EXPLORATION TRIP CONTINUED--WEEKAS--INSPECTION OF NEW
COUNTRY--ESCAPE FROM FIRE.
It was some time after dark when we arrived at Wynne's Station, which
was situated in a bend behind a promontory, and not observable until
close upon it. The owner was absent, but we were received by the
overseer, Mr. Brand, and his assistants, two young gentlemen cadets. The
run, which was recently taken up, was suited only for cattle which
grazed on the extensive flats reaching inwards between the mountain
ranges and the undulating hills. The mountain sides were too rough and
scrubby for sheep as yet till fires had reduced the wild growth of small
brush and induced grass to spread.
The homestead being yet in its infancy, all was crude and rough, but its
surroundings were delightful. It stood on a small flat not yet denuded
of the original wild growth which lay in heaps half burnt, or in
scattered clumps, the cleared portions being partly ploughed up. The
flat was enclosed by a semicircle of steep hills covered with rocks and
brushwood in the wildest luxuriance, and almost impossible of passage
even to pedestrians. The stockyards lay away some distance, and they,
with the run generally, were approached by boats, of which three fine
ones lay hauled up in front of the homestead. Indeed, a great deal of
the work of the station was done by boat, including the fetching of
supplies, bringing timber from the forest and firewood from an island in
the lake, and visiting remote parts of the run only accessible inland by
a rough and circuitous cattle track impracticable for a dray.
Mr. Brand did not think much of Moorhouse's spec. He had seen the
country, but had not been on it, and did not think it good or extensive
enough to be worked alone. He offered not only to lend us a fine boat
for the remainder of the journey, but to accompany us himself to the
forest which was adjacent to our quest, having to convey some stores to
his men there. It was arranged that on the third day we would proceed
thither, and in the meantime I lent a hand at anything going on, and
amused myself sketching, an occupation I was very fond of, and I had
already collected a considerable number of views taken on the Rangitata
and other places.
We left in the afternoon, intending to camp about ten miles up. We
numbered five in all, and the boat was fairly well laden with stores for
the forest. The pull was a stiff one and we took no sail, the wind at
this season always blowing down the lake. It was some time after dark
when we reached our proposed camping place, a narrow strand of white
shingle sprinkled with clusters of shrubbery backed with thick
underwood, which afforded shelter and firewood. The boat was made fast,
and materials for supper and a huge fire were speedily under weigh. We
were much pestered here with weekas (woodhens) who carried off most of
our food which was not securely covered by night. These birds are the
most persistent thieves, nearly as large as a common fowl, of a browny
colour, gamy looking, with long legs and very short wings, the latter
only serving to assist them in running, for they cannot fly. They are to
be found in every New Zealand bush, and unless travellers take the
precaution to place provisions or any articles, edible or not, out of
their reach, they will not long remain in ignorance of their proximity.
When living in the forest I have frequently amused myself killing these
birds in the following manner, while sitting at my camp fire at night. I
procured two short sticks, at the end of one I attached a bit of red
cloth or rag to be used as a lure. They are the most curious birds in
existence, and this together with their thieving propensities is so
powerful that when their desires for appropriation are excited they
possess little or no fear. I would sit by the fire holding out the red
rag, when in a few moments a slight rustle would be heard from the
branches. After a little the bird would step boldly into the open
firelight stretching his neck and cocking his head knowingly as he
approached in a zig-zag way the object of his curiosity and desire.
So soon as he would come sufficiently near, and his attention was taken
up with the bright object he hoped to possess, whack would descend the
other stick on his head, and his mortal career of theft was at an end.
Then I would roast the two drumsticks, having separated them from the
body, skinning them, and eating them for supper; they are the only part
of the bird fit for food.
The remainder of the body is boiled down for oil, which is invaluable
for boots of any kind, making them waterproof and pliable.
I have frequently killed six or eight weekas in a single evening at my
camp fire. I did not, however, eat all the drumsticks.
We were up betimes, and after a hearty breakfast started for our last
pull to the head of the lake, which we reached in the forenoon. The
heaviest part of the work, however, had yet to come--namely, pulling the
boat a mile up the stream which flows into the lake. This was
unavoidable, as the land each side was an impassable swamp. For the last
half-mile the current was so swift we could make no headway against it
with the oars, and the water being only from one to two feet deep, we
got out and waded, hauling the boat by hand to the landing place. Here
we had to transfer provisions from the boat to our own backs and trudge
on foot over nearly two miles of rough and partly swampy ground to the
forest where Brand had his hut, in which we intended to camp that night.
