In Search of Mount Cook.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 108, 27 June 1885, Page 6

In Search of Mount Cook.

A WRiTERin the Melbourne "Argus," who is describing his holiday in New Zealand, gives the following amusing account of his ineffectual attempts to discover Mount Cook, and of bis subsequent disenchantment with regard to Oamaru :— From Dunediu it is easy to reach either the north or the south of the island by sea or by rail. Consequently it is very conveniently situated for a tourist's headquartors. I made it inino, and it was hence that I started on my various trips. The first of these was my expedition in search of Mount Cook. This seems to imply that the mountain was lost, but that is not my meaning. I only wanted to see it. I asked a Dunedin friend how this was to be managed. " Nothing simpler," ho replied. "Take the train for Christoburch, and when you are just beyond Timaru look to the left, and there you are." So I took the train, and sped northward by the express, at a rate of rather more than fifteen miles an hour. Past Blueskin , where I almost wished the train would go slower, as we rushed round the point on a narrow ledge, with the sea boiling beneath ; past farm and station, plain and hill ; past Oamaru ; past well-tilled fertile volcanic rises that recall Barrabool ; past Timaru. And now, I thought, tho time has come. I looked to the left, and there, far away in the distant heaven, half hidden by the gathering clouds, I saw a snow-capped range. "At last," with reverent eyes, I gazed at the far-famed mountain. Emotion found its vent in song :—: — Mount Cook is the monarch ol mountains, They crowned it loDg ago ; But whom they got to put the crown on, I really do not know. I was so delighted with the poetic effort, it had such a Byronic— albeit Smithic— ring about it, that I repeated it aloud, pointing to the mountain as I did so. " That ain't Mount Cook,' said a rough voice behind me. It was the guard, who had come on to the platform unperceived. " You can't see him from here." " But I was told you could. I have come here on purpose." " Well on a very clear day, if you know exactly where to look out, you might see him for about five minutes,- but you couldn't to-day." My. poetry had been wasted on a nameless range. But I wasn't to be beaten So at tho first stopping-place I determined to get some information. "Guard, could you take a little refreshment?" "I could, sir, only my inspector is on board ; but 1 could drink your health another time. Thank you." "Where should i go to aeo this blossed mountain?" " Fairlie Creek is the railway station nearest to it. You had better go there." . I wont. As we were approaching the station I confided to a bucolic fellow-pas-senger that I was going to see Mount Cook from Fairlie Creek. He smiled, and said "You can't for the same reason that the Spanish fleet could not bo seen- it's not in sight." Noticing my look of disappointment, he added : "But you go to Silver Creek ; that's your placo. " I went to SilverCreek. I walked there against a head hurricane. 1 inquiied for Mount Cook. No Mount Cook. But I was told to got- a horso and ride through Burkes Pass to Lake Tekapo, and then I would be all right. I got a horse A sudden thought struck mo as I was about to start. "Can I see Mount Cook from Lake Tekapo ?" " Oh, dear, no. But if you get another horse and a guide there, and go to Blenheim, and if the weather should happen to be fine—" This too much. I turned back without a word. I never saw Mount Cook. Mount Harris is its proper name. "I don't believe there ain't such a mountain."