1932 - Baker, John H. A Surveyor in New Zealand, 1857-1896 - Chapter XIV. TRIP TO THE SOUNDS, LAKE WAKATIPU AND MT. COOK--THE CLIMBING OF TONGARIRO AND NGAURUHOE, p 287-318

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Chapter XIV.

TRIP TO THE SOUNDS, LAKE WAKATIPU AND MT. COOK--THE CLIMBING OF TONGARIRO AND NGAURUHOE.

1896

The next part of our sightseeing programme was a tour of the Sounds, and we left Christchurch by the express for Dunedin, there to join the steamer that was making the round trip. We spent a day there and then went to Port Chalmers where the Tarawera was lying. On board we met many friends who were also going to the Sounds and we made up a party to sit at table together. Among others were Miss Lysaght, who had taken the Wanganui trip with us, Miss Burnett from Wellington, Mr. Symes of the Melbourne "Age" with his wife and sister-in-law, and Miss Wilde, sister of Oscar Wilde. We were amused to find that the ancient lady we had seen getting off the coach at Blenheim was also on board, having as luggage for her world tour a couple of carpet bags. Later we discovered that in spite of her apparent infirmity she was always the first in the boats when anyone was going ashore, but though she was as great a traveller as had been reported, she was not interesting and would not talk of her wanderings. We came to the conclusion that she was selfish and rather terrible.

We weighed anchor during the evening and had an extremely rough passage down to the Bluff, which we reached next morning. The weather was by this time very bad and the

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Captain decided not to leave that day, so we had a quiet twenty-four hours alongside the jetty. My wife had been horribly ill, and if our friends the Brodricks had come from Invercargill to see us, I am sure she would have gone ashore with them and given up the trip altogether, but luckily for us all, they did not appear.

We departed at dawn, going through Foveaux Strait, which I knew so well, having sailed about them for many days in Tom Cross's cutter when making the trigonometrical survey that connected Stewart Island with the mainland. We arrived at Preservation Inlet before lunch and, after gliding slowly round Long Sound, anchored in Cuttle Cove, where there are numbers of charming little wooded islands. There we remained for two days and leaving early on the third steamed into Dusky Sound, which is finer than Preservation Inlet, with larger and higher islands and bolder peaks.

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We had on board Mr. McKenzie and a party of explorers and we landed them here near to Resolution Island and then continued past Long

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and Cooper Islands to Supper Cove. There we turned and came down the Sound again to the narrow Acheron Passage which divides Resolution Island from the mainland and, passing part of the island, entered Wet Jacket Arm before lunch, anchored there and stayed till the next morning. This is a most lovely inlet, but unfortunately it rained in the afternoon, so we were not able to see it to advantage. Considering that there is a rainfall on this part of the coast of 120 inches in the year, visitors ought not to be surprised if they get wet weather. Of course, it is this extraordinary moisture, combined with a mild climate, that gives the peculiar charm to these fiords; and when a fine day does come it is radiantly beautiful. The vegetation is rank--huge forest trees covered with every sort of parasite, with wreaths of mosses hanging from their branches, gigantic tree ferns and innumerable varieties of other ferns. On every leaf and frond are sparkling drops of water, and down the mountain sides fall endless cascades, big and little.

Sailing at day-break next morning, we passed out to sea by the Acheron Passage and Break-sea Sound, and followed along the coast to Doubtful Sound, where we arrived just before breakfast, and then continuing northward reached George Sound about lunch time. It was there that the last trace of the West Coast Maoris was found. They had been driven ruthlessly to the mountains during the eighteenth century and though it was said that the smoke of their fires was seen as late as 1872, I don't know that this was ever confirmed.

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In the afternoon we went a short distance in the launch, and landing, climbed up to a waterfall and on to a lake above. This is perhaps the most lovely of the sounds, though quite different from Milford, which is far grander.

