WANDERINGS IN WESTLAND.

Otago Witness, Issue 3594, 30 January 1923, Page 60

WANDERINGS IN WESTLAND.

By

A. W. P.

OVER THE COPLAND PASS. (See Illustrated Pages.) (Continued from last week.) January 2, 1922.-—The Hermitage. Three great clays, and now a satisfied feeling of achievement, a sense of quiet superiority, and a consequent perfect amiability towards the world in general, dispelling even the gloom of the Valley of the iSiiadow of ended holidays. On e fly in the ointment there is—viz., decided shortcomings in our wardrobes. The latter appeared extravagantly extensive when we were toiling u-p the pass a few hours ago, but the environment of the most stylish tourist resort of New Zealand has made them shrink surprisingly. It has been mentioned already that our appearance was more of the brigand than the fashionable society type; and apparently the sudden descent of a band of disreputables is not an everyday occurrence here. It created quite a stir, and, may be, some polititely disguised trepidation. Strange that comfort in raiment should be a sign of depravity in its wearer. When suddenly launched upon civilisation from out the luxury of Nature’s generous unconvention, what an uncomfortable thing the former seems! Goodness knows what modern houses, up-to-date hotels in particular, are designed for. It is certainly- not for comfort. It was not until I tasted the joys of prirnitiyenese that I realised what a tortured existence house-dwelling man draws out. For instance, our boots—those nailstudded treasures, claiming now the re spect due, not to novelty and anticipation, but to well-proved, trusty veterans, incredible that they should be regarded with any-tiling but esteem, if not veneration. Yet, within two minutes of our arrival, behold an outraged manager following us, protesting against the sacrilege of wearing such boots on his beautiful carpets. What senseless tilings carpets are! A change of footwear, naturally, is a luxury not allowed by restrictions of a swag carried on one s back, and heavy enough as it is, despite most rigid economy and selfdenial. We now must tuck our feet under chairs and offer up silent prayers that they be inconspicuous. It is surprisingly difficult to feel dignified in stockinged feet in this establishment. Another blow was to follow. An hours vigorous polishing up, and the most elaborate toilet our resources permitted had, to our minds, done wonders, and made us eminently respectable persons. A shortlived delusion. The first person we met was an acquaintance, generally tactful in the extreme, but this time unfortunate in closing the conversation with the remark. “Well, I won’t keep you now; I know you will be wanting to go and get prepared for dinner.” But what are trifles such as these to men who feel that Hannibal’s crossing of the Alps entitles him to no more than doubtful equality with themselves. Already the journey from Weheka- to Welcome Flat has begun to appear wholly enjoyable ; by the time we reach home it will, doubtless, have become one of the most delightful of all our experiences. Distance lends enchantment to the view of a surety, distance either m anticipation or retrospect, on a walking trip. On the day itself our feelings were somewliat different. That morning, from the Williams’s verandah, we had our first view of Mount Cook. Tt is visible in all its grandeur from Hokitika, we were informed by a local patriot v?hen there; but we had been unable to see it—on account of clouds, our informant had said. Now its peak appeared in full majesty. It is majestic, even to one who hasn’t been told that it is Mount Cook. Tasman and a row of lesser satellites stand guard, raising their snowy crests in loftv" disdain above the dark, bush-covered foothills in between. Seven miles on, we encountered the first obstacle of our march. This was —The Cook River,— unbridged, and rather dreaded by' those who have. to ford it. It is a typical New Zealand river, divided into several streams in a wide shingle bed, the swirling waters, swollen, when we saw them, by recent heavy rain, ice cold, only just released from their glacier source. The river is fed by the Fox Glacier ; but, looking straight up its bed, one obtains an unrestricted view of Mount Cook, standing out in unhidden splendour. It is no wonder that the pioneers who gave the river its name thought it a nursling of the mountain giant itself. Another virtuous early rising had enabled us to reach the northern hank before 9 a.m. It was after 12.30 when we gained the other side. The horses that were to carry us across had not come np when we arrived ; eo, with the impatience and seif-confidence of vouth and ignorance, we attempted to ford on foot. With garments draped artistically around our necks —boots are the only article of clothing appropriate for river-wading, and Nature s wilds give nrivileges—and hands tightly ioined, we .essayed the first stream. The water, as iev as it was swift, curled m foaming whirlpools above our waists, and, for a few strenuous miuutes, appeared to have won the vietorv: hut a final desperate struggle on our parts, and we were over, half frozen, but triumphant. Still, this first stream was merely a preliminary. 'Hiree other streams, one at least, much larger, 'remained. The three rasher spirits amongst us braved them. Tt was touch and go: hut they won over, imbued with a considerable respect for New Zealand rivers, and, incidentally, for themselves. For the rest of the. party, the experience of the first stream was sufficient, and we decided to await the arrival of the horses, feeling, in o-ur economic souls, as we were at pains to explain, that, as the latter had been paid for, it would be a sin not

