WHANGAROA

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXVI, Issue 14, 7 April 1906, Page 4

WHANGAROA

An Ideal North Island Resort for a Holiday Lounge

When at last arrives that blissful season of the year when it becomes necessary to positively make up one’s mind where one shall spend the brief allotted span of holiday, the question which arises for the New Zealander is not so much “where” as “which.” The attractions are legion; the difficulty is which to select. This difficulty applies to each notable city in the colony equally, though of course choice is to some degree limited by time. Anxious, for example, as may be the Dunedenite to “do” the Hot Lakes, the trip, though possible, could only be to a very modified degree successful when compressed within a two weeks’ limit. A similar disability is imposed on the Northerner who ardently hankers to conquer some gigantic Southern Alpine peak, or to enjoy the wonders of the Tasman glacier. But even, say. for example, to the Aucklander the choice is bewildering, and the difficulty of making up one’s mind is correspondingly great. Yet often, again, pocket simplifies the matter, and wipes off the slate many delightful projects, and in the end one is concerned to pick amongst some dozen or less, which meet the requirements of one’s tastes and the decrees of a limited purse. In some such quandary was the writer hereof this year, when ’soiuleoue who had “don<e it before’ beneficently suggested Whangaroa. Whangaroa seen on even a Hying excur-sion-such as tin* annual cruise of the Northern Company must ever prove a delightful memory, but to really appreciate its possibilities needs a long stay indeed, and a fortnight or three weeks simply stimulate the appetite for more. Yet even in this period, to those with simple tastes for launching, fishing, picnicking, riding, driving, and if energetic climbing, Whangaroa will furnish a holiday to be day-dreamed of manv and many a winter evening when the smoke from the pipe curling upward frames picture after picture of pleasures past. If a brief and exceedingly imperfect account of some of the doings of a small party of three during a fortnight’s stay at this little known resort should send half a dozen readers in search of similar enjoyment some other year, assuredly the task of scribbling and illustrating will have been “worth

the candle,” for those readers will be friends of the “Graphic” for life. Behold us, therefore, embarking one memorable Monday in February on the

Northern S.S. Co.’s Clansman, two ordinary mortals and a photographer with a most amazing quantity of gear, over which he clucks with anxiety, after the

manner of the domestic hen with a couple of chicks. The stewards are obligingly certain everything will be quite safe, and at last, after the inevitable

late passenger has arrived after the gangway is on board, and has been hauled on deck in a manner certainly fortiter in re, to the accompaniment of language not at all suaviter in modo by the much tried mate, we are off, and slipping down the harbour on as perfect a summer evening as the heart of tired man could desire. Oh! the bliss of those after dinner pipes on deck, while with a whole fortnight of freedom before us we rejoiced like school-freed children, that the office be anathematised for 14 perfect days, and feasted in imagination on coining joys. Early to bed was the order, and consequently it was early to rise also, for breakfast was announced for 6.30 at latest. Little after five, therefore, found all on deck, admiring the fine headland of Cape Brett, the famous ‘‘hole in the wall,” and, finally, just about breakfast time, the entrance into Russell. Arrived at this once busy port, a large proportion of our passengers leave us, and we decide to stop ashore while the steamer goes across the harbour to Opua to coal. To my mind, Russell and the Bay of Islands have been much overrated from a scenic standpoint. We “did”

the traditional sights of the place, the old church with its bullet marks, and old church with its bullet marks, and the tomb of the great Tamati Waka Nene. Likewise, we climbed Flagstaff Hill, from whence the view is certainly magnificent, and looked over to Waitangi; but though we took our time over all these things, it was yet early when all was done, and we were driven to the resort of heaving ducks and drakes from the shingly beach, and wondering when on earth—or rather water—the steamer would return, and we should get dinner. This we ultimately had to get at the hotel, and did not finally get clear of Russell till well after three. Captain Farquhar did the honours of the harbour and coast with his famous courtesy, recounting legends and point ing out peculiarities of the rock formation. etc. It was long after live, with a strong gale blowing and a bloomy sky overhead, when we reached the entrance to the famous harbour, and were set the puzzle set to all newcomers to find the entrance to the Heads. This is practically an impossible task till you are “in the know.”

