WESTPORT COAL+PORT

Korero (AEWS), Volume 2, Issue 20, 9 October 1944, Page 12

WESTPORT COAL+PORT

By

There is coal-dust in the air at Westport. Twenty miles north, at Stockton, electric locomotives haul

the | ton “ tubs ” of coal from the mines to the “ bins,” and bull-dozers roar at the “ opencast ” coal-quarry. Nearer to Westport, at Millerton and Denniston, the tubs perform a ceaseless round trip on an endless rope from the mines to the bins. At Charming Creek, Diesel engines draw the coal through some of the loveliest scenery in New Zealand—now a little coaldusty. To the east from the Cascade mine the coal is “ flumed ” by waterpower down a long trough for seven miles. To the south at Charleston the “ overburden ” (top-cover) over the coal is swept away by hydraulic sluicing. Lorries do the transporting. Everywhere coal is in the air. Its transport is responsible for the operating profit on “ the only paying line in New Zealand.” Westport exists to export coal. The coal-dust in the air at Westport begets a parched feeling in its throat. The wide mile-long main street frames, at its south end, the rugged grandeur of Mount Kelvin— but, strategically situated on convenient corners are seventeen pubs, one of which offers excellent accommodation to the moneyed traveller, while others offer a chance to be “ one of the family ” in the friendliest possible manner. In smoky little back parlours friendly little groups meet to play “ forty-fives ” with uproarious oaths and much heavy thumping of the table. For the uninitiated it may be stated that in this game the “ five fingers ” (the five of the trump suit) beats all other cards. The trump

suit order is five, jack, ace, king, queen —all other suits begin with the king. Nontrump suits win high in red ; low in black. Obviously the ace of diamonds is the lowest card in the pack unless diamonds are trumps, in which case it is the fourth best. The word “ obviously ” in the preceding sentence is a little optimistic—as the ace of hearts (the “ Maggy ”) is always the third best trump. It is credibly reported (a) that the game is of Irish origin, (&) that there are no written rules, (c) that the game can only be learned by playing it, and (d} it is as characteristic of Westport as whitebait or coal. Perhaps after all, there are some things obvious about the game. For Westport is a town of apocryphal stories and things that couldn’t be true — but are. Where else could, long ago, a hotel, all lights blazing, blithely sail down the river to sea but in a Westport flood ? And where else could one hear the utterly damning opinion, “ He’s the sort of chap who’d burn down a pub ! ” The list of improbabilities begins with the legend that Tasman watered his ships at the Mohikinui, continues with Cook’s being blown off-shore at Cape Foulwind (the pleasantest part of the district), and the amazing journeys of Brunner and Heaphy (1846-48) from the South Wanganui via the Buller to Hokitika. They took with them 10 lb. of provisions and were away for months. We read in their diary, “ that they suffered from hunger.” Brunner, stout fellow, opined that he had

overcome the principal obstacles to exploration in New Zealand in that he “ could walk barefoot through the bush, and live on fern-root.” At the end of his journeys his digestive apparatus probably matched the soles of his feet. He discovered coal in those momentous days, and suspected gold. In 1857 Mackay made the perilous journey along the coast from Cape Farewell to the Buller and on to the Grey. His reports led to the journeys in 1859 of the intrepid surveyor Rochfort, who completed the first detailed survey of the district. Rochfort discovered coal-seams near the mountain which bears his name and gold in many places, but did not let the latter detain him (or his assistants) from the surveying. He says, “ The royal mineral was lying glistening in the sun and in such quantities as induced rather a mutinous spirit ; my hands having a greater preference for the golden prospects before them than for the sterner duties of surveying.” Yet they did not halt even for one day. Rochfort was duty incarnate—and how appropriately named. Does this turning of the back on fabulous wealth seem improbable ? It happened ! Ha'ast made his way into the district in iB6O. He discovered coal at a place he named “ Coal-brook-dale ” and gold in most of the rivers. He completed the survey of the area, made an excellent report on its geology, and added riders on botany and zoology. A man of parts evidently. In iB6O, too, some Maoris from the Buller showed Rueben Waite, storekeeper of Collingwood,

