Chapter IV: Skating in the back country.

I do not believe that even in Canada the skating can be better than that

which was within our reach in the Malvern Hills. Among our sheltered

valleys an sunny slopes the hardest frost only lasted a few hour after

dawn; but twenty-five miles further back, on the border of the glacier

region, the mountain tarns could boast of ice several feet thick all the

winter. We heard rumours of far-inland lakes, across which heavily-laden

bullock-teams could pass in perfect safety for three months of the year,

and we grumbled at the light film over our own large ponds, which would

not bear even my little terrier's weight after mid-day: and yet it was

cold enough at night, during our short bright winters, to satisfy the

most icy-minded person. I think I have mentioned before that the wooden

houses in New Zealand, especially those roughly put together up-country,

are by no means weather-tight. Disagreeable as this may be, it is

doubtless the reason of the extraordinary immunity from colds and

coughs which we hill-dwellers enjoyed. Living between walls formed

by inch-boards over-lapping each other, and which can only be made to

resemble English rooms by being canvassed and papered inside, the pure

fresh air finds its way in on all sides. A hot room in winter is an

impossibility, in spite of drawn curtains and blazing fires, therefore

the risk of sudden changes of temperature is avoided.

Some such theory as this is absolutely necessary to account for the

wonderfully good health enjoyed by all, in the most capricious and

trying climate I have ever come across. When a strong nor'-wester was

howling down the glen, I have seen the pictures on my drawing-room walls

blowing out to an angle of 45 degrees, although every door and window in

the little low wooden structure had been carefully closed for hours. It

has happened to me more than once, on getting up in the morning, to find

my clothes, which had been laid on a chair beneath my bedroom window

overnight, completely covered by powdered snow, drifting in through the

ill-fitting casement. This same window was within a couple of feet of my

bed, and between me and it was neither curtain nor shelter of any sort.

Of a winter's evening I have often been obliged to wrap myself up in a

big Scotch maud, as I sat, dressed in a high linsey gown, by a blazing

fire, so hard was the frost outside; but by ten o'clock next morning

I would be loitering about the verandah, basking in the sunshine, and

watching the light flecks of cloud-wreaths and veils floating against

an Italian-blue sky. Yet such is the inherent discontent of the human

heart, that instead of rejoicing in this lovely mid-day sunshine, we

actually mourned over the vanished ice which at daylight had been found,

by a much-envied early riser, strong enough to slide on for half an

hour. It seemed almost impossible to believe that any one had been

sliding that morning within a few feet of where I sat working in a blaze

of sunshine, with my pretty grey and pink Australian parrot pluming

itself on the branch of a silver wattle close by, and "Joey," the tiny

monkey from Panama, sitting on the skirt of my gown, with a piece of its

folds arranged by himself shawl-wise over his glossy black shoulders. If

either of these tropical pets had been left out after four o'clock that

sunny day, they, would have been frozen to death before our supper time.

It was just on such a day as this, and in just such a bright mid-day

hour, that a distant neighbour of ours rode up to the garden gate,

leading a pack horse. Outside the saddle-bags, with which this animal

was somewhat heavily laden, could be plainly seen a beautiful new pair

of Oxford skates, glinting in the sunshine; and it must have been the

sight of these beloved implements which called forth the half-envious

remark from one of the gentlemen, "I suppose you have lots of skating up

at your place?"

"Well, not exactly at my station, but there is a capital lake ten miles

from my house where I am sure of a good day's skating any time between

June and August," answered Mr. C. H----, our newly arrived guest.

We all looked at each other. I believe I heaved a deep sigh, and dropped

my thimble, which "Joey" instantly seized, and with a low chirrup

of intense delight, commenced to poke down between the boards of the

verandah. It was too bad of us to give such broad hints by looks if not

by words. Poor Mr. C. H---- was a bachelor in those days: he had not

been at his little out-of-the-way homestead for some weeks, and was

ignorant of its resources in the way of firing (always an important

matter at a station), or even of tea and mutton. He had no

woman-servant, and was totally unprepared for an incursion of skaters;

and yet,--New Zealand fashion,--no sooner did he perceive that we were

all longing and pining for some skating, than he invited us all most

cordially to go up to his back-country run the very next day, with him,

and skate as long as we liked. This was indeed a delightful prospect,

the more especially as it happened to be only Monday, which gave us

plenty of time to be back again by Sunday, for our weekly service. We

made it a rule never to be away from home on that day, lest any of our

distant congregation should ride their twenty miles or so across country

and find us absent.

When the host is willing and the guests eager, it does not take long to

arrange a plan, so the next morning found three of us, besides Mr. C.