and are shown the landmarks by which tne narrow passage may be found. It is no intention of mine to attempt a description of what is certainly one of the finest and most picturesque harbours in the world. Towering rocks of majestic shape, lovely bays stretching this way and that Okahumoko, with its attractions, wnich would take a month alone to explore, these, and the thousand other things which make up Whangaroa are beyond the skill of any pen to describe, least of all the indifferent scribbling oi the present writer. Something too much has been made of the accidental resemblances of certain recks to certain people, or objects. One is called upon to admire the Duke’s Nose, Mushroom Rocks, etc., etc., somewhat ad nauseam, but the grandeur of the rock formation as a whole, the beauty of the harbour windings, and the splendour of the tout ensemble, with the noble mass of St. Paul Mount on the one side, and St. Peter on the other, with Mount Taratara in the far background, has never yet been done justice to. and never will till some New Zealand Donimett arises to sing its praises.

However, to get on. Whangaroa wharf was reached about six, there being the usual “steamer day” crowd to watch the Clansman berth. Arrived at the Masonic Hotel, where a warm welcome awaited us from Host Gothard — one of the party having stopped with him before we found ourselves installed in such comfort as is to be found in few hotels of a much more pretentious appearance and high-sounding leputation. It is, in its domestic arrangements. as if one had lifted bodily oii“ of the old time country inns of t lie Old Country and dropped it down in lais remote hut beautiful corner of t ie Empire. We were from the moment of our first meal the veritable guests of the house, ami our comfort and our pleasure were looked after with an obvious anxiety and watchfulness, which could not have been excelled by the master of the finest country house in the colony. Excursions which we had never thought of were planned and suggested, and the interest in the success of our doings and outings was as sincere ami keen as if we had lieen personal friends — as, indeed. 1 hope we all are now—for certainly one cannot look bark on that delightful time spent under the hospitable roof of tin* Masonic without the liveliest and friendliest gratitude for all the trouble devoted to us. As for the table kept, memories of chickens which melted in the mouth, of ducklings the fragrance of whose st tilling rose like incense on the air, of mince pics and cakes galore —but enough; it. is not fair to aggravate rhe appetites of readers in imagination, when the reality is not within their reach. Sullico it to say that as we now sit down to the cold mutton of <•veryday life, and the distressful “st ogginess” of the pasI rv of the common or garden household.

ami remember the fairy lightness of Mrs Gothard's turnovers, we under* st a ml to the full what the poet meant in the well-known lines: A Morrow's crown of sorrow Is remembering happier things. We were early afloat next morning in charge of Engineer Hare (jun.), of Kaeo, and in our launch Wild Rose speeding d<;wn the exquisite reaches of the harbour to pick up a place for a camp, for it had been agreed that as the finest p: < t< gr; phic effects—so far as mists a.i I reihd it.ns were concerned—are only pH c.,r ble within half an hour after -i . • e, it would be well to camp out lt.r one or two nights. Concerning how i his “panned out’ more anon. (>f camping places at Whangaroa there are an infinity, but we wanted to be near the Heads and Okahunioko Bay, We therefore chose the spot called Ranfurly Cove, where there is good water an unsurpassable outlook, and good lauding facilities from the launch at all tides. Further up Okahunioko is another ground which many might prefer, for the water here comes down in a considerable cascade, tilling a large pool severed feet deep, and suitable for a fresh water bath after a preliminary dip in the sea. It was at this latter spot we enjoyed the never-to-be-for-gotten “kapu Maori” picnic to which I shall revert later. For convenience of fishing, etc., etc., both may be said to be equal. That night we did spend in

camp, and by coincidence it was the one cold night we had during our stay—one of those curiously bitter nights which “blow in” to a New Zealand summer three or four times in the season. We slept but poorly and rose chilled

and shivering. Now, whether it was this, or the fact that we found we could reach any bay we wanted within half an hour from the hotel —so speedy

