JACKSON’S BAY

Korero (AEWS), Volume 2, Issue 19, 25 September 1944, Page 16

JACKSON’S BAY

A KORERO REPORT

Where on the West Coast can you put the sea between yourself and the sunrise and still stay on the mainland ? Not many Coasters know the answer to that one. Still, if you like getting up early (and if you’ve got as far as that) you can stand on the foreshore of Jackson’s Bay and watch the sun come up over the shoulder of Mount Cook. In front of you are the waters of the Tasman Sea, behind the Bay is the coast-line clothed to the water’s edge with dense bush, and beyond the beach rise the Southern Alps gleaming coldly in the morning air. The phenomenon of sunrise over an arm of the Tasman means that the coastline has swung sharply to the west and pointed a nose north before returning to its original course of south-west. It means that on three sides the land has enclosed the sea. You don’t need to be Captain Cook to understand that this means a sheltered harbour. Anywhere else in New Zealand there would be nothing remarkable about —we are fortunate in the number and size of our harbours— on the West Coast a protected seaport is about as rare as a morning on which you can see the sunrise. These have been two of the Coast’s chief handicaps—weather and bar-bound shipping. They are complementary, for the rain fills the rivers and the river silt blocks the harbour mouths. And so from above Westport to the Sounds there is only one harbour (two, if Bruce Bay is contued) where ships can anchor irrespective of the state of the bar or tide. The two main towns of the

Coast, Greymouth and Westport, on the Grey and Buller Rivers suffer the serious drawback of a bar which is often unworkable. This inconveniences not only the Coasters, but coal-consumers as far north as Auckland. Jackson’s Bay, over a hundred and fifty miles south of Greymouth, is a natural harbour. It is protected not only from southerly storms, but also from heavy north-west seas, and the fickleness of a harbour bar doesn’t worry the shipping that calls there. The only trouble is that ships are few and far between. For Jackson’s Bay lacks what the northern ports have in abundance—roads. This isn’t so remarkable. The northern ports were opened up not because they provided safe anchorages, but because they were centres of commercial activity. Gold, the great colonizer, brought thousands to that part of the Coast, and coal, timber, agriculture, and commerce helped to keep some of them there. With the colonists came roads and railways. So did the ships, from necessity, as it were, rather than choice. Here there were cargoes for them, and though the captains might curse the location of the coal-mines they had to accept things as they found them. The Harbour Boards might be less fatalistic and buy a dredge, but in the end the rivers called the tune. Jackson’s Bay with an all-weather harbour had neither gold nor coalsuch is the contrariness of Nature—and so had few settlers and fewer roads. But for the war there would be a road

through from the Haast River some thirty miles to the north and probably a link with Otago over the Haast Pass, but the completion of these connections awaits peace and plentiful man-power. Then the local settlers, firm believers in the economic possibilities of South Westland, are convinced that Jackson’s Bay will become a prosperous township and a busy port. They point to the fine stands of timber, to the traces of coal and other minerals, to the cattle-runs that will be available when the land is cleared, to the fishing-grounds all long the Coast, and to the scenic possibilities of the area. They look to the day when Jackson’s Bay will have not only the finest harbour but the busiest port on the Coast. Whatever may be the facts behind their high hopes, no one can doubt their enthusiasm and sincerity. The Bay has as long a history as any part of New Zealand. With Cape Maria van Diemen, Cascade Point, just to the south, is the closest lying land to Sydney. Sailing-ships often made their landfall here, and the old native stories tell of whalers, at times in fleets, calling at the Bay for fresh water and wood. The inevitable legends (with some basis in fact) have sprung up concerning these early visitors. One tells the story of “ The Frenchman’s Gold.” Sometime early in the last century the crew of a French ship mutinied off this part of the Coast and when the ship was driven ashore only two of the company survived. Part of the cargo consisted of gold ingots and, understandably, the survivors salvaged these. They buried this fortune somewhere in the bush and then set off for the north and civilization. One was

drowned crossing a river. The other settled in Nelson. He never returned to uncover the treasure, a somewhat suspicious circumstance, but drew a. map of the locality where it was buried. Some versions say that a pick and an axedriven into a tree trunk mark the spot ; others say that the gold was hidden in a cave. Bearing out the first version, a reliable station hand is said to have found an old axe and a pick driven deep in the trunk of a tree. He did not realize the significance of his find, and when he was told of the treasure neither he nor any one else could discover the fateful tree. Working to the cave theory and following the mutineers map, a party is said to have been organized in Invercargill before the last war which came to the spot where the cave should have been only to discover that a land-slide had covered it. They began tunnelling, but some disagreement caused the expedition to disband. Perhaps the gold is there yet. Some of the old hands are certain of it. In 1862 Claude Morton Ollivier. died aboard the schooner “ Ada ” and she put in to bury him on the foreshore of the Bay. This grave, the only trace of the many ships that called in the early days, was discovered in 1875 by the settlers who came to take up holdings in the Town of Arawata. This settlement was established by the Government in order to open up the lower portion of the West Coast. Pamphlets painting a bright picture of the possibilities of the district and offering a free passage to settlers attracted some hundreds to Arawata. The town-