We slid out of George Sound as soon as it was light the following day and soon gained Milford Sound, perhaps the most magnificent fiord in the world. It was raining and blowing furiously as we made our way up past the Stirling Falls, which have a clear drop of 500 feet into the sea. Cascades were pouring down the hillsides everywhere and often the violence of the wind drove the water away in clouds of spray before it ever touched the sea. The mountains rise straight from the water, and in some places their sides of ice-carved granite soar up, almost perpendicularly, for 5,000 feet--nearly a mile in vertical height. The snow-capped Mitre Peak looked immensely grand as we approached the head of the sound and when we came to the Bowen Falls the sight was magnificent, as there was a tremendous volume of water rushing over. These falls leap some fifty feet into a rocky basin, then shoot up into the air and plunge 300 feet into the sea. Forest trees, mostly totaras, grew wherever it was possible to find roothold, and ferns and shrubs seemed to cling to the very face of the precipice, while the scarlet rata blossoms made gorgeous patches of colour against the dark evergreens.

It rained nearly all day, and as there was a flood in the river, the Captain said it would be impossible for us to get to the Sutherland Falls (the highest falls in the world), which so many of us wanted to see. This was a great dis-

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appointment, but in the evening the rain ceased and the moon shone, and I shall never forget the exquisite beauty of the Bowen Falls by moonlight; it was a compensation for almost any disappointment.

We had time next morning to go in the launch up the Arthur River and to walk on to Lake Ada, which we did not especially care for. I think we all felt that it was terribly tantalizing to get so near the Sutherland Falls, which are only seven miles beyond the lake, and then not be able to see them. As, however, the Captain had said he could not wait beyond 3 p.m., it was impossible to attempt the expedition. We lunched on shore, and then put off to the Tarawera and before long she was steaming out of Milford Sound. Notwithstanding that we had been unfortunate in having so much wet weather, we had all enjoyed our trip thoroughly.

Next morning we found ourselves back at the Bluff, where we landed and took the train to Invercargill for our last visit to the old place before leaving New Zealand. We stayed with the Brodricks, and in the afternoon I went to the Survey Office, and we called upon several of our friends, including my old landlady, Mrs. Cochrane, with whom I had lodged for so many years and who was delighted to see me and my now nearly grown-up daughter. Early the following day, my daughter and I climbed the new water-tower as far as the gallery, which is 90 feet from the ground and from which a fine view of the whole town is obtainable. I could not but contrast it with the primitive little place it had been when I first saw it in 1862. It had increased and spread in all directions, tramways

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were running along the two main roads, the ramshackle wooden shops and offices had nearly all disappeared and there were fine brick and stone structures in every street, though of course the private houses were still built of wood. Handsome new Government Buildings had taken the place of the old Land and Survey Department that I had ruled over, and everywhere there was growth and improvement visible.

We left that morning by train for Gore, where once there was nothing but a tussock plain before I laid out a township there. Now it is a fair-sized country town and the centre of business for the surrounding district. There we changed into the train that was going over the Waimea Plains, came to Lumsden and finally Kingston at the foot of Lake Wakatipu, which was the next item on our sightseeing programme. The Lake steamer was waiting and we were soon on board and moving swiftly over the clear blue water towards Queenstown, which we reached at about half past nine that night. By the evening light we had a fine view of the rugged Remarkable Mountains. We stayed at Eichardt's Hotel, built on the site of a Woolshed belonging to Mr. Rees, who in 1862 occupied as a sheep station the land where Queenstown now stands. Shortly afterwards, gold was discovered in this district and in place of his homestead, which had a beautiful position on the Lake, a township sprang up that is now the resort of tourists in the summer, and invalids in the winter season.

Our first day there was Sunday and we drove across the Shotover bridge to Skippers and by

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a long winding track to the top of a saddle, said then to be the highest in New Zealand, over which a driving road had been made. On the other side, it zigzagged in and out between rocks, spanned gullies and in places was cut out of the solid cliff hundreds of feet above the river. I have never seen anything that looked so perilous, but both horses and driver were accustomed to the route and no doubt it was not nearly as dangerous as it appeared.

On Monday we proceeded by steamer to the head of the Lake, but as the day was wet we did not have the gorgeous views of snow-covered mountains that generally make this trip such a delight. We stayed at Birley's Hotel, Glenorchy, and as we had been joined by some of our fellow passengers from the West Coast tour, we were a large and cheerful party, which included our friend Miss Lysaght.

