A Capital Excursion.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXVI, Issue III, 19 January 1901, Page 120

A Capital Excursion.

TO KAWHIA FOR THE REGATTA.

Ting. ting. ting, goes the engine telegraph. “east off" shouts the mate, "lie good’’ shrieks some humorsome personage on shore, and the Gairloch swings off from the Onehunga Wharf •on her three days' excursion to Raglan and Kawhia. Then ensues amongst the improvident, who always leave everything to the last, a wild rush to secure bunks. We who booked beforehand sit with serene countenances. while the calm and genial steward shows each one where they can secure a resting place for the night. This accomplished, the tea bell is rung, ami as we gather round the saloon tables we feel that we are really off on the mueh-looked-for-ward-to holiday. We are a goodly company, and represent many professions’ and means of earning the necessary ami nimble ninepence. The evening is cool, and the sea like the proverbial mill-pond, so that even the poorest sailors are cheerful, and pass complimentary remarks about the weather. As we cross the bar we get a momentary jobble of a mild order, and some excitement is afforded by the eccentric conduct of the small steam launch which we are towing. She makes a terrific pother over the trifle of sea running, and her steering is something to be remembered. As a specimen of yawing and tacking it easily breaks all records, but considered from a scientific point of view, or one of safety, it leaves much to be desired. It becomes obvious indeed that if we do not slacken speed she will infallibly founder in one of

her mad leeward rushes, so we slow down to half-speed, while unmentionable objurations and injunctions are shouted to those in charge of the apparent I\ crazy craft. "She has heaps of luck” is the general verdict of seamen, in which we cordially agree. By all ordinary rules and chances she should have swamped a dozen of limes. When we wake next morning we are entering Raglan Harbour. and the launch is nowhere to be seen, but we learn with considerable relief that she is still afloat, but will wait for us "outside.** having no stomach for a second bar. Our stay at Raglan is brief, and. truth to say. we are not sorry, for there is nothing to see and nothing to be done. Nor is the trip thence to our destination exciting. We pick up our friend, the launch, who has apparently reformed, and steers decorously, and we lazily roll our way along till at last we enter the harbour. It has been a cloudy morning up to now. but just as we get sight of Kawhia the sun comes pouring out. and in ten minutes there is such a sky as Italy itself could not equal. The beauty of the vast sheet of shining water, with its mir-ror-like reflections, is beyond expression. and the noble pohutukawas on the shore flame in the glory of their Christmas flower. As we approach the little township we see there is an immense concourse of people gathered on the beach. We anchor within hailing distance, and hardly has the ship swung to the chain before we are surrounded by boats to take us to the shore, where the crowds from Taranaki. from Waikato, and the King Country are already deep in the sports

going on in the shallow water. Kawhia is en fete with a vengeance. The stores are carrying on brisk business. while half a dozen luncheon and refreshment tents are already doing a roaring trade in fruit —such cherries and such gooseberries—hop beer, and what is usually known in colonial slang as soft tack. The committee, with their blue and white rosettes, are here, there and everywhere, and we are soon made to understand that if we do not enjoy ourselves it will not be their fault. Never was such a day! Never were such races! Talk of the Waikato! We beat it hollow here. There

is a verve, a go, an abandon never seen elsewhere. We are all out for a rare good time, and we take care that we have it. The eanoe,hurdle races are not to be forgotten. The tide is running out like a mill race, so every second the obstacles are more difficult to get over. Bang! goes the gun and off shoot the four canoes. Up they come to the first hurdle and two go over. On for the next, and here they stick. First one and then the other try in vain, while the vast concourse on shore shriek with excitement and laughter at each triumph and each mishap. It is wildly exciting, and

finally a canoe which was last at the beginning manages to scramble over the last hurdle after an infinity of duckings and dousings, and the gun announces that the race is lost and won. So it goes on, event after event is hotly contested till a halt is called for dinner, and the refreshment tents are rushed. A company of showmen from town, a lady boxer, a Japanese juggler, a strong man, and what not. give a species of Richardson show in a tent and simply coin money, whiie the Maori children without pennies get what satisfaction they can from the "preliminary,” which, after the manner of their kind, the showmen give outside the tent. Then comes the call for the big canoe race. Three big eanoes start,