H---- mounted and ready to start directly after breakfast. I have often

been asked how I managed in those days about toilette arrangements, when

it was impossible to carry any luggage except a small "swag," closely

packed in a waterproof case and fastened on the same side as the

saddle-pocket. First of all I must assure my lady readers that I prided

myself on turning out as neat and natty as possible at the end of the

journey, and yet I rode not only in my every-day linsey gown, which

could be made long or short at pleasure, but in my crinoline. This was

artfully looped up on the right side and tied by a ribbon, in such a way

that when I came out ready dressed to mount, no one in the world could

have guessed that I had on any _cage_ beneath my short riding habit with

a loose tweed jacket over the body of the dress. Within the "swag"

was stowed a brush and comb, collar, cuffs and handkerchiefs, a little

necessary linen, a pair of shoes, and perhaps a ribbon for my hair if

I meant to be very smart. On this occasion we all found that our skates

occupied a terribly large proportion both of weight and space in our

modest kits, but still we were much too happy to grumble.

Where could you find a gayer quartette than started at an easy canter

up the valley that fresh bracing morning? From the very first our faces

were turned to the south-west, and before us rose the magnificent chain

of the Southern Alps, with their bold snowy peaks standing out in

a glorious dazzle against the cobalt sky. A stranger, or colonially

speaking, a "new chum," would have thought we must needs cross that

barrier-range before we could penetrate any distance into the back

country, but we knew of long winding vallies and gullies running up

between the giant slopes, which would lead us, almost without our

knowing how high we had climbed, up to the elevated but sheltered

plateau among the back country ranges where Mr. C. H----'s homestead

stood. There was only one steep saddle to be crossed, and that lay

between us and Rockwood, six miles off. It was the worst part of the

journey for the horses, so we had easy consciences in dismounting and

waiting an hour when we reached that most charming and hospitable of

houses. I had just time for one turn round the beautiful garden, where

the flowers and shrubs of old England grew side by side with the wild

and lovely blossoms of our new island home, when the expected coo-e rang

out shrill and clear from the rose-covered porch. It was but little past

mid-day when we made our second start, and set seriously to work over

fifteen miles of fairly good galloping ground. This distance brought

us well up to the foot of a high range, and the last six miles of the

journey had to be accomplished in single file, and with great care and

discretion, for the track led through bleak desolate vallies, round

the shoulder of abutting spurs, through swamps, and up and down rocky

staircases. Mr. C. H---- and his cob both knew the way well however,

and my bay mare Helen had the cleverest legs and the wisest as well

as prettiest head of her race. If left to herself she seldom made a

mistake, and the few tumbles she and I ever had together, took place

only when she found herself obliged to go my way instead of her own. We

entered the gorges of the high mountains between us and the west,

and soon lost the sun; even the brief winter twilight faded away more

swiftly than usual amid those dark defiles; and it was pitch dark,

though only five o'clock, when we heard a sudden and welcome clamour of

dog voices.

These deep-mouthed tones invariably constitute the first notes of a

sheep-station's welcome; and a delightful sound it is to the belated and

bewildered traveller, for besides guiding his horse to the right spot,

the noise serves to bring out some one to see who the traveller may be.

On this occasion we heard one man say to the other, "It's the boss:" so

almost before we had time to dismount from our tired horses (remember

they had each carried a heavy "swag" besides their riders), lights

gleamed from the windows of the little house, and a wood fire sparkled

and sputtered on the open hearth. Mr. C. H---- only just guided me

to the door of the sitting-room, making an apology and injunction

together,--"Its very rough I am afraid: but you can do what you

like;"--before he hastened back to assist his guests in settling their

horses comfortably for the night. Labour used to be so dear and wages so

high, especially in the back country of New Zealand, that the couple of

men,--one for indoor work, to saw wood, milk, cook, sweep, _wash_,

etc., and the other to act as gardener, groom, ploughman, and do all

the numerous odd jobs about a place a hundred miles and more from the

nearest shop,--represented a wage-expenditure of at least 200 pounds a

year. Every gentleman therefore as a matter of course sees to his own

horse when he arrives unexpectedly at a station, and I knew I should

have at least half an hour to myself.

