1853 - Swainson, William. Auckland, the Capital of New Zealand - CHAPTER VII. BUSH TRAVELLING

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CHAPTER VII.

To the sportsman New Zealand offers no attraction; but, for the active and adventurous, a pedestrian excursion into the interior of the country affords an agreeable recreation; and, from its situation, on the narrow isthmus which separates the eastern and western coasts, and being the radiating point of inland water communication to the north and south, Auckland is a convenient starting point for visiting the most interesting localities of the island.

The numerous harbours which indent the east coast northwards, as far as Wangaroa, may, in moderate weather, and by keeping well in shore, be visited in an open boat. Taking the interior route to the north, and ascending to the head of the Waitemata, thence overland to the head of the Kaipara River (not more than fourteen miles); descending that river, crossing the harbour, and ascending the river Wairoa, for about a hundred miles, the traveller will

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find himself within little more than a day's walk of the Waimate. Taking a boat or canoe, crossing the Frith, and ascending the river Thames, he may proceed southwards to within a three or four days' walk of Rotomahana, and the Lakes of Rotorua.

Crossing the Manakau Harbour, and ascending the Waikato and the Waipa rivers, he may then reach Taupo by an overland journey of four days. Branching off from the head of the Waipa to the head of the Mokau (two days overland), and descending that river to the sea, he may thence reach Taranaki by a two days' walk along the coast. Leaving Taupo for the head of the Whanganui (a two days' walk), and descending the Whanganui to the settlement at its mouth, he will find himself within a three days' ride of Wellington.

No comparison can properly be made of the scenery of countries occupying the opposite extremes of cultivation, except as to natural features. It would be unreasonable, for instance, to compare the jungle forests, the fern-clad hills, and the swampy plains of a new and unsettled country, with the rich pastures, the green meadows, the forest glades, and the highly cultivated features of an English landscape. But in beauty of natural scenery, New Zealand will bear comparison with England in most of its principal features--mountain, river, coast, and harbour. There is nothing in England, for instance, to equal the snow-clad, silvery-peaked Mount Egmont, or the Alpine ranges of the Southern Island. The lower part of the Waikato River, the upper

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reaches of the Thames, the scenery about the narrow pass of the Manawatu, and the wild grandeur of the Whanganui, fully equal in their natural beauty, any of the river scenery of England. The scenery of the west coast, between Waikato and Mokou, and that of the Southern Island in the neighbourhood of Milford Haven, will bear comparison with the finest views of the British coast; while Wangaroa, the Bay of Islands, Port Nicholson, Queen Charlotte's Sound, and Akaroa, are unequalled in their natural features by the harbours of Great Britain. But in lake scenery, New Zealand must yield the palm. True, indeed, there are some pretty gem-like lakes in the district of Rotorua, but there is nothing in New Zealand to equal the lake scenery of Westmoreland and Cumberland; combining so exquisitely, as it does, the beauties of nature and art. It may be too much to say that the same degree of beauty will never be found in any part of this country; but at present, in its natural uncultivated state, New Zealand contains no such views as Grassmere, seen from Butter Crags or Longbrigg Fell, Rydal from Rydal Park, and the thousand beauties of Derwentwater, Barrowdale, and Langdale.

Compared with the rapidity and the luxurious ease with which a journey is now performed in England, travelling in New Zealand is slow and laborious, and of a truly primitive simplicity; for the matter-of-fact and for the effeminate having, doubtless, few attractions, but yet, for the lover of the picturesque,

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possessing an indescribable charm. To such an one an overland expedition from Auckland to Wellington, taking the inland route by way of Waikato, Taupo, and the Whanganui, and returning by the coast through Taranaki and the Mokau River, would, with all its rude simplicity, be a delightful summer trip. Indeed, to many, the descent of the Whanganui would alone repay the time and trouble of the journey.

To glide swiftly along in a well-manned large canoe, on the surface of a current winding its way through a picturesque country, in a mild and genial climate, is certainly a most charming mode of travelling. Thus smoothly moving on, the traveller can scarcely fail to enjoy the placid beauty of the Waikato and Waipa. But the descent of the Whanganui is probably the most enjoyable of New Zealand river travelling. With a good crew the voyage may be accomplished in three days; but to ascend the river from the sea, ten days or a fortnight are required.

