THROUGH THE OTIRA GORGE.

Maoriland Worker, Volume 3, Issue 79, 13 September 1912, Page 2

THROUGH THE OTIRA GORGE.

SNOWY SCENES OF SPLENDOUR

IN CHRISTCHURCH

From "Wiiiuta we went back to Runanga. where three more meetings were held, but owing to the weather they were not so weU*attended as the previous ones. There are members of the Hartley tribe even on the West Coast, and wo spent our last evening there with one. Anthony, and his wife. Their kindness will never be forgotten, and we truly found a home away from home. Another bright spot, amongst many, i was the time spent with our friends ; (he Ayslons. Their home is up that ; corduroy track, but ihey are Yorkshire.. : and though the door to a Yorksbiromfin's heart is said to be narrow, once he lets you in there is n wide hearth and a warm welcome. How we vere warned about the ; Wes-t C'oasl -its awful rain ; its dreadful hills; its inaccessible places: but always its dreadful weather. Let mc pul it- on record that in 20 years' travelling and sneaking I have never had warmer welcome nor greater kindness than on tlie rugged West Coast : ! that during ten weeks of 'mid-winter ■ wo had only nine wet days; tliat most of the lime the sun shone brilliantly irom daylight to dark. It was cold certainly in (he early mornings and ! evenings, and even colder than Home ; in the middle of the night or in :)*•<.■ ; early morning; but if 1 could take the | Now Zealand winter to England and '■ replace the dreary concocli'.n of what we call weather in many of our winter months with eleven weeks such ;is we havo just had, I should be easily first of the benefactors of my time. The West Coasii. as it showed itself to ns, j will do, sir, and do very well. j * * * ! Friday morning saw us stirring quite | early to catch the train, which was to i catch the coach, which in its turn was I to catch the train to carry us to Christchurch. It was cold and dull, i but as the morning passed the sun ' came out. i * • * ' At Zvloanu Arthur Whitaker boarded the train to shake hands and say goodbye. The Socialist movement should use Arthur. It has a keep-myself-to-mysolf look, has Moana, the only road in and out being the railroad. A rather I pleasant lake —in the sunshine —seems : to be used mainly as a tipping place I for the waste of the sawmills. ! • . . The sr.ow-capped mountains increas- : ed in beauty as tho sun rose higher in ! tlie sky, and as we got nearer to them assumed a variety of fantastic but beautiful shapes. * » - Arriving at Otira, four coaches were in waiting, each with five horses. The Buller Gorge ride was a fine one, but j there we were all the time in a land jof greenery and ferns. Now, however, we had some green, but great vistas jof snow were the most prominent features. Over the bridge, and then wo turned into the Otira Gorge. # # # The Otira Gorge, Mr Editor, is something to be seen. I doubt if it can be described. The vocabulary of a mere agitator is unequal to the task, which makes mc sorry for all those who have never seen it, and the groat number who never will see it. 1 believe many people who pass through it never see it They ride inside. They ride inside when there are three seats in front, the highest aJmost ion the roof of the coach, and five fine young horses in front. I deliberately chose the young horses, bub when a youthful beauty, the offside outsider of the three leaders, shipd at an overturned wheelbarrow with a box perched on the top of it, I began to doubt if years really brought discretion. i i -* * * | We were on a narrow part of the I road, with a swift curve immediately | in front, the road cut out of' the clitt'- ! side. He reared nearly straight up on I his hind legs and almost pushed the j other horses off their feet in his terror ! and anxiety to get away from something '- he knew not. If he had been on the other side, it looked as if he must have pushed his oomrades in harness right over the cliff to tumble in the water 50 feet below. I looked at the business manager. A smile of confidence greeted mc, though we each had gripped the back of the seat in front. • ■» » "Horses are very like men : they are frightened at little matters," was the remark that greeted mo and on we went in safety. # _ « Soon after crossing the bridge, we turned the corner of a great cliff into the gorge proper. Now up, now down, but always steadily getting higher from the river, which danced and sang over tlie boulders or twisted amongst the gravels, translucent and green. I a a a i A nay in the distance were lovely I banks of snow, with here and there what looked like brilliant white paths, i but which on nearer approach were i seen k> be ravines where the snow had | drifted from the higher ridges. On I tho side*- of the hills, where the power ! of tho sun never reached, were huge j icicles, some as thick as a man's body, j and once or twice what seemed like a ; frozen waterfall. i We could only get glimpses of those i things as our horses went steadily forI ward, but looking ahead—we were on j the last coach—we saw the other three i pull up, stop, and the men at once be- : gin to climb down, • * » "Here is the five-mile yalk," said a ; passenger, and I swung myself down. ; Ladies are allowed to ride, but mere , mei-H-men who have votes in England— ; even though their beards have turned gray, mu-st walk, I enjoyed that walk and when, later, r found that from the coach the beautiful I.eid's Falls could only be partially seen. I was glad to be a mere man. I luiVt; never before been able, to fully , grasp Tennyson's line, "Slowly dropping veils of purest lawn," but here 1 sawit as actual fact. Not only thU, but from another point brilliant rainbows j of almost unlimited number and shape ■ could be seen. But our path was on and up, and even those beautiful falls

