A WALK OF SEVENTY MILES

Otago Witness, Issue 3403, 4 June 1919, Page 60

A WALK OF SEVENTY MILES

FROEVI ROSS' TO FRANZ JOSEF CLACSER. By G. E. M'Leod. (See Illustrated Pages.) ROSS TO PUKEKURA. We did it in five stages, averaging about 14 miles a day. W e were seven in all —two walkers, three cyclists, and two travelled by coach, —waiting here and there alosg the way so that, we might all reach the glacier on the same day. The cycles were taken. to enable those who wished to use the camera to linger at different beauty spots, and catch up to the walkers without hindering the whole party. The arrangement answered splendidly. By getting a start ahead of the cyclists, the walkers did not unduly hinder those on the wheel, and, by carrying night apparel and lunches when necessary, and by stopping hero and there to photograph, the cyclists kept comfortably behind or alongside the walkers, with an occasional delightful spin ahead down a long slope. This makes an ideal mode of enjoying a holiday. The stages were; Ross to Pukekura, 15 miles; Pukekura to Hari Hari, 15 miles; Hari'Hari to Wataroa, 18 miles; Wataroa to Okarito Forks, 10 miles; the Forks to Waiho Gorge Hotel (the stopping-place for the glacier), 12 miles. This hotel is three miles from the foot of Franz Josef. The actual walking vwas reduced on the third day from 18 to 14 miles, because we were put over the Poerua River, and on the fifth day from 12 to 10 miles by driving two miles with the man who put us over the Totora River. We arrived at our destination as fresh and fit as "When we left Ross, and - but for the time walking Ave would gladly have walked back again, for avc gained confidence after the long middle day of 18 miles, and on the beautiful forest roads three miles seem as one. Ross is 20 miles south of Hokitika, and Are arrived there by train at 10 p.m., as we Avished to start early in the morning and have the day before ns. When Ave Avoke it Avas raining, but the sky looked promising, and after breakfast Ave stood on- the balcony of the hotel Avondering Avhich of the near hills held the pass by which avc Avere to start on our long tramp into the (to us) unknown. The coach left Avith the bulk of our luggage, and a little later the two Avalkers, unburdened by anything but umbrellas, set their faces towards the sea. “ Over the hill there, and keep to the coach road,” Avere mine host’s directions, and Avith a delicious feeling of freedom, exhilarated by the freshness of the morning and the boom of the breakers on the shore, Ave folloAved the recent tracks of the coach Avheels. At first there was little to note on the Avay. Tile Avhole countryside is scarred by mining operations. Little A-egetation brightens the landscape. A few English floAvers AA-andering from the confines of a deserted garden have taken possession and to some extent soften the ravages caused by man’s search for gold. Fragrant roses, gemmed Avith raindrops, cluster" round a neglected arclrway Avhere once a garden bloomed; Avhite and pink foxgloA-es lift moist cups to the replenishing # sky, and trail far up the barren hillsides. Before long the bush road begins Avith its Avealth of common ferns, differing in shape and shade; its familiar bracken; its tall tree ferns shouldering tasselled young rimus and ancient rimus -with mossencrnsled limbs and lichen-coated trunks; and its proud old forest giants, harbouring all manner of creepers and climbers still Avet from the morning's shoAver. Curve after curve in the road keeps one constantly on the lookout for something neAv. Here is a break in the forest density—it is imperative that Ave peep along the silent aisles. How calm and sweet and fresh it all is. Green is still the fashionable colour, and the ferns still crimp their lovely leaves as they did in the beginning, yet endless variety in form and size and shape are here. One fallen

tree holds more minute and dainty adornment than ever a city window could display, so lavish is Nature's offering. There, at the top of the gentle rise, we get a brief glimpse of the ocean over the trees of a sharply declining valley. Turning, the path grows even more enjoyable, the graceful boughs meet overhead, the sun touches the highest tipa with amber light, and the fluting of tuis completes the woodland harmony. • The little "parson bird" is well named, apart from his white cravat, for he stands high above his audience, pouring forth his liquid notes, or darting from perch to perch he calls in his ecstasy, to others of his kind to rejoice with him and be glad.

A ravine, dipping to sea-level, displays an unbroken and irregular spread of emerald acres, where modest dark-hued flowers and richly berried branches lend lightness to the sweep of sombre green. The mountain pools reflect everything around, doubling and trebling the fair graces of their own embroidered sides, and showing tree ferns and forest tree trunks all mirrored in their clear depths. We chose a pretty spot where a fallen tree provided a seat, the cyclists came merrily wheeling along, and we had " morning glory " in the shape of chocolate, biscuits, and raisins, with a drink from a wayside rill. Together we finished the morning's walk. The pretty road winds round and about, with many a stately avenue that, look backward or forward' as you will, brings a thrill of pleasure. A dr\r creek bed, with a long and narrow footbridge ended the forest walk, for in the near distance, set in the midst of a considerable clearing, we saw "Ferguson's," a pleasant two-storeyed Accommodation House, whose small garden boasted the most brilliant dark crimson sweet williams the eye could wish to enjoy. After a wash and a short rest we were in fine fettle "for the excellent lunch Mrs Ferguson provided. Hunger is still the best sauce, and after so much tonic air the fresh scones and delicious home-made cakes, the eggs cooked to a turn, and the cream-flavoured tea seemed just the best things possible 1 . Our waitress was a bright little damsel who had come to help Mrs Ferguson over a few days of stress. She was to ride that night to her home, several miles beyond our next stoppingplace, and promised to look out for us next day. This she did, and more; but that belongs to to-morrow's story. We resumed our walk, refreshed physically, and eager to be amongst the tree 3 again, to hear more of the bird voices, to assimilate, each according- to his capacity, the refreshment for nerve and spirit spread so amply, free to all, on Nature's great board. The Little Waitaha is unbridged, except by a decaying swing bridge for foot traffic. The side track to this bridge leads one through an exceedingly pretty piece of primitive road. This river, though " little " in, comparison with the Waitaha proper, further on, constitutes another horror for motors and coaches. It rises in an incredibly short time to an utterly impassable swirl of rushing water. We drew near to Pukekura about 4.30, not at all fatigued, but pleasantly weary with the many lovelinesses that left nothing to be desired except -& rest for the feet, and the good cup of tea that Miss Wright, of Lake lanthe Hotel, gave us, together with a real Christmas spread on the hospitable table. We spent the short evening with the family by the homely log fire, for in South Westland every house is for the time being a home. (To be Continued.)