The Charms of Dunedin.

New Zealand Illustrated Magazine, Volume VII, Issue 6, 1 March 1903, Page 465

The Charms of Dunedin.

By "ROIXA."

tPPBO ACHED from the East Coast by a channel passing between the greenest of hilis, the Southern city gives a most pleasing impression. Dunedin is the place of soft rains and mists. This abundance of moisture probably accounts for ihe extreme verdancy of the surrounding hills. Most of them are cleared and under cultivation, which thus imparts a tamer aspect to the approach of Dunedin, as compared with its Northern rivals. The channel through which the vessel steams from Port Chalmers is quietly beautiful. We travel slowly, for the channel is not yet very deep, although, thanks to strenuous exertions and unwearied labour, navigation becomes, each year, easier. Fairly round the bend, Dunedin appears — a green- walled city. The business portion is built on the comparatively small area of level land, of which the greater part is due to reclamation, still in progress. By a road built through the water, the upper portion of the harbour, known as Loch Lomond, is shut off. From this . part one sees, running right round the near circle of hills, a belt of native bmsh. The authorities of the town deserve warm congratulation for preserving nature within five minutes walk of city life. Indeed, one cannot speak too highly of the value of this lung of Dunedin. It'is a surprise to Northern eyes to see native bush valued as it should be. Not only is the growth left in its wild state, but to enhance its value, well-made roads run through every part of the bush, and many are the charming walks through it, the ferns and shrubs being under pro-

You VII. -No. 6.— 30.

tection. From " The Drive "an excellent carriage road, in winter white and hard with frost, in spring gay with blossoming sides, may be seen an excellent view of the harbour, with the opposite hills round Broad Bay. Towards evening the effects on these are beautiful. Soft, hazy blue tones contrast with the water, thrown into deep, grey shadows, and, in the open, reflecting the brighter sun tints. Out to the South is the w 7 ide sweep of ocean, and between is the level isthmus that looks so low that one expects the Ocean Beach waves to Hreak across to join the harbour \ waters. Undoubtedly, Dunedin is a Jpretty town ; and its surroundings are all the more charming that they are so near and so easily accessible. Glance, for instance, at the Northern Cemetery. One does not expect such a place to be denoted as a beauty spot. The road leading to it runs along the hillside, bordered with bush. The latter is not imposing, is by no means forest growth, but it is bush, scrubby, if you will, but still native New Zealand bush. The road is damp with the damp of the side growth ; and in its twists and turns one feels a freedom strange when so close to a city. In the graveyard one runs full tilt upon a monument reared to the memory of those who perished, in Northern seas, in the wreck of the Wairarapa. After this reminder of civilization, we look down on the green, weed-covered waters of Loch Lomond, and past them, o'er the blue harbour to the wild Ocean Beach. When so well kept, and so prettily approached, even so mournful a place as a cemetery has a distinct charm. Leaving it, we

turn off, on the hillside, to another walk, bordered by willows dipping low to the stony-bedded Water o' Leith. The walk takes us to the small, but very pretty Public Gardens. Ocean Beach and St. Clair are too well-known to ask much comment. The former is grand in its desolateness, in its reach of gray sandhills, in its great gray-blue waves. The latter, seen on a spring morning, when the clouds are gently lifted, and the waters proudly rearing their crests before rolling in shore-

flats some richer red-brown colouring than is usual in Dunedin, we walked on by a road bordered bymasses of glorious golden broom. The scent of it was in the air ; the wet clouds lifted, and the sunshine met and kissed the glowing yellow. The richness of its hue, as it grew in great masses along the roadside compelled admiration. Then round another bend, another overpowering sweetness greeted us. A pale lemoncoloured lupin was growing thickly along, trying its best to outrival the sturdy broom. Down below us

ward, is a beautiful combination of soft colours. A charming haziness blends the water and sky into harmony of mid-colour, the rocks stand sentinel, their brown hue toning softly, while ever the great waves come dashing in. Round the corner is a sheltered rocky bay, where one may sit on the boulders, revelling in the peace that comes of blustering billows.

