“AICKEN’S”

Hokitika Guardian, 29 March 1930, Page 6

“AICKEN’S”

(By Mona Tracy in Auckland Herald.) Between forty and fifty years ago, in the picturesque days when tin coaches climbed the Southern Alps and ivem; clattering their way down into .ho golden land of the West, tin 11 .vas carved, just above the poiiu ,'iierc the glacial waters of the (Hire, .u.cet those of the Teremakau, a clearing in the hush. How tiny was tin clearing may be judged from the tact chat even to-day Aieken’s is but an infinitesimal green gem of English grass and English trees set amid tin darker jewels of the Westland rain forest. For the forest clamours at its coots. Tore is the spreading splendour < . the red beech, the crimson glory ol the rata. Here is kamahi, its creamy olossoms fading to a colour that is neither pink nor brown, but which contrives, somehow, to be both. Here is putaputaweta, marble-leaved, with panicles of fragrant flowers; prickly alcana wlitSi• marvellously, aromatic foliage. Here is kaikomako liom whose wood Maui taught the Maoris to make their fire.. The jungly undergrowth of makomako, fuchsia, and jo pros m a is so thick as to repel the advances of even the .most adventurous. High on the branches of tile call trees are (lung the stars of pikinroro, the, lovely lady of October. Ai Jliristmas the bush is lit by the fiery torches of the mistletoe. filo■ incredibly luxuriant is the native forest that the eye turns away from it to dwell almost gratefully on the honeysuckle that decks the trees of Aieken’s; on the little box borders, lie pansies and on the old-fashioned red roses that arc the garden’s pride. ONE CONQUEROR,

Who were they who nearly half a century ago made this little clearing and built for themselves a pioneer’s home? Go clown Otira Valley to .ickeii’s ami you may still see them. On the stile beside the load there "ill Po sitting a gentle-eyed old man, an ild dog at Jiis feet. Yo.u may be a writer in search ol little old-time • Lories or a vagabond tramping down „to Westland because Westland has become a fashion. But, whatever your guise, inevitably' you will come . to., Aieken’s and to James Aiekcn sitting on the stile, .incl inevitably you will find him the came. His is tiie courtesy of the very great, for it is extended to all men, groat and small. Should vour questions savour of the- ihipertineiit, the impertinence will pass' him by; but Lhe question will surely be answered. And if you are interdstod, he will (ell you of the road in the days when be helped to keep-it open—in the (fid oik liing days a matter of ceaseless vigilance. There were,:-Hoods, there •re washouts;, there Mftre, slips; there vas ..snow. But though the heavens opened and poured dp,wn drenching rain for week after, dry,ay w-qpk, ..the roaches must get through. Now,, his life-work • over, lie «jits .and dreams beside tho road he served so faithfully. .

To the dour of tin's * bouse ' there comes a woman. ■- .Atmost-.hufore you. have crossed the road and are trying to explain yourself you can see her lips .framing the- word.‘Tea !” Sometimes I wonder hqwr.Gnany wayfarers Mrs Aieken has .fed.’mUhcsr time, and for how many pisiple' 'lhe high silver teapot and the glass', sugar basin and be fat jug filled with; rich , milk have been produced. And (again I svime:times wonder jnst./how many people she has waved away when there has come the suggestion of payment. You may measure hospitality in tea. but not the warm and gracious kindliness that looks from the birdbright eyes. Coinage is shouted from trumpets, but you will Tim! it at Aicken’s in the spirit tlq.it planted the E , iv':’-T tr-'-s and cultivated, year after year, the' honeysuckle and the pansies and fee, red: roses.

THE OLD HOUSE. As the family grow so did the house. A room added here, a ' verandah tlic-re —and to-day Aicken’s is a low, rambling house, instinct with memories of the past. In the great raftered kitchen is such a stove ns you may imagine hut seldom see—a stove whose ample bosom might .iiourish dozens of ,noLs. Here, too, is the- big kettle, whose bubbling water goes to the filling of the'' high, hospitable teapot. If is a kitchen that-., conjures visions of succulent smoked;hams and great joints of mutton, of preserves and pies and all the delicious things that a. modern generation', prefers shall he cooked for it. A lovable old kitchen, whose presiding geiiiuis has never spared, herself in work. 1 You led that she would be as lost in a model n kitchenette as a modern bride would stand in hopeless bewilderment before that ample, satisfying stove. Come now into the. dining room. At the long table there have dined premiers and provincial superintendents; goldfields wardens, hankers and government officials, gold-seekers, gold-buyers, lonely “hatters,” pretty ladies—all of them hastening down into Westland. All the pageant of the nineties passed through this old dining room ; for Aicken’s was a noonday stopping place for the coaches, and there was not a familiar traveller of the road but knew and relished Airs Aicken’s cookery.

'Pile pageant is no more, the coaches are hut a memory. But still the vagabond, disdaining train and service car, may wander down to Aicken s, sa'vouring )tho magical sweetness of the forest and coming at last to the little green, clearing that holds hack the clamouring hush. You may si.ll

sit on the verandah beside the brave geraniums and the high, hospitable teapot and hear tales of the days that were. . • . days of incessant hard work, days of ‘dangers and difficulties, hut days whose spaciousness and heantv have set their indelible mark cm ffche two [great-hearted pioneers who built Aieken’s.