OUT OF THE BEATEN TRACK

Otago Witness, Issue 2815, 26 February 1908, Page 27

OUT OF THE BEATEN TRACK

'A VIEW FROM DUNROBIN. ! (BT OTIS. SPECIAL REPORTER.) Waipahi Junction, two stations beyond Clinton, is the starting point oi one of those tentacles with which the railway potopus reaches for the products of Central Otago. It is a modest little tentacle, and |>y no means to be compared in length to that which wriggles over the " garden wall " from Wingatui, and, making an elbow at Rough Ridge, plants its temporary terminals at Olyde and Cromwell. Afl far a« it goes, however, which is to Edievale, it answers its purpose remarkably well, and is even eaid to pay. "Waipahi Junction, may be pictured with '» platform shaped in a right-angled triangle; the express snorting arrogantly along- the perpendicular, while the local mixed train -waite submissively at the hypothenuse." A little to the north is the fcarsh outline of the_Oonfcal Hills, with a procession of telegraph poets taking them, As it were, in flank. The passengers are a few prosperous farmers and their wives, -end a rural storekeeper or so. The line follows the Pomahaka—sometimes on one bank and sometimes on another,—which gives the traveller ample time to wonder how the Acclimatisation Society managed to import a Cumberland trout stream and to deposit it here. By Conical Hills the landscape is brightened UP by plantations of the Nursery Department; but further on the Blue Mountains are swung into view, rugged and wild, jvith monstrous insteps arching from their mides, and seeming to grip the green valley with gigantic toes. Here the prosperous farmers sp.eak of the deer that roam in these mountains and of their frequent depredations on the flat. The wild pig Also forms part of the conversation. He likewise is a .denizen of the Blue Mountains, and could that guileless root-grubber hear some of the stories told about him tie would be v<?ry much surprised. As for the valley, it is fertile and essentially a Bheep country; but large granaries along the line, bearing the well-known names of Ounedin grain merchants, broadly hint of waving crops 'and paddocks of cocksfoot in *he interior. Everyone seems to know everyone else pn this line. >-Pirb your -head out of the (window, and you will perhaps see a lady waiting on the platform. Everyone else e'ee6 her too, and says she is Mrs Jones, of ICelso, and, further, that she i« going up to Heriot to call on Mrs Robinson. Everyone greets Mrs Jones, of Kelso, who steps on board, and the procedure merges info a little travelling conversazione ; so different from the formalities of the main lines, where passengers fortify themeehes Jjehind barriers of reserve and rattle their newspapers.

Tapanui being a mile or so from the station, and invisible, you take it for granted, and content yourself with remembering what it is noted for.

■ As Edievale's chief claim to renown lies in the fact that it is the place where the railway leaves off, the traveller alights at 'He.riot, where there is an hotel. Heriot •is a large cluster of homesteads, pretty little cottages, flower gardens, and a shop or two-, -threaded along a white, dusty road with green borders. Outside the station a buggy and some country carts pick up their" freights and rattle off into *he unknown, while a ponderous, complaining waggon, loaded with timber for the new settlement at Moa Flat, lumbers away behind 16 span of bullocks. This Moa Flat is spoken of almost with bated breath. From having been regarded as a sort of colonial Nazareth, out of which no good could* come, it had asserted itself by getting a record price for its wool and growing over 100 bushels of grain to the acre. The settlers, -who had gx>t "their land for " next to nothing," had a good thing of it; and ''what a. mistake the Government made in not' acquiring it when it got the chance." This last clearly shows that the gentle pastoraiist of Heriot doesnot know his Government, or he would bo •ware that, far from being an uncommon occurrence, it has a perfect genius for making mistakes. Whether the non-pur-ohaae of Moa Flat is one of them must be gathered from facts set forth later. The patriarchs of Heriot, though they lire well up in the history and prospects of Moa Flat, are unable to inform you of » method of getting there, and a proposed Railway route staked out some years ago fend then left severely alone somehow does not 6eem to helj> you much. You are told, however, that if you ascend to the iop of Dunrobin Hill you may view the promised land. Having decided to do so, you leave Heriot for northward, and prc-ss one of the prettiest little creeks imaginable, the water beneath the rustic footbridge rippling in silvery cadence over pebbles and miniature sand-bars as though laughing at the sombre mountains yonder lor taking themselves so 6eriously. Tfte fvhite road then winds up Dunrobin Hill laetween undulating pasture land and crop, here and there cloven by a steep tussocky gorge. Few, far between, and mostly on fche skyline are some homesteads, with their surrounding of trees and curling t>f smoke wi*e*fcha against the brown landscape, for all the world like South African farms. This illusion is dispelled on closer Inspection by the general neatness of the yards .and buildings. Instead of stout and almost shapeless vraus in alarming eunbonnets, you find shapely, rosy-cheeked women of the Devonshire dairymaid type,