to use them. But when Mr Williams eventually did arrive we were to discover that, even for horses, the fording of the Cook River is not a simple project. Ours were plucky and used to rivers, but too small and light for the work ; so that it took over an hou? of riding up and down the river-bed before their owner found a spot . where he was willing to risk the crossing. By the time the crossing was over two hours and more had gone, and gone also a large portion of our pride. A isions of displaying our skdl in horsemanship, of a gallant charger dashing disdainfully through the foaming stream, proved as baseless as most visions. The “snorting charger” was not to be entrusted to the city novice: just fa.hcv the indignity' of a leading rone! Even then no exhilarating dashing across, but a slow, deliberate struggle against the swirling current; frequent haltings t-o make sura of foothold, whilst to the rider the water rushing past seemed to be whirling him headlong to a watery, icy doom. The business was a lengthy one, as only one of lie could he ferried across at a time in this manner; and three or four streams, separated by wide stretches of river-bed. had to be negotiated in all, including, to the*further humbling of our pride, being carried back over the one we had so valiantly conquered on our own a short time before. The only actor in the drama whose role could appear 'heroic was an unofficial one —a collie dog. Not happy to be separated from his master for one moment, he followed him on every crossing, swimming desperately against the current, carried down 100 yards or more, but undaunted a.t the prospect of an immediate recommencement of the frav. He must have made a. dozen stormy passages m all : hut he had shared his master’s perils and was happy. The patience of our mere venturesome companions was well-nigh exhausted when we were, length, able to join them on the further side: and none of us were in a very amiable state of mind as we resumed our march. Alas for hopes and carefully thought out plans! Fifteen miles, at least, before lunch had been the theory of the night before: and now the actuality-—-well on in the afternoon, a paltrv seven miles behind, three times that ahead. At Mrs Scott’s, 13 miles from Williams’s, and the last habitation we should meet until reaching Canterbury, the road ends. Here is the extreme outpost of man’s penetration, the last link with the outside we should meet in Westland. From Greymouth, np to this point, we had been travelling steadily south, never far from the coast. Now we turned inland, going nearly due east towards Mount Sefton. —Here the Copland Track Proper begins.— A real track it is, too, smacking unmistakeably of the primitive and the unknown. It was rough going : boggy, overgrown, ill defined, though t-lie greater part of the way to Welcome Flat can be done on horseback. For the first mile or two the track follows the Karongaroa River, and then, for the remainder of tl;e way, a. tributary, the Copland, a beautiful mountain torrent, now foaming white as it thunders over boulders or through narrow chasms, now gliding silently, and blue, brilliantly, gorgeously blue. Why is it that water on the West Coast is so blue? It is the blueness of the Otira River, intensified by the patches of boiling white foam, that helps most in the grandeur of the famed Otira Gorge; the blueness of the lakes south of Ross is, perhaps, their greatest charm; it is the blueness in the depths of iceholes and crevasses that gives such unexpected beauty to the glaciers. Why should all these be blue? It was one of the first things I learnt when being initiated into the mysteries of science that water was colourless; but here it is dazzlingly white or brilliantly blue. The scientist endeavoured to explain that it was owing to its clearness, adding that it is the clearness of the atmosphere that makes the sky look blue ; hut the answer did not sound convincing, and the scientist couldn’t elucidate it any further without going into technicalities which, according to him, would be unintelligib’e to our layman minds. The hush is as fine as any we have seen: magnificent timber trees of totara, black, white, and red pine tower above a luxuriance of less lofty trees and undergrowth, that undergrowth which, perhaps, constitutes the most characteristic and the most beautiful feature of the New Zealand bush. It was not easy walking. The roughness of the track and the steady climb of 2000 ft had their effect; and there were other factors acting in the same direction: the weakness of the still not completely recovered cripples of our party, blisters of an awe-inspiring size on the feet of the newly-recruited member, and, above all, thoughts of the distance still ahead, and secret misgivings of each of us as to our powers of outlasting that distance. He who doubts the dominance of the mind over the body, let him go a waliring trip. Unless he he superhuman in powers of endurance, he will realise tha-t tiredness is far more dependent upon the mental than upon the physical; he will be tired when he sees .others tired, when he thinks the distance covered merits tiredness, or when he fears the journey still ahead. Think yourself fresh and buoyant. The miles will he as furlongs. Remember you are weary, and each mile will be as 20. Whatever the explanation, it was un doubtedly a tired hand that, with the sha-dows unwelcomely long, found themselves, on the most optimistic estimate, still six or seven miles From their resting place for the night. We became enthusiastic over the scenery. Most materialistic as a rule, we were now fervent- in out praises of the beauty of the track. It was wonderful, soul-inspiring ; a crime to pass through such loveliness without fre quent pauses to allow proper admiratiop, pauses which, incidentally, satisfied bodily as well as spiritual cravings. These moments of soul inspiration, welcome as

