Tales Told by an Early Pioneer

Lake County Mail, Issue 4, 18 June 1947, Page 8

Tales Told by an Early Pioneer

Wild dogs— Camping out —Prospecting for a Road —The Start —Moke Lake Bob's Cove —A race up-hill —Grand scenery —Simpson’s Creek —Mount Alfrec] —The Buckleburn —The First Hut at the Head of the Lake.

After wc had finished building Mr Rees’s house, and made things a little more comfortable for Mrs Rees, whose intention was to leave Dunedin for the lake as soon as we had everything ready for her, I discovered one day that wild dogs had been amongst the sheep, and, as this necessitated constant watching both by day and by night, I pitched a tent where Frankton now now stands and with old Donald the mule, Csesar, my collie, and a kangaroo dog called Charley, I took up my residence there for some time.

In the course of the next few»wecks, MacAusland succeeded in killing one dingo and I in killing two, for which Mr Rees gave us £1 per tail, and as we were never troubled again by any other wild dogs, we arrived at the conclusion that these three had followed the trail of Mr Few’s cattle. We were fortunate in getting rid of them as quickly as we did, although they did considerable damage before we succeeded in killing them.

During a part of the time that I was camped out, Stringer lived with me, as my tent was more conveniently situated for him to look af|ter his cattle than was the home station,

where, however, we were wont to go every Sunday returning at night with a week’s supply of provisions—flour, tea and mutton—the luxuries upon which bloated squatters live. I can look back on that time with great pleasure, although it was somewhat a rough life, for Stringer was »J!. agreeable mate, well educated, and had seen life to some extent, having served his country during the Crimean War, when he received the Order of the Medjidie for having taken part in a forlorn hope. He could sing well also, and I never hear the song called “ The Young Recruit ” without mj memory being carried back to the days when I resided in camp with my old comrade John Henry Stringer. Alter living with me for some weeks, he got orders to bring back the cattle he was in charge of back to Canterbury, Mr Pew having abandoned all intention of stocking up his country, and so, mustering the herd, there were seven short, which Mr Rees bought the chance of —with the assistance of some of the station hands, he left the Wakatipu district for ever.

1 think I sec him now as he sat on the back of Harry alongside my tent, with a long stock whip coiled around his shoulders, preparatory to starting off. Holding his hand out to me, he said, “Well, old chap, so long, and remember if ever you visit Christchurch look me up.” But I have never had the chance of looking him uj), and we have never met since that time.

And now it became necessary for Mr Bees to stock up the country which he applied for at the northern extremity of the lake lest he should forfeit it, so accordingly Duncan MacAusland was told off to do duty of prospecting for a road, by which he could take sheep to that cut lying district.

Taking Donald, the mule, with him to carry his blankets and leaving old Hoppy with me instead, he started one fine morning up the hill which lay to the north of the station buildings, and which, owing to a certain resemblance that he thought it bore to a mountain in Scotland near to which he had been born, he called Ben Lomond, and that name it bears still.

Crossing through a saddle to the left cf the peak, he slanted downwards, *ntil he came to a small lake shaped like a horse’s shoe, and which he called Moke Lake, in honour of old Donald, vho was undoubtedly the first of the ■equine race to feed on its grassy banks.

Jrom there MaeAusland headed due ireet, until he came to a small bay on tke lake side, afterwards called Bob's

Gove, it being a favourite resort of Bob Fortune, when he happened to be caught in a gale of wind. Having tethered Donald there, he climbed up the range to the elbow of the lake and having satisfied, himself from what he saw from this point, that he could easily manage the sheep by that route, he returned by the same way as he had gone, and we immediately began to draft and prepare the sheep for an early start. About this time two gentlemen looking for country suitable for stock, came to the home station, and as they were desirous of getting up to the north end of the lake, they were sent up in the whale boat and landed there with a good supply of provisions. About a fortnight afterwards, they turned up in a deplorable state and on the verge of starvation, the rats having eaten all their provisions, their clothes having been torn off their back by the scrub, and both of them suffering from dysentery. Crichton and Dalryample were their names, and I never heard about them again, the prospect of finding good our direction not having been sufficent to come back. I merely allude to them here because I wish to put on record the. names of the Very few who visited us during the time which passed before the gold. diggings broke out in the Wakatipu district. Dr Hector, now Sir-James, and Mr MacKerrow of the Survey Department, also paid us short visits of an official nature.