each manned with some score or more of splendidly stalwart Maoris. The start is good, and as they swing off together we see that we are in for a good race. A good race it most assuredly is. The course is round a mark boat a mile or more away. They have a tearing tide with them and the speed is incredible. Down they go, not five yards between them, and round the mark in unbroken phalanx. It is a magnificent sight as they swing round together, as if guided and controlled by some giant machine. Now indeed begins the battle, and deafening grows the clamour from the shore as the friends of the rivals shriek injunctions and encouragement across the water. There is just two yards between the first two canoes half a mile from home.

Gradually, inch by inch. No. 2 commences to draw up, No. 3 being almost a dead heat with her. Up and up, umid such a bediam sene of excitement as baffles description. Up and up, till they seem almost on a line. Past tear the dogs of those racing. flinging mud and water into our faces. By race the cheering Maoris—men. women and children. On we race after them, yelling we know not what, and as mad as any of them with excitement, when bang goes the gun, and the race is over, and we have seen such a finish as may never occur in New Zealand again. "My word,” says everyone, “that alone was worth coming to see.” And so. in faith.it was. The men, as they come ashore, show manifest signs of the awful exertion they

have been through, but the vanquisher take their defeat marvellously philo sophieally, all things considered. On. has seen white men growl more. An other capital race is the big eano. race for women. Our photographer who. as will Ire gathered from the a. companying pictures. has Ireen ex tremely busy, now has something <> an experience, for on going to take : “snap” of the decidedly lightly ela. Amazons he is assailed with shrill re monstrances, while one laughing gir jumps out and splashes water am mud at him. The camera has. it wil Ire seen, eaught her in the act. Adde< to this, an elderly lady conveys he contempt by an action which is cer

tainly vigorous aud unconventional, but which ran scarcely be described or photographed. Though the finish of the women’s eanoe race is not so close as that matchless trio of the men, it is yet good, and the pieturesqueness of the scene is one which will not easily be forgotten. Having won the race, rtte .winning Amazons go over the major part of the course again, in a species of triumph, chanting the while some ancient war-song, while fio ™ e wave their arms in rhythm with the measure. And now evening is drawing on apace, so those of us who intend to have tea and sleep on board make our way to the ship, from whose comfortab.e decks’we watch the twinkling lights ashore, and listen to the sounds of distant merriment, till after “one lust pipe,” we turn in, well pleased with our eventful day. Bright and early next morning we are astir, for at seven o’clock a picnic excursion is announced to start up the famous Kakanni creek, celebrated for its beauty and its caves. Not the smallest sign of life is to be seen ashore, save a few pigs nuzzling in the wet sand. The time creeps bv, and breakfast is put on and despatched. Still there is no sign! We try fishing, to wile away the hours, but the tide runs m too fiercely. At length, at nine o clock a boat puts off from the shore. What about the picnic?” we shout. <m, all right,” eomes the leisurely response.' "No hurry. We start presently—ten o’clock.” But we have yet to learn th e mystery of “Kawhia 'There is at ten o’clock no water in the launch's boilers, and by 11.30, when we are awaiting its arrival in tanks, the tide is again running out. Now, the Rakanui is a tidal ereek, so the longer we wait the better chance we have of getting stuck in the mud. At last, after twice going ashore c we are off. Thanks mainly to the energies of Messrs Buckeridge, Langley, and Scott. who labour like Trojans against the Maori indifference to time. Twice more we stick ashore, twice we are poled off, but at last we get away, “better late than never. ’ It is a considerable sail to the creek, for one (must steam round huge sand and mud banks, but once there the splendid scenery is recompense for all. We stick several times in the mud. and finally come to a dead halt, but are finally enabled to land by medium of the ship’s boat, which we have towed with us. Then, “oh, the wild charge they made” for the camping ground, and’ when the billy had boiled and the mammoth sandwiches were served out —8 inches by 5 each, and 2 inches thick—“all the world wondered’” or would have done had it been there. It was a mammoth, a Barmicidal, a never-to-be-forgotten feast, and when at last we could eat no more it became a serious question how best to “walk it off.” The writer hereof and his faithful ally, the camera fiend, hadno trouble in deciding. There were pictures galore awaiting the taking, and taken they were, despite the heat. Adventurous spirits went to the caves, ' which are, one gathered, a miniature —very miniature —edition of Waitomo, and, truth to tell, scarcely worth the trouble it takes to see them. That, however, is a matter of opinion. Sharp at six,“Kawhia time,” we are whistled for to start home, so by 7.30, “town time,” the kapura Maori, which has been prepared, is uncovered, and many of us taste for the first time potatoes oysters and pippies cooked in this matchless fashion. By 8 p.m. we are all in the boats again and start off for the ship, where we arrive, tired, but delighted with our day, somewhere about ten. Prompt at eight next morning we start on the hapuku fishing trip to Gannet Island. Smooth as the sea looks, there is a considerable swell outside, which discomposes one or two, and which makes our'chances of landing on the island look rather doubtful. A big sea is breaking over the rocks when we arrive, and it seems as if we must content ourselves with the tish. Lines are speedily in the water, and almost instantly one of the Maoiis yells out in frantic excitement, "Hapuka, hapuka, hapuka!” arid hauls on his lino as one possessed. Forty fathoms of line have to come up, so*little wonder that the monster is drowned when he does reach the surface, and gives but little trouble. Quickly the gaff is passed into his gills, and he is whipaboard. Sixty pounds, if he is

