I was wet only a little
above the ankle; but it is the rapidity of the stream which makes
It so
unpleasant - in fact, so positively hard to those who are not used to it.
On their few first experiences of one of these New Zealand rivers,
people dislike them extremely; they then become very callous to them,
and are as unreasonably foolhardy as they were before timorous; then
they generally get an escape from drowning or two, or else they get
drowned in earnest. After one or two escapes their original respect for
the rivers returns, and for ever after they learn not to play any
unnecessary tricks with them. Not a year passes but what each of them
sends one or more to his grave; yet as long as they are at their
ordinary level, and crossed with due care, there is no real danger in
them whatever. I have crossed and recrossed the Waimakiriri so often in
my late trip that I have ceased to be much afraid of it unless it is
high, and then I assure you that I am far too nervous to attempt it.
When I crossed it first I was assured that it was not high, but only a
little full.
The Waimakiriri flows from the back country out into the plains through
a very beautiful narrow gorge. The channel winds between wooded rocks,
beneath which the river whirls and frets and eddies most gloriously.
Above the lower cliffs, which descend perpendicularly into the river,
rise lofty mountains to an elevation of several thousand feet: so that
the scenery here is truly fine. In the river-bed, near the gorge, there
is a good deal of lignite, and, near the Kowai, a little tributary which
comes in a few miles below the gorge, there is an extensive bed of true
and valuable coal.
The back country of the Waimakiriri is inaccessible by dray, so that all
the stores and all the wool have to be packed in and packed out on
horseback. This is a very great drawback, and one which is not likely
to be soon removed. In winter-time, also, the pass which leads into it
is sometimes entirely obstructed by snow, so that the squatters in that
part of the country must have a harder time of it than those on the
plains. They have bush, however, and that is a very important thing.
I shall not give you any full account of what I saw as I went up the
Waimakiriri, for were I to do so I should only repeat my last letter.
Suffice it that there is a magnificent mountain chain of truly Alpine
character at the head of the river, and that, in parts, the scenery is
quite equal in grandeur to that of Switzerland, but far inferior in
beauty. How one does long to see some signs of human care in the midst
of the loneliness! How one would like, too, to come occasionally across
some little auberge, with its vin ordinaire and refreshing fruit! These
things, however, are as yet in the far future. As for vin ordinaire, I
do not suppose that, except at Akaroa, the climate will ever admit of
grapes ripening in this settlement - not that the summer is not warm
enough, but because the night frosts come early, even while the days are
exceedingly hot. Neither does one see how these back valleys can ever
become so densely peopled as Switzerland; they are too rocky and too
poor, and too much cut up by river-beds.
I saw one saddle low enough to be covered with bush, ending a valley of
some miles in length, through which flowed a small stream with dense
bush on either side. I firmly believe that this saddle will lead to the
West Coast; but as the valley was impassable for a horse, and as, being
alone, I was afraid to tackle the carrying food and blankets, and to
leave Doctor, who might very probably walk off whilst I was on the wrong
side of the Waimakiriri, I shirked the investigation. I certainly ought
to have gone up that valley. I feel as though I had left a stone
unturned, and must, if all is well, at some future time take someone
with me and explore it. I found a few flats up the river, but they were
too small and too high up to be worth my while to take.
April, 1860. - I have made another little trip, and this time have tried
the Rangitata. My companion and myself have found a small piece of
country, which we have just taken up. We fear it may be snowy in
winter, but the expense of taking up country is very small; and even
should we eventually throw it up the chances are that we may be able to
do so with profit. We are, however, sanguine that it may be a very
useful little run, but shall have to see it through next winter before
we can safely put sheep upon it.
I have little to tell you concerning the Rangitata different from what I
have already written about the Waimakiriri and the Harpur. The first
great interest was, of course, finding the country which we took up; the
next was what I confess to the weakness of having enjoyed much more -
namely, a most magnificent view of that most magnificent mountain, Mount
Cook. It is one of the grandest I have ever seen. I will give you a
short account of the day.
We started from a lonely valley, down which runs a stream called Forest
Creek. It is an ugly, barren-looking place enough - a deep valley
between two high ranges, which are not entirely clear of snow for more
than three or four months in the year. As its name imports, it has some
wood, though not much, for the Rangitata back country is very bare of
timber.
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