime. And is not Apollo the sun god the leader of the tuneful nine? For the dawn is an ever-changing poem and has inspired the muse in all ages.’’ In modern days Wordsworth sang its wondrous influence when on Westminster bridge he described the vast city ‘ All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.” But it is the country that we must go to witness the perfect revelation of the dawn. As the first glimmer appears on the horizon we arc conscious that night is being, slain, and with the light there comes, wafted in the air from bush and tree, snatches of bird song. Light and music have gained the victory. Here and at such a time is the consciousness that this world is full of beauty, of order, that it is a vast Eden in which God’s living paintings are always revealed to the seeing eye, lor Nature is the grand artist who is always drawing us towards the mysterious presence behind her, teaching us that life is divinely simple and yet not to be understood by those who stand aloof from her. And may we not at all seasons of the year discover Nature’s charms?. Every morning we are linked to the working universe. Every morning the sky is glorious with colour which cannot be witnessed at any other time. Happily we are beginning to have a wider outlook, and With a keener appreciation of the common things of life men are drawing nearer to the great earth mother, who is waiting to teach its some of her lessons. And' at no time can we receive instruction or observe the vision of beauty and interpret its meaning as well as in the early morning. LEX. You are a very loyal Dunedinite, Lex, and are always ready to speak of the beauties of this fair city and province. Nor are you alone in that respect, for ,1 have heard more than one traveller from overseas sing the praises of Dunedin as heartily as those to whom she is the mother of cities. Dear Elizabeth, —Have you ever been to ■Geraldine in winter time? The view of the Alps is a glorious one, and if you are fortunate enough to see them all covered in snow you will have seen an almost unforgettable sight. Geraldine stands on the banks of the willow-fringed Waihi, and nestles close to the foot of the hills. It is very pretty, and very quiet, but it is a delightful quiet. The air is so pure and fresh ; there are no sounds but the songs of the birds and'the placid murmur of the river, and to a weary city dweller there is no belter place to rest and recuperate. The town is not hemmed in, as so many places in New Zealand are. You have the background of hill, but in front, and to left and right, you have the vast Canterbury plains, spreading out before your gaze a beautiful panorama of smiling homesteads and busy towns, and in the distance the groat stretch of blue sea. Among the first things a stranger notices is the great number of pine trees, and the air is redolent with the rich and invigorating scent, added to which is that of the native bush, of which there is a very beautiful reserve. There are wild birds in plenty, and wax-eyes and yellow-heads make a pretty picture darting about in the sunshine, and crowds of magpies, with their black-and-white plumage, make quite a feature in the landscape. 1 should not be at all surprised in the days to come to see Geraldine, with its pine-scented mountain air, its scenic beauties, its easy communication with the outside world, and last, but not least, its splendid business places that cater for every want, and make it independent of the larger centres, a great holiday and tourist resort. Its glorious sunshine makes up for the sharp frosts, and the blazing log fires on a sharp winter night are something to remember. VAL. No, my visits to South Canterbury have generally been in the summer, Yal, though I have seen the mountains in their winter aspect sometimes when going through in the train, and very lovely they were. I think the wide-spreading Canterbury plains give one a fascinating sense of space and freedom after our more hilly south country. There were mountain rivers, and peaks of snow. Lights of greei} and gold, And echoing caves in the cliffs below, Where a wild wide ocean rolled; And the lives of men, from the wear of change, And the strife of the world were free, For steam was barred by the mountain range. And the rocks of the open sea. Henry Lawson. Dear Elizabeth, —Thus Henry Lawson described this part of the world, and no truer description was ever penned. It is in truth a beautiful spot, and the isolation that has been so prominent a feature in its past history will soon disappear. 1 The motor car has shortened 'the way oetween us and the