they were, did not advance us in the material sense; while even more arresting were the little rills and gushing torrents of ice-cold water that gurgled and foamed across the track at never very long intervals. Almost the most surprising revelation of the trip, so far, has been the enormous quantity of water it is possible to imbibe with no effect whatever upon the cravings of a walker’s thirst. At every stream we drank, drank so copiously that we must have exhausted any othei water supply than- that of th e land oi rivers; and two minutes after every stream we were longing for the next one more fervently than ever. It is no reflection upon water as a beverage. All others, hot or cold, are the same; for, within, of course, the restrictions of prohibitionist principles, we can speak with authority of them all. Indeed, as con corns quality, nothing can surpass West Coast water. It is crystal clear, spark ling, deliciously cold: but as inefficacious as a thirst-quencher as the most seducing of intoxicants. We were now without the stimulus of mile-posts—a much more real deprivation than the inexperienced might imagine The only other guide as to distance on an unknown road, time, is not only unreliable, but, especially at the end of a day, just as disheartening as the mile post is stimulating. Fresh, and on a good road, one may he justified in expecting to find four miles behind him at.the end of an hour; but we soon had to accept the unpleasant fact that one is not justi Bed in doing so when' on a bad, uphill track, and reduced to a condition demand ing halts at 10-minute intervals for admiration of scenery and attempts at thirst quenching. Some six miles from —The Welcome Flat Hut—additional burdens, in a literal sense, descended upon us. Here our supply of provisions had been left, as the track he vond was impassable for a horse. So bread, a leg of mutton, tins of jam, etc., had to be stuffed into haversacks already seeming inordinately heavy. Then nearly three hours more of nainful toiling before at last—O the unutterable joy of it —our goal. Well does it deserve its name; not but that any place whatever—the gate of Purgatory itself—would have been welcome had it meant the end of the day’s journey; hut this was truly Paradise. Here, in addition to manifold other charms discovered later, was provided the one thing most to be desired, and, perhaps, least to be expected—a glorious hot bath. Yes, 2000 ft un in the mountains, snow capped peaks all around, snow less than 100 ft awav, in this out-of-the-way corner of the earth, Nature had provided hot springs. There were two of them, one practically at the boiling noint, which we did not sample: the other, which we did, had been considerately regulated to just the correct temperature for human comfort. It was a drawback having to set to and prepare our own meal: hut we were almost too tired to be hungry, far too tired to be critical. Fortunately, perhaps ; for it does not seem to be in the scheme of things that youths should be experts in the culinary art • and, an even more important consideration, our provisions proved to have suffered sadly during transport. They had got well soaked in the Cook River, which had risen over the horse’s saddlebags; and subsequent carriage in overstuffed haversacks had not improved matters. The result would probably have proved unappetising to one in a position to be particular: mushy loaves of bread hopelessly mixed up with squashed and greasy butter: and, embedded in them, a wonderful variety of plums, some of them eatables—rice, dates, bacon, tins of jam; others, unfortunately, not—toothbrushes, for example. They had at one time been wrapped in paper ; but this had not been proof against immersion in the Cook River: and the only substitutes available were not over-clean towels and shirts. Nor did these prove particularly successful, inasmuch as,. on unpacking, provisions of all descriptions were found scattered promiscuously among the other articles in our swags. After all, however, these were mere trifles. Rest was all that mattered ; sleep, made doubly heavenly by drowsy consciousness that it had been earned. _ - Tire next morning, New Year’s Day, was spent in luxurious recuperation, discovering the .full attractiveness .of this little corner of Paradise. * Welcome Flat might, and possibly will, in years to come, be° one of the most-sought-after tourist resorts in New Zealand. A little grassy flat, bathed in the fresh air of the mountains; all around the virgin bush; below, the rocky gorge of a foaming torrent; on all sides snow-covered peaks; and, beneath them, the sombreness of bushcovered slopes, brightened by silver pendants of flashing waterfalls. The hut is of three rooms, well built, containing hunks, strictly utilitarian furniture, blankets, .and a noble fireplace. The hot springs are not more than 50 yards away, situated in a miniature thermal district, 15 to 20 yards square, steaming, sulphursmelling, ‘with the beginnings of white terraces, probably siliceous. There is no other indication," save for an unfamiliar, presumably sulphurous, smell we noticed at one or two places on the track, of present volcanic activity in the neighbourhood. Even when we were there, in the middle of summer, there was snow on the spur opposite, descending almost to a level with the springs, while in winter the whole flat must be completely snowcovered. Around is typical bush. One might easily pass within a dozen yards of the thermal area without having a suspicion of its existence. Our guide had not arrived bv 2 in the afternoon, so we started out to meet him, with the idea of spending the night at Douglas Rock, four hours’ march awav. Distances here are reckoned not by miles, but by hours, a system whose advantages one soon learns to appreciate. Thus six miles seems a very different thing from four hours; but it is less than six miles to Douglas Rock. After an hour’s rough scrambling up the Copland River, and just when we were beginning to feel ap-

prehensive as to our bearings, for the track is scarcely distinguishable as such, • Our Guide Appeared,— as suddenly and opportunely as a celestial messenger, and indeed regarded bv us with, probably, equal, if not greater, awe and veneration. This was the famous Peter Graham, one of the most celebrated guides in New Zealand, who is as at home among the Southern Alps as we are in the streets of Christchurcch, and who lias climbed Mount Cook on almost as many occasions as it has been climbed. Later on, when we were on more familiar terms, and heard stories as thrilling as any of the most romantic fiction, related in the matter-of-fact manner of everyday experiences, our admiration reached bounds far beyond even those which generous report had called forth. The chief guide had arrived at the Hermitage from a three days’ climb late the night before, had received there instructions to meet our party, and so had started out again at 4 in the morning. One might have thought that he would have scarcely been ready to start back straight away on the return journey ; but you soon learn that the chief guide cannot be