The general character of its scenery is wild and picturesque; the upper part of it running for nearly a hundred miles through a continuous series of deep and winding ravines, flanked on either side by steep ridges, rising to a height of several hundred feet, and covered down to the water's edge with forest trees and brushwood of every variety of form and colour; the tree-fern and the crimson blossom of the rata adding not a little to the beauty of its woodland scenery. In the dry season, the Whanganui is some-

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what shallow, and abounds with rapids; but for a distance of several hundred yards, at the bend of every rapid, the river is as smooth as glass, reflecting its wooded banks as in a mirror. At frequent intervals, too, cascades of various heights pour their foaming waters into the stream below; and at break of day, the silence of the woods is broken by the song of a variety of birds. In the early morning, the scenery around is dark and gloomy; and until the banks of the river have been overtopped by the rising sun, masses of white fleecy mist lightly float about the tops and in the hollows of the hills. Not a patch of cultivation or a sign of habitation is to be seen; but here and there are small native settlements, perched on the summits of the heights, invisible to the traveller below; the only sign of occupation being a solitary canoe, moored here and there by the side of the stream, and the lower end of a rope-ladder descending from the cliff above. From the shallowness and the rapidity of the current, the rugged character of the surrounding country, and the precipitous face of both banks of the river, these small settlements form a series of inaccessible fastnesses; so steep, broken, and densely wooded is the country, that their occupants can communicate with each other, only by means of their canoes; and so difficult of ascent are the rivers' banks, that in many instances, they can only reach their habitations from the river by means of a ladder of flax or rope. On the lower part of the river, the character of the country undergoes a marked change: the banks are

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less steep, the country is more open, the population appears to be more numerous, and the native cultivations are more extensive.

At certain seasons, the navigation of the Whanganui is not unattended with danger, and should not be attempted without the assistance of natives acquainted with the state of the river, and practised in guiding a canoe through its rapids. The shooting of the rapids, however (upwards of fifty in number), relieves the monotony of the voyage, and now and then is quite as exciting as it is agreeable. The danger arises not so much from the strength of the current, as from the rocks and snags which not unfrequently obstruct its course. The frantic cries and wild gestures of the steersman, the violent exertions of the crew, the pace of the canoe itself, "swift as an arrow from a Tartar's bow," the boiling of the water about its gunwale, and the roaring of the torrent, can scarcely fail to cause to the inexperienced voyager, a momentary feeling of excitement. In two or three instances, when the rapids are unusually strong, the passengers are landed, while a few of the crew safely guide the light bark through the foaming torrent.

Pigeons, ducks, teal, and other water-fowl, abound; and if the traveller be furnished with a gun, he will find no difficulty in procuring an ample store of food.

Leaving the settlement of Whanganui, and proceeding southwards, the route along the coast for seventy or eighty miles is monotonous and unin-

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teresting; but approaching Wellington, and leaving the coast, winding up a steep ascent, with a full view from the summit of the heights, of the open sea, of the Islands of Kapiti and Mana, and of the line of coast northwards as far as the eye can reach; then descending through the wooded gorges of the Horikiwi valley--its mountain streams spanned here and there by hanging bridges; then skirting along the shores of Porirua; again striking inland, over a richly timbered broken country, relieved by distant glimpses of the deep blue sea; and finally descending full upon a second Windermere--the beautiful lake-like harbour of Port Nicholson--the road for the last thirty miles of the overland journey not only presents a triumph of engineering skill, but for the varied beauty of its scenery can scarcely be surpassed.

The return route from Wellington, northwards, is, for the most part, of a different character; rich in fine sea views, and in bold and picturesque coast scenery. Travelling along the cliffs of the western coast, you will day after day have charming views of the open sea--wild, beautiful, and free, as on its first creation: for--

Far as the eye can reach, you will see wave after wave, in close succession, slowly and majestically moving onwards, each, as it nears the shore, rearing still higher its arched and silvery crest, then with

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deafening roar dashing itself headlong on the beach, foaming and fierce, and rolling with fury on, in the vain attempt to set at nought the perpetual decree which has placed the sand to be the bounds of the sea, and to break down that frail barrier which He who hath measured the waters in the hollow of His hand hath declared to be the ocean's boundary. And what can be more exhilarating and delightful to a vigorous pedestrian, than to speed along a hard and sandy beach, exposed all day to a brisk sea breeze--now climbing up some steep and rugged cliff--now racing round some jutting headland to save the coming tide; and encamping for the night within sound of an ocean surf thundering on the shore?

