TARANAKI'S SCENIC BEAUTIES

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 192, 12 February 1912, Page 6

TARANAKI'S SCENIC BEAUTIES

HOW WE NEGLECT THEM.

(Contributed). To the business man who wants to spend a few days "far from the mading crowd" a run into Taranaki's back country cannot be beaten. With fine weather, the roads throughout in fair order, and bicycle, horse or gig, will enable some magnificent scenery and many historical spots to be visited. Leaving New Plymouth for Waitara by early train, the wanderer may easily reach Pukearuhe early in the afternoon and visit the scene of one of our early Taranaki tragedies, the White. Cliffs massacre. One cannot help feeling reverence for the old pioneer, Rev. John Whiteley, when wandering over the place where he and others met their deaths. Even in his death he rendered a great service to the community, for the Maoris felt themselves that when that black deed was done they had reached the limit, and his death was almost the ceasing of the struggle. Leaving this little beautiful farming district, now so peaceful and prosperous, the next point of interest is the Mimi Valley. Here for quite five miles the. cyclist may spin merrily along on a. perfect road with beautiful bush scenery the whole way. Ample accommodation may be had at every settlement, to say nothing of the abounding hospitality of the settlers. They are glad to welcome even utter strangers, and to extend their kindness to them. Resting at Uruti for the-night an early start may be made for Mokau. Soon Mount Messenger is reached, and I am certain if New Ply-mouth-ites only knew the beautiful scenery of this four miles of mountain and gorge and gully, clad in all the splendoi" of the primeval forest, there would be. many a pleasant jaunt out from town. Nature has been lavish in her favors, and the scenery is infinitely -prettier and grander than any to be seen even on the slopes of dear old Egmont. Running with free wheel down the far side of the mountain, one soon reaches Tongaporutu, and will always meet a welcome from the genial ho'stess, Mrs. McKoy. Her place is situated in an ideal spot for health and scenery, and would make a splendid health resort for tired and worried folk from town. The wholesome fare and modest tariff is only exceeded by the kindness, and courtesy of the host and hostess. 'Bowling along, one soon reaches historical ground, where many a brave struggle" took place between the devastating Wjiikatos and the local natives. The ranges (and their name is legion) here taper off to a fringe of level land running along the coast. This was the key to Taranaki, and the numerous pas and redoubts remain alone to tell of the great struggles of bygone days.

Here at Mr. Battley's estate the New Plymouth-ite will meet old friends, in the persons of Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley, and to the traveller who happens to be benighted (as your correspondent was) their hospitality and kindness is a thing to be long remembered. Jogging along, one soon reaches the historic Mokau river and marvels that the old-fashioned ferry has not given place to a descent bridge. Is Mokau absolutely asleep, or are the Government so immovable that such an important highway between the two provinces remains so absolutely out of date? One may spend a pleasant j hour or two around Mokau, especially if they happen to meet the genial Smith, who was once accountant at the Criterion Hotel in town. He is kindness personified, and has many interesting items to tell of Mokau. We visited the river mouth, saw the famous stone anchor of the ancient Tainui canoe, and had pointed out. to us, with all the appreciation of an artist, the lovely river basin, the fern-clad hills, the rolling deep, and the western sky tinted with the setting sun. The following morning finds the visitor running up the Rhine of Taranaki in Victor Skoglund's trim little oil launch. What a God-send that launch must be to the scores of men living up the river, and what a good Samaritan the stid [Victor (and his partner) must be! j Every survey camp, sawmill and home- ! stead is a stopping place, and one cannot but notice the many little kindnesses these isolated camps receive from the river pioneers. And the river itself! . One cannot hope to do it justice. Why don't the tired New Plymouthites run through—a single day's journey—and see what an asset lies at their doors. For twenty-five miles we threaded lovely gorges—every turn and bend bringing new beauties to light. Nature in all her undisturbed splendor, everything perfect—no noise, no dust, no disturbing element. The river is so clear that in many places the reflection is almost perfect. And all along there are signs of solid pioneer work being done—the sawmill, the survey camps, the clearings, the logging and fencing and the homesteads all tell of the beginnings of settlement. Next winter will see hundreds of men at work felling the 63,000 acres that is now being thrown open and that has to be cut up and sold under compulsory clauses. But one forgets the hive of industry that is just beginning to show itself, forgets even the big volume of trade that should find its way from New Plymouth up the river, and thinks only of the river and the everlasting hills and the lovely gorges. Many pleasant recollections will linger in the memory—not only the scenery, but the frank and generous hospitality everywhere shown. The poor cynic who has lost faith in human nature should leave the town and visit the back country.

Once more home and buried in an office, the mind wanders back over the ranges and up the river, and one feels what an arrant fool he has been to toil and moil for twenty years within a day's journey of it all, and never to step aside and see this great sight.