BY CAR TO AUCKLAND.

Southland Times, Issue 20102, 12 February 1927, Page 13 (Supplement)

BY CAR TO AUCKLAND.

A CAMPING MOTORIST’S DIARY.

Last week we had travelled as far as Pelorus Bridge, half-way between Blenheim and Nelson, and were about to set out to spend a day in the latter town. A DAY AT NELSON. Leaving Pelorus Bridge early in the morning we commenced our two hours’ journey to Nelson along a dusty road with lovely bush on either side. Those v/ho are used to the roads of Otago and Southland will find the hills from Pelorus Bridge to Nelson rather trying. The Rai Saddle and the Whangamoa hill are very much steeper than any of the hills on the main roads in the southern part of the province. Moreover they are tortuous with many blind corners, and it is with a sigh of relief that you again get a view of the road without hitting an approaching car. Unfortunately for my nerves something went wrong with the horn of iny car and going round all the bad bends I had to use my raucous voice instead. What my “Honk! Honk!” must have sounded like to approaching motorists I don’t know, but I do know that it was a very hoarse and harassed man who drove along the coastal road approaching Nelson. There is no question about Nelson’s prettiness. The streets do not impress one so much as the lovely homes and their beautiful gardens. After exploring the town we drove out to the pretty reservoir and saw the big concrete tank where Annette Kellerman did some of her underwater swimming for a cinematograph film. On our way back from Nelson we were made to realise how narrow and tortuous were the roads. On suddenly coming round a corner—the horn, by the way, had been repaired I saw a huge lorry laden with timber pulled up almost in the centre of the road, leaving a very narrow space between it and the bank. Something had gone wrong with the gears and the driver could neither advance nor go back on account of the jamming of the cogs. There did not seem much chance of our getting through and I had visions of spending several hours waiting tid repairs were effected. However I measured the width of the gap and decided to try my luck. Though I grazed both the lorry and the bank slightly I got through safely, being more fortunate than a big mail car that had to wait behind the lorry until matters were adjusted. Some miles before we reached Pelorus Bridge a woman and two children stopped us outside a half-erected house to ask if we had seen anything of a timber lorry. We told them of the plight of the driver, who turned out to be the woman’s husband carting timber for their home in the bush. We were glad to reach again that delightful sanctuary, Pelorus Bridge, still more so when the good-hearted ranger show-ed us our kettle singing over a roaring fire. Once more we had a pleasant evening listening to his stories of the early days of Otago and. then felt the luxury of retiring to our soft bed of bracken, to sleep undisturbed save for a curious weka. For the last time we were awakened by that glorious chorus of liquid notes and in an hour had to bid a sorrowful farewell to one of Nature’s loveliest spots. Picton was our destination, for we were to cross that day by the much advertised new steamer Tamahine to Wellington. The last twenty miles before the pretty little port, is reached are through strange swampy country which gives one the impression of making the road impassable in flood time. Picton is a charming little town and possesses one or two good hotels. After an excellent lunch we went round to the Union Steam Ship Company’s offices and a clerk came out and went through a long rigmarole of measuring the car. When it was all over I was called upon to pay a sum that nearly took my breath away. To this day I cannot understand why it costs as much to take a car across from Picton to Wellington, a three hours’ run, as from Lyttelton to Wellington, four times as far. The minute you drive on to the wharf a railway official rushes out, stops you and collects seven shillings as wharfage, it evidently being a great privilege to be allowed on the sacred timbers. I was hoping that the superintending officers would not make me lake down (he hood of my car and remove all the luggage, for I wondered how on earth I was going to carry mattresses, pillows, blankets, a tent and suit cases on deck. Fortunately the officer was most sympathetic and I had the pleasure of seeing the car and contents slung aboard in a few seconds and bestowed below decks. Th< Tamahine is specially fitted for carrying cars and can take forty. A PRETTY CROSSING. The first part of the trip to Wellington up Queen Charlotte Sound is delightful. I think it was two o’clock in the afternoon when we left, and I could not help contrasting the beautiful daylight trip with the uninteresting darkness of the LytteltonWellington service. The Tamahine is very well fitted out and it felt most luxuriously restful to glide past pretty bush-clad hills that seemed no distance away. There were some lovely beaches behind which charming seaside bungalows could be seen among the bush. It felt quite strange to leave the Sound and look back at the extremity of the South Island. I felt a bit stranger still when we got right out into Cook Strait, and the pretty Tamahine did not seem nearly so attractive. However, by vigorously devouring W. W. Jacobs and a good afternoon tea I staved off any active symptoms of seasickness. It was about five when we reached Wellington and only a few minutes later that the car was deposited on the wharf. Once again an officious railway man held out his hand for wharfage, and I was allowed to drive the car to the hotel, committing on the way numerous breaches of the city by-laws such as turning in the main street and parking outside the hotel for half an hour. However kindly policemen must have pitied my rusticity, for I was not pursued by any “blueys.” WELLINGTON TO FEILDING. I spent a day in Wellington while my wife spent my money in some of the big drapery establishments. Next morning we set out on another stage in our journey, Feilding being our destination this time. Within a few miles of Wellington we encountered an impediment that, before we had done with the North Island, we came to regard as a necessary evil. I refer to road-repair gangs. The tar-sealing of roads right from Wellington to Auckland was proceeding apace. The money that is being expended on these highways is tremendous, and in marked contrast with the South Island, where I presume the Scottish characteristic of thrift made it appear wiser to hold on to the money until—well, I don’t know how to define the time limit. Near Wellington we encountered a gang that must have been largely composed of Bolsheviks. They certainly looked the part and behaved like them. A lorry from which metal was being shovelled was right across the road when we came along. The shovellers saw us, so ceased work and began an argument. Occasionally they removed a little of the gravel, then had another spell. I suppose w r e waited at the mercy of these delightful boors for