Approaching Taranaki, what sight more beautiful than Mount Egmont's snowy peak, seen just before the dawn of day, slowly tinged with rosy light--the plain around still lost in gloom-like morning rising from the bed of night? To be encamped for the night, too, in the forest at its base, the blazing watch-fire fitfully lighting up the surrounding gloom, and disclosing to momentary view the stately stems and leafy canopy of gigantic forest trees; and to awake at early dawn, listening with bated breath in charmed surprise to a chorus of sweet sounds (too sweet almost for earthly melody), would prove a poet's and a painter's Paradise!

But health, also, as well as amusement, is gained by a journey in the bush. By change of scene, the dull routine of daily life is broken, and its business

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and cares for the time forgotten. Almost constant mental excitement, gentle in degree, and agreeable in its kind; exposure to the open air, active exercise, and plain and scanty diet, all tend to health. The appetite is sharpened, the nerves are braced, the blood is purified, the cheek is bronzed, and the traveller commonly returns from his journey a stronger and a better man. What wonder that bush-travelling, then, should be a holiday amusement?

But a lengthened expedition into the interior of a new country, cannot of course be undertaken without some preparation. The pleasure which the traveller will derive from his journey, will greatly depend upon the character of his native party. Nor should a stranger, or a novice in bush travelling, ignorant of the language, and unacquainted with the manners, of the people, be advised to start alone. On the contrary he should, if possible, secure as a companion some experienced bush traveller.

Their being no wayside hostelries, the traveller, if he be not content with the skies for a canopy and the earth for his bed, must snail-like carry his house upon his back; or, which he will probably prefer, must persuade some other person to undertake the labour for him. Native huts may indeed be met with in most parts of the country; in them you may find shelter, but not sleep; and the climate is too uncertain for bivouacing in the open air. To travel in the bush with any degree of comfort, a tent is indispensable; but it can scarcely be too

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small. A pair of blankets may serve for bedding: --if folded double and sewn up at the feet and sides, they make a warmer covering. Care should be taken, too, to keep them dry; for this purpose they should be carried in well oiled cloth, or other waterproof covering, and a piece of the like material should be provided (six feet by three) to spread under the blankets at night. If the traveller would improve upon "a bed of roses," he should gather a large bundle of dead or dried fern, and spread it out to the requisite dimensions; placing the plants at an angle of 45deg., the roots and stalks downwards. Upon this heap of fern he should spread the dry oiled cloth, and upon that the blankets; and he will then have a couch which a Sybarite might envy. If the blankets be sewn up as suggested, it will be found that they form a nest of bags three in number. If the weather be warm he may insinuate himself into the upper bag: if he finds a single fold of blanket over him insufficient, he may try the middle bag; and, in case of need, a "lower deep" remains. But as far as sleep is concerned, the downiest bed, if infested by a swarm of mosquitoes, is little better than a hornet's nest; and for the plague of mosquitoes no effort of genius has yet succeeded in finding a remedy: your tough-skinned drowsy friends may, perhaps, make light of such a torment; but few who can speak from experience will class such a plague among the minor miseries of a traveller's life. Something may, however, be done to avoid or mitigate the evil. A snug, sequestered, sheltered hollow, by the side of

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a sluggish stream (the very spot to attract an inexperienced traveller for the night's encampment), is of all others the most likely to be frequented by these small tormentors. The summit of an exposed open plot of ground should always be chosen in preference. As soon as your tent is pitched, keep it carefully closed until you retire for the night; then search for any of the vermin which may have found their way into it, and destroy them with a candle. In the summer season a mosquito curtain is almost indispensable.

The traveller's costume should be of woollen materials, and his change of clothes should be carefully secured in oiled cloth or waterproof. His larder generally consists of tea, sugar, biscuit, and bacon. As he has frequently little or nothing to cook, no very extensive cooking apparatus is necessary. A single wooden skewer has been known to do duty for table-service, and for kitchen-range. A knife, fork, spoon, pannikin, tin plate, and tea-pot, form a sufficient yet not extravagant equipment. A supply of tobacco, the most current coin of the interior of the realm, should not be forgotten; and for river-travelling, in hot weather, a strong umbrella, to serve as an awning, will be found a great comfort.