rest of the world, and with it brought many changes, and has done away with many of our old customs. Up in the country here the past is full of interest and history, and the older folk are not eager for the changes .that arc daily occurring. They still retain the kindly heart for tire olden times, for the days that meant such hard task, and were full of hardship, and to us younger ones deprived, we think, of any variety. Scattered here and there throughout the district one constantly comes across the pioneer of the early days. Such a one we met one glorious day last autumn. It was a day that makes one, fell the “call of the open road ; moreover, it was a local holiday, so why stay indoors ? So, packing our lunch, we harnessed up, and off to the beach. We chose a spot where the creek makes a small lagoon for the children to sail their flax boats in, and where in olden times the Maori cooked his dinner, else how cam© those heaps ol blackened stones'? It was hot out there, not a breath of wind, and we looked longingly at those great yellow pears hanging on their boughs, when the owner appeared. T s pose you youngsters would like some pears . V> ell, come on in here." And out of the hot glare we went to be feasted on fruit and hear tales of the early days, when the only road was the beach, and that orchard was a swamp; of the struggles to get the bullock dray across at times; of the readiness to help each other, and the absence or any “side,” as he so characteristically phrased it. And so the afternoon sped on. A sugarbag of pears was placed in the trail as wo homeward turned; and then as the long rays of the sun fell from the west, the “flat” gleamed green and gold, far out on the bluegrey ocean the black smoko of a. steamer was seen; black, stern, and sombre the mountains rose before tie; and as we reached the gate and gave a look backward, we felt that beautiful indeed was our part of the world: that when the highways and railways came along, then a spirit would pass away, and a great deal of the old "world charm would deoart. , ELSIE. P.S.—I did so enjoy our last meeting, and was much interested in the papers. We are posting our Witness to Egypt; and I’m wondering if any of the wounded read the C.C.C.; what their opinions of war are now to its ultimate place in the development of the race. So much is to be said on both sides that one is overwhelmed with evidence as to which is better.—E. It is a very kindly thought on your part, Elsie, to send on your Witness to the troops. Both, those in hospital and those at the front feel the want of reading matter badly, and they say that when they do get a Witness it is read from cover to cover, backwards and forwards, and inside out, even to the advertisements on the Ladies’ Page. Dear Elizabeth, — He travels far who learns The beauty at his door. And he in vain who vacantly returns .From leagues of sea, and shore. The day had been warm, almost sultry; toward evening the heavy clouds banked up from the sou’-west, and about 9 o’clock a sleety storm broke and swept along the plains. Then thoughts of the long leagues between myself and loved ones oppressed me, thoughts of the flooded Conway and long miles of tenacious mud —the terrors of the night. But about midnight the storm swept off, and we awakened to a world of whiteness, and Sandy was otit to do the guest, and show me round the place of his adoption, and watch with regret as .I boarded the train for home. It is a tedious railway journey through" North Canterbury—so many sidings, so many shunt mgs, your engine away, your carriages waiting with a deserted look—“wo are here for a lifetime like. ' The low tussocky hills begin to gather in, and .human habitation becomes less frequent. W© change for Cheviot, and soon lose the long and wide prospects of the Northern Plains. We are now with the sameness of the silent hills and the windings of the muddied Hurunui, pent in its narrow gorges—the solitary ploughman with his team, the American bungalow with the red-tiled roof, little life and leagues of open country. So on and on through the hills or downs, past Mina, Mackenzie back there in the hollow, so on and down over the Waiau bridge, the wide, swirling, and treacherous waters of the Waiau-ua no longer a menace, over the river into Parnassus. The car is waiting, but there is time for a warm, a refreshing meal; and then away for the keen air and the open. We climb past Inverness "and Erookdale, seats of the mighty past Hawkswood; and are now descending toward Ferinhurst and Conway. A thousand thoughts of Wayback teem through my mind, his isolation, the ups and downs of his solitary life; but what a change during the decade! Miles of newly-formed road carry its well above the river-bed and the gorge. We come down to the Conway Ford, and find the river