FRINGE OF FIORDLAND

Southland Times, Issue 19395, 8 November 1924, Page 18 (Supplement)

FRINGE OF FIORDLAND

THE GREAT WAIAU VALLEY AN EPIC OF THE WEST WORTHY OF THE PIONEERS. (By S.S.E.) In these “modern” days when we go to American movie films for our ideas about the early pioneering days, and the hardships and struggles the settlers endured, it is refreshing to find that right in the heart of Southland can be found evidences of a battle with the forces of Nature that deserves to live as an epic in the pioneering history of this country. It is an almost unbelievable story, that has to be fairly dragged out of two men who are absolutely unaware that they have done anything out of the ordinary, but even the bare facts speak for themselves. It dates back to the days of the war when a badly wounded Southlander was sent home incapacitated from further service, and securing a block of Government land on the far side of the Waiau fringed on one side by the river and merging into the foothills that lie belcw a range of peaks lying to this side of Monowai and Hailroko. It was his idea to turn this stretch of country into a grazing run, and with little idea of the value of several hundred acres of virgin bush on the property, he had practically concluded arrangments for selling it to a sawmilling company for a mere song. There happened on the scene at this stage, however, one of his old mates of the trenches, who had had considerable sawmilling experience before going to the war, and in the course of a visit to the place, he was so struck by the quality and extent of the white pine forest on the property that he began asking questions, and learnt what has already been told. A DARING EXPERIMENT.

The result of a long talk between the two men was that the projected deal was cancelled, and they decided to mill the timber themselves. At the time they probably little realised the tremendous difficulties involved in starting sawmilling operations in that roadless and bridgeless country, with the fastest flowing big river in New Zealand between them and civilisation. However, they resclved on a most daring experiment. Cutting out a rough cross-country track from the main road to the riverside, they there built a punt, and stretched an inch wire rope from one side to the other, a distance of some 200 yards. The mill machinery was transported over without any untoward incident. The came their big problem—the engine, obviously too big for the punt. The position was met in this wise. A four horse team was transported to the far side, blocks and tackle rigged up, and a wire rope stretched at an angle across stream, and hitched to the engine on the other bank some 15 chains further down stream. The reason for the last manoeuvre will be familiar to anyone who knows the terrific force with which this river hurls itself to the sea, and the danger of catching a bulky object broadside on. The crossing took the best part of the day, and marvellous to relate was accomplished without the slightest adverse circumstance. It will be cutting a long story short to say that the erection of the mill, after these things had been accomplished, proved a comparatively simple matter, and milling operations were soon in full swing. The question of the transport of the sawn timber now obtruded itself, and having obtained one victory over the big river, the comrades set about an unprecedented feat—that of rafting the mill output to Tuatapere, the nearest railhead. The proposed route, which extends some twenty miles, with sharp twists and turns, and sand banks and islands continually to be met with, was carefully sun eyed in a boat, and a return made to the mill where the timber was carted to the river bank and made into a raft. Armed with long steering oars the comrades stepped aboard, and pushed out into the current, which was soon swiftly bearing them down to the river-mouth. Twice the raft got stuck on unnoticed sand bars, but the trip was safely accomplished. The second attempt was even more successful, 5,000 feet of timber being rafted to Tuatapere in two and a half hours. Things now began to look bright for the prospects of the little community when the slump which hit New Zealand so badly made its presence felt away out in this sequestered spot. Timber orders were difficult to secure and after consultation, what was probably a wise decision was come to. A CHANGE OF POLICY. It will be remembered that the place was bought originally as a grazing run, and it was decided to put the mill and the bush on the market, and to go in for sheep. A visit of inspection by one of Southland’s most prominent millers resulted in the purchase of the milling rights and the mill at a figure satisfactory to both parties. This was two or three years ago, and at the present day a fine type of sheep are grazing along the grassy slopes and wooded valleys of this part of the old Woodlands Estate, which is the scene of our story. It only remains to be added that the market for wool and mutton at the present time has never been better, to reach the finale of a narrative that was dove-tailed together from several different sources and which is presented here as far as is known without the slightest exaggeration in any of its details—a truly amazing story of the trials and tribulations of two men who took on a seemingly impossible task, and as our American cousins would say, won out. IN THE BIG TIMBER COUNTRY. The names of the two men? Why, certainly. A week-end visit which we paid to this fine property on the Dean Burn found Mr William Hibbs waiting for our car on the main road to Monowai, and after parking the Chev. in Nature’s garage, we set out across the paddocks for the river. The sight of a survey flag en route attracted! our attention, and we learnt that these two soldier settlers had been promised a road upwards of three years ago, and the work authorised a couple of years back, but unfortunately nothing has been done beyond the preliminary survey work. The two ex-diggers, who have done so much for themselves without assistance of any kind, are still sufficiently self-reliant to “grin, and bear it,” as the saying is, but it was easy enough to see what a boon a road would be to them, and we passed on with the hope that the powers that be in the shape of the W T allace County Council, over whose beautiful roads we had just travelled, would soon be able to see fit to link up this portion of the road to its network of traffic routes. Scrambling into the dinghy at the water’s edge we were ferried across the mighty Waiau by cur good friend, Bill Hibbs, with the swift current swirling and tossing under the bow of the boat as if we were proceeding rapidly up-stream. On the further bank we met Mr Hugh Gorrie, who first took up the holding on his return from the world row in Europe in 1917. A walk of a few chains through an avenue of birch forest which grows very luxuriantly just here brought us to the house, where our worthy host’s sister, Miss N. Gorrie, had an appetising meal ready for us. Needless to relate, after ou walk through the keen mountain air it was done full justice to. Tea over, our hosts desired us to see a little eel-spearing in the Dean Bum, and after a pipe we adjourned to the banks of the little stream armed with an acetylene lamp, an electric torch, and an eel-spear. Working upstream in the shallow water for half a mile or so, we soon got results, and finished up the evening with quite a good bag of tuna. I may mention that we were here shown the correct Maori way of skinning an eel—namely by grinding the tail with the foot in the sand unti the skin is sufficiently loosened to pull away from the tip of the tail in two sections when it then comes off as easily as shelling peas. After preparing a good dishful of tuna ready for frying in the morning, we retired to our beds.