It was fairly late in the afternoon when we reached the hut, and we were
not sorry to relieve ourselves of our burdens and partake of food.
It was a rough camp, and as wild a situation as one could find, and it
was a rough-looking lot of men that night who occupied it, in the depth
of a black pine forest with the glaring light of a huge fire
illuminating the recesses of the overhanging trees and dense underwood,
increasing the darkness beyond, with the ominous cry of the mawpawk and
laughing jackass only breaking the dead stillness. We were soon rolled
in our blankets around the fire, and slept like men who had earned their
rest.
The following day we rested and prepared for our excursion into the new
country, and expecting to be absent two days took with us enough food
for so long. In addition to our blankets we carried each a bag of ship
biscuits, some tea, sugar, and cooked mutton, with a small kettle and
two tin panakins.
The first day we proceeded nearly five miles up the valley, which was
from 1/2 to 3/4 mile wide, much of it swampy and scored by deep-water
channels, many of which were now dry, but partly covered or concealed by
long tussock roots more or less burnt. On each side were low rugged
hills covered with dense scrub, some portions of which had been burnt by
fires which had crept up there from lower down the lake. Where the fire
had done its work the ground was a foot deep in ashes and charred bits
of timber, while studded about, or covered over with burnt debris were
innumerable half burnt stumps; altogether it was not a locality one
would select for a pleasant walk.
In some few places where rain had washed away the ashes the tussock
roots were beginning to sprout, and it was not difficult to see that in
course of time there would be an improvement in the land, but there was
not much of it on the flats, while the hills would be for years almost
impracticable. Besides, it was exceedingly difficult of access and stock
would in all probability require to be transported thither by boat.
We were now walking over country in its pure native wildness; the first
human beings, certainly the first civilised ones, who had ever trod upon
it. We spent two days exploring as far in every direction as we could
go, and as we went we steadily applied the match, setting fire to bush
and grass alike, thus making our progress very evident to those in the
forest and all down the lake. We were in a fearful state of filth,
notwithstanding that we had washed ourselves in the clear stream daily,
the ashes got ground into our skins and even the application of fine
sand in lieu of soap would not eradicate it, only causing rawness with
accompanying smarting. Moorhouse was really to blame for this, for, vain
man that he was, he carried a little pocket looking-glass by which we
discovered the condition we were in. Had he left the glass behind we
would probably have remained black and happy till our return.
On the last day we had a close shave for our lives. We were crossing a
narrow bushy point, the upper portion of which had caught a returning
fire, and it was coming down upon us with the wind, with a deafening
roar and volumes of smoke. Our chance of safety lay in getting into the
open and across the water before the fire reached us, and we were
nearly, very nearly caught. The bush grew denser as we went on, and was
filled with "lawyers," which impeded our progress, so that in our
extremity to tear ourselves away we left most of our scanty clothing and
somewhat of our skins in their clutches, while a fresh breeze springing
up, increased the pace of the terrible fire which came roaring towards
us in a wall of flame, sparks and smoke, which had already nearly
blinded us, the trees snapping, creaking, and falling behind us like
reports of artillery. Singed, torn, and half naked, we just succeeded
in escaping being charred as completely as any stump on the hills.
The "lawyer" (so-called) is a creeping, or rather climbing, plant common
to the New Zealand bush. It grows in long thread-like tendrils, as thick
as whip cord, armed with myriads of sharp hooked thorns turned
backwards. The tendrils grow hundreds of feet in length, stretching from
branch to branch, and often forming a maze or web extending over a large
area. A person getting entangled in their embraces rarely escapes with a
whole skin, and never with a whole coat.
We returned the evening of the third day as black as sloes, and with
only a few shreds of singed clothes on our backs, thoroughly worn out
with hard walking and insufficient sustenance. We remained one day for
repairs and then, in company with Brand, had a glorious sail down the
lake to Wynne's station.
Our return journey to Christchurch was without incident save one, worth
mentioning. This was where we were both nearly drowned crossing the
Lindis in a flood.
Moorehouse, I believe, sold his interest in the Wanaka district for a
song.