running clear, no rise from last night’s storm. We are across, and away among the dreary hills see the many windings of the road by Mount Guardian, the Okaria, the Oam, and the coast The sun is away behind the hills, the air is winter-keen, the frosted brine comes up from the rocks and the kelpy swirl. On and on by rock and racing tree, by butting cliff and waves that dash below. Now we are through the tunnels and across the Kahoutera, and the mountains, whoso hoar summits beckoned to us at mid-day, are now majestic in the light of the setting sun. Now for the long race by the curves of the South Bay, under the limestone cliffs, over the Isthmus, and into the West End. Shoulder .the bundle and take the road, the Mount Fyffe road; and as night comes down we near the mighty sombre mountains and hear again the torrent voices and the deep echoed thunder of the sea. We smell the mahoi smoke, and know that the wife and weans are waiting bur return. And little Jim had looked so wistfully for his daddy’s return. OSCAR, Yours sounds quite a perilous journey, Oscar. The snow-fed New Zealand rivers are such treacherous things, and I am glad that the Conway was running clear and peaceful as we accompanied you on your way. Dear Elizabeth, —I think that I shall take Riverton to write about to-day, as it. is such a lovely little place in which to spend a holiday. It is glorious to bo able to stroll along the beach on a nice day in summer and ■ to breathe in the fresh sea breezes. They seem to give one renewed life and _ energy. Whilst gazing at the breakers one feels the nearness of God, and these lines come to one’s mind: “Unbeginning endless sea, Emblem of eternity.” How could an atheist stay there and doubt? Everything speaks of God. The very rooks bring to mind the words of the Psalmist: “Thou art my Father, my God, and the rock of my salvation.” There are so many lovely walks about Riverton, too, and the beautiful bush with the glorious ferns and wild flowers. It is a delightful spot. The one drawback seems to be the difficulty in obtaining fish. Before going there wo planned to have fish every day, but we soon found out our mistake, for, as it was holiday time most of the men were busy with their motor boats

taking parties of excursionists, some to Stewart Island, others up the river; whilst again others were content to take a little trip on the sea and back again. Whilst there we went to the library to have a look at the Witness; but we were a little too late, as two ladies were just before us, and they were reading it when we got in, and the Ladies’ Page, too; so you see we were all of one mind in that respect, but we had to rest in patience for a little while. We went a few times to visit in the hospital, and we asked one of the nurses if there was anyone in the women’s ward who had no one to visit her; there always are a few lonely ones. It is time well spent visiting the sick, and if we make only one sad heart the brighter; for “They are not lost. The look of sympathy, the gentle word Spoken so low that only angels heard, The secret act of pure self-sacrifice, These are not lost.” One day whilst cut walking our attention was directed to what seemed to us to be like a dark cloud just above the water’s edge. You may imagine our surprise when we were informed that it was a “cloud” of mutton birds. As they came nearer we could easily distinguish them ; it was a sight never to be forgotten. Riverton is a favourite place for excursionists, and there are many picnics held there in the summer time. What a time the children have on a fine day paddling and building castles in the sand! One can imagine the bitter disappointment when the day turns out wet. I must now close, trusting that an abler pen than mine will tell you more of the beauties of Riverton. FAITH. Your last contribution certainly arrived too late for the meeting for which it was intended, Faith, though you say it was posted in good time. Perhaps you made a mistake in the date, or some delay must have occurred in transit. Many thanks for your appreciative reference to this page. You inquire for Emmeline and The Grandmother, but I have heard nothing of either for a long time now. Dear Elizabeth, —A walking trip from Te Anau to Milford Sound is one of the most delightful excursions imaginable, and ono that can be easily made by residents of the southern part of Yew Zealand. After thinking- and dreaming of it for years, I was at last enabled to make it between four and five years ago, and now I hope, if not this summer, at least before long, to revisit the scenes I then saw, and imprint their loveliness more deeply on my mind. “The Finest Walk in the World,” by Miss B. E. Baughan (published