Tales Told by an Early Pioneer

Lake County Mail, Issue 2, 5 June 1947, Page 1

Tales Told by an Early Pioneer

Starting for the Lake District —The Natural Bridge of the Kawarau River —Nearly Drowned—Crossing the Dunstan Mountains —The Promised Land of the Rees —Arrival at Lake Wakatyjiu. Larly in December, 1860, the expedition left Coal Creek,, and as the names of those belonging to the party will frequently occur in the course of my narrative it would perhaps be as well for me to give them now. Mr Rees being unable to go along with us, owing to the arrival in the colony of his partner Colonel Grant,

who was desirous of visiting their {''■• property on the Pomahaka River, he the services of Mr Simon Harto take charge of the expedition, Oa and this gentleman was virtually the from whom we all took our orders. Archie Cameron, a big Scotsman, who had been working at the wool

press during the shearing time, was eugaged to give a hand at the driving, whilst Andrew Low and I were sup•nj posed to be the two who had the prini cipal charge of the sheep. George Simpson rvas engaged to cook for the party and to pack and drive the horses, & numbering 13 in all, including a mule, and to John Gilbert was assigned the duty of riding on ahead to give notice g of our approach to the different runP holders, Avhose country wo had to traf verse. Harry Burr’s department I can scarce define, as he accompanied us more for amusement than anything else, and left us, to go to South America, before Ave reached the Lake. I think it unnecessary for me to describe the first part of our journey from Coal Creek, o\ T er the Maniototo Plains our crossings of Rough Ridge and the Raggetty Range, so I will hasten on to the time when, with the help of a boat belonging to Mr William Loav of Galloway Station, having swam the sheep across the Molyncux, where the toAvnship of Clyde hoav stands, and having followed up the south side of the river, we came to the stream Avhich Ave uoav call Bannockburn. Here we determined to rest the sheep a few days, whilst we prospected for the best route up the side of the KaAvarau Ric’er. With this object in vlcaa* several of us pushed ahead, and I took along the bank of the riA'er, until I Acas brought up by the steep gorge of the Nevis when, finding that I could get ■Wo’urther in that direction, I held up '®kV\intsl I reached the shoav line, but Without having found any place Avhere we could take sheep across this raging torrent. It aves on this occasion that I came upon AA'hat is known as the natural bridge of the KaAvarau, Avhere the rocks overhang the stream so far that one can jump across the gap, if the roaring torrent below is not too much for the nervous SA'stcm. I re-

member that one of the Dunedin papers of that date refused to .accord to me the honour of being the first white man to stand on the natural bridge because, according to Maori report, the bridge Avas reported to be a complete arch, Avithout any gap in the middle. Some years afterwards, when the gold dig-

gers were Avandering up in that direction in the thousands, the natural bridge became the chief means of crossing from one side of the river to the other, the gap having been bridged over with planks, and then the editor

of the same paper, remembering, no doubt, bis former belief, admitted that I had been correct in thinking that I had been the first white man to stand

on the historical bridge, and to gaze on the turbulent water that lashed into foam on the rugged rocks below.

It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when, tired and hungry, I reached the camp, where I found George on watch, and, having taken of a pannikin of tea, some cold meat and damper, I crawled into the tent and was soon fast asleep between folds of my blanket.

For nearly a week we remained in camp here, every day some of the party going in different directions trying to discover some way of getting the sheep across the Nevis Creek, and along the side of the Kawarau River, but all to no purpose, and so il was arranged that we should retrace our steps. Just, as we had come to this conclusion, Mr Rees and Colonel Grant arrived on the scene, having ridden up from Dunedin, to see how we were progressing, and they determined that before turning back an attempt should be made to get across the Kawarau River about a mile above its junction with the Molyneux, and, if successful in this, to hold up the north side of the first mentioned river.