A MEETING WITH DEER. Rising with the dawn, as is the custom in these parts, we were invited by our host to accompany him along the edge of his crops, which have to be closely watched against the ravages of the deer. As we went along, he told us that they are even more numerous than in the first year he sowed crops, when a quarter of his swedes were eaten by them. As this was the time when a great shortage of feed had occurred in Southland, and graziers were offering as much as 8d a head per week for wethers, it can be readily realised that his loss was a substantial one. Proceeding along the edge of the bush, we had just reached a little clearing when we heard a tremendous crashing through the bush beside us, and became aware of the fact that we had almost walked right on top of a small heard which had come up the tramline from the bush, both sides being unaware of the proximity of one another. The dogs were off like a flash, and Chief and Boxer, most wily of deer dogs, headed a young stage across the clearing where our host accepted a fairly difficult chance between two clumps of manuka, and from the jump the flying animal gave, we knew he had been hit. Following a blood-stained track into the bush, we found the dogs had caught him in a small gully, and the coup de grace was soon administered. He proved to be a young stag in good condition with the velvet formed to the length of the best part of a foot. After taking the choicest parts of the stag, which was in excellent condition, we turned for home and breakfast, well satisfied with the morning’s work. On the way back, we went through the clearing, which brought us to the site of the sawmill which our hosts built after almost superhuman effort. It is at present closed, pending the completion of milling operations elsewhere, but it was in excellent condition and a credit to the builders. After breakfast, a stroll found the farm brought us to the farm buildings, comprising cowbyre loose boxes and woolshed, and here again we found another tribute to the tireless energy energy and amazing spirit of inventiveness which has characterised these two pioneers. Without any carpentering experience of any sort, Bill Hibbs built these buildings unassisted. A DAY IN THE BUSH. Our good friend, Tom O'Byrne, was very keen on seeing the white pine bush which formed the foundation of success on this now flourishing estate, and our worthy host not only consented to show us over this area, but promised us that we should see some deer shooting en route, or rather late in the afternoon when the animals come out of the bush to feed. After horses had been bandied, we set out, an imposing cavalcade until the genial secretary quite broke up the gravity of the party by insisting that it was the Kelly gang, a well-known member of the party who was in the lead being named as tne’ illustrious Ned. Crossing the Dean Burn, the full glories of this wonderful country unfolded themselves to our gaze. As we crossed the little green stream with the swift-flowing water rippling and splashing at our horses heels, the air was redolent with the sweet scent of the flowering matagowne growing in scrubby prolusion on ns banks. Un the bush-swached bids, the snow-white blossoms of the native clematis, and totara in a prolusion of blooms, caught the eye. further back the peaks of the Princess Range, snow-capped and clear in the crisp mountain air, reared their white minarets to the skies. Ahead of us lay the long valley of the Waiau, leading on to Sunnyside, and over to the right, the Takitimos, which are discernible in the far-off distance from Invercargill in line weather, seemed but a stone s throw away. En route, we saw a glaring'example of the extravagance of earlier colonial administration in the remains of a roadway, with bridge piles here and there rotting in the sun. How on earth it was ever expected that a costly road away back