samples of gold. He left at once for the Buller. Until 1862 the discoveries were rather overshadowed by those in Otago. Then the rush was on! For a few years the diggings flourished, and Charleston, Addisons, and the Lyell were names to conjure with. Fortunes were made and lost. Now these romantic

places are memories—names —a large cemetery in a ghost town is all that tells of the golden days. The visitor has the option of reaching Westport by service car from Nelson via the Hope Saddle ; from Blenheim by following the Buller from its source in Lake Roto-iti; from Christchurch via the Lewis Pass ; or from Greymouth by way of the “ coast road.” The scenic beauty of all these routes is well known. On the recently completed Buller Gorge railway, at Redman’s Creek, is a bow-string arch bridge — one of the most beautiful in New Zealand. By whatever route the visitor reaches Westport he will arrive at the south end of the main street in which, as is typical of New Zealand small towns, all the business part of the community is concentrated. The streets are named after prominent statesmen, rather as Christchurch runs to bishoprics. Thus we have Palmerston Street (the main street) Bright, Cobden, Gladstone, Disraeli, Peel, Russell, and Derby (pronounced as spelt). New Zealand is represented by Ballance, Stout, Domett, and Stafford. In Palmerston Street is one of the three major examples of civic enterprise, for it is magnificently lit by mercury arc lights. Another example is the splendid Borough Chambers —characteristically unfinished. The municipality runs its own toy hydro-electricity plant from its own private toy lake, but as the supply is not adequate extra power

must be obtained from the mine-plant at Denniston. In Palmerston Street are the town’s two new motionpicture theatres, one of which opens only on Fridays and Saturdays. But a much more significant thing is that one of the two local breweries has gone into liquidation. Practically every bank trading in New

Zealand has a branch in this same street—a reminder, no doubt, of the days when the district was an important gold-mining area, and Charleston, now a one hotel ” ghost town,” had fourteen thousand inhabitants and nearly a hundred pubs. None of the banks have rebuilt for many years. This is significant too. The “ good old days ” are over, but " old identities ” sitting on the window - sills of shops and, contemplating the rain, dream of them. No more do roistering miners from the “ diggings ” bring with them all Ihe glamour of quick wealth. The coalminers are paid fortnightly, and on “ pay Saturday ” Westport becomes very animated indeed. The difference on ” back Saturday ” is very marked. The completion of the Buller Gorge, railway, by removing Westport’s sense of isolation, has shed the harsh light of reality upon the romantic dreams of the “ Golden West.” The search for gold is now a prosaic matter of dredging, an enterprise requiring large capital, and there are few dredges in the district. Architecturally, Westport differs very little from other towns of approximately four thousand inhabitants save that most of its buildings are older. In the main street are new public buildings such as the County Chambers and the post-office, rebuilt after the Murchison earthquake of 1929, when the town was

severely damaged. The Buller Hospital is large but rambling, and the best architecture is in the technical high school, on the outskirts of the town. The local library is centrally housed in a solid, if rather depressing, brick structure. It is in need of almost everything but so far the alertness and vigilance of the rate-conscious folk have prevented the Country Library Service doing anything about it. The town, as a whole, is flat and well planned. All the streets are wide, recently tar-sealed, and they intersect at right angles. There are few blind streets, but there is little attempt at beautifying a town which lends itself so admirably to that purpose. The esplanade, with the possibility of being one of the finest river-side walks in New Zealand, is overgrown and neglected, a children’s playground is still under consideration, and the domain at the south end of the town is not a frequent resort of citizens. Yet it is a little gem of unspoiled native bush. Westport is a town of young people, perhaps because mining is the essential of essential industries. So the dances at Westport, although “ over-girled,” do not reveal that fierce competition for men that is seen elsewhere. These young men, too, are the present holders of the Seddon Shield, emblem of superiority in football for the districts