Setting out early on Wednesday morning and taking two extra horses, we drove to the Dart Valley, left the trap at a point opposite the Routeburn River, and then, mounting the horses, crossed the Dart and followed up the Routeburn as far as the Government camping hut, which we reached at about 11 o'clock. It was a beautiful day and we immensely enjoyed our ride through the gorge, where the scenery was extremely fine. The path wound up and up above the river; and between the trees we had wonderful views of huge mountain peaks towering over us, and saw a most lovely waterfall that springs from a gap in a high cliff, falls 700 feet, and disappears apparently into the ground. We had our lunch and directly afterwards began the climb to Lake Harris and the

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Saddle beyond. It was a pretty stiff ascent, but the view from the pass was superb. With another of the party I tried to climb to the top of one of the peaks, but a fog came on and we were obliged to turn without having accomplished our purpose. After regaining the hut we had tea and then rode down to the place where we had left the trap, but it was dusk before the horses were harnessed and we had a very rough drive back to Glenorchy in the dark and did not get in till 11 p.m.

On Thursday we rode up the Rees Valley to the Lennox falls and then on for another two miles to a spot where a branch of the Rees comes out of the ground, not as a tiny spring, but as a fair sized stream. An immense slip from the mountain must have filled up the whole valley at some time and now trees are growing all over it. From here we had a most splendid view of Mt. Earnslaw, with its snow cap and its steep rocky slopes. We then turned and rode back to our hotel, having covered about forty-two miles during the day. I need not say that my wife did not come with us on these long expeditions. She and one of the ladies of the party walked that afternoon to the Valpy gold washing claim, near Glenorchy, and while they were watching operations the men found the biggest nugget they had ever discovered.

On Saturday we returned to Queenstown and on Monday left for Dunedin and after a day there we went by the northern express as far as Timaru en route for Mt. Cook. Neither my wife nor daughter had ever seen it, except its summit, which is visible from the Canterbury Plains, and this was to be my last trip there

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before leaving the Colony. In the morning I walked down to see the Timaru breakwater. The shingle had accumulated enormously on the south side and would, I was afraid, be a serious drawback to its future utility.

We left by the afternoon train for Fairlie Creek and met in the train Mr. and Mrs. Seddon (no relation to the Prime Minister) who lived at Ashwick Station, which had formerly belonged to my wife's brother, Alex Strachey, and had been named after their old home. I had met Mr. Seddon before, but not Mrs. Seddon, and my wife did not know either of them. They insisted, however, that we should spend the night with them rather than at the hotel and were more than kind and hospitable. Next morning Mr. Seddon drove us to meet the coach on which we had engaged the box seats. The road took us over Burke's Pass, which was of great interest to my wife, as she had heard so much of it before she ever came to New Zealand and had been there so often during the short time she stayed in that neighbourhood when she came out to visit her brother. He had helped to build the tiny church there and she had sent the altar furnishings out from England and had given the font.

At Lake Tekapo we lunched and then proceeded to Lake Pukaki, where we stayed the night. Next day we had splendid views of Mt. Cook all the way to the Hermitage Accommodation House, and, thanks to the charm of the journey, my wife was not overtired with the two days' coaching. The only other visitor staying there was a Mr. Hannen, son of Lord Hannen, the great divorce Judge, and we

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naturally got into conversation with him, and in the most casual manner began a friendship that has lasted from that day to this. The following morning, the weather being suitable, my daughter and I determined to go to the Ball Hut which had just been erected by the Government on the north side of the mountain some miles up the Tasman Glacier. We obtained riding horses and a pack horse and, leaving the Hermitage about eleven o'clock, forded the Hooker River above its junction with the Tasman and then, after riding for a time along the left-hand bank of the latter, had lunch near the terminal face of the glacier. Here we luckily hit off the new track over the moraine on which the travelling was pretty good except in one or two places where slips had partially covered the path. We sighted the hut at about 5 o'clock and were greeted by shrieking keas, which flew round to inspect us. They are incredibly inquisitive and not the least afraid of human beings and directly we stood still they came up to us and pecked at our boots or at the ends of our riding whips. Later we were joined by Mr. Hannen, Mr. Inglis and Mr. Marshall, who had followed us up from the Hermitage. We all wrote our names in a little notebook we found in the hut, and I think there were only some half dozen in front of ours and that my daughter's was the first woman's name to be entered.