With this object in vieAV avo collected all the dried coorraddie (flo Aver stalks of the flax bush), that avc could find, and after tying them in bundles, lashed these together in the form of a raft, on Avhich to take the rams, the stores, and the non-SAvimmers across. Wo were Avell provided Avith tether ropes, and these were brought into use, wherewith to pull the raft backwards and forAvards across the river. Everything being ready Mr Rees, avlio avrs, and I dare say is to this day, a most powerful SAvimmer, stripped off his clothes and, tying one end of the rope round his Avaist, plunged into the Avater and struck out for the opposite bank. The current is very strong here, but, in spite of that, he succeeded in making a tolerably straight passage-Avay across, and made fast the rope to a stout shrub on the bank. We then launched the raft, and Avith nothing on it, on a trial trip, but no sooner did it get into the current than it Avas SAvept doAvn, and avo all, some six or se\ r cn, held on like grim death, in the hope of saA r ing our A r aluable craft from the remorseless torrent. In vain avc struggled, inch by inch the rope slipped through our fingers; Harry Burr, Avith his clothes off, stood by ready to plunge in to do something or other if he could only determine Avliat, when, without a word of warning, all hands let go their hold with the exception of myself, and as I was front man, and standing in the water, the sudden tightening of the rope lifted me right off my feet, and plunged me into the river about 20 feet from the land, where the rope held me under, it being tied fast on the bank, and thus the (wonts of the next hour or so must be recorded by me from information which I afterwards received. The moment I disappeared Harry dived into the Avater and struck for Avhere I Avas Inst seen; grasping ! me by the clothes, lie strove to drag ’ mo from under the rope but instead | of succeeding in doing so, the current sucked him under likeAvisc, and he also disappeared; at the same time, Mr Rees, from the opposite bank, shouted “ Cut the rope, cut the rope.” This advice Avas promptly acted upon, and as the knif" avas draAvn across the hemp, the raft shot aAvay and Harry rose to the surface, with a good firm hold of my collar, and struck out for the shore, Avhere lie was soon relieved of his

burden, and I was spread out on the bank to disgorge the water of the Kawarau that I had swallowed, and to come to my senses again. I Avas none the worse for my ducking, and, strange to say, my watch was none the worse either, although it shows signs now —27 years after —of the knocks and bruises it has received during a long colonial career. After this mishap, the idea of crossing the river at this point was abandoned, and we retraced our steps to that part of the Molyneux where we crossed before, and on Christmas Day, 1860, we once more swam the flock across on the flat now known as the Dunstan racecourse, and resolved to spell them there for a day or two. The work of swimming the sheep across was most arduous, as we began the work at grey dawn, and it was dusk before the last of them was safely landed on the other side. Standing up to our waists in water for 16 hours on end, excepting the few minutes we snatched in order to swallow a bite of food and drink a pannikin of tea, was a strange way of spending Christmas Day, and I have often wondered since at the difference between the working man of the colonies in these old pioneering days, and the British workman of today. We never thought of going “ on strike,” nor did we complain because we were at times worked so hard. We were never such drivelling idiots as to form ourselves into processions and parade the streets of the towns, with banners floating >in the breeze, and in-

scribed with mottoes suggestive of laziness, upholding'the advantages of the eight-hour movement. We used to work far longer than the labouring class lias to do in Britain: we camped out and ate food whatever we could get without complaining; indeed, had the early settlers of our colonies been so fastidious as the lowest working men are novv-a-days in Britain, the progress made by these colonies would not now be the admiration of the world.. The British working man works eight hours a day, he claims holidays, and half-holidays, on the most frivolous excuses; this day is consecrated to St. Patrick and that to St. Gladstone, so that when one comes to add up all the holidays he claims during the year, the sum total of remission becomes formidable, and the working man appears to derive his name from the fact that he works less than any other person. All things considered the lot of the socalled working man does not seem to me to lie a supremely unhappy one. He worships St. Andrew, St. Patrick, St.. Gladstone, and scores of other Saints, and I think that these gentlemen have a sufficient title f to the working man’s gratitude, because they give him the excuse for claiming a holiday. But in the pioneering days, we had no holidays, neither had we thought of an eight-hour movement, and Sunday only differed from other days in the week by the appearance of a “plum duff” on the dinner-table.

I have alluded to a mob of sheep which Gilbert had brought from the

Waitaki ami which bad been purchased on the understanding that they were not in lamb. During the few days that we remained on the Molyneux River

these ewes began lambing, and Andrew

and I had to kill about 300 of the poor * wee things whilst we were there, as of course, it was quite impossible for us to take them on the toilsome journey .which lav before us.

Once more the tent was struck, the

horses packed, and the journey recommenced, and wo followed up the course of the Manuherikia past Shenen’s station, and across Thomson’s run, and then we began the ascent of the Dunstan Mountains at a low part, known to us as Morly’s Pass.