and barefooted, bright-eyed children, to convince you of the calibre of the coming race. The way is hot and dusty, and the farmers, curiously well-informed men, inclined for conversation. Walking and talking are both dry undertakings, even as the farmers are hospitable. They do not ask you to have a glass of milk. They are men of large ideas, and ask you to haie a jugful, and when you ha\c absorbed that offer you another " jugful,'' with the reassuring remark, " Don't be frightened ; we've plenty of milk here." As you ascend Dunrobin to the right, overshadowed by the Blue Mountains, stretches " Crookston." The gigantic spurs still clutch the valley as though afraid of losing it, while a company of smaller hills keep guard at the upper end. The dwellers on Crookston are what might be termed "pretty comfortable." The place is split up into parts of about 400 acres, and everyone has, in local phraseology, "turned the corner" some time ago. It is a prosperous and a peaceful place, 6uggestive of Longfellow's " Village of Grand Pre, the home of Arcadian farmers." j i Moa Flat clamours for men — working men. i But the country calls in vain, though there are exceptions, and ascending Dunrobin you may see a couple of stalwart pilgrims ' "spelling" by the roadside beside their sivags. TRere is a society with no president or secretary, yet numbering many members, and it is called the Brotherhood of the Road. It is strangely compelling i this brotherhood. People leave their arrogance or shyness behind in railway carriage or coach, and a stranger (if you or he do not happen to be a highwayman) becomes a man and a brother. You accordingly glide into conversation with these swaggers, who are bound for the new settlement to work at 35s a week, tents and cooking utensils supplied. You find them remarkably well-informed persons of penetration, mildly amused at society snobbishness and political quackery, but by no means deceived thereby; and having criticised the Government till it has not a leg left to etand on, shoulder their swags and tramp off to their ditching. The first thing that strikes you about Moa Flat is that it ie not so. Seen even from the top of Dunrobin, where the road divee and dwindles like a cascade of dust, Moa Flat looke a succession of roundshouldered, flat-topped hills, humped one behind the other, scarred and scored with gullies and ravines; all the more noticeable because the hills are covered with pasture, oats, wheat, turnips, and sheep, while the steep sides of the gorges are stubbly with sour-looking tussock. Far below is the old homestead, half hidden by trees, with its fine old garden. This was the original Moa Flat homestead of years ago, and near by flows the Spylaw on its way to the Pomahaka. Far away to the left Mount Benger looms almost black against the sky, with a huge riven cloud of white rolling from its summit, as if a monstrous bale of cotton-wool hid burst in the blue of heaven. A little further to the loft is the soaring spectacle of White Combe, with a strip of snow glistening along the summit. Rain has evidently been recent, for the Spylaw Downs (Moa Flat) are green, bathed with ligtht yellow and .emerald, denoting white crops and turnips. Climbing like flics around the shoulders of the hille go the chattering reaping machines.

Moa Flat rises to a watershed, which ridge 6 the middle distance, and beyond the land falls to Ettrlck and the Clutha River, beneath the Lammerlaws. Due north, in the far distance, where the river ■winds through the valley-head from Roxburgh, may be seen Dumbarton Rock, as great a local landmark as Ailsa Crag. Trees seem conspicuous by their absence, but houses — new and solidly built, — with barn 6, stables, and corpulent stacks, bespeak the place as newly-settled and prosperous.

A donee cloud of white dust approaches, and m rear of the mob of sheep walks an old shepherd, leading his horse and calling to his dogs. Had he a plaid and a tam-o'-shanter he would be complete ; but anyone may see he is a Highlander, in spite of his slouch hat and corduroys. The dust hae powdered his cheeks and nose till | they are as white as his long beard, and I lies in flakes on his large spectacles, half [ concealing a pair of kindly blue eyes. Tft>u drift into conversation, and incidentally ! the dust, with him. You learn that he ' came to Moa Flat 43 years ago ; how the gold-diggers used to come up past the "Conicals"; and how many hundreds of cases of gin were broached, near where the- tunnel now is, in the old days when teams were spelled there for a day or ! two. How he made money, took unto himself a wife, and went farming-. * Then there is a pause, and the blue eyes look I wistfully through the dust-flecked spectacles as he adds, " And I lost everything I had; even my wife." So you Icaye him, and reflect how unkind Mother Earth can 'be to some of va. And the dust cloud goes on down the hill towards Moa Flat, shrouding the lonely old shepherd mourning on the past. I Local authority in Heriot lays down that I when you come to the top of Dunrobin | Hill you are in " Moa Flat." The settlers of Moa Flat will tell you that when you come to the top of Dunrobin you are in Heriot. Lonjf before you have finished with it your private opinion will be that ! Dunrobin is bewitched. Facing round to return, there is Heriot close below you; you could throw a stone into it. After you have tramped a dusty mile or so, the road plunges into a valley, and when it bops the next ridge you see Heriot anjurentlv about 10 miles behind you.

Plodding on, the highway performs another gymnastic feat, and behold ! the town you seek seems et your elbow in a valley. The next time you see it in immeasurable distance. It is a veritable will o' the wisp — now close and then far away, continually hiding and never reappearing in the same place. At last it suffers itself to be caught, and you are relieved to find yourself crossing the footbridge as the shadows fall. If it was quiet before, Heriot is now peace materiali ised. Venerable pastoralists sit reading tho paper under their " own vine and fig tree." The still air is heavy with the odour of flowers and kine, and drones with tho drum-drumming of milk into tin pails. Phyllis stands dreamily at the garden gate, and Corydon (passing on a bicycle) essays to cut a dash. He dees so, and the machine skidding halfway across the road deposits him thereon with violence, covering him with du6t and confusion, while Phyllis giggles and goes in. The Blue | Mountains become bluer and less distinct, and bid good-night to the landscape behind a curtain of haze. Darkness comes stealthily along the little street, and behind her listening silence. At such a time ] words suggest things, and you decide to ■cc for yourself, to-morrow, Moa Flat.