judged by our accustomed standards of human endurance. It is a great pity that the Copland track has been so completely neglected during the last few years. No attempt has been made to keep it clear and in good condition, with the result that it is now, in many parts, almost impassable and quite unrecognisable as a track. If it is not seen to this tourist route will have to be closed; and if left in a very short space of time would need complete remaking. For the last three or four miles to Douglas Rock the track, or, rather, what has once been a track, is completely overgrown with dense brushwood. Forcing one's way through tnis is a slow business—a painful one, too, in which short pants for once proved a decided disadvantage. The vegetation consists mainly of native holly (Olearia ilicifolia), tutu (Coriaria ruscifolia), and toi-toi (Arundo conspicua), the first and last of which wrought havoc upon bare knees; while in places where we bad to crawl under fallen trees or tangled masses of creepers our joys were sure to be enhanced by inconveniently situated beds of stinging nettle (Urtica ferox). Consequently, especially as we were climbing steeply now, by the time Douglas Rock was reached the four hours had not proved a much too generous estimate. Welcome Flat marks the upper limit of the forest proper; it is, in fact, considerably above the zone of large timber trees. We had now passed through the belt of dwarfed trees and “scrub” and risen above the bush line altogether into the alpine herb flora —mountain daisies (Celmisias), mountain lilies (Ranunculus Lyallii), gentians, ourisias, our native heath (Gaultheria antipoda), and beautiful white violet (Viola C’unninghamii), a worthy rival of its European cousin were it not for the complete absence of scent. Douglas Rock will long stay a vivid recollection in the minds of all of us. In itself there is not a great deal remarkable about it'. It is a huge boulder, jutting out from the hillside and overhanging to form a kind of cave, tolerably well protected on three sides, where three or four, or possibly five, people might sleep with some degree of comfort. Unfortunately there were eight of us, all of generous proportions. A dip (suggesed but no shared by our guide) was not an unmitigated success. Icy was no name for it. The next time we are encamped by a mountain torrent whose source is a snowfield a few yards higher up we shall imitate the wisdom of our guide, and find instigation much preferable to participation. Our meal around a blazing fire on a ledge in front of the cave was much more satisfactory —eggs (carried over the pass from the Hermitage unbroken, a miraculous feat to anyone blit a guide) ; bread, which did not need toasting before it could be recognised as such; and tea—not merely a billy of it, but a kerosene tin full. Guides evidently are experienced in gauging the capabilities of parties in the way of liquid refreshment. Then to .bed; and it was now the fun began. Eight sleepers for a bed space of not more than 10 feet, and a hard and stony 10 feet at that! No possibility of sleeping on one’s back ; even when wedged together as tightly as sardines on our sides the two outside unfortunates found their bed composed largely of huge, jagged rocks. All the same, they were perhaps the best off. For the others, turning was, of course, out of the question, and. the provision of bedclothes (five sleeping bags and a plenitude of blankets are ceclied at the Rock) quite unnecessary. Indeed, during the night our feelings concerning the dip of the previous evening underwent considerable modification. When at last the packing process had been completed, and we were all gazing towards the fire trying to imagine ourselves comfortable, Tubbv was assailed with apprehensions as to the safety of his trousers, hanging in perilous proximity to the fire. It was certainly inadvisable to risk the burning of an only pair of trousers; but even the visions of a trouserless state seemed less dreadful than the efforts necessary for their rescue. Getting up from out the tightly wedged mass of humanity would be bad enough; getting hack would be next door to an impossibility, unless human nature proved much more altruistic and self-sacrificing than one could reasonably count upon. For a long time Tubby deliberated upon the situation. I he fir© blazed up : the doom of the trousers seemed imminent. Still h;e v was uiwhUidod. Then, suddenly, a herculean heave and a frantic rush as lie remembered that his whole Worldly wealth reposed in the pockets of the threatened garment. The ardours of regaining his share of bed space were all that he had foreseen: but eventually his strength and punching power and supply of expletive proved equal to the occasion.. Still, however, the fates were against Tubby. Another uncomfortable memory wave came to him. He had omitted to clean his teeth, an omission which, unless

remedied, would banish all hopes-—slight enough already—of sleep. A polite requst to the man on the outside, who, in addition to boulders, had the major portion of the haversacks for his mattress, resulted, rather to everyone’s surprise, in a grumbling rummage among the party’s possessions, and at length the .required article was handed over. Tubby at once Commenced a vigorous dry clean; but his Contentment was short lived. The taste was evidently unfamiliar; for the next we heard was a furious outpouring of anathemas upon the head of the person who had ■elected the wrong toothbrush. No one showed much sympathy; in fact, despite, of perhaps it was owing to, our own discomforts, the affair seemed screamingly fanny, but the person most concerned <joaldn’t be brought to see the humorous tdde. Nor, in the middle of the night, could Corky see any fun ip a volcanic Eruption in the shape of a gigantic sneeze from his neighbour. Driven to desperation by the torture of an unchanged position, Corky had unwisely, by dint of herculean effort, managed to turn over, and so. now he received the full blast in his face. For a few moments it appeared as if masters were going to be lively; tut restrictions of space proved an effective obstacle even to outraged dignity. The keas in the neighbourhood seemed to have entered into a conspiracy still farther to impress that night upon our memory. ' Keas have two distinct cries: one, which they use while on the wing, is almost indistinguishable from the cry of a seagull; the other is exactly like the meowing of a cat. 