CHAPTER XVII.
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CHAPTER XVII.
Milford Sound--The Trip from Nelson--Scenic Wonders.
The suggestion to use the Bowen Falls in Milford Sound for the purpose of extracting nitrogen from the air calls to mind a visit I paid to the Sounds in the year 1876. It was the first excursion of the kind, and the Union Company sent a small steamer called Wanaka for the trip. She was overcrowded, and met with persistent rough weather. Among the passengers were the late Capt. Hutton, New Zealand Government geologist, Professor MacMillan Brown of ethnological fame, and the late Mr. Bell, proprietor of the Dunedin Star. There were also several agents for European collectors in search of kiwis, kakapos, crested penguins, wekas and any other specimens of native birds they could get. There was apparently no protection for native birds at the time and these persons had dogs on board with which they ran them to earth.
I have since visited the Norwegian fiords and consider those of New Zealand do not suffer by comparison. They represent what should be a very valuable scenic asset; on the whole certainly one of the most beautiful of New Zealand's many scenic charms.
It is indeed a matter for regret and surprise that they are not accessible to visitors. The Norwegian fiords attract thousands of people from all parts of the world every year. Their human and historic interest is undoubtedly a considerable factor in their attractiveness, one of which we cannot boast, but for grandeur of scenery our New Zealand sounds do not suffer by comparison, whilst for beauty and variety of flora the comparison is entirely in favour of New Zealand.
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The trip of the Wanaka started at Nelson, which was a mistake, as it meant visiting Milford first. The other sounds are all beautiful and well worth seeing, but none equal Milford in grandeur. They should be seen first. I may quote from an account of the trip which I furnished to the N.Z. Herald at the time.
"Leaving Martin's Bay at midday we started for Milford Sound. At this time the rain, which has been coming down steadily all the morning, ceased, and the sky showed indications of improvement. A short run down the coast, and we approach Milford Sound. The sun shines brightly from a clear blue sky, not a cloud is to be seen, save here and there a fleecy wreath encircling the highest peaks of the mountains before us. The steamer heads straight for the precipitous cliffs, and is within a few hundred yards of the shore. We are overshadowed by them; they appear to be within a stone's throw of us, and yet no opening appears. At last we see a rent in the rocks like a vast chasm; the vessel turns sharply, and we steam between the mighty portals that mark the entrance to the Sound. As we proceed the noisest are hushed, and, for a time, all stand silent in the midst of a scene of wild grandeur. We appear to be steaming in a tranquil lake, surrounded on every side by high snow-capped mountains. Numerous cascades are seen rushing over perpendicular precipices, and yet they seem to flow leisurely, almost sluggishly, over the mountains' sides. Everything in this wondrous museum of nature is on too grand a scale to appear hurried. An air of profound tranquility and stillness reigns supreme. On our right the mountains are clothed in gloom, and the cascades flow majestically down the black rocks like streaks of purest snow. On our left the sun is shining brightly, and every cascade scattered into spray becomes a beauteous mass of colour. We have steamed a mile and a half up the Sound, and are now in the "Narrows," where the distance from side to side is little more than a quarter of a mile. The grandeur of the
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scene is overpowering. The Mitre Peak rises on our right, almost perpendicularly from the water, a bare precipice, 5,560 feet high. On all sides of us, with the exception of that wonderful Mitre Peak, the mountains are covered with dense foliage down to the water's edge. The trees struggle out of crevices and ledges on the straight hard rocks. A cannon is now fired and twenty cannons reply from the echoing hills. The steamer's whistle is blown, and the shrill shriek is repeated, loudly at first and then more softly, until the distant mountains reply with only a gentle murmur. We proceed a little further, the haven widens to three-quarters of a mile, and Mount Pembroke appears on our left, a snow-capped mountain 6,700 feet high. Its summit is flat, and slightly inclined towards us. The surface of the snow is rough and confused, as though a giant struggle had taken place on the mountain top. A little lower down is a glacier glittering in the sunshine, from which a pretty cascade is formed by the melting ice. In front of us one mountain rises behind another until the snowy top of Mount Christina, over 8,000 feet high, is seen in the background. We are now passing the Stirling Cascade, which falls perpendicularly 600 feet. As the sun shines upon the clouds of spray that are formed by every breath of wind a glorious colour effect is produced which baffles any attempt at description. At the bottom of this waterfall the spray, as it rises from the foamy water, reflecting the colours of the rainbow, resembles the vapour arising from a grand display of coloured fires. A little further on and we are within sight and sound of the Bowen Falls, a small river falling over the side of a cliff 700 feet high. It first falls into a cavity in a ledge of the rock and then, forced up to a considerable height by its own weight, descends with a dizzy noise, a circular body of water white as snow. Near this the Wanaka anchors for the night. No one regrets having made the trip, in spite of past discomforts. Voyagers who have travelled the world over admit that they have
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seen nothing to equal Milford Sound in wild picturesqueness and grandeur.
Most of the Sounds were visited, and each had its particular beauty. The one spot of historic interest is at Pickersgill Cove. It was here that Captain Cook made a prolonged stay, nearly 100 years before, whilst he careened and cleaned the Resolution. We pulled up to the sheltered little bay which he chose for the purpose and thought reverently of the great navigator. Some of the more imaginative of the party even identified the spot where he tells us he grew vegetables for his crew, to counteract an attack of scurvy, and as the little patch of ground they pointed out appeared to be the only spot in the neighbourhood sufficiently level for a man to stand upright upon their identification may not be very wide of the mark.
In Pickersgill Cove we had one of the loveliest views obtained during the trip. Miniature coves, low, densely wooded islands and reaches of deep blue water, set off by hills of fantastic shape, piled as it were one behind the other, as far as the eye could reach, formed a scene of fascinating beauty. The sunset effect on the hills was a sight never to be forgotten; they were literally bathed in a soft rose tint. I fear that our artists on board will be accused of exaggeration when they attempt to reproduce this memorable scene.
Preservation is the most southerly of the Sounds. It is about 25 miles in length. The Wanaka anchored at the head of this Sound in practically fresh water. There is probably no other part of New Zealand where more beautiful or varied vegetation is to be seen than here. In a diminutive semi-circular bay, almost hidden by overhanging cliffs, at the extreme end of the Sound, is a beautiful waterfall. It is not of great height, probably about 200 feet, but it represents the discharge of a considerable volume of water, and keeps the surface of the little bay in a state of unrest. The atmosphere, as may be inferred, is charged with spray, which keeps the luxuriant vegetation around this fairy-like spot in a state of bright and perpetual verdure. As the last of the Sounds, Preservation has left pleasant memories. Less grand and awe-inspiring than Milford, it possesses a subdued beauty which is scarcely less fascinating, and it was with a feeling of regret that we realised our trip had practically come to an end.
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which keeps the luxuriant vegetation around this fairy-like spot in a state of bright and perpetual verdure. As the last of the Sounds, Preservation has left pleasant memories. Less grand and awe-inspiring than Milford, it possesses a subdued beauty which is scarcely less fascinating, and it was with a feeling of regret that we realised our trip had practically come to an end.