Before the departure of the sheep for the Head of the Lake, affairs had settled down to a quiet and methodical state. Another shepherd, James Flint, had arrived about a month previous to this, bringing with him a mob of rams purchased by Mr Rees at Oamaru, and he was put in charge of the sheep, when it was settled I was to go to the new run. Flint also brought with him a collie, called Dainty, who was without exception the best worker amongst sheep I ever saw either at home or abroad. Dainty must be dead 20 years ago, but her name and fame are still remembered by those who were at the lake district in the bid pioneering days; so intelligent a* worker amongst the sheep was she that I know Flint refused £SO for her after the gold fields were opened up, and at that time she could only see with one eye and had scarcely a tooth in her head. It had been arranged that George Simpson and I were to be settled at the Head of the Lake, so we, along with MacAusland, started with the sheep, Bob Fortune, with the boat to carry our luggage and our stores, waiting for us at certain points along the route.

The first day’s journey saw us across Ben Lomond and down to Moke Lake, where we camped for the night; but not having any blankets we lighted a big fire in a gully and took it by turn to watch the flock which was camped on a low hill that runs into the lake and forms, as it were, the frog of the horse’s hoof, which shape the water resembles in a marked manner.

I have a particularly lively recollection of this night’s camp; the air was intensely cold, the food we had provided ourselves with had come to an end, as it had not been our intention to camp here, but to reach the boat if possible, so the only thing we had to comfort us was the tremendous lire which we had lighted and which illumined Moke Lake and the stupendous hills around it in a georgeous manner.

Starting at daybreak we pushed along the low ridge which runs from Moke Lake in the direction of the Wakatipu, and having crossed a range dropped down to a little bay called Bob’s Cove, to which I have already alluded.

Turning the sheep up on the spur which leads up to, the peak at the

elbow of the lake, opposite Mr Von Tunzelmann’s station, wo hastened down to the beach, to regale ourselves on the mutton, tea and bread with which the boat’s locker had been stored. The sheep, in the meantime, fed slowly up the hill, and we, knowing that we could depend on their camping on the top of the range for the night, determined to remain at Bob’s Cove until the morning, which would serve the double purpose of giving ourselves a rest and freshening up the sheep for the next day’s journey, which MacAusland told us, he felt sure would be the hardest on them, owing to the ferny nature of the country and the deep gullies which avc would have to cross and which he had seen when prospecting the road. The following morning, having arranged with Bob where he was to meet us that evening on the upper reach of the lake, we started off up the hill and here I remember a little incident taking place which materially cemented the friendship which existed between MacAuslaud and myself. We both of us had been informed of the other’s ability to climb hills, but we never met each other where actual proof of the statement could be obtained. This morning, however, with a long and bitter climb before us we seemed mutually to have determined to test each other’s .powers as a climber, for, without any remark passing between us, we started off with our best feet forward and shoulder to shoulder we began to climb. Soon conversation began to flag, till it ceased altogether; then a coat came off and a handkerchief might have been seen occasionally drawn across one or the other of our foreheads, wiping away the dew of honest toil. Before we were half way up the hill, George had fallen hopelessly in the rear, and might have called after us in the words of the poet; “The farther that thou flyest now, so far am I behind.” Then the sun rose in all its splendour, and struck us behind making us feel as though a turkish bath was not so much as a circumstance when compared with the ascent of the mountain. At last the goal came in sight, with the sheep camped peacefully around the hill head, and putting on a final rush, we both strove to get ahead of the other, but it was not to be, for the race ended in a dead-heat, and as we sat down and mopped our fevered brows I know that we entertained for each other. The respect which warriors feel, For foeman worthy of their steel. Of one thing I was sure, the climb up that hill has never been done in faster time than we accomplished it, indeed I am convinced that it will remain the fastest time on record.

As we sat resting ourselves and waiting until George should arrive, I could uot help breaking out into praise of the magnificent view which was stretched before us. Looking up the northern arm of the lake, it seemed like a huge amphitheatre. The water lay at our feet like a sheet of glass, broken only by two islands, and backed by the great snow-covered ranges which stand in vast array, with grand old Earnslaw towering over all and glistening in the morning sun. The lower parts of the ranges were clothed with trees and rank fern down to the water’s edge, whilst two large rivers, named respectively the Rees

and the Dart by Mr Rees, and Mr Von Tunzelmann when they were first up, emptied themselves into the upper end of the lake, after running through a considerable plain which stretches from side to side, a vast shingly waste, with a birch-clad hill shaped like a pyramid standing in the centre thereof. No better set off for the lights and shadows of the snowy region behind could have been found than this sombre peak, with its black birch-clothed sides.

1 have seen since some of the finest views in the world, scenes the beauty of which have been extolled by many writers, and have been immortalised by poet and painter, but none of these, in my opinion, can compare with that magnificent blending of water, trees, and mountains on which we gazed that morning, and watched the sun as it lit up each gully, crag and glacier. (To be continued)