The keas woke us at dawn by glissading down the tin roof. This is a favourite amusement of theirs which they will continue for hours, and sleep is impossible when once they have begun that game. We had an early breakfast and Mr.

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Hannen and his party put on their swags, as they were bound for the Mt. de la Beche bivouac. We all set off together and soon got up to the Ball Glacier moraine, passed over it, and reached the Hochstetter Glacier at a narrow point which we crossed and then, having negotiated the dividing moraine, emerged on the clear ice of the Tasman Glacier, which is perhaps one of the most wonderful ice rivers in the world. It is eighteen miles long, and the largest in New Zealand. Here we parted from Mr. Hannen and the other two, who went up the Tasman to climb the Hochstetter Dome, while my daughter and I turned back, going close under the Hochstetter ice fall, a most lovely one with thousands of ice pinnacles glittering in the sunlight. Noeline, who had never been on a glacier before, was enchanted with it. We came straight down the Hochstetter Glacier so that she should have a little experience of the ice, and then, scrambling up the moraine, regained the hut and were very glad to have our lunch. We then caught our horses and commenced the return journey, getting to the Hooker River just at dusk. I saw that the river was considerably higher than it was when we forded it before, this being due to the fact that the day had been hot and much snow had melted. I took my horse through but, finding the water pretty deep, called to my daughter to dismount and drive her horse in and then go to the wire rope further up the river. I followed on my side, and, re-crossing in the cage suspended from the wire rope, brought her over. It was quite dark by the time we mounted our horses again but we were

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soon at the Hermitage and thankful for our supper and beds, for we had had a long though very delightful day.

I was up very early on the morrow, as I intended to try to climb the Barron Saddle near the top of the Mueller Glacier. I set off at 6 a.m. with Adamson, the Mt. Cook guide, for Kea Point, and began to traverse the Mueller, but about the middle he became lame and said he must turn back, so as I was determined not to have my trip spoilt, I elected to continue it by myself. After getting across the Mueller, I went up the glacier on some clear ice, then had a bad bit of moraine past the waterfall, but by hugging the right side, close to the mountain, I soon gained a snow slope on which I kept nearly to the head of the glacier. There were only a few big crevasses that I had to go round; the rest I could jump or step over. Eventually I arrived at the foot of the Barron Saddle and struggled to the top (6,672 feet) exactly at noon, after a six hours' tramp, having hardly made a halt since I left the guide. I had a good spell and drank a bottle of claret which I had brought with my lunch, leaving in the empty bottle a note of the date of my visit. The view from the Saddle was most imposing. One sees the whole of the Moorhouse Range and Mt. Sefton, with its overhanging glaciers and walls of perpendicular rock. Every now and then one hears the crash of an avalanche echoing like thunder in the distance, and can trace the rush of falling ice down the side of the mountain. I sat and looked at this magnificent scene until I was quite rested, and then started on my way back to the Hermitage, which

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I reached safely about 6.30, the only difficulty in the journey being the jumping across the crevasses. Mr. Huddleston, the manager of the Hermitage, made a note of my trip, as it was a record, having been done only once before in a day by two men, never by one alone. It was considered to be a two days' expedition. The hanging glaciers at the head of the Mueller are very fine, and I felt I had had a splendid day to mark this, my last of many visits to Mt. Cook. As a matter of fact, it was not really to be my last visit, since twenty-five years later I spent five days there with my daughter, and though I could not climb again to the Barron Saddle, I managed to go once more to the Ball Hut and to the hut some eight miles up the Hooker Glacier.

Mr., now Sir Joseph, Kinsey, with his daughter and an Italian gentleman, Signor Guiseppe Barszilino, drove up by the evening coach. The Italian had brought with him from Europe Zurbriggen, the well-known Swiss alpine guide, and Mr. Kinsey had brought a young New Zealand guide called Clarke. Next afternoon, Miss Kinsey, my wife, my daughter and I took our tea to Kea Point. Mr. Kinsey, Signor Guiseppe and the two guides, who had been out on the Mueller Glacier, joined us there and we had a jolly picnic and were all photographed by Mr. Kinsey. This photo I still possess, and we look the most complete set of ruffians that it is possible to imagine. Clarke pointed out the Empress and the Noeline Glaciers near the head of the Hooker, the latter having been named after my daughter. My wife was rather tired, but enjoyed our walk back to

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the Hermitage and the sunset on Mt. Cook, the last we should see.