Young travellers commonly carry a gun. The rivers and woods abound with ducks and pigeons; and if the traveller be a good shot, and his route lie along the line of a large river, it will be an advantage to do so--otherwise a gun will be found a useless burden. A supply of food may commonly be counted

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upon by the way; for it is a rare occurrence to travel for a whole day without coming to a native settlement. Now and then, too, a solitary European squatter may be met with; and, more frequently still, a Mission station. On all these occasions the traveller will meet with a cordial welcome, and hospitable treatment.

For a traveller who intends to live bush-fashion, three natives, for bearers, are a sufficient complement. On a long journey, when expedition is an object, the weight of each load should not exceed thirty pounds. Tent, bedding, clothes, and food, need not altogether exceed ninety pounds, or thirty pounds each man. This does not allow of bottled beer, wines, &c; but nothing will surprise a bush traveller more than the indifference with which he will regard these enjoyable home luxuries, after a few days' free exposure to the open air: itself an all-sufficient stimulant. If possible, he should take with him natives who will undertake the whole journey, out and home; for it is not prudent to rely on obtaining natives by the way. This indeed may generally be done; but being entirely dependent upon them--of which they are quite aware--there is a risk of losing much time and temper in making a bargain: and that, too, under circumstances when the traveller will not be in a condition to resist an exorbitant demand. Before starting, the natives should be made clearly to understand the terms of the agreement. No part of the payment should be made in advance; but the whole should be made payable on the completion of

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the journey. The coast part of a journey will be much facilitated if the traveller himself possess an accurate knowledge of the road, the state of the tides, &c. At least one of the native party should always possess this knowledge. Indeed, an intending traveller will do well to make himself acquainted with the distance of the proposed journey, the general nature of the road, the distance from place to place, and the usual and most convenient places for encamping for the night. For distances, the subjoined itinerary, "taken from the Church, Almanack, may be relied upon. In some instances the distance may appear to be greater than described: but the traveller is liable to be deceived by the rugged and difficult character of the ground.

To travel comfortably, it is necessary to encamp before sundown; for darkness does not facilitate the pitching of a tent, or the settling down snugly for the night. To accomplish a fair day's work (say twenty miles) it is necessary to make an early start in the morning, to keep moving steadily forward, and not to loiter when stopping for a meal. With a load of thirty or forty pounds' weight upon their backs, the natives scarcely clear two and a half miles an hour; which, though by no means a high-pressure speed, is as much as under the circumstances can reasonably be expected, seeing that a large portion of the line of march lies through forest tracks matted with the slippery roots of trees, patches of undrained swamp, numerous streams of various depths, and over steep and broken headlands. It is good

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economy of time, too, to breakfast before starting in the morning, to stop but for a single meal (at noon) during the day, and to avoid, as much as possible, resting at a native pah. Nothing, however, is gained by pushing on ahead of your native party; on the contrary, they are more likely to loiter behind: in all probability discussing your own folly for being in so great a hurry. You may not improbably take the wrong path, or get so far in advance as to dishearten them; and it will be fortunate for you if you have not to sleep in the open air, without tent or blankets, and to go supperless to bed. After being caught once or twice in such a predicament, especially on a wet, squally night, you will abandon the forward movement, and content yourself by modestly bringing up the rear; satisfied of the wisdom of the bush-man's motto--never to lose sight of the baggage and commissariat.

There are those who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and declare that all is barren. For such, a bush-journey in New Zealand will have neither pleasure nor profit; but not so to an intelligent and observant man. A youthful traveller will do well to note down whatever he may think worthy of remark. The practice will be attended with many advantages: it will serve to impress the facts upon his memory, and give him much useful and ready knowledge of the country; it will enable him to afford precise and accurate information to others who may follow in his track; it will give him a facility of expressing himself in writing; and, in after years,

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his journal, if preserved, will afford him an interesting retrospect of a pleasing episode of his early life.

