MILFORD SOUND.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 232, 8 March 1875, Page 3

MILFORD SOUND.

The following description of Milford Sound by " A Tourist," is taken from the Australasian : We sighted land at nightfall, and stood off till daybreak, when we found that we were twenty miles south of Milford Sound, and so steamed along the coast for the entrance, which we reached at half-past six in the morning. The opening is so narrow, and so much hidden by mighty overhanging rocks, that an ordinary observer might easily miss it altogether. Its entire width is not equal to the height of the mountains on either side, and certainly does not exceed three-quarters of a mile. Moreover, it is very tortuous, so that, as you steam towards it, you seem to be courting destruction on an iron-bound coast; and when, as in the early morning, the mountains are covered with mist, the illusion is all the greater. Suddenly, however, white surf shows the whereabouts of Brig Rock, and then the steering becomes more certain. A darker shade, as of the mouth of a cavern, appears, and we make directly for it. Gradually the shade softens into a mellow light, the waters become still, the channel widens somewhat, and an cy wind, chilling us to the very bones, blows into our teeth. One by one distant peaks appear shining above the mist in the glorious morning sunlight. But the channel is in deep gloom, bounded by sheer precipices, thousands of feet in height. Over these rocky walls, streams of water fall on every side. Some of them can be seen meandering like threads of silver far up on high before they reach the verge of the precipice, when they fall down headlong, and break into fine showers of tain, on which the thin rays of the sun piercing into the depths paint a

thousand brilliant colours. The precipices assume the most fantastic shapes at every turn in the sound, and appear to increase in height as the channel narrows. All above our heads the mist still hangs, but see, what is that gleaming right over us? A snowcapped peak divesting itself of clouds, and there is another, and there another; all around they appear, bright aud sharp in the morning sheen. Gradually the mist rolls away, and there is soon none left, save about some distant cavernous recess or on the wooded sides of the higher summits, where the soft patches linger until they disappear into the dewy forest. Now the weird depths of the sound become illuminated, and we see a fine waterfall before us, and another one as up the sound, where a considerable stream falls over a precipice about 40ft, then, meeting with some obstruction, springs up into the air like a thing of life, the better to make a final plunge of 500 ft down into a basin, fern-fringed, in the forest below. Above these falls frowns the Metallic Mount, and above that again towers Mount Pembroke, 6710 ft high, its summit covered with snow, its flanks clothed with virgin forest to within 2000 ft of water level, where they fall down in sheer walls of rock, on which, notwithstanding, lichens, mosses, and ferns, and tiny shrubs find a precarious footing, At the opposite side of the fiord rises as abruptly, Mitre Peak, 5560 ft high, and behind this again Llaurenny Peak, its summit, like that of Pembroke, perpetually snow-clad. We look around from time to time for a possible landingplace, but not one can ive see that even a bird would choose until we reach the head of the sound, about nine miles from the entrance. There, near the waterfall, is a Fmall, rocky, and wooded beach, near which, in what is called Freshwater Buy, we moor the ship by tying it to the trees. The depth of the water is too great to admit of anchorage, except in one or two places in the fiord. Several parts have been found to be over 200 fathoms deep, and here, near the waterfall, in the shallowest place, there is a depth of up to sixty fathoms. Opposite the place of anchorage two mountain streams between Mount Sheerdown and Mount Barren fall by many picturesque cascades and rapids into the head of the sound. Between these rivers, the Cleddau and the Arthur, lies a tongue of level land, covered with the densest vegetation. This we now had leisure to examine, and we perceived how the beauty of the whole scene was enhanced by the mixed tints of the foliage. The trees are not large—do not in any sense compare with the giants of the Black Spur—but they have a wondrous beauty. Graceful pines, bright-leaved pittosporums, tropical-looking dracaenas, sweet scented manukas, and an endless variety of ferns and fern trees are all blended together with many trees of which we could not ascertain the names, but which had new forms of foliage, very pleisant to the eyes of one wearied of the eternal gum tree. And everywhere amongst the varied forms of leaf and shades of color shone the brilliant red flowers of the rata, now in full bloom, and as gorgeous as the waratah of Tasmania. Such is Milford Sound. Contemplating it as we did, under exceptionally fortunate circumstances, that is, as it was emerging from the grey morning mist into the bright summer sunshine, it inspired us with admiration and with awe. Of solemn grandeur and magnificent beauty, surrounded withal by an atmosphere of mysterious and impressive solitude, neither poet nor artist has ever conceived a more fitting expression.