YOUR CLUB AND MINE AN OPEN PAGE

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 130, 23 August 1927, Page 5

YOUR CLUB AND MINE AN OPEN PAGE

Each Tuesday afternoon a corner will be reserved for original contributions of general interest to womenfolk. The subject matter is for you to choose—whatever topic interests you may also be of interest or amusement to others, whether it be about your hobbies, experiences, or merely amusing musings about the ordinary round of the day. A book prize is offered weekly for the best effort, which should be brief, plainly written, and sent to “lour Club and Mine,” THE SUN, Auckland. The prize has been awarded to Miss M. W. Clarke, Aratonga Avenue, for her article on The Coast. THE COAST The distant roar grows louder and yet louder. The party of walkers pauses, listens, guesses, choruses: “It’s the coast!” It is strange this fascination that the wild West Coast has for us, especially those of us who have never before seen it. The road is long, even dreary and uninteresting at times, but the urge for realisation is still there. On, on, on with no company other than the whistling birds, the cheery cicadas and the ever-flowing stream. The stream races seawards—so do we. Mile after mile of tea-tree scrub borders the roadside, on one side myriads of rushes, on the other scrub all the way. And what a twisty, curly road it is! The roar of the mighty western waters grows louder still. The first glimpse comes as a totally unheralded surprise—just one more of tea-tree bends but, on rounding it what? A wonderful never - to - be - forgotten glimpse of the sea, blue, as blue as sea was never before, and crested with the foam of a million majestic rollers pounding on the dark iron-sand and causing a misty film to enshroud the picture. Crash, crash, roll, roll, and not for one instant does the rolling cease. And with it all is music, a monotonous rolling lilt that stirs the very soul and makes the body vibrate in harmony. The song of the western ocean is a mighty one, a glorious one and yet withal a sad one. It calls for adventure, for daring and even so, there is in its rugged melody a cry of might and power that chills the very heart of one with its fearsomeness. But we must walk on, the goal is not yet reached. Sound of the mighty ocean is not enough, it makes us only the more curious—sight of it makes us more so. Some whim within decrees that touch alone will complete the wonder of it all. The going is harder now for the slippery iron sand is hard to plod through and the glare dazzles unaccustomed eyes. At last we reach a point where the stream we have trailed so far has to be crossed and strange are the misgivings we have as the first one crosses. It is the sand that causes the doubt. It is so different from the eastern sand, its black colour seems somehow to convey the idea of treachery. But no, all is well, the crossing is safely made and with faces full to the sand-swept breeze we keep on. The going is easier now. The ceaseless crashing of piled-up sea waves is deafening and conversation is difficult. But who cares. With a shout of delight and a loud hurrah we drop knapsacks and bags and race into the sea as it recedes. The inward sweep is so sudden and unexpected that it nearly carries us off our feet. But —the feel of it as the breakers sweep round our legs—and the undertow drags us along. It is a glorious scene. Boundless blue ocean in front, mile after mile of undulating sand-hill country behind, find on each side old rocks, sentinels of a thousand years, still at their posts, grim, weather-worn and solitary yet majestically grand in their very solitude. The coast is a wonderful place, all so old, so grand, so lonely and yet so friendly. It is nature supreme. It is hard to leave this new-found love, but it must be so. Many a backward glance is there and many a halt. At last the road is reached and comes a final halt, a last good-bye to the distant blue ocean, more beautiful now than before with the light of the setting sun making the foam-flecked waves a mass of rolling gold and causing the sentinel rocks to stand out in bold relief. # And ceaselessly, ceaselessly the rolling sea goes on, the vision fades — but there is memory, and memory never fadeS ' —M. W. CLARKE. ENGAGEMENTS The engagement is announced of Joan Frances, eldest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. E. C. Huie, of Parnell, to Charles William, only son of Mr. and Mrs. John Vennell, of Hamilton, Victoria. The engagement is announced of Gladvs, second daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Turner, Edelweiss, Highland Park, Wellington, to Stanley, only son of Mr. and Mrs. Edwin Harding, of Orenurohao, Dargaville. The engagement is announced of Margaret H. Gieson, younger daughter of Mr. and Mrs. H. W. Gieson. Otamaraho, Dannevirke, to Cecil E. B. Ludbrook, third son of Mr. and Mrs. Henry Ludbrook, Ohaeawai, Bay of Islands.