IN THE GULF

Waikato Times, Volume 119, Issue 19784, 15 January 1936, Page 11

IN THE GULF

CHARM OF ISLAND AND SEA

i sen-Lens m ISOLATION. 1. ‘ l . l -—-" l ’ A FASCINA'I‘ING REMOTENESS. ‘ l . I (By- “Korotangl.“) | One has to go well into the-Hau—-lraki Gulf to appreciate Auckland's seei girt beauty. ln tranquil mood it is a beauty of sun, sea and sky. Islands tare as Jewels. sparkling in an ocean of turquoise blue fleeked with a dash ‘of white. But often there is an angry contrast. The deep, sombre grey of the sky lowers over a seething swell. the boats ride uneasily at. their moor—ings in the shelter of W'alheke‘s many sandy coves and the rocks are show—ered with a cascade of flying spray rising from a cauldron of foam. Still more unprepossesslng. the shallow tidal estuaries are churned into a muddy waste and the very sea gulls, fearful of the portents. neglect the scurrying schools of sprats and the leaping kawhai. to scavenge their inland !ood supplies. The Gulf may be remote but it is never lonely. It abounds with team—ing life on land, in sea and in air. And to many it is a home. Lone settlers they call them in the city but their isolation is intriguing and to the visitor fascinating. I saw something of them all. tried to appreciate their dlfli—oulties, em‘ied their freedom not a little and found them a happy and hospitable community with interests all their own. By the excellence of its wool, which invariably tops the Auckland market. VValheke, the largest island of the Gulf, has won its own fame. Hidden in the green pine copses. the homesteads erected, perhaps 30 or 40 years ago, still shelter ‘to—day‘s settlers, while far back in the hinterland—a fertile desert of rolling grass hills—lean cattle and sheep of the virility of mountain goats graze without the trammels of man and his dogs. When we hiked across the island from Cowes to the end of the Orapui Inlet they surveyed us with surprise. not a little alarmed at man‘s incursions into their remote territory. 0n the extreme arm of the inlet we came again to civilisation—the charred remains of a homestead burned to the ground only a few days before our arrival. Sanctlty of Ponul. ' An unpainted implement shed was the temporary housing for the family. Home life was condensed into one rpm but, none the less. it was home and already the boys were clearing a manuka—ridden bluff which was to be the site of the new homestead. From it we gained a glorious vista of blue sea and brown hills. 0n the extreme exist there was the dim haze of the iCoromandel Range. and nearer the clear-cut outline of Ponut. Roto Roa and Pakatoa with the gaunt Shag Rock standing starkly between. The casual visitor is not wanted on Ponut. For years it has been the is—land home of-s family who have sought ‘ to preserve it for themselves and their sheep. Wharfsge dues are not likely to encourage the launches and yachts which over the week-end ply the gulf. and the nominal landing charge—small though it may be—ls sumctent to send the visitor on to Cowes Bay or Con-I mile, a mile or two to the west on Waiheke. Palmtoa and Role ties are as a dosed book, but those who while away time tempting the schnapper off Shag Rock or the Pakatoa Reef gain something 01' a pathetic insight into these islands and their inhabitants. Just one glimpse. of thtl men and women striving for rehabilitation in the soil—tude. or the Gulf is sufficient to irri—press one with the deeper tragedies of life. ‘ Arrival of the Mail. Once orvthree times a “'Fl‘k are the Gulf settlers brought into touch with civilisation. For hours. the arrival of the steamer is eagerly awaited; the fact. that it is almost invariably laicl adds zest to the untlrlpniion. Berth—ing by a shaky wharf is no mean task, but the crates of provisions are speedily unloaded and the precious canvas bag of mail. sometimes pitifully empty. is thrown off. Then, with the steamer's whistle, comes solitude again. Cowes Bay is the centre of \Vai—lieke‘s life and the interests of the Gulf revolve around its dance hall, its post. office, its long antiquated wharf and its hotel. it is a welcome con—trast. to the gloom of Pakatoa. the: tragedy of Boto lion and the isolation i of Ponui. Saturday afternoon brings ‘ n. fleet of craft until by darkness the Boy is alive with the crooning of the oily seafarers, the fluttering pennants and tho gay coloured mooring lights. anhlsmon are not early risers. lnit ily nine o'clock on Sunday morning sloppy-eyed, pyjama—rind imnlsnn‘n arc wnnriiy weighing anchor. By mill» tiny the transition is complete and only lln- lili‘Yllllltll" i‘unlinrvnl nt' rilns‘hir‘», tho drab brown of the house launch and :1 row belated yachts remain to ride the easy swell.