'The concert we listened to was distinctly more hideous than the | serenading of an army of the most Btrongvoiced cats in creation ; and just as sleepinducing. These birds are extremely plentiful hereabouts, and wonderfully tame. They allowed us to .approach within a few feet quite readily, and even to handle them ; while our guide told us that he had had as many as five alight upon him at the one time. He has a soft spot for these mountain parrots, despite their vocal shortcomings; and discredits the stories o; lavages upon sheep attributed to them. In consequence of the widespread be lef that the birds do commit wholesale destruction of flocks, the Government offers a reward of 5s for every kea killed; so ft is easily understandable that shepherds are not anxious to discredit reports which prove so profitable to them. At intervals throughout the night we heard the roar of avalanches crashing down from the snow-covered peaks around, adding further to the romance of the situation, if not to our peace of mind. In fact, everything considered, a§ far as sleep was concerned, Douglas Hock was not a success; nor was it the miracle it might that there was not a murmur of protest from a single one of us against getting up considerable before the first pale streaks of dawn. By 5 we had breakfasted and started upon our journey’s —Final Stage,— the soft light of a cloudless early morning morning making unforgettably beau tiful the picture revealed. Surrounding ns was a comolete circle of boldly putlined mountains, wrapped in newlyWashed blankets, some dazzlinglv white, cheerless, cold; some pink-flushed and warn} and soft and downv; beneath the snow 1 , dull grey expanses of shingle or a sombre mantle of bush; while belo\y us, 200 ft or more, lay the Copland River—a curling braid of silver. Behind us showed a dome-shaped neak, Mount Shiela; on the right, towering, majestic, Mount Sefton, and in front, the Unicorn and the Dilemua, dark, jagged pinnacles of rock, too precipitous for snow to cover. To our inexpert eyes it appeared humanly impossible that either of the latter could be scaled; but our guide, we learned, had gained the summit of the Dilemna. The Unicorn still remains unconquered. Further to the north Graham pointed opt an inconspicuous peak called Mouqt Ra reka. It is' named, he told us, after a Maori woman, an outcast from her tribe in Westland, who was the first person to cross these Alps of ours, not, probably, by the pass we were essaying, but further north. She brought with her tidings of* treasure in the form of a few ornaments of greenstone, the first that the Maoris of Canterbury had seen. The new stone was at once recognised to he immeasur-' ably superior for tools and weapons to the local flint and softer stone; so Rareka was prevailed upon to lead a band of warriors to the land of such a priceless possession. The expedition was completely successful: Rareka’s people were wiped out and the greenstone treasure —treasure indeed to a race that was completely ignorant of metals—introduced to the east coast Maoris. From Douglas Rock there is little attempt at a track. For the first four or five miles it is fairly level going over almost barren shingle ; then a steep climb upwards to the permanent snow line. Here another touch of romance and adventure was added. It was the donning of snow goggles; and verv necessary we found them for protection against the dazzling brightness on the snow. It was hard work now. steeper than anything we had experienced before, and so soft that our feet sank inches deep at every step. It was accomplished at last • and by 10.30 a.m. a triumphant little band was seated on the rocky \crags that crown the pass, 7180 ft above «ea level, each of us with one foot carefully nlaoed in Westland, the other in Canterbury. Just as we reached the pass from the one side a thick mist came swirling up from the other, effectuallv blotting out the magnificent vie"’ we had been promised, and revealing onlv a few feet of a ghostly expanse of white; unite appropriately romantic, it seemed to ns. And now the one finishing touch necessary to complete our feelino- of being certificated mountaineers —all of us were roped together, the heaviest in front, the guide bringing up the rear. Then a wild rush downwards into the mist, falling, sliding, rolling, smothered in snow, dragged along rapturously by those ahead who still kept their feet. All too soon over, and replaced by precipitous rock work, bringing

us below the mist, with a glorious panorama opening out before us. There In all its glory, unmistak cable, indescribably grand, majestic, inspiring, rose Mount Cook, and, guarding it, a retinue of other mountains, no mean lords themselves, but dwarfed into insignificance in the presence of their monarch. Directly below us was the Hooker Glacier; the portion visible by no means impressive, reminding one of a huge coal yard, so covered with moraine that it is difficult to realise that there is ice beneath; very different ' indeed from the magnificently white expanse of the Franz Joseph we beheld from Mount Moltke. At the Hooker Hut, not very far above the glacier, we found a supply of delicacies that even our unusually healthy ap petites, sharpened to an unprecedented degree of keenness, could not exhaust. A rest to admit of recovery, and then an easy two hours’ tramp, to emerge suddenly from the wilds to outrage the civilisation of this abode of ultra-respecta-bility. There are many celebrated, and some interesting, people, besides ourselves, staying at —The Hermitage,— habitual visitors many of them, attracted ■ bock - Christmks after Christmas by the magnetism of the mountains, almost irresistible to djiose who have once come under its influence. There is a university professor, remarkable in that he is a professor, and, moreover, a professor of law, and yet has a sense of humour. One might reasonably have expected that the musty atmosphere of law l and erudition combined would have proved too much for a sense of humour; hut in