here was going to be a good proposition is a question that will forever be a mystery. By lunch time we had penetrated to the fringe of the white pine bush, and crossing the little stream, whose course we had followed for several miles, we sat down in a leafy glade near where the Dean Burn eddied and swirled round the two logs that had been felled across the river to serve as a crossing. Native pigeons whirred overhead, and the omnipresent tom-tit was soon perking imquisitively at us from close range. In the heart of the bush it was as peaceful as an old world cathedral. Sitting on an old tree stump, T. O'Byrne told us of the two hundred different varieties of pines in Queensland, and how the Government had collected royalties amounting to £250 off a single monster of the forest. Conversation turned to the early days of sawmilling in Southland, and of the tremendous quantity of timber taken out of the Seaward Bush, where in places the output averaged as much as 40,000 feet to the acre. And many more things, which are not chronicled here. A LOST OPPORTUNITY. Thus-wise we whiled away the afternoon, and late in the evening set out on the homeward trek, keenly scanning the edge of the bush on the way. We sighted a stag in a patch of manuka just on five o’clock, but before our host could get a shot in, one of the horses snorted some 300 or 400 yards away, anl it was good-bye to our quick-eared quarry. Later on, however, our luck was better, and three fell to our host’s 30-30 Savage, one particularly fine shot, with the back-sight registering 320 yards, and a hit just behind the shoulder. Gorrie has a particularly good pack of dogs, and they made no race of the wounded animals. Boxer, greatest of pig dogs, is a cross between a bulldog and a collie, a combination giving the pluck and tenacity of the one, and the intelligence of the other. The others are mostly retriever lurchers, fleet of foot and as game as they make ’em. As showing the amazing vitality of the deer family, a young stag was badly hit in the backbone and also in the body, charged down a deep gulch and half way up the other side before the dogs got on to him and pulled him to earth. Returning home in the dusk, we were much impressed with the cat-like agility of our good friend Gorrie’s horses, who went up hillsides and down steep faces in great style. For those of us who had not ridden for 10 or 15 years, it was an unnerving experience for a while, but when we realised that complete confidence could be reposed in our four-footed friends, we began to appreciate their worth, and were beginning to feel quite pleased with ourselves as we slowly progressed over the hills until our worthy host casually mentioned that he chased sheep during mustering time at full gallop up and down the hillsides we were just travelling over. Arriving at the homestead late at night, we found Miss Gorrie awaiting us with a most excellent repast. The keen mountain air had sharpened our appetites to an almost unbelievable extent, and viewing it from the distance of several days afterwards when we resumed our city vocations, one almost shudders to think of the stupendous quantity of provender that was put to one side that evening. We had not been long up next morning when our hostess called us to come and see two stags out near the oat crops m full view of the house, within half a mile distance. While we hastened inside and dug out a pair of field-glasses, our host was busily stalking the pair round the edge of the bush, but he was spotted when out of range, and although he unloosened one shot which we could see through the glasses had ploughed up a small cloud of dust a few yards this side of the flying quarry, they made the shelter of the bush unharmed, although the dogs gave them a great race over the open ground. Once in the bush, it was the end of things as far as the dogs were concerned. THE CLIFDEN VALLEY.