ship had been so named after a nearby river. The attempt at settlement was a failure. The settlers were not to blame. They had been led to believe that they were going to a land of milk and honey. They landed instead on a desolate beach beyond which was a barrier of impenetrable forest. Before they could win any return from their 10 acre holdings they had to clear back the bush and build

their homes. They had to give battle also to the millions of mosquitoes who claimed prior right of possession and grow accustomed to the incessant rain, which was more than tropical in its dreary intensity. A depressing prospect for pioneers, however hardy. Despite difficulties that must have seemed almost insurmountable, the settlement was established. But the settlers’ hopes of a reasonable standard of living from land-development were not realized. The land was too poor, the locality too isolated. They made the best possible use of the natural resources available and tried to establish sawmilling, mining, and fishing as local industries, but though they had a good harbour they had no loading facilities and their efforts brought little return. Their only regular revenue was the payment they received for road work. At this work they spent several days each week, but when the Government decided to discontinue road-building they were left almost destitute. Many left the district, but some few moved north to Okuru to try their luck on better land. The Resident Agent, Mr. Duncan McFarlane, noted in his reports that there were extensive limestone deposits handy to the Bay and also traces of coal and other minerals as well as patches of fireclay. The scheme had undoubted possibilities, but the isolation, the disappointments, and the interminable rain must have been enough to dampen the ardour of the most enthusiastic. After most of the settlers had left the Bay a big slip came down on part of the township and some miffions of tons of earth wrote an effective “ finis ” to most

of the settlement. The bush crept down and the grave on the foreshore was once again enveloped. It was found in 1937 when a Public Works camp was established at the Bay to carry a road north to the outside world, a road which sixty years before would have probably meant the success of the settlement. So once again Jackson’s Bay came to life and for several years it was the busy headquarters of the men employed on road and bridge building. The bush was cut back and buildings erected on sites once occupied by the houses of the old inhabitants. The population grew to 150. There was a post-office with full radio transmitting equipment, a canteen (dry), a Y.M.C.A., a hospital, a men’s cooldiouse and a staff mess, and, in addition, all the Public Works Department’s buildings. There were houses for the married men and huts for the single. The “ Gael ” called regularly bringing supplies and equipment for the work, and a wharf was built capable of berthing large ships. A landing-ground was cleared near the eastern edge of the Bay, and Air Travel, Ltd., ran a regular service bringing mails, newspapers, passengers, and some freight. This time the cart and the horse were in the right order and with adequate access there was every chance of the natural wealth of the region being exploited successfully. But bad luck again postponed the completion of the necessary access. The war drew men away to the Forces and to more essential works elsewhere, and only a small staff was retained for maintenance work and the completion of a few unfinished jobs.

But this time the bush has not crept back to reclaim the clearings. The skeleton staff has plenty to keep it occupied and the postmaster has more to do than record the daily rainfall. Incidentally, that is in itself a pretty big job down there. They had 150 in. of rain last year and reckoned it a dry season. But the camp is ready for the post-war influx of labour; ready to get on with the job. Up from Cascades Point below the Bay is Cascades Station, the most southerly station on the Coast and one of the biggest. Here in the wilderness Nolan Bros, raise

cattle for the Wataroa market and take six weeks to drive them out to the sales. Supplies go in and out by packhorse. Much of the station is subdivided and fenced, but the ranges form the eastern boundary. South-east are the Red Hills, thought to con-

tain payable amounts of iron oxide. Most of this country had been surveyed and the geographical features named. The names have a flavour peculiar to the Coast. Some streams are named after a deck of cards ; Knaves Creek, Deuce Creek, Right Bower, &c. Others are called after a ship’s company : Bosun’s Creek, Mate’s Creek, and so on. At Cascades Point is a seal rookery. After a close season of over thirty years the rookery is literally alive with almost tame seals. They can be driven up a narrow ledge that skirts the steep cliff to a dead end some 70 ft. above the sea.

Finding they can go no further, they then dive off into the water, often knocking themselves out as they. land. Those who have fished these waters claim that the seals are a menace to the blue cod and they are agitating that an open season be declared in order to keep the seals in check. Like many other public works of first-rate importance, the completion of the road links between Jackson’s Bay and Otago and the northern part of the Coast must await the end of the war. When the roads are through, the Bay will at last come into its own. The

sawmilling industry will doubtless be developed, and it may be followed by closer settlement of the land. Perhaps lime-crushing and brickmaking industries will also be commenced. There are crayfish by the thousand just off the end of the wharf and all varieties of fish are

plentiful in the Bay. The mineral possibilities of the district can also be explored and, if found to be worthwhile, exploited. The Bay itself, banked by forest heaped hills and enclosing a sheltered stretch of the sea across which the forests rise steeply from the coastline to the Alps, could become a popular tourist resort. It can rain there certainly, but the mild temperature is some compensation, and when the sun shines there is no more pleasant place in New Zealand. The Coast has plenty of dead towns, relics of the old gold rush days. There is every chance that at Jackson's Bay one will be resurrected.