this case it hadn’t. He told us about his music examination, for a teacher’s certificate when he wag a meek and trembling student. First the examiner struck a note on the piano, which he invited the professor to repeat. The professor rose to the occasion nobly, opened his mouth to its* fullest extent, and uttered what he considered a most impressive sound. Apparently the examiner was impressed. His face bore the expression of one suffering acute pain. “Sing something,”, he said hurriedly, “something that yon sing at home.” “They won’t let me sing at home.” “Well, try ‘God save the King, ” suggested the examiner. The professor tried. “Stop, for Heavsen’s sake stop, man!” cried the examiner with a look of holv horror. He hastened to his desk, and inserted a figure in his mark book. “I have given you 1£ marks, ' he said, "not on account of any intrinsic merit, but merely to show that you were present.” But the examiner was not so hardhearted as* he seemed. He handed the candidate a book with the suggestion that he might do well to read it before the written paper on the theory of music. Within, the professor found certain passages mysteriously marked, and so far benefited from their perusal as to obtain 50 per cent, on the paper. Ho passed, the examiner commenting that he regarded him as “merely a theoretical musician.” We heard —Another Story—* to-night, this time about a man who obstinately made up his mind to live when every convention of human endurance decreed that he should die. The Franz Joseph Glacier on the Westland side, and the Tasman on the Canterbury are separated by a pass about 7000 ft jn height, Graham’s Saddle, and form a great white highway between the two provinces; a difficult and dangerous highway, certainly, but, nevertheless, a possible route, for the venturesome and experienced traveller, between the two glacier hostelries —the Wailio and the Hermitage. It was this route that Mr L , who was staying at fie former, chose by which to rejoin his fiancee at the latter. He had arranged to climb the Franz Joseph to the Graham Saddle, and there meet a party who had ascended frota. the other side i but unfavourabe weather made him a day latein starting, with the result that he missed the guides from the Hermitage, who returned without him. As, after their return, one of the worst series of storms ever experienced there set in and continued for several days, it was assumed that T- had not left the Waiho. Actually, he made the ascent to the Saddle safely ; and, finding no one to meet him there, at once started on his own to complete the journey. He had, naturally, no thought for anything but the joyful reunion that was awaiting him at the' Hermitage; and. impatient of delay, recklessly neglected to cut ice-steps in descending the steep ice slopes, trusting hie whole weight to his ice axe. He s paid dearly for his rashness. Without warning the axe gave way, and he was precipitated headlong down the rough, moraine-covered ice slope. The axe was thrown from his "rasp, and the little food and clothing in his rucksack lost. When at last his fall was stopped he was, miraculously, still alive and conscious, though little more, sustaining among other m-\ juries a badly broken leg. Most people in such a situation would have resigned themselves hopelessly t-o death ; Jbut J> had more than his share of the bulldog determination of ithe Britisher; and he had made up his irfind that he would pot die. That day he dragged himself painfully a mile or more over the broken ice. Then the storm broke: and all that night he was completely in the open, exposed to its full violence. There was onlv one spot on the whole glacisr that afforded shelter, the only spot, as L knew, where a man would have even a fighting chance for life in such a storm, and that was three miles away. Yet he reached it the next day. It seems incredible that a badly injured man could have crawled on hands and knees four mile,s over fearfully rough ice in a raging storm. It seems almost as unißCely that he should have found the little group of sheltering rocks he was making for. But L did it. He had no blankets, no extra clothing, no food except one small tin of cocoa. On that tm of cocoa he had to live until help could arrive.

About a week later a letter was received at the Franz Joseph mentioning that L had not arrived at the Hermitage. Word was immediately telegraphed back that he had left the glacier over a week before. And then one of those little caprices of fate which seem so trivial ana may bring consequences of tremendous magnitude, intervened. At that time the telegraph line to the Hermitage extendi only as far as Lake Tekapo, leaving .. gap of 60 miles to be bridged by carrier pigeon. When the message trom the Glacier arrived it happened that the postmaster was suffering from the after-effects of having imbibed “not wisely, but too well.” His wife—possibly it was through inexperience, possibly it was the decree of fate—did not tie the message with the exact nicety that the susceptibilities of carrier pigeons make necessary; and so the bird's first act on being liberated was to tear off the offending scrap of paper. Thus another day elapsed without the word that would have sent assistance to the stricken man. Next day a second telegram was sent from the West-Coast side, describing the search for the missig man that had been made from there; and, fortunately, this Arrived at Tekapo drovers were there on their way to the Hermitage, and they delivered it. Immediately Peter Graham, who had just returned that afternoon from an ascent of Mount Cook, set out with other guides. He realised that there was only the one place where there was a possibility of L being found alive, and led the rescue party straight to it. There they found the object of their search, living and conscious. He is still living, and, what is more, still as enthusiastic and daring a mountaineer as ever. “It makes one prouder than ever of Englishmen,” remarked a listener. “L is not an Englishman,” replied our informant. “The first words he uttered after being discovered were when the guides were cutting the socks from his frozen feet. ‘Don’t cut them, whispered the injured Scotchman, they are a new pair.’ ” January 4.