One day in springtime we visited Tomahawk Bay. Passing Anderson's Bay, which revealed on the

stretched a level, half -marshy island, half water, while away in the background rose the green hills. The road, yellow-bordered, wound over a bridge. Turning sharply off, we came upon the beach, flanked by sandhills and rugged rocks. No description of Dunedin would be complete without a mention of the Waterfall. The road to the North leads past the Leith, with its great boulders and stones so thickly strewn. Finally, we turn in at a broken-down gate ; and, scrambling

-oveE some piled-up fuschia timber, begin our walk up stream. In one minute we have come from the open roadway, covered with rough metal, to the heart of nature. The little stream is crammed, as full as can be, with rocks smooth, rough, mossy. Over all is the still silence of the bus»h, except for the music of the water. We scramble and slip over the rocks, always ascending. We arrive at a place where it is scarcely light. On either side the hills, rent apart by the water in some bygone age, stand perfectly perpendicular, grim and dark. The

Not far from the Waterfall is Bishopsgrove, the property of the Bishop of Dunedin, who, in restoring to its native condition much bush that had been partially desstroyed, by planting pungas in shady bowers, and otherwise preserving and assisting the growth of forest land, has not only made for himself a charming retreat, hut has also added to the beauty of the city. While at the northern end of Dunedin an interesting detour may be made to the Reservoir. Turning in at the gate of an old mill, one makes way along a well-made road,

scene is weird. We continue upwards, and a few yards further, the brown walls burst into graceful fern growth, the narrow stream, ail the while, tumbling and swirling into tiny cascades. Then the dark passage widens again, and the ferny banks are less precipitous, but still high, and at last we come sheer upon the fall, only some hundred odd feet in fall, but daintily beautiful. So much filmy lacework, falling from the height to the rocks below. Higher up, are two other cascades.

paved with flat stones. It is built up at the side as a stone wall, which is continued down to the stream below, falling over rough rocks and pebbles. The reservoir is a long, oval-shaped pond, with cemented sides in good order and in the heart of grass fields and bush land. Following the path, up wellbuilt steps, one can picnic in the bush at a distance of five minutes* walk from the tramway. Again, taking the car to the Northern terminus, one can walk for a mile along a road which is an

avenue of the glorious yellow broom, past a field which is one white mass of daisies, then straight into climbing bowers of native clematis and bush-lawyer, falling in scented bouquets of pale pink blossom. The stream is there, stepping stones and all, just in the very place for a picnic. This abundance of retired picnic spots so close to town is the great charm of Dunedin. They are within a few moments' walk of the main tram routes. Fraser's Creek, for instance, is a charming combination of bush and stream, at the end of a walk of a few minutes from the Kaikorai terminus. For the sake of variety, one may drive along the Portobello Road, which leads past Anderson's and Broad Bays — a perfectly level road with cliff on one hand, harbour on the other. The drive is delightful. Numbers of cyclists are met, for the roaid is level to the end, where is Portobello, an exceedingly pretty seaside resort. For more ambitious picnicers, Waitate, Outram, Woodside, Brighton and others furnish a twenty miles drive, with delightful scenery at the end. But I do not wish, at present, to expatiate on these more distant holiday spots.

To beauty lovers, there are so many charms about the suburbs, and during October and November, the hillsides fairly glow with the glory of the broom. Great yellow patches of it rivet the attention everywhere, throwing perfume into the air, painting the landscape with splashes of colour. About the

same time, white clematis blossoms profusely along the belt of bush. In the Eoslyn district are large areas of undulating country where homes are springing up plentifully. Along quiet country roads, bordered by paddocks, one may walk in the bracing air high above the city. While walking one day along one of these lanes I was greeted with the scent of violets. Looking over a hedge I saw a great plantation of the sweet English flower. Planted out in the same manner as strawberries, they were in full bloom, and the picture of that hill slope, purple-painted and extravagantly throwing wild its delicious perfume, was one to have come miles for. The citizens of Dunedin deserve the warmest congratulations for the care they have taken to preserve natural beauties. Their Beautifying Society is evidently a live one, to judge by the manner in which spaces have been reserved along the public streets, and kept as gardens glowing golden in spring with daffodils, or clad in summer with scarlet geraniums. Northern cities have had so much better chances with their broader sweeps of blue harbour, and their more genial skies, but as compared with Dunedin, they have neglected their opportunities. They have one gardon to the half-dozen of the chilly South, they push back the forest growth further and further, they destroy Nature instead of assisting her. In the matter of taking care of their property, they have a useful lesson to learn from Dunedin.