Will we ever forget the night we camped on the top of the pass? The only piece of ground on which to pitch the tent was a bit of spongy swamp, and when we awakened in the morn-

ing, we found that we had been sleeping in two inches of water, a fact which called forth from Andrew Low the following remark, “Well, we might not be any the worse for this night’s camp now, but wait till 10

years lienee, and then see what effects wo will bo inclined to attribute to it.” I remember when T was called at 2 o’clock in the morning to begin my watch, I wont to the billy which was standing some little distance from the fire to get a drink of tea, and there I found that the tea had been frozen into a solid block of ice. So dejected Were we in the morning, that we could

aot wait for breakfast, but, taking a few scones in our pockets, we pushed on, having determined to wait till we got to the more congenial plain of the Lindis before sitting down to a regular meal.

Prom the time we got to Wilkin’s station, at the junction of the Wanaka and Hawea Rivers, the country which we had to traverse is level and bare, and so the sheep travelled well, but at Wilkin’s the Molyneux River had once again to be crossed, which, however, was easily done with the assistance of the station boat, and then our journey lay up the narrow valley of the Cardrona.

It took us three days to reach the top of this valley, when, turning to the right, we struck up the hill to the goal we had in view—the coronet of the Crown Range. It was a lovely' warm, sunny day as we toiled up the hill, dogging the sheep in front of

us, and ever and anon help to put to right either on one side or the other the packs on the horses which had slipped over to one side, owing to the slackness of the girths and the scrub ■catching on the packs and pulling them about, but, when at last we did reach the top of the range, a sight burst upon our view which caused ns, one and ail, to utter exclamations of pleasure. Nearly three decades have gone by since I stood on the summit of the Crown Range and looked for the first time on the Promised Land of the Rees, and yet I have only to close my eyes in order to see the whole view start up before me as I saw it. Away in the distance the middle arm of the Lake Wakatipu lay glistening between those precipitous ranges which, in these later

days, have given it such a character for grandeur of scenery. Nearer hand

the Shotover and the Arrow Rivers flowed like silvery threads through the blackened, toinatagorra scrub-clothed

plains which form the rich alluvial flats lying between that part of the lake, where Frankton now stands and the gorge where Arrowton now is. I may here mention that the Shotover River derives its name from the English residence of Mr Rees’s partner, Mr Gammie, Shotover Park, and that Frankton was called so out of compliment to Mrs Rees. Hayes Lake glittered in the sun as it lay with scarcely a ripple on its waters at the foot of a smooth and greasy hill, unnamed then, but ch listened by me, shortly afterwards, the Hill of Morven, owing to its striking resemblance to the hill of that name on Deeside in Scotland. Those who visited some years later, would scarcely believe that all the open grassy plains over which it was delightful to ride were densely covered with the remains of the charred tomatagarra bushes, which Mr Rees had fired when he first crossed them, indeed had he

not cleared the country by burning it, it is quite certain we could never have taken the sheep over it. Those who only know the Lake District as it now is can scarcely realise the difference which has come over it since the pioneers first settled down there. As we stood gazing on the new land not a sound broke the stillness except the occasional gurgling bleat from some old ewe, as with her mouth full of aniseed plant, she intimated to a neighbour that she approved of the pasture on that, the sunny side of the range, in comparison with the scant herbage on the spurs leading up from the valley of the Cardrona. Yes, we heard another sound far away below us, on the Crown Terrace, as we afterwards called it, a noise like a human voice, and yet we knew that that could not be true. We strained our ears and heard distinctly “ Run pretty quick, run pretty quick,” the cry of the quail familiar to us all.

What a change indeed has come over the spirit of the place since then. Towns have sprung up, farms have been been fenced in and cultivated all over these fiats, and the übiquitous grog shanty is to be found on the banks of every stream where there is water enough to mix with the spirits and blucstono wherewith the thirsty digger is solaced.

But revenons a les moutins, and these were rapidly heading downwards to the fresh green grass of the Crown Terrace, so we had to quit the summit of the hill and follow them.

We had little difficulty in crossing the Arrow and Shotover Rivers—the sheep becoming like retriever dogs with the amount of swimming they had lately been entertained to, and once on the Shotover flat, our journey was virtually at an end, as they were hemmed in by water at every side except on that which lies between where Queenstown is now, and Arthur’s Point, and at that time steep gorge was densely overgrown with scrub, impassable for sheep, and which was called by us, “ Blow Ho Gulley.”

(To be continued)