an ounce, we tell each other. So the game goes on with varying excitement and luck. At one period the whole ship goes demented, some nine or ten mammoth tish being hooked absolutely simultaneously, so that the demauds for the gaff are frantic. Lunch calls a halt at last, but some enthusiasts forgo the meal and fish steadily ou. Meanwhile the sea has fallen, and about two the captain sends a few of us ashore in charge of the second mate, Mr Collins, "one of the best,” who had been indefatigable in looking after the pleasure and comfort of the passengers all morning. And here let the writer pause a moment, and in the name of all who so greatly enjoyed the trip place on record our appreciation of the trouble which Captain Austen, his officers and men, took to promote our enjoyment. They simply could not do enough, and it was with sincere pleasure that we witnessed little Miss Austen land the biggest fish of the day. It seemed fitting, somehow. Ninety pounds was his weight. Outphoto shows him on the scale, with Miss Austen ami Second Mate Mr Collins alongside. Chief Mate Braidwood was also indefatigable in his efforts: and so. indeed, was everyone, not forgetting the steward, on whom fell much extra work, and tl.e cook, who put himself about to give us our fish for tea "fresh and fresh.” The Net them S.S. Company may will prosper with such servants, and in thanking those whose courtesy conduced so much to our enjoyment, the writer, on behalf of all. congratulates the Company on possessing the services of so many "white men.” The landing at Gannet Island is an exciting picee of work but is admirably managed. The nndefatigable photographers

al get to work au<l are only stopped by the tool-toot of the steamer’s liorn which imperatively demand, our return. Several picture, are secured, and to lira great delight of tneM-ribe the photograper gets a shrewd nip in the leg while lie escapee. It is a minor triumph of literature over art the scrilie explains as the camera fiend rube his leg tenderly. The tameness of the gannets is amazing, tine can approach within a couple of feet before they will move from off their single egg. The odour of guano and decayed fish, (the birds vomit sprats freely when disturbed) is somewhat strong but otherwise one could spend whole hours on the lonely rock with its feathered inhabitants. When we get liock to the ship another Ixatt load go ashore, after which the anchor is got up and we steam off again to Kawhia. Here we get a great re< eption for our tish is welcome, and after almut an hour leave for home where we arrive thoroughly sunburned but delighted with our excursion.