half-an-hour. Fortunately this was the only time we were at the mercy of such workmen. In the early part of the journey there are some great hills, particularly that just before coming into Paekakareki. From the top of this hill a lovely view of ocean and hills can be obtained. After these climbs there is almost level running to Palmerston North. Some surprisingly large and thriving towns are passed on the way. Levin particularly impressed us. Many flax factories were also passed, with the raw material drying out in the fields. We reached Palmerston North in time for dinner and spent several hours in that pretty town. The gardens were most attractive and are well worth a visit. It is only twelve miles from Palmerston North to Feilding along an excellent flat road, so we reached our destination quite early in the afternoon. It is strange the rivalry existing between these two towns, though one is five times the size of the other. We did not camp at Feilding as we had relatives there and had promised to stay with them. FEILDING TO NEW PLYMOUTH Next morning we were up early, for we had a fairly long journey ahead of us and wished to spend an hour or two in Wanganui. Those who have visions of the bushclad Wanganui River will be disappointed as they cross the bridge leading to the town, but the pretty streets and houses make you quite cheerful again. The excellent level running continues and Patea, that queer looking town with its station and big freezing works near the river mouth, and the town a mile or so away up on a hill, is soon reached. Then come the famous Taranaki tar-sealed roads, and the car runs delightfully. The only fault is that there is a sharp ridge at either side and when passing another car you have to go over this with your off wheels. The artistically built town of Hawera is the next stopping place. Evidently there is a live Beautifying Society there, for there are no unsightly corners such as in Invercargill. We had been advised that if it were a clear day we should take the coastal road to New Plymouth as we should thereby get a better view of Mount Egmont. Fortunately we took this advice and were well rewarded for the few extra miles we had to travel. After dining with a former school friend at Opunake and taking the car for a run along the wonderful beach there, we continued our journey and had the joy of seeing Mount Egmont on our right as we travelled on. Its beauty was not impaired by the usual cloud that enwraps its snowclad top, though a faint wreath of mist encircled it. CAMPING NEAR NEW PLYMOUTH. At Feilding we had been given one of the excellent road guides published by the Wellington Motor Association, in which the best camping spots were described. One of those mentioned for New' Plymouth bore the charming name of “The Meeting of the Waters,” so we decided to pitch our tent there. It is a few' miles beyond New Plymouth and the name is due to the fact that three streams meet in the heart of the bush there. Next day we spent in exploring New Plymouth, one of the most beautiful of North Island towns. The famous gardens with their wonderful tree-ferns and lakes, and the fine natural sports ground are of course the greatest attraction, but we greatly enjoyed rambling in the old churches and church-yard with their recorris of the Maori wars. Marsden Hill is also interesting, with its grave containing the remains of a friend of the poet Keats. On our second day at New' Plymouth an old school friend of mine insisted on our spending our last night at his home, so we lowered the tent and returned to civilisation. It was. fortunate that we did, for during the afternoon and evening it rained heavily—the only rain we experienced on the whole trip—and my amateur tentpitching might not have kept out the water. NEW PLYMOUTH TO WAITOMO. This is a lovely run, with only one villainous feature—-the terrible roads on the last part of the journey. Half an hour’s travelling brings you to Waitara, a pretty little town that is famous as being the seat of the Taranaki war. We seemed to have gone very little distance from Waitara when the glorious ascent. of Mount Messenger commenced. The road had been recently renovated and was in excellent condition and it was a wonder- . ful sensation rising up that bush-clad mouni tain, rounding bends that opened up lovely new vistas until the top was reached, and we pulled up with the car just inside the tunnel across the road. It is the recognised thing to stop here and look back down the slopes of the mountain. Away in the distance we could see snow-clad Egmont apparently rising out of the ocean. Though there are a few’ sharp corners with precipitous cliffs below, there is nothing to worry the driver. Strangely enough, however, the very same day on which wo travelled over Mount Messenger a car went over the bank and a woman was killed. But we did not find this out till we read a newspaper some days later. Soon after Mount Messenger is descended the road skirts the coast and some beautiful bays are seen. One beach was so inviting that we stopped the car, had a refreshing plunge and then boiled the billv and had lunch—which consisted largely of fruit purchased in New Plymouth. Il was again a gloriously sunny day and I have the pleasantest recollections of that western coast of the North Island. About fifty miles from New Plymouth we had our first experience of crossing a river on a punt. This was at Mokau, at the mouth of the river bearing the same name. A bridge was in the course of construction, and I think it is still in that state. When W’e arrived there w'as another car waiting ahead of us on our side, and on the opposite bank stood the punt and a mob of sheep. I foresaw a long delay while the sheep were conveyed across, but the puntman had sense and came across for us. The punt took both cars on the same trip, at a cost of something like half a-crown each. After Mokau the road turned inland again and soon we were travelling on sharp bits of limestone that were as hard as flint. I felt most sympathetic towards the tyres and mast unsympathetic towards the idiots who put such stuff on the roads. It must have been a foot deep. AU the way to the jerry-built town of Te Kuiti and on to the Waitomo Caves the same agonising sur face was presented, and it was with unbounded relief that I saw the pretty Government Hostel at Waitomo come into view. We had been told, however, that there was a delightful spot to camp just beyond the hostel by two huge cherry trees, so it was there that we pulled (T be Continued.)