The first thing to do was to let down my crinoline, for I could only

walk like a crab in it when it was fastened up for riding, kilt up my

linsey gown, take off my hat and jacket, and set to work The curtains

must be drawn close, and the chairs moved out from their symmetrical

positions against the wall; then I made an expedition into the kitchen,

and won the heart of the stalwart cook, who was already frying chops

over the fire, by saying in my best German, "I have come to help you

with the tea." Poor man! it was very unfair, for Mr. C. H---- had told

me during our ride that his servitor was a German, and I had employed

the last long hour of the journey in rubbing up my exceedingly

rusty knowledge of that language, and arranging one or two effective

sentences. Poor Karl's surprise and delight knew no bounds, and he burst

forth into a long monologue, to which I could find no readier answers

than smiles and nods, hiding my inability to follow up my brilliant

beginning under the pretence of being very busy. By the time the

gentlemen had stabled and fed the horses and were ready, Karl and I

between us had arranged a bright cosy little apartment with a capital

tea-dinner on the table. After this meal there were pipes and toddy, and

as I could not retire, like Mrs. Micawber at David Copperfield's supper

party, into the adjoining bedroom and sit by myself in the cold, I made

the best of the somewhat dense clouds of smoke with which I was soon

surrounded, and listened to the fragmentary plans for the next day. Then

we all separated for the night, and in two minutes I was fast asleep in

a little room no bigger than the cabin of a ship, with an opossum rug on

a sofa for my bed and bedding.

It was cold enough the next morning, I assure you: so cold that it was

difficult to believe the statement that all the gentlemen had been down

at daybreak to bathe in the great lake which spread like an inland sea

before the bay-window of the little sitting room. This lake, the largest

of the mountain chain, never freezes, on account partly of its great

depth, and also because of its sunny aspect. Our destination lay far

inland, and if we meant to have a good long day's skating we must start

at once. Such a perfect day as it was! I felt half inclined to beg off

the first day on the ice, and to spend my morning wandering along the

rata-fringed shores of Lake Coleridge, with its glorious enclosing

of hills which might fairly be called mountains; but I feared to seem

capricious or lazy, when really my only difficulty was in selecting

a pleasure. The sun had climbed well over the high barriers which lay

eastwards, and was shining brightly down through the quivering blue

ether overhead; the frost sparkled on every broad flax-blade or slender

tussock-spine, as if the silver side of earth were turned outwards that

winter morning.

No sooner had we mounted (with no "swag" except our skates this time)

than Mr. C. H---- set spurs to his horse, and bounded over the slip-rail

of the paddock before Karl could get it down. We were too primitive

for gates in those parts: they only belonged to the civilization nearer

Christchurch; and I had much ado to prevent my pony from following his

lead, especially as the other gentlemen were only too delighted to get

rid of some of their high spirits by a jump. However Karl got the

top rail down for me, and "Mouse" hopped over the lower one gaily,

overtaking the leader of the expedition in a very few strides. We could

not keep up our rapid pace long; for the ground became terribly broken

and cut up by swamps, quicksands, blind creeks, and all sorts of snares

and pit-falls. Every moment added to the desolate grandeur of the scene.

Bleak hills rose up on either hand, with still bleaker and higher peaks

appearing beyond them again. An awful silence, unbroken by the familiar

cheerful sound of the sheep calling to each other,--for even the hardy

merino cannot live in these ranges during the winter months,--brooded

around us, and the dark mass of a splendid "bush," extending over many

hundred acres, only added to the lonely grandeur of the scene. We rode

almost the whole time in a deep cold shade, for between us and the warm

sun-rays were such lofty mountains that it was only for a few brief

noontide moments he could peep over their steep sides.

After two hour's riding, at the best pace which we could keep up through

these terrible gorges, a sharp turn of the track brought us full in view

of our destination. I can never forget that first glimpse of Lake Ida.

In the cleft of a huge, gaunt, bare hill, divided as if by a giant hand,

lay a large _black_ sheet of ice. No ray of sunshine ever struck it from

autumn until spring, and it seemed impossible to imagine our venturing

to skate merrily in such a sombre looking spot. But New-Zealand sheep

farmers are not sentimental I am afraid. Beyond a rapid thought of

self-congratulation that such "cold country" was not on _their_ run,

they did not feel affected by its eternal silence and gloom. The ice

would bear, and what more could skater's heart desire? At the end of the

dark tarn, nearest to the track by which we had approached it, stood a

neat little hut; and judge of my amazement when, as we rode up to it,

a young gentleman, looking as if he was just going out for a day's

deer-stalking, opened the low door and came out to greet us. Yes, here

was one of those strange anomalies peculiar to the colonies. A young

man, fresh from his University, of refined tastes and cultivated

intellect, was leading here the life of a boor, without companionship

or appreciation of any sort. His "mate" seemed to be a rough West

countryman, honest and well meaning enough, but utterly unsuited to Mr.