•nd the engine is stopped. or even, if necessary, reversed. Nine times out of ten, as you frantically reel in your line (some fifty or sixty feet will have been taken out at least), you will imagine that the fish has got off. for nearly invariably the fish, when struck, swims towards the boat. But a reassuring fresh bolt convinces you he is there, and if the fish Im* large, then commences a battle the joys of which are far, far beyond the telling. Giving him the butt, and keeping a gentle strain on the rod (don’t have too “stiff” a one. there’s far better fun with one with a bit of “whippiness” in it) you gently wind in the reel. Then comes a sudden tension, your rod bends, and with another exquisite whirr out goe-. another twenty yards of line. And so. according to the size and gameness of the fish, the struggle goes on, you gaining a few yards after every rush as you bring your prey in Time and again he will spring out of the water; then smartly lover your point, or you may lose him. tackle and all. Careful, too, is the word when the brave fish comes into sight of the launch and fatal gaff. Down, down he will bore, and now, only just give him as much as your trust in your rod and tackle require-, keep on the strain, stiff and steady, but more severe. Gaffing requires some little skill, both by the man behind the gaff and the fisherman. For, if your rod be ten feet or upwards in length, and you have a longish trace, it is difficult to “get back" in the boat far enough, so the fish, having a fair swing and headway, there is always a danger your prize may make a final dash for the propeller, and then what falls falls—language has no word for it. since tackle, fish and. perchance, the top of your rod. will probably go, and you be left lamenting. As a rule, when the fish are feeding, both rods—only two can well fish at a time—will l>e occupied at the same moment : but if not, the slack line is reeled in in case of complications. The third, who is not fishing. handles the gaff, and also usually shouts direction warnings (always disregarded and sworn at) to the fishers, as a good, heavy, game fish will often fight ten or even fifteen minutes, and one strikes again and again, one is always, after killing a fish or two. physically tired out for the moment and only too willing to take a "smoke, ho!” give up the rod and assume the control of the steering gear and the charge of the gaff. No amount of description can. as said, give the remotest idea of the charm of this fishing, and of the enjoyment secured in cruising round and round the harbour from one lovely resort to another in search of it. When tired, or for a change, and for the pot. there is magnificent schnapper ami rock cod fishing •'outside *’ ami. with the gun on board, the frequent chance of a shot—usually unsuccessful —at the detested shag. In cruising. fishing. scrambling amongst the hills and rocks, and assisting the photographer, days slipped by all too fast. A drive to Kaeo proved a change on one day. This flourishing little township is most picturesquely situated in a charming valley, and the drive there and to the bush beyond, where kaurifelling in progress may be seen, is most interesting. Space will not permit of a description of the work of felling the timber ami getting it out of the bush: that nnmt Im* “another story,” as Kipling has it. But let no one who visits "Whangaroa miss the opportunity of seeing it. Also, the vocabularies of the gentlemen who drive the teams of oxen -—twenty strong —are worth travelling many miles to hear, being truly magnificent ebullitions of rhetorical profanity. Age cannot wither nor custom stale the infinite variety” of the flow of luminous and lurid language to the accompaniment of a fusilade of whip cracks like rifle shots, with which these gentlenun punctuate their attentions to their beasts, which are, truth to tell, certainly aggravating to a degree. 1 take it. the Recording Angel allows a special rebate and discount to bu flockpuncher-». They assuredly deserve it—and need it also. Ninety-nine per cent ** off” would Im* a fair thing, one supposes. Another excursion, arranged for us by Mr. Gothard, was to the wreck of the Boyd, now altogether under water, from which he iMr. Gothard) has extracted many mementoes, all of which

