REMINISCENT OF A WEST COAST SOUND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3488, 18 January 1921, Page 55

REMINISCENT OF A WEST COAST SOUND.

By

“Kororea."

Along the rugged shores of the Wesu Coast Sounds strong tides and currents run with the force of a mill race; violent gales sweep from unexpected quarters over the long swell of the Southern Ocean, which thunders against the perpendicular cliffs, lashing itself into boiling foam in its fury, its rollers looking green with very rage at their impotence to move the everlasting smile of solemn indifference that sits upon the craggy heights. An every-varying panorama of soul-moving pictures arrest the vision, as our steamer, skilfully handled, ploughs its way south, giving the shore a wide berth, yet near enough to enable those on board to feast their eyes. Glittering glaciers, snowy peaks, slopes covered with forest kings, valleys of eternal gloom, flashing waterfalls, which tumble in wild glee from giddy heights, give place to each other alternately. It was nature cased in her strongest armour and crowned with the glitter of her purest diadem, stupendous in her mould, immovable in her strength, yet with chinks in her mailed front that gave glimpses of soft, warm spots where pulsation was active amid valleys of prolific vegetation; and though the surges sang and roared below and whitened the fagged rocks peace reigned above; the fleecy mists hovered- around and stole amongst the towering pinnacles, their feathery embrace drawing moisture from the iron peaks, tears of joy in welcome to the beams of the morning sun. Inexpressibly sublime was the prospect to our party on that bright January morning. Even little Miggins, the retired money-lender, all the way from Chancerylane, London, felt he was getting repaid with goodly interest over this his first piece of extravagance. As for the artist and his friend the poet, their Tapture was unbounded. That afternoon we entered the solitudes of Dusky Bound, past the island that bears the name of Captain Cook’s ship in which he circumnavigated these islands, and here had sojourned for a season. On we steam, past the two smaller islands that lie at the entrance of the Sound, almost land-locking the haven. For several miles we proceeded before coming to an anchor, close in shore, where an easy landing could be effected. The majesty of the scene which opened out as we had thus far penetrated the deep blue waters of the Sound was such as to call forth the subdued admiration of every tourist on board. Heavilywooded heights rose abruptly from the water’s edge, and lost themselves amid successive ranges that towered above each other, until the dim distance absorbed their outline. Here and there valleys ani gullies opened out upon belts of shingly beach, the slopes of which were clad with thick vegetation, the brighter greens of which contrasted with the sombre tints of the forest scrub and of the dark brown hue of the riven rocks that towered aloft, flinging their pinnacled heights against the sky, weather-beaten and scarified with centuries of exposure to sun and storm. Creeks emptied their cold streams of melted snow —borne from the glaciers above—into the salt-tide, gathering strength as they sped their course through rocky ravines, through valleys Tich m grass and waving fern, across rocky terraces, leaping over the brinks of precipices with eager haste, as though the taniwhas of the mountains were in hot pursuit, down under the living rock, through chasms of inky night, to the lower levels, where, breathlessly surging between hush-clad banks, they smilingly mingle their murmurs with the song of the lapping wavelets of the ever-moving tide. The radiance of the setting sun enriched the manifold tints of the surrounding scenery with a glory unspeakable. The advent of daybreak brought most of our party on deck. The scene was changed—the weather was calm and the water unruffled, hut the entire hills and woods were enshrouded in a heavy mist, which moved slowly- through the gullies and defiles, like battalions of spectres seeking their clay tenements, as thougn sick and weary- of their eternal march, and ready to barter emancipation for the breath of life again. As the morning advanced and the sun’s rays again somewhat cleared the atmosphere flocks of Parera could be seen hovering about the mouths of the creeks and amongst the Raupo bullrush. After the morning meal the boats were lowered and a shore party landed ; on shooting and exploration bent, a few of us—including the poet and artist —made for the high ground, and after an hour’s walking reached the summit of a hill thot overlooked the bay-. The castellated cliffs on the opposite shore, with here and there a winding gorge—crowned with punga and ti-tree—formed the back ground to a scene that inspired a feeling of impotence amongst us to describe, through its inconceivable grandeur ! While borne along on the still air was the deep and eternally- sounding boom and subduel roar of a waterfall, about a mile higher np the hay. which leapt in one bound several hundred feet from its rocky brink into the Sound itself, sending high in the air a cloud of rack and spray-, the density of which obscured the seething cauldron formed by the terrible impetus of the cascade. The afternoon was spent in exploring the upper waters of the Sound, and a landing was made on one of the islands, a beautiful gem of vivid green, with tetara trees literally smothered in creepers. The trunks—-where they rose above the clinging vines—were covered with a silver-grey lichen, most pleasing to the eye, while the blaze of the sea.lst rata blossom presented a dazzling effect It was impossible to penetrate deeply into the intricacies of the bush, owing to the interlacement of the supplejack and other climbing canes. So in one of the many bosky- dells, on cushions of springing fern, we held a picnic.

Next morning saw us forging througn the swell of the Southern Pacific again, our good captain assuring us that when we had explored Milford Sound we would be able to descant on at least two of the many beauty spots in New Zealand.