Turning now sharply to the left, then sharply to the right, at every ascent the view of the winding road below grew more wonderful; and looking backward on tbe mountains, we could see great fields of snow made glassy and slippery by the sun's rays. The lovely color of these mighty plains, with a very faint blue mist almost like the delicate colors seen at the edge of a prism, were a. never-ending source of delight to one whose early youth and manhood were passed in tOie factory or, at- best, in the neighborhood of a town and towns which darken the air for miles around, and leave grime ami smut on the trees and (lowers from the smoke of their numerous chimneys. _ _ » Wo had a distant view of another waterfall far away to our right, and steadily pressing on, we reached the summit. Looking forward we saw that our drive would he through a district which had recently been covered with snow, and which still had great) heaps in sheltered corners and bordering all the roads. The papers had told us of the snowstorms on the east, but we on the west had been sheltered h.v these friendly mountains. a »'•■•' Waiting for the coaches at the hilltop, our blood was soon sent bounding through our veins with almost youthful vigor as our horses dashed downhill in what seemed almost reckless fashion, until one noticed the r.vtbm of the horses' trot or watched the steady swing round the sharp-curved comers. * * * A brisk trot on rlie flat—a steady rise —then a twisting up aud down, with the valley widening out and more of those delicious snow-topped mountains on each hand, with others in the distance. * » » At last we began to cross anoiher valley, with evidences on every band that this had once been the river bed. and in places showing that in time of flood the water still came down in swift rushes. * * # Bumping,, swinging, rolling along, we went for two or three miles, and as we nearod nhe water at last, a passenger said: ''There's tho hotel. Dinner will be ready." » » * The one and only Bounder said : "Good' old Yorkshire. Knife and fork shire." 'Twill be remembered that the famous John Gilpin was hailed by his friends, as the horse carried him by the hole). "The Bell." for the second time, with the shout: "The dinner waits, and we are tired." Said Gilpin: "So am I." So were we. But a good dinner, with the sauce of a good six hours' ride, restored the percentage, and in 30 minutes we mounted our coach again to finish the journey. * * * Some envious knave had changed the team; we had the same coach but a different team. Yet there are always compensations, and the place of the youthful shier was taken by a sturdy grey, who cheered one's heart by the cheerful way in which he set to his work and kept the whole team in unflagging good humor. * » # Across a curious plain, with its central portion some six to twelve feet above tho rest, but all of it plainly the deposit of the streams which had washed down the mountains, on we went till again we reached the foot of some mountains, to again find ourselves on a winding road, skirting a river, and winding upwards and onwards, with more possibilities of a 40-feet drop sheer into the waters bubbling and boiling below. As tbe valley broadened out, we could see far away to the left an expanse of brown, yellowish grass, where men are beginning to conquer the wilds. All along the way we had seen evidences of the pushing on of the railway, but the men were few and the work necessarily slow. The price of a useless Dreadnought would go a long way towards the cost of such a railway, and men who are standing uselessly in armies, waiting the opportunity to stab and shoot oach other, could complete the whole job in less than a -tear; but statesmanship forbids, and useless war preparations must go on while useful work is stopped for lack of means and men. * » » We were nearing Cass, and the horses rattled down our last hill in a manner showing they knew the stables were nigh. *■ # _> The Cass railway station is not so big as Charing Cross, Victoria, or even St. Pancras, btit it serves its purpose, and after a short wait our train started. While delighted with the beautiful sunset amongst the hills and mountains, we should have welcomed a little more daylight to have seen clearer some remarkable engineering work as the railway cut and tunnelled through the hillside along another gorge; but darkness came down, and ere long sleep and oblivion made us forget our weariness. » » » Christchurch at last, where Cooke, Shrubshall and Whyte welcomed us in true comradely fashion. » « - Dropping in at the Socialist Hall, I said a few words to the P.R.U., who were holding a social. Then to our home. At 9.45 we again gathered round the festive board, and soon afterwards away to bed. * » • Saturday saw a gathering of the clans at the hall, and a good meeting was held in the Square in the afternoon, with the Socialist Hall full at night to hear about "Profit and Co," * » • In the Square on Sunday afternoon I slew n host of the bogeymen who are put up by men who say they are opposed to Socialism, but having no arguments against it, are compelled in despair to concoct and build-up bogeys. I was loaned out in the evening, and took part in the anti-military meeting of the National Peace Council in the King's Theatre. It was a fine meeting and remai'kable for its almost unanimous tone. Fred. Cooke excelled himself in sketching out a comic oppra showing how the military farce was carried on in the courts. Twenty-four fat policemen, 36 men in military uniforms, a stipendiary- magistrate, with all the paraphernalia and officials of the court to try a small boy of 16—for the most awful crime—a crime the heinous wickedness of which can scarcely be conceived by one not possessed of the military mmd —a crime to be remembered and writ large in the history of New Zealand —a crime which makes one catch his breath, and while the blood runs slower in our veins and our faces pale with terror and fear, we whisper to our neighbors: "He tickled another boy in the ranks!" * * » No wonder King George felt his throne shaky and unstable! No wonder the majesty of the law and the military authorities reeled to its very foundations! » * • If boys of 16 are to be allowed to tickle each other, unchecked and unttej, thoQt, tb«Ba| ■•< - v. , ' >_ _S

'twould be more military) — the foundations of the British Empire are undermined. "Tickling in the ranks" by boys of 16 is monstrous! It must be stopped at all hazards. It is worse than Socialism, and is indeed "the end of everything," as Lord Rosebery has said. We must hear more of Fred's comic opera. c. * " A young lady came on the platform to protest against us meeting on Sunday, and to move an amendment. She announced her conversion at the end of the meeting, and promised to help us in onr light against war. Hurrah! I believe Fred, and I did well at this meeting. Hurrah! again. It a'l tMls for Socialism.