in booklet form), so well describes the beauties of this tour that I do not feel inclined to attempt a description here. I will only say that the walk affords an unrivalled combination of the beauties of undisturbed New Zealand bush, of mountain, waterfall, and winding lake-like fiord. It is an excursion that no New Zealander who really cares for natural beauty should miss making, if means and strength permit. And, having said so much, I-will make a few practical remarks for the benefit of anyone who may contemplate making the trip this summer. The track is-open and the Government hostels prepared for tourists from November to April, but the month of February usually affords the best weather conditions. The whole West Coast region, it should be remembered, is wet, and subject to sudden downpours of rain, v.diioh may in an hour or two convert easily fordable creeks into impassable torrents. It was early February when I made the trip, and a very dry summer, and during- the eight days of our excursion -we had no rain, except a slight drizzle one nighf at Milford. The summer sun beat down hot as we toiled over the saddle the second day, but the clear air revealed all the beauties of the mountain near and far, our path -was everywhere dry, and we could rest and enjoy the scenery or search for mountain flowers at our leisure. The time for mountain lilies was past, but we found abundance of beautiful celmisias (several varieties); of so-called mountain primroses, and many beautiful and delicate small flowers, of which one scarcely hears. The mountain ribbonwood was covered profusely with its beautiful and fragile blossoms, and the older trees with filmy veils of drooping moss. Miss Baughan speaks of the birds; I was rather struck by their absence. Perhaps they are more silent than usual in February, but I was greatly disappointed at seeing and hearing so few of my old favourites. One old friend of my childhood—the woodhen—l did indeed catch a glimpse of occasionally, and, alas! I also caught a glimpse of a weasel. In wet weather to walk along the narrow fern-bordered path through the dripping forest would be like wading through a river, and though rain and storm may show some of the grandest aspects of mountain scenery ordinary excursionists will be glad to make the trip under the easiest conditions possible. It is taxing enough to the fairly robust who are not great walkers, and I should not recommend a delicate person to try it; whilo others who are accustomed to depend on tram or bicycle instead of their own feet would do well to practise long walks before attempting it. Suitable dress is most important. I knew enough to get a pair of specially stout nailed boots for the walk, but the soles were worn thin when it was over. The track is rocky, or stony under a thin layer of bush mould, and the stones make themselves felt through even stout soles. I often longed for a bit of springy turf, or even sand. Carrying one’s own knapsack, as most travellers do, it is well to take only what is essential; every few ounces tells in a 10 or 13 mil© walk; but a complete thin dress or kimono for the evenings is very desirable. For walking, a really short skirt, knickerbockers of the same colour, and a short coat are most suitable. One disadvantage of serge or other woollen material is that it is particularly attractive to bid-a-bids, which are unpleasantly numerous in some parts of the track, but on the whole a strong woollen skirt is the best. A large strong umbrella will shield one from the sun when resting on the hill track, and will serve as a walking stick, besides protecting one from the rain, which usually comes down steadily. It is well to carry a pannikin ; the mountain water is deliciously pure and refreshing, and it is a long way between the stages. For the ordinary excursionist the walk is a business of three days, and I cannot understand even the athletic wishing to hurry over it. One starts from Glade House, at the head of Lake Te Anau, a most comfortable establishment where one might delightfully spend some weeks if time permitted. One traverses the" bush along the beautiful Clinton Gorge till one arrives at the first hostelry, consisting of two huts. One accommodates the men; the larger contains the room for cooking and eating, with an enormous fireplace and a long table- and benches, also the ladies’ sleeping apartment. Round three sides of this are ranged bunks like the berths on steamers, in two tiers, 10 in all. If there are more than 10 ladies —and there were nearly twice as many on one occasion when I made the trip—beds are made up on the floor of the living room, or they may squeeze two into a berth. Room is most limited, and I was most thankful that our part}' did not arrive eoaked through. One basin, a looking-glass about tin square, nowhere to hang your things, and only your bed on which to sit or bestow your belong-