of Nelson, Marlborough, Motueka, and West Coast. The matches have the keenness of an Otago-Southland encounterfierce challenges are as fiercely —and feeling sometimes runs very high. Local pride is very strongly developed in this respect. The miners furnish the backbone of a light but phenomenally tough forward - pack. Perhaps it is the life that makes them that way. In winter the miner leaves home before sunrise and returns after dark. He does not see the sun, his work is heavy, is carried on in an impure atmosphere, and is not devoid of danger— he would not change it ! Once underground no other worker is as independent as he. And there is, too, his fierce pride in his calling. He merits admiration and pity— but he does not pity himself.

Westport is rich in “ characters ” ; people who, by their originality or eccentricity, have acquired a sort of license. There is Fred, who, in his cups, will propound and solve intricate mathematical problems, trumpeting the while that “ unless we can reduce it to maths, we know nothing about it ” ; and Charlie, who tells Irish fairy tales. The tales are good, even if the fairies are not, and the possibility of their reduction to maths, is remote. And then there is Danny, whose passion is the early history of the district, passed on in richly humorous terms. Westport’s soil is underlain by a hard pan of iron conglomerate. Thus Westport is surrounded by worthless, sour, marshy “ pakihi ” lands rather like the Russian “ podsol.” Extensive (and expensive) research has gone forward under the direction of the Cawthron Institute, but the results have not been wholly satisfactory. There seems little possibility of the economic development of, say, dairying in the immediate neighbourhood of Westport. What little timber that is readily available is being rapidly cut out. So the theme returns to coal.

The best bituminous coal in New Zealand, some of the best steam coal in the world, lies along the Paparoa Range. Geologists say that this coalfield was originally laid down as a flat sheet, much as it still is at Charleston. Earth movements, as shown by the great Kongahu fault, raised the land and subjected the coal to tremendous pressure during the upthrust. Thus its quality was greatly improved. The seams occur on the top of the ridge, at Denniston (2,000 ft.), Millerton, and even on the top of Mount William. All these places rise cliff-like from the coastal plain and the coal is lowered by ropeways down an incline of breath-taking steepness. At the bins, the tubs having been emptied into enormous containers, the coal is screened (sifted) and the “ screened coal ” and “ slack ” loaded separately into the hoppers, which carry it away. These hoppers resemble inverted pyramids with trap-doors for the discharge of the coal. They are fitted into a four-wheeled frame called a “ bogie.” Loading consists of backing the hoppers under the bins and thus filling them by gravity with about 8 tons of coal apiece. Some goes by rail to Christchurch, but most of the coal passes over the Westport

Wharf. Loading of ships is done by three old steamcranes and one new electric one. They pluck the hoppers out of their bogies and swing then over the ship’s holds. A “ knocker-out ” strikes the bottom release mechanism, and 8 tons of coal pour out. He gives the hopper a few perfunctory knocks to dislodge loose coal, and then it is rapidly returned to its bogie. At night the glare of the great flood-lights mounted on their towers 90 ft. above the wharves casts, upon a carpet of steam, strange patterns of the latticed jibs of the cranes and their loads. Once loaded, the ships, which berth heading up-stream, are swung in the 200-yards-wide river by letting go the headlines and thus forcing the current to turn the vessel seawards. At precisely the right moment the stern lines are cast off and the ship proceeds down the mile-long stretch of river to the bar. The bar at the mouth of the Buller has an importance far greater than one would expect. The river enters the sea due north, and thus the entrance is protected from the westerlies which play havoc at Greymouth ; but the bar, in spite of the constant work of three dredges (two suction and one bucket), is shoaling, and the port is deteriorating. The discharge from the river, plus the sand carried at right angles to the entrance by the New South Wales current, have brought this about. As Westport is now to become a “ national harbour ” to ensure expedited coal-supplies, the problem of its bar has become a national headache. Originally designed by Sir John Coode in 1880, the harbour-works consist of extensive training-walls of Cape Foulwind granite and the typical long wharf of a New Zealand river port. There was to have been a large floating basin as well to accommodate large ships—but this

