NEW ZEALAND SUNSETS.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XV, Issue XI, 31 August 1895, Page 251

NEW ZEALAND SUNSETS.

NO. lI.—‘THROUGH WEST COAST SPRAY.’ (BY THE WARRIGAI..) SUNSETS are grander on the West Coast of New Zealand than on the eastern seaboard, for the western country, through the length of both islands, is mountainous and magnificently rugged, and and receives all the glories of sunset from sea and sky. The West Coast of the South Island, with its mountains rising sheer from the ocean, where glaciers come down to semi-tropical forests, where deep dark gorges onen vistas of eternal snows, where covered cliffs frown above fathomless Pacific depths, and surf spray makes salt chrystalson delicate mosses and ferns, offers pictures such as Swinburne would love to sing. The West Coast of the North Island, though not possessing physical features on so grand a scale, is still wonderfully picturesque, and can show some rarely beautiful sunsets. There is a place on- that wild stretch of coast between the Manukau and Kaipara harbours, a charming sea-side resort, but known to barely a score people, where the most wonderful effects of sunset can be seen. This place is Motorua. It is easily reached from Auckland. A two hours’ journey on the Helensville line to Waimauku, then a seven miles’ tramp or ride across the ranges. It is a glorious place in which to spend a summer holiday, but one must take tents and provisions, for there are no houses within miles around. At Waimauku, the long line of great sand dunes and the broad beach of black sand that stretches from the Kaipara meet a rugged promontory, literally honeycombed with caves and crevices, and at the feet of the promontory are reefs and rocks, where the westerly swell of the ocean makes glorious play, and where in fine weather splendid sea-fishing can be had. The broad, flat beach of black sand holds rare treasures for biologists after every gale, and more than this, it offers the best of surf bathing—a sport fit for the gods.

Sunset from this beach is wonderful. A line of fine mist rises perpetually from the breaking surf, and through this mist one sees the sky colours mixed with rainbow lines. To bathe here at sunset is a rare delight, an experience .always to be remembered. The water warmed in sunny latitudes has a pleasant temperature, and in that balmy climate bathing is enjoyment. The surf backs up the water on the flat beach deep enough to swim in, and one can meet the surf without fear of being dashed on to hard sand. Just to stand on that black sand and see the glories of sunset and rainbow hues through surf spray is worth weeks of labour. But to swim in those waves of crimson and gold, to be tossed and swung on that gleaming surf, is worth a year of life. When one hears the thunder of the breakers, and sees the huge walls of water rise, curl, and break with such tremendous force on the shore, bathing in such a place seems madness, but it is easy and safe. Swim out in the shallow water, and as soon as the breaker has dashed itself into foam strike seaward as swiftly as you can, and as soon as you see the surf rearing high above your head, dive and swim under water, and you will emerge in the hollow of the swell. If the swell curls, dive again, and in a few moments you will be floating on the mighty Pacific amidst waves of wondrous beauty, and out there you will see the rainbow hues and sunset colours on the surf spray, and through the surf spray you can see the land, the sand dunes, and the forest-clad hills above them transformed by such radiant colouring as Orientals dreamed of in New Jerusalem. Such a glorious sight! Tossing naked in the great Pacific, swimming high on the crests of waves, sinking low into watery hollows, there is an exhileration worth any danger ; but there is no danger if one is a good swimmer and has good nerves. And the race for the shore, the mad ride on the surf crest and the wild plunge into the foam, the short struggle against the back wash, and then a last look at the sunset through the mist of surf spray, that turns slowly to a white veil as the colours die from sky and wave ; then back to the tent in the finest camping ground man ever saw—a grove of lovely trees by the shores of a tiny lake, shut in by lovely forests, and sheltered from every wind by hills and sand dunes.

There is a theme for the musician at Motorua—a grand oratorio only waiting for the writer. Anyone with ears can hear it. Lie on the warm rocks at the foot of the great cliffs when a westerly wind is blowing, and listen. You can hear the majestic base of the surf as it beats on the leagues of echoing beach. You can hear the wild rush of the waves over rocks and reefs, and you can hear the minor notes of the breeze making organ pipes of the clefts and crannies in the cliff far overhead. This is the music for young New Zealanders to write. That sunset through the spray should be their subject.