ings, makes dressing a difficult operation indeed when the hostel is full. This deiscription serves for the second hostelry, which one reaches on the second day, after crossing the range. It is from this that one visits the famous Sutherland Falls, about a mile walk through the bush. The third day one walks downwards through the bush to the fiord, and is ferried to Sutherland’s accommodation house—or was (I hear that a new Government boarding-house has been erected). One may stay as long as one likes at Milford, go out in the launch, and revel in the beauties of the bay. One may, of course, arrange to go one way by land and the other by sea; but I think most people would be glad to go over the track a second time, in spite of a few hardships. Among these not least is the myriads of mosquitoes and sandflies. One needs to be provided with appliances to keep them off—if anything will do this,- —and to lessen the irritation of their bites, which become very painful after two or three days. I think it would be of great advantage to people of ordinary walking powers if there were intermediate huts erected, at which travellers could rest and make a fire, and take refuge in stress of weather. There may have been improvements since I went over the track; but I have not heard that this has been done. My account of the tour starts from Te Anau. Thither one may travel by different routs, and 1 should recommend that by Otautau and Clifden to Manipouri. The country is beautiful the whole way, and Manipouri, at which we spent a day, is a dream of loveliness. The route from the southern end of Te Anau to Lumsden is uninteresting. Hoping that many of your readers may be able to lay up the memories of beauty to be gained through making “the finest walk in the world,”—l remain, dear Elizabeth, yours truly, ALPHA. Your practical hints on the Milford walk will prove very useful, Alpha, to those who are thinking of making the trip. It must indeed be a very beautiful one, though, of course, a very great deal depends on the weather. You were more fortunate than most in having it so fine. Dear Elizabeth, —I must ask you to excuse me from digressing from this month’s subject; but the fact is I haven’t travelled very much within our little Dominion, and then I have just returned from a spot more or Jess in the minds of all of us 1 left New Zealand nearly a year ago with tho Main Body of the Expeditionary Force, and after about six months in Egypt, most of it spent in training (part on active service on the Suez Canal), I was sent with the rest of the Otago Battalion to Gallipoli, calling at Lemnos on the • way, and staying there a short time. Eventually we got our orders, and set off as fast as our boat could travel, arriving at the Peninsula on April 25. We sailed up the coast for a considerable distance, and were much interested in the naval bomgardment proceed : ng at the time. In due course we reached Gaba Tepe, where we landed, and immediately pushed on up the hill. The Turks greeted us with shrapnel as soon as we got over the ridge, and for the next 10 minutes or so we had a most enjoyable time. I cannot give everything in detail owing'to scarcity of space; however, here is the week’s work; —Sunday saw us landed, and then v/e did no aggressive work until Wednesday, when No. 4 platoon got all they wanted, and more, on a ridge some distance up “the gully.'' On Sunday, May 2, the whole crowd made a strong aggressive movement, and, among many' others, the Turks managed to palm 2oz of nickeled lead into THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL. We are very glad indeed to have you back again with us, Scarlet Pimpernel, alter your long absence. You have travelled far afield in that time, and have seen many strange sights, and have no doubt garnered a store of experiences which you will never forget, even without 2oz of nickeled lead to remind you. ' A little note comes from Geraldine saying how sorry she is that she has had no time to send in a paper this month; but the Red Cross work is so urgent that she docs not feel justified in laying it aside even for an hour. -She sends kindly greetings to all the club comrades. Fifth meeting, September 15. Papers to be in by September 4. HEROES AND HEROISM. To avoid a clumsy title I have used “Heroes” as a common noun, and it is not to he considered as applying to the sterner sex alone. Members may write of any deed of heroism that they know and have read of, or they may send a quotation or two on the virtue of courage.