Beautiful Port Pegasus

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 608, 9 March 1929, Page 18

Beautiful Port Pegasus

ALMOST UNKNOWN GLORIES OF THE FAR SOUTH OF STEWART ISLAND

(Written {or THE SUN by G. R. CURTIS.)

BEHIND THE cliffs that stand grim , against the rollers surging up from the Antarctic Ocean, spray-washed and fringed with the giant bull-kelp that is the girdle of Murihiku, lies one of New Zealand’s loveliest harbours —Port Pcga- i sus. undreamed of, unknown, save i>y j perhaps every five thousandth man of the Dominion’s million and a-quarter people. Stewart Island, jewel of a land of deep fiords, hush-clad mountains and sneakling streams, is visited every year by a thousand or two of tourists—a great many of them people who, once having fallen under its spell, return time and again. Probably quite a considerable number of New Zealanders, and a sprinkling of overseas visitors, have revelled in the quiet beauty of the island shores; have picnicked on the exquisite little beaches of golden sand that lie between the dark green of the bush and

the crystal-clear waters of the bays; i have cruised among the tree-crowned rocky islets of Bravo and Kaipipi; have wandered through the fairyland of Ulva; watched tbe fishing-boats return of a summer’s afternoon with the cverhungry mollymawks wheeling and swooping at their sterns; and seen the i sun go down in a long blaze of glory across the mighty expanse of Paterson’s Inlet, behind the far blue spurs of Rakeahua. A hundred charms have : lingered in their memories—yet 20 miles to the southward, across the ranges beyond Glory Harbour, lie a thousand mere. Port Pegasus, in its virgin beauty, is a Harbour of Dreams. Its isolation, of course, is the reason ; why it is so little known or visited; there is no communication with the outside world, except a doubtful track across the mountains and the infrequent visits of motor-launches from Halfmoon Bay. And at present there is no pub- \ lie accommodation, Next year, how-]

, ever, this will in all probability be altered, for a powerful and comfortable auxiliary schooner is being built on which the 50-mile sea journey may be made, and it. is likely that tourists will I be catered for. I The trip down the coast is a fascinating one—a voyage of romance, for one knows that the serried ranges inland, forest-clad and mysterious, are untrodden by human foot. South-east from Halfmoon Bay lies the course, to where the long, low promontory of East Cape juts into the sea; a little south, and ahead are the Break Sea Islands, where, in March and April, the mutton-birders gather fat chicks for export; past Port Adventure, whose very name is enticement, and the wonderful arm of the sea that is Lord’s River. South-westward now; the coast grows more rugged, and the ocean swell surges

into great caves beneath the cliffs, or washes majestically up slopes of rock, creaming among the long leaves of the kelp. Past Black Rock rearing its head steeply up from 20 fathoms of water, more than a mile offshore; inside of The Sisters; and ahead, a sea-tilled i ravine breaking the rampart of the coast, is Whale Passage, the northernmost of the four entrances to Hie Harbour of Dreams. The six-hour voyage ; is over. In a few minutes Pearl Island—which forms the south wall of Whale Passage —is dropping astern, and ahead is the splendid sweep of the North Arm, landlocked by the silent hills. Rosa Island | glides by. and presently the launch is being made fast at the jetty of the fishing settlement—two houses and some sheds—while as much of the tiny population as happens to be in the vicinity mingles its eager greetings with in--1 quiries about the all-important “stores” j and tlic news of the outside world, II os-

pitable and warm-hearted indeed are these folk who live beyond civilisation!; Pegasus has not always been so little j known to men. Thirty years ago sev- 1 eral hundred miners toiled, high up on the shoulder of the mountain above the North Arm, where tin ore was discovered; but the transport problem was too difficult to make the venture payable, and after some years the “tin rush” died. All that remains to mark it—the last thing one would expect to find in such a place, unless one knew something of its history—is the ruin of an hotel, where once the magic word “Bar” mutely yet eloquently welcomed the thirsty men from the hill. .Standing—or, more correctly, tottering, for it looks as though it had been pushed sideways by a giant hand—upon a low promontory opposite the settlement, its blank, glassless windows looking forlornly out upon a desolate little clearing. the old hotel seems to brood sadly over its bygone roysterings. But that is by the way. One looks at. it out of curiosity, and turns to places unspoiled by humanity. The great sea-loch of Pegasus is divided into two arms, each many square miles in extent, and connected hv Acheron Passage. Each arm is a w'onderland —encircled by. hills, dotted, with islands set in a sea jade-green beside their shores, curving into tiny bays and delightful anchorages. In every changing mood. Pegasus is wild and beautiful. Towering above the lower hills west of the South Arm are ) Gog and Magog, remarkable granite

peaks that inspire one at once with the desire—not difficult to gratify—of climbing them. Close by is the amazing rock they call The Hielan’man—rising sheer from the summit of a ridge, stark against the skyline, with a giant boulder or outcrop perched as jauntily as a Scotsman’s bonnet on its verv brow. There is Cook’s Arm and Crooked Reach, narrow waterways winding between bushy shores far up to the foot of the Gogs; Pearl Island, Shipbuilding Cove, and Twilight Beach—surely someone will write another “Treasure Island’* story around these happy names! Sport, too, Port Pegasus can provide in plenty; fine blue cod and groper come in to feed in the harbour, and ashore Virginia deer are numerous. In time to come, this scenic wonderland will no doubt be exploited, and deservedly. Port Pegasus weaves about those who visit her a potent spell; there is always some mew charm, one feels, that one must go back to seek; again. v*""