—-Fairlie. Nothing now save a day’s train journey. The reflection is not altogether an unpleasant one. If it was not for the psychological effect of the thought that something is over which cannot be experienced again till the lapse of a whole year, I am not at all sure that the best part of a holiday would not be the returning home. The Hermitage is a highly desirable place to stay at—for those who have unlimited capital. The tariff is .(or was then) 22s 6d a day for a back room, 25s for a front one. The advantage of the front room is that it affords a view of Mount Cook, which the back one does not. I do not mean that the humble occupant of the cheap apartment is prohibited from feasting his eyes upon the celebrated mountain; he may, indeed, go outside or even on to the verandah; but for the privi.ege of beholding so glorious a spectacle from one’s own bedroom, half-a-crown a day extra. Mount Cook must surely be gratified. Unfortunately, the members of our party had not unlimited capital. Funds, indeed, were running inconveniently short already; so that one dav in which to appreciate'the attractions of the Hermitage was the limit of TS*eir means. The had not even that; but, appalled by the coach fare of £4 15s for the 32 miles to Fairlie, decided to walk the distance; and so set out before daybreak yesterday. He arrived here this afternoon, a few minutes after his comrpnions, weary, dusty, and exceedingly Thirsty. The dry tussock-covered Canterbury Plains proved very different from the generously watered, bush-shaded roads of Westland, there being scarcely a native tree, j. ’ * barely half a 'dozen streams between Hermitage and here. The thought ot the saving of capital effected, however, was adequate compensation; while it was further consolation to find that, woebegone as was his own condition, it was no more than a match for that of most- oi his companions when they rejoined him. A derelict crew we unable to walk straight, altogether dissipated looking ; but all unanimous that the past experiences were worth a hundred times the present woes. The remainder of the narty spent a great day yesterday. It was, they informed me, with man’s customary tactfulness, undoubtedly far and away the most glorious of the trip-; Here is the account I received of it. “We had- hoped to get away fairly earlv; but the Hermitage is fashionable, and earlv starts are not. Breakfast was not till 8.30,' and, after that, numberless other little details had to be attended to : the reoiling of boots, the /gathering together of a lunch of generous nrooortions, and, nearly as important as the last, the application of copious quantities of zinc ointment for protection against snowburn. By 10 we were off. elated by the discovery, that our guide was again to be our hero of the last two dayg, Peter Graham. A walk of a mile or so up the valley of the Hooker brought us to the Mueller River, surelv the shortest river in the world—its whole length is little more than a chain. Turning up the side of the glacier which feeds it, we struggled for two miles up its lateral moraine, jumping from rock to rock in a fashion that must have excited the envy of the roost agile of mountain goats, and sweating, through our zinc ointment, big drops that were gratifying testimony to our labours. The Mueller Glacier, like all the glaciers on this side of the range, is completely covered with moraine on its lower na.rt, the ice appearing only in the upper levels. Every now and then we would hear the crash of an avalanche; but in most cases the' greater part of the hundreds of tons of falling snow had disappeared before the sound reached us, or at least before its direction could be located. One avalanche, however, we saw during the whole flight. It was thrust from the edge of a snowfield high up Mount Sefton, -overhanging what appeared to be a vertical

drop of 2000 or 3000 feet. With a booming roar the huge mass of ice and snow hurtled downwards, at every 300 or 400 feet of its fall striking a projecting ledge, bursting into a shower of snow, and sending the report reverberating through the mountains. As it fell it opened out like a downy feathered fan of some great giantess, and long after it had disap;:”’d the whole cliff face was veiled in -j shroud of snow particles. After that our desire for a closer demonstration of avalanches was considerably less keen. At first we appeared to be walking straight into Mount Sefton, which, its glory undimmed by the presence of a greater rival, presented a magnificent speptacle. Then we turned at right angles to our left, until we must -have been nearly back behind the Hermitage again. Here, to our joy, three hours after starting, we found the Mueller Hut, perched several hundred feet above the glacier. Again we were impressed with the energy and persevecrance of man, who had carried it there, bit by bit, and built it, a monument to mark his conquest of even these frozen realms. The feast the guide prepared from the plenteous store of all that grows in tins, which all these huts oontain, as well as from his own rucksack, was attraction No. 1, generously done justice to. Attraction No. 2, however, was immeasurably superior. (Jan anything on earth surpass the pure, delirious joy of one’s first experience of tobogganing? I doubt it. It is the universal panacea, the very elixir of life itself. Let the aged, Hie care-worn, the sorrowing, the gout-afflicted, the bedridden, the invalid, the whole Pandora’s box-full of misery and bad temper and liver trouble—let them all have half an hour of the rush and whirl and -excitement, of the spills and thrills and bumps and bruises and laughter of tobogganing on a snow-covered hillside and the ills of a morbid world -would be swept away. The pestering, swarms of bungling, botching, patching, plastering doctors and quacks and medicines and hospitals would be bundled unceremoniously into oblivion. Right behind the hut was a glorious snow slope, a hundred yards long with a drop of as mapy feet. (Jp this ascent three of us painfully dragged the toboggan, to arrive at the top breathless, perspiring, jubilant. An hilarious embarkation, then up go our feet, and then a rapturous sensation of rushing into space, a smothering shower of snow, whisking