is unfinished. As the shoaling of the bar is a natural phenomenon it may well be that the remedy is not dredging or carrying the moles further out —it may be more to the point to use vessels especially designed for bar harbours and shallow draft; something similar to a tank-landing ship for example. The Buller itself is a massive and noble stream, about 200 yards wide at its mouth, but in its last mile there is very little flow. Navigation is much easier than at Greymouth. In flood the river is a daunting spectacle. Ships have all available lines out and the screws turn full speed ahead against the terrific nut-brown swirl that thunders past. On such an occasion as this over half a century ago the river changed its course and flooded the local cemetery so that the coffins bobbed merrily seawards. The main street before that flood is now the bed of the Buller. Normally, however, its green waters are peaceful enough, so that it is rather surprising that the local sailing and rowing clubs do not make a greater appeal to the young people. The facilities for both are excellent. The river itself, however, appeals strongly to all ages and both sexes for several months from August 1 onwards. At that date the whitebait season opens. Both banks are lined by alert fishermen, endlessly dragging their nets (set-nets are prohibited in this area). Luck favours some, but it is widely believed that a life-time’s study of the vagaries of the current, a knowledge of the state of the tide, and shrewd judgment in arriving first at the selected “ possy ” practically ensure success. There is at least the comforting reflection that if one “ is not getting whitebait—why, then, there are none running.” At this point it is not unusual for some callow youngster to arrive with a couple of kerosene tins

full, but the veterans are not in the least embarrassed thereby. As they succinctly observe, “ It just shows you ! ” These whitebait are the young of the inanga. At the time of the AugustSeptember spring tides they ascend the rivers in millions. Those that survive fishermen, trout, and birds spawn by affixing their eggs to reeds in the shallows which are under water only at these times. The next similar tide floats these eggs away to sea to continue the fascinating life-cycle of whitebait. This, however, is no more fascinating than the life-cycle of whitebaiters. They are out at the earliest light of dawn. One can vaguely make out their shapes as the grey river mists swirl about them. Frequently they have St. Peter’s own luck, yet they are never deterred by it. Last year catches of a dozen kerosene tins were reported, and £5 per tin provides a ready-made reason for the popularity of the sport. At the time of writing the season is just opening, and the mind tends to be distracted by thoughts of whitebait fritters, whitebait cooked in milk, and whitebait curried. The thought of whitebait cooked in butter must be thrust ruthlessly behind one. A toothsome thought, nevertheless. Westport’s isolation is past. So, too, are its dreams of the “ good old days.” There is a future for this little town of romantic yesterdays. And that future lies in coal. Should the carbonization

or hydrogenation of coal ever become a fact in New Zealand it is at Westport that the experiment must be made, for in a small area in its immediate neighbourhood lies nearly all of New Zealand’s high-grade coal. As this coal is the only great natural asset we have it appears that the processing of it may become as important in our country as it is in Germany. Then, perhaps, the indomitable little town which survived a devastating fire (1869), a disastrous flood which swept half of it away (1873), and which was undaunted in the face of a terrible earthquake (1929), and a tornado (1944) may again see prosperous days. With its back drop of the Bucklands behind it, set so admirably alongside its mighty river, Westport pours annually over its wharves thousands of tons of coal; a black cascade that has built industries all over New Zealand and a reputation beyond. Westport has always supplied Admiralty coal, and the townsfolk like to think of that wild night at Apia when the hurricane hurled the shattered wrecks of the navies of Britain, Germany, and U.S.A, on to the reef. That night when the Calliope fought, yard by aching yard, into the teeth of the hurricane ; when her double - banked stokehold crews took up their night-long battle for the safety of the open sea—and won ! The coal they fired came from Westport.