Late in the morning, we bade good-bye to our hosts, after a most pleasant stay, and set out along the Otahu Plat for home. Meeting an old acquaintance by the way, we were told that the wheat crops in the district were coming away very well, Mr Scott having a very fine paddock indeed. On the way down to Clifden we had a macnificent

view of the great Waiau Valley stretching between two great tablelands, a mighty depression evidently worn out in the distant glacial period millions of years ago. Far down where the river takes a sharp turn in the direction of Tuatapere, we had pointed out to us Hamilton and Cooke’s bush where the logs are cut and rafted down to their mill at Tuatapere. Turning for a few minutes out of our way, we went over the swing bridge that spans the Waiau near the township. It is a mighty structure, built by the well-known contractor of days gone by, the late Mr Wm. Baird. Fourteen steel ropes hold the bridge on either side. Just beyond lies Mr Carnegie Gardner’s beautiful homestead, and a little further along the route, the Clifden Racecourse, with its wonderful natural grandstand carved by Nature out of the limestone cliffs that fringe this prettily situated convincing ground of the West. Turning the car, we resumed our route, but were soon turning to one side again to visit the Clifden Caves. The entrance to these huge underground caverns is not a very prepossessing one, but armed with an electric torch, we pushed boldly inside, and were soon in the midst of the marvellous stalactite and stalagmite formations for which this part of the country is famed. At the present time they “ain’t nobody’s children,” as the saying is and have already suffered somewhat from the casual sightseer bent on taking away visible evidence of the limestone formations of this region, but in the days to come, they will surely become one of Southland’s foremost centres of interest for the tourist and sightseer. A most peculiar cold feeling comes over one on getting further inside, due it is stated to the water dripping down inside and forming the tapering limestone formations. ORAWIA, SCOTT’S GAP, AND OTAUTAU.' Back on the road again, we passed Mr Jas. Laurie’s lime kiln, which was going at top, and on the other side of the road we looked in at the Clifden Sawmill, in which we were told the late lamented Fred Mills was a partner. Reaching Orawia, we pulled up at the Dairy Factory, and met Mr Robt. Wyeth, a son of one of Southland’s famous old-time athletes, who is still wonderfully hale and hearty. We were much interested in an invention of Mr Wyeth's for overcoming the problem of the rims on the manufactured cheese. It is said that New Zealand loses hundreds of thousands of pounds yearly through these unsightly projections which are a favourite stamping ground of mites, with the result that the run often splits off right along the top or bottom end of the cheese. Mr Wyeth’s device is a marvel of simplicity and costs little to manufacture, and some cheese he showed us which had been treated by his process certainly looked to us to be better than those manufactured under the old method. He has patented his invention, and is looking forward to getting it taken up by the New Zealand factories. We learnt here the interesting news that the All Blacks had defeated Ireland, which brought them just on half way through their fixture list without. a defeat. Resuming our journey, we headed for Scott’s Gap where Messrs A. and D. Macpherson’s mill is located. Here we found Mr Duncan Macpherson, Jnr., in charge, and everything appeared to be going along well, although operations in the bush were temporarily held up to some extent through the breaking of a piece of machinery which had been sent to Invercargill for repair by oxy-acetone welding process. We were greatly interested in the motor tractor method of transporting timber from the bush, this firm having installed one of the motor locomotives invented by Mr Traill, and we heard nothing but the highest praise of it. It has done away with nine horses, which were previously used for this purpose, and the general opinion at the mill was that it has come to stay, and will in time entirely supersede horse traction in the milling industry. Running along from Orawia, we became aware that we were running into coast weather, with a bleak-look-ing sky to the south, and not long after getting on the road again for Otautau, the downpour set in in earnest, leaving us thankful that we had progressed as far as we did before striking the rain. Calling in at the fine, big factory at Otautau, we had a chat with the worthy manager (Mr A. Beange), and learnt that the intake was hitting the four thousand mark. Starting the last stage of our journey, we took the Otahuti road for preference, and found it in excellent order, although we were told that all the roads between Otautau and Invercargill are good just now. The rain was still pouring down when we reached Invercargill after a great trip, having covered 110 miles by car, and many more on foot and by horseback.