into eyes, nose, hair, and playfully sneaking down the backs of our necks. The flying craft has to be guided between projecting rocks a few feet apart, almost blotted out by the spray; below are boulders and a sheer precipice leading to eternity. This is bli6s indeed! The track worn by the toboggan grew harder and smoother, the pace more glorious, the voyagers more reckless. W e tried less and less to retard our craft’s speed bv breaking with our legs, and finished up each time closer to Hie rock wall on which stood the Mueller Hut, "♦overlooking the olafcier (below. Then, when it was time to start the homeward march, we could not leave without one farewell record-breaking trip. We missed the nocks halfway down by inches, and, scorning to brake at all, developed such a pace that we seemed to touch the snow only every two or three yards. In the midst of bursts of delirious laughter, through the welter of flying snow we saw that we were almost on to the rocks at the bottom of the slide. Corky thrust out his legs in a desperate attempt to stop us, appeared to soar up into the air, to land on the back of the neck of the man in front, and to bounce off into the snow. The two other occupants of the sledge, locked in a most loving embrace, vanished in a whirling cloud of snow, to appear again meditating somewhat dismally the remarkably solid-looking boulders which had arrested their downward flight. Corky, on examination, was found to have badly sprained his knees, so that he could walk only' with great difficulty; while minor casualties were almost universal—by no means confined to the performers in the last trip. Man is not the only animal that is infected with a spirit of lightheartedness and revel by the alpine environment. A little partv of eight- to ten keas were evidently bent upon showing us that their sports and athletic accomplishments were very much superior to ours.' During lunch they had deemed it most improper that they should not be considered in the repast, and had made determined assaults upon some jellies which we had fondly imagined would set beautifully if left in the snow. Now, on a .patch of snow not a dozen yards away from where we were amusing ourselves, they engaged in an amazing variety of games and jiujitsu tricks. One of them would lie flat on its back, its wings stretched out along the snow, feet and beak raised in the air, waiting. A second kea hops to the attack, only to be thrust sprawling backwards by a dexterous kick, or thrown forward right over the prostrate one’s head with a sudden pull of its beak. Any particularly successful or spectacular effort on the part of either combatant would be loudly applauded by the expectant circle of kea onlookers. Now another bird would take its turn on the ground, or perhaps a little wrestling, catch-as-catch-can style, would be indulged in. The most popular form of amusement, however, was a game very closely resembling our “King of the Castle.” An almost conical mound in the centre of the patch provided an excellent castle. A lordly kea mounts upon it, and defies all “the rabble rout’’ to remove him. In rush the besiegers from all sides in an encircling movement that would have done credit to a veteran general; but his majesty is not to be despised, and hurls one after another down the slopes. Back they surge to the attack, until, amidst exultant cries, the heroic defender is overthrown, and the foremost of the storming party takes his place. The whole play is intensely human, and just a wee bit humbling to human vanity. The journey back was not the triumphal march it might have been, although the crippled members performed gallantly.

Instead of returning the route ffchad come, we chose a snorter one, oßrnh. ing abruptly over rock and snow totfitt Annette Plateau (something over 6000ft> and about 2000 ft above the MueUep Hut). From here we had a splendid view of most of the important peaks in Hr* vicinity, and our guide not only named them all for ns, but impressed them mV delibly on our memories by his account*) of thrilling incidents connected with almost every one. On leaving the plateau our progress down the other side was rapid, as Hm route lay across several extensive snow slopes, down which we glissaded Jk| &Q sorts of decidedly ungraceful but quae effective attitudes. Once past the snmf the real difficulties began, as the stesftt of going downhill over the rough gtaand proved very trying to the cnppfeA especially to Corky ; btrt with ¥ltt| Graham as one’s guide obstacles ttju difficulties have a miraculous way of dh£ appearing. We no longer wondered taal there have been women climber* of Maoxuj Cook—Peter Graham and his even pm wonderful brother have accompanied *0 of them. So we arrived at the Hermitatfb at last; and we entered it by the book door. The train journey back to Christchurch was uneventful, and like all train ftntta neys. All that remains is a blurred oafir sciousness of an unendurable medley pf boring fellow passengers, still more pot* ng magazines and newspapers, obnoxtou* odour of orange and biscuit, and unceasing chorus of baby. ™ And now our holiday is elver. Sot no, not over; for a holiday such as this is lived through three times t when ft A looked for Ward to and planned, whet) it is actually experienced, and when ft If talked over afterwards. X am not nan that it is not in the last of these Bridge > that the holiday brings the greatest laid the most unalloyed pleasure^ Summary of. Expenses.—* / I append a summary of the ttajp Jarpenses of the trip for the infannsftaft sf others, like ourselves, to wham Such material considerations as thorn tf cost are, unfortunately, of interest :-*>• EXPENDITURE, \ i

Conveyance— Railway: Chrietcliurofc* Rose; Fairlie - Chri»f» cilu reh if Coach: Hermitage-Fair-lie .. .. .. £ a. d. < 113 9 * t 4 15 0 * " . f f | 1 Accommodation (the times are approximate)—* To Waiho (three days) — At Waiho (five days) *. Waiho-Hermitage (three V days) At Hermitage (two days) Hermitage-Chrietchurch * 1 10 0 ' . ■> 3 u o i i oii ' > 1 19 5 » , 0 16 0 - — .1 a v*r a. Guiding— On Frans Joseph Glacier To Welcome Flat (fording Cook River and packhorse) .. On Copland Track A To Mueller Hut Z 0 6 0 i tit 015 0 * , ■ ..4 All# Total . .. M r » io