he has given away, save only the eop per gudgeon which -lands in -the ha I of the hotel, and which weigh'*, heaven knows how much, ami is worth upward.of £l5O as pure copper. Two of oui party went overboard, am! after -oni swimming about found tin* wreck and stood thereon, and tried diving foi specimens, but the tide was too higli and the sea too rough for any succe-s. the -mootbest of -eas and lowest <•! spring tides lieing essential for this expedition. It was, however, immensely interesting. The evenings were almost invariably enlivened by music, one of the party being an expert on the banjo, ami with a good voice withal, the Rev. Mr. MeWilliam, who was in the district at the time, singing an excellent song, and “Miss Nettie.” of the household. playing admirably on the piano when she could be persuaded to oblige. Several sunsets over majestic Mount Taratara haunt the memory, and would have delighted Turner himself. Space forbids to recount excursions here ami excursions there, to tell of a merry climb up St. Paul’s to see the view’ when our guides were a couple of pretty girls; or recall a memorable afternoon at the pretty “water holes” in one of the lovely bays when, as one of the gay party present said, there was the “fun of Cork.” and the stalwart banjoist carried the girls ashore with a gallantry and “a way w id him" all his ow n, which won all hearts. But of the “kapu Maori” ami the picnic to Okahunioko Bay, to which Float Gothard invited half the neigiriMHirhood, a word or so must in commonest gratitude be said. It was. perhaps, as perfect a day as a New Zealand summer can produce. The epicurean preparations made for the event were gargantuan in their proportions—pics, pasties, ducks, fowls, hams, and other provisions galore were packed in huge hampers, while on equally hospitable thoughts intent Mr. Gothard had packed a huge case of beer, “soft drinks,” ami some liqueur whisky, the mellowness and age of which are seldom found in New Zealand. Parties of guest having arrived from Totara North. Saies. Kaeo. etc., etc., the crowded launches were at length piled high with the endle.-s provisions, and the course lad for for Okahunioko. A stop having been made at one of the other bays for a huge sack of pipis. or rather cockles, for the “kapu Maori.” the landing place was reached at noon, and the girls, with an escort or so, dispersed to wash and peal the potatoes and the squash, a proceeding (judging from the merry laughter which floated down from the water pools wliere the operation was performed) which turned out more lively than is usual with a somewhat prosaic occupation. Meanwhile, the “kapu Maori” itself was in preparation for the first stage. A hole had already been dug. and partly filled with dry fire wood. The carefully selected -tones were scientifically placed thereon, and more wood on top of this. By the time the roaring and fierce fire had burned itself down, the potatoes, cockles, fish, ami “squash” were ready, ami. likewise, two or three clean white cloths rung out with sea ■water, ami perhaps four or live wet sacks. A little water was sprinkled over the almo-t red hot stones to free them from ashes, then, quicker than it can Im* written, the cockles were tipped thereon, the potatoes were placed on the cockles, the fish ami the squash on the top of the potatoes, and then, with great care, tin* white cloths ami the sacks, which in turn were buried under a mound of earth and sand till not one atom of steam could be seen escaping. For the next half an hour the party resolved itself into the usual factors at a picnic. Some attempted Sandovv tricks some chatted, some fluted, ami one couple (married since, and good luck attend them) courted with that desperate seriousness of those whose time is drawing to its glorious close. At last (in 35 minutes) time is railed by Mr. Gothard. and the earth is removed, thru the sacks, then carefully (see the picture on page G) our host removes the white covers, and our meal is before us. No one who has not tasted food cooked in this manner can judge of its ex<‘ellenvc. Potatoes possess a flavour and flouriness unequalled, and the fish is indiscribably delicate. But one must not linger on the gastronomic memories even of the cockles, for space and the patience of readers are both quite worn out. Those who care to go to Whangaroß in summer can sample all for themselves, for Mr. Gothard organises sev-

era I of these picnics during the season. Ami now. since one must close wit hit a few line-, what can we say to do jus tice to \\ bangaioa. and to send thithei holiday makers whose thoughts usuallj turn no further than Rotorua or Wai vvrra *: Simply this, then: “It is impos -ible to sufficiently praise tin* harboui ami its varied delights; the comfort ami homeliness of the hotel are far al»ov* anything the writer ha- met with in New Zealand: and la-t. but perhaps not least, the expense is extraordinarily small. The writer, therefore, says to all who like lovely scenes, sea-fishing and boating—try Whangaroa.”