In the course of his wanderings, the traveller will have an opportunity of seeing the habits and manner of life of a native race, in the various phases of their transition state from barbarism to civilization. He will meet settlers of every degree, from the poor isolated squatter of the interior to the owner of well-cultivated fields and numerous flocks and herds; thus he will be able to obtain a true notion of an early settler's actual life, and to correct the fanciful pictures of the imagination by living illustrations of sober realities.

He will see, too, the Christian missionary engaged in the scene of his labours; and if he should chance to rest at a mission station on the Sunday, he will witness, to a reflecting mind, one of the most striking sights on earth. He may see a powerful aged chief, no long time ago an unmitigated heathen cannibal and savage, forming one of a Sunday-school class; sitting, it may be, next to one of his own slave boys, and meekly receiving the catechising and teaching (not of the European missionary himself, but, more wonderful still) of a native teacher --in age, rank, and station, far inferior to himself.

He will also be able to form an opinion for himself of the value of New Zealand as a field of emigration for his crowded countrymen at home; for day after day he will traverse large and fertile

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plains, here and there relieved by patches of dense forest; and cross rivers, streams, and brooks without number; and he will realize in his own person, the remarkable fact that a country but yesterday the terror of navigators, the scene of war, rapine, and cannibalism, the very by-word of barbarism, may now be traversed throughout its length and breadth in fearless security, by a solitary unarmed traveller.

But a pedestrian journey of several hundred miles cannot, even in summer, be accomplished without some toil and trouble; the traveller must therefore, for a time at least, be content to give up ease, and to live laborious days. Still he will find the journey no more than a pleasant adventure, tending to promote a manly hardihood, and to give new zest to the dull routine of daily life. In the bush, all painful thoughts and carking cares are banished from the mind, and throughout his wanderings, the traveller will be insensibly receiving the bracing and invigorating influences of an open air, out-door life:

he will be breathing the health-inspiring breath of heaven under a clear blue sky, and a genial summer sun; the while enjoying, as he roams along, all the novelty and wild freshness of a gipsy's wandering life; and, better still, he will be brought continually into close communion with Nature's grander aspects.

Pent up within the narrow and narrowing confines of civilized and artificial life, and measuring

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ourselves by ourselves, we are apt to forget our nobler destiny, and to be content with grovelling pleasures, or with the littleness of worldly greatness; but--

or traversing its shores, the greatest is compelled to feel his earthly littleness. When alone and amidst such scenes as these, we are awed by their grandeur, and compelled to feel that in our mere mortal nature man is but a thing of nought, whose time passeth away like a shadow; and humbling indeed would the lesson be, were we not at the same time inspired by the thought, that, compared with the soul of the simplest, the world itself is but as dust in the balance; and that when we mortals shall be but putting on our immortality, this earth and sea will themselves have been burnt up like a scroll, and--

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AUCKLAND AND THE COUNTRY ADJACENT.

NEW ZEALAND ITINERARY.

I. --AUCKLAND TO WELLINGTON. COAST ROAD.

	Miles.	Description of Journey,
AUCKLAND to
Onehunga ..................	6	Open cart road.
Cross Manukau to Orua........	10	Harbour.
Waikato river (boat).........	30	Good beach.
Whangaroa river (boat) ......	35	Open and hilly.
Aotea harbour (boat)..........	18	Woody, open.
Kawhia (boat)................	5	Open.
Tapirimoko..................	25	Wood, beach, cliff.
Mokau......................	25	Good beach at low water.
Waitera (boat) ..............	35	Cliffs, beach at low water.
New Plymouth ......199-----	10	Open cart road.
Mokotuna....................	20	Beach, stones, grass.
Otumatua....................	30	Open, grass, sand.
Waimate ....................	18	Beach at low water, stones.
Patea river (boat) ............	26	Beach, stones, sandhills.
Waitotara....................	16	Tide, beach, sandhills.
Whanganui river M. S. (boat)..	18
Whangaihu river (boat)........	9	Sand, beach.
Turakina river (ford)..........	3	Do. do.
Rangatiki river (ford) ........	17	Do. do.
Manawatu river (ford) ........	13	Do. do.
Otaki river M. S. (ford)........	20	Do. do.
Waikanae M. S...............	10	Do. do.
Porirua......................	24	Sand, wood.
Wellington........238....	14	Wood.
	437

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II. --AUCKLAND TO WELLINGTON, INLAND ROUTE, BY TAUPO.