K----. It was the old story, of wild unpractical ideas hastily carried

out. Mr. K---- had arrived in New Zealand a couple of years before, with

all his worldly wealth,--1,000 pounds. Finding this would not go very

far in the purchase of a good sheep-run, and hearing some calculations

about the profit to be derived from breeding cattle, based upon

somebody's lucky speculation, he eagerly caught at one of the many

offers showered upon unfortunate "new chums," and bought the worst and

bleakest bit of one of the worst and bleakest runs in the province. The

remainder of his money was laid out in purchasing stock; and now he had

sat down patiently to await, in his little hut, until such time as his

brilliant expectations would be realized. I may say here they became

fainter and fainter year by year, and at last faded away altogether;

leaving him at the end of three lonely, dreadful years with exactly half

his capital, but double his experience. However this has nothing to do

with my story, except that I can never think of our skating expedition

to that lonely lake, far back among those terrible hills, without a

thrill of compassion for the only living human being, who dwelt among

them.

It was too cold to dawdle about, however, that day. The frost lay white

and hard upon the ground, and we felt that we were cruel in leaving our

poor horses standing to get chilled whilst we amused ourselves. Although

my beloved Helen was not there, having been exchanged for the day in

favour of Master Mouse, a shaggy pony, whose paces were as rough as

its coat, I begged a red blanket from Mr. K----, and covered up Helen's

stable companion, whose sleek skin spoke of a milder temperature than

that on Lake Ida's "gloomy shore." Our simple arrangements were

soon made. Mr. K---- left directions to his mate to prepare a repast

consisting of tea, bread, and mutton for us, and, each carrying our

skates, we made the best of our way across the frozen tussocks to the

lake. Mr. K---- proved an admirable guide over its surface, for he was

in the habit during the winter of getting all his firewood out of the

opposite "bush," and bringing it across the lake on sledges drawn by

bullocks. We accused him of having cut up our ice dreadfully by these

means; but he took us to a part of the vast expanse where an unbroken

field of at least ten acres of ice stretched smoothly before us. Here

were no boards marked "DANGEROUS," nor any intimation of the depth of

water beneath. The most timid person could feel no apprehension on ice

which seemed more solid than the earth; so accordingly in a few moments

we had buckled and strapped on our skates, and were skimming and

gliding--and I must add, falling--in all directions. We were very much

out of practice at first, except Mr. K----, who skated every day, taking

short cuts across the lake to track a stray heifer or explore a blind

gully.

I despair of making my readers see the scene as I saw it, or of

conveying any adequate idea of the intense, the appalling loneliness of

the spot. It really seemed to me as if our voices and laughter, so

far from breaking the deep eternal silence, only brought it out into

stronger relief. On either hand rose up, shear from the waters edge, a

great, barren, shingly mountain; before us loomed a dark pine forest,

whose black shadows crept up until they merged in the deep _crevasses_

and fissures of the Snowy Range. Behind us stretched the winding gullies

by which we had climbed to this mountain tarn, and Mr. K----'s little

hut and scrap of a garden and paddock gave the one touch of life, or

possibility of life, to this desolate region. In spite of all scenic

wet blankets we tried hard to be gay, and no one but myself would

acknowledge that we found the lonely grandeur of our "rink" too much for

us. We skated away perseveringly until we were both tired and hungry,

when we returned to Mr. K----'s hut, took a hasty meal, and mounted our

chilled steeds. Mr. C. H---- insisted on bringing poor Mr. K---- back

with us, though he was somewhat reluctant to come, alleging that a

few days spent in the society of his kind made the solitude of his

weather-board hut all the more dreary. The next day and yet the next

we returned to our gloomy skating ground, and when I turned round in my

saddle as we rode away on Friday evening, for a last look at Lake Ida

lying behind us in her winter black numbness, her aspect seemed more

forbidding than ever, for only the bare steep hill-sides could be seen;

the pine forest and white distant mountains were all blotted and blurred

out of sight by a heavy pall of cloud creeping slowly up.

"Let us ride fast," cried Mr. K----, "or we shall have a sou'-wester

upon us;" so we galloped home as quickly as we could, over ground that

I don't really believe I could summon courage to walk across, ever so

slowly, to-day,--but then one's nerves and courage are in very different

order out in New Zealand to the low standard which rules for ladies in

England, who "live at home in ease!" Long before we reached home the

storm was pelting us: my little jacket was like a white board when I

took it off, for the sleet and snow had frozen as it fell. I was wet

to the skin, and so numb with cold I could hardly stand when we reached

home at last in the dark and down-pour. I could only get my things very

imperfectly dried, and had to manage as best I could, but yet no one

even thought of making the inquiry next morning when I came out to

breakfast, "Have you caught cold?" It would have seemed a ridiculous

question.

Station Amusements in New Zealand · 第 4 / 11 章