We left by the morning coach, all very sorry to say goodbye to the Hermitage, where the weather had favoured us so royally. Mr. Hannen travelled with us and we lunched at the Glentanner Station, reaching the Pukaki Hotel about six in the evening. As my holiday was up, I had to continue my journey that night and as soon as I had had a meal I set forth on horseback for a midnight ride over the Mackenzie Plains. I had intended to rest at the Tekapo Hotel, but, finding it shut up, had to ride on to the Burke's Pass Hotel, where I arrived about half-past one. There I lay down for some four hours and was in the saddle again by 6 a.m. The horse lost a shoe shortly after leaving Tekapo and it was very wearisome riding to get him along on three legs. At Three Springs I had breakfast with my old friend, Mr. John Raine, who was staying there, and I got to Fairlie in good time for the morning train, Raine riding thus far with me. At Timaru I caught the express for Christchurch and slept soundly that night at the Club.

Next day I went out to Fendalton to see our house, which had been let, leaving by the midday train for Lyttelton to catch the steamer. As this was only a coal boat, I had a slow and very uncomfortable passage and it was late in the afternoon on the following day before we steamed into Wellington Harbour. My wife and daughter stayed with friends in Canterbury and did not get home for nearly a month.

I was soon in harness again and was kept pretty busy for a time at my office and at Land Board meetings.

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Towards the middle of April I had to go to Tokaanu to meet the Surveyor-General, Mr. Percy Smith, and have a conclave with the Maoris, as the Government wanted to buy back some of the Native Reserve and lay out a township.

At Tokaanu I found the Surveyor-General, and also our Mt. Cook friend, Mr. Hannen, who was now touring the North Island. A large concourse of Maoris had assembled, parties having come from the other side of Taupo from Lake Roto Aira and from Urewera, though these latter tribes had little or nothing to do with the matter in hand. In the morning we walked over the site suggested for the township, but as the afternoon was wet we sat and chatted with the Urewera natives and Mr. Smith persuaded them to sing some of their tribal songs to us. In the evening we went to a ball given by the Maoris and the girls performed a mild haka for our entertainment. Then they continued danc-

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ing polkas, waltzes and lancers, and did it wonderfully well and very quietly. After a time I slipped out and had a bath in one of the numerous hot springs before going to bed.

The next day being Sunday, nothing especial was done, but on Monday morning the first big meeting was held, in which the various tribes took part. It began with a series of hakas, the Tokaanu and Taupo natives dancing first and then those from Roto Aira and Urewera each trying to go one better than the others. It was a thrilling spectacle, the men stark naked, except for their waist mats, and the women or wahines, wearing the usual Maori cloaks of grass or feathers and keeping splendid time for the dancers with their hands and feet. The yells were blood-curdling and the grimaces extraordinary, eyes rolling and tongues hanging out; and at times one could almost feel the earth shaking under the stamping feet. I forget which tribe we considered the best. After the dances were over they combined and sang a song of welcome. In the afternoon the Tokaanu natives executed another haka and then the speechifying commenced, but nothing was settled definitely. Next morning we tried to get the Tokaanu people to decide about the township, but could not persuade them to attend to business; and as it is utterly useless to attempt to hurry the Maoris, we determined to put off further discussion till the following Saturday and to occupy the time in the meanwhile in climbing Tongariro and Ngauruhoe with Mr. Hannen.

We procured horses and a pack horse to carry the tents and camping equipment and set off in

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the afternoon, but the first night only reached the native kainga at Otukou. As it was then quite dark we asked the Maoris if we could stay there, and they gave us the use of their large meeting house, supplied us with hot water for our tea and hot potatoes and gave us plenty of mats to sleep on, so we had a fairly comfortable night. Departing about eight in the morning, we rode past the native settlement at Papakaio and on as far as we could take the horses and them left them on a flat a little below the Ketetahi springs and fumaroles, which are at an elevation of 4,800 feet above sea level