	Miles.	Description of Journey.
Auckland to
Kaweranga, M.S.............	40	By sea.
Land at Te Rua Kowhawhe....	50	River Thames. (Waiho. )
Matamata....................	21	Plain, swamp.
Te Toa, Patetere..............	26	Plain, rivers.
Rotorua Lake...........	27	20 m. wood, 7 m. open.
Cross Lake to Te Ngae, M.S...	6	Boat.
Tarawera Lake ..............	10	Hill, open, lake.
Rotomahana L. and hot springs	10	8 m. lake, 2 m. plain.
N. end of Taupo Lake ........	34	Hills, plain, deep streams.
S. end of Taupo Lake. Te Rapa	25	Lake, by land 35 m.
Makokomiko on Whanganui river	42	Open, woody, deep ford.
Mouth of Whanganui, M. S.....	150	River, rapids.
Wellington................	110	See No. I.
	551

III. --AUCKLAND TO WELLINGTON, BY EAST COAST.

	Miles.	Description of Journey.
Auckland to
Kaweranga ..................	40	By sea.
Opita. Sacred Creek ........	30	River Thames. (Waiho. )
Katikati ....................	25	Open.
Te Papa. Tauranga, M. S.....	20	Boat, along Tauranga Bay.
Maketu ....................	15	1 m. boat, 1 plain, 13 beach.
Otamarora ..................	19	Deep rivers, beach.
Wakatane....................	14	Hills, beach, deep rivers.
Opotiki, M. S................	20	Beach.
Turanga. Poverty Bay, M. S...	90	Hills, beach, no villages.
Nuhaka......................	33	Hills, wood.
Wairoa river, M. S...........	20	Beach.
Waikare river................	31	Beach, cliffs.
Arapaoanui ..................	15	Steep hills.
Ahuriri, M. S.................	24	Beach, inland water.
Patangata....................	21	Plain, deep river.
Rotoatara Lake ..............	10	Open downs.
Rua Taniwha Plain. ...........	22	Open, grass plain.
Manawatu river ..............	22	Long wood, plains.
Te Rewarewa................	70	Course of Manawatu river.
Mouth of Manawatu ..........	9	Sandhills.
Wellington................	08	See No. I.
	623

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IV. --AUCKLAND TO WELLINGTON, BY WAIKATO AND WAIPA.

	Miles.	Description of Journey.
Auckland to
Mangatiwiri creek on Waikato..	45	Open, wood.
Taupiri, M. S.................	32	Course of Waikato, rapid.
Puehunui ..................	40	Course of Waipa, still.
Otawhao. M. S...............	10	Open, fern.
Rangitoto .......	25	Do. do.
Tutakamoana................	28	Open, hill, plain.
Waihoura on Taupo Lake..	8	Open hills.
Pukawa......................	12	Lake.
Matahanea on Whanganui river	26	15 m. open, 11 m. wood.
Mouth of Whanganui river	150	Course of Whanganui, rap.
Wellington................	110	See No. I.
	486

V. --AUCKLAND TO KAITAIA, BY EAST COAST.

	Miles.	Description of Journey.
AUCKLAND TO
Mahurangi ..................
Whangarei.................
Ngunguru ..................	14	Open hills, beaches.
Whangaruru harbour (Owae)..	35
Waikare river, Bay of Islands..	22	16 m. water, 6 m. land.
Paihia, M. S.................	10	Course of Waikare river.
Te Kerikeri, M. S...........	16	Cross the Bay of Islands.
Whangaroa, M. S.............	25	Open, hills.
Manganui....................	16	4 m. water, 12 m. land.
Taipa river, Oruru............	5	Open.
KAITAIA	17	Open.

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VI. --AUCKLAND TO KAITAIA, BY KAIPARA AND WHANGAROA.

	Miles.	Description of Journey.
AUCKLAND to
Head of Waitemata River....	14	Tideway.
Head of Kaipara River	15	Open, hills.
Mouth of Kaipara river........	40	Tideway of Kaipara river.
Te Otahi, Wesl. M. S.........	80	Tideway of Wairoa river.
Mangungu, Wesl M.S.	70	River, wood.
Mangamuku ................	15	Tideway of Mangamuku riv.
Kaitaia....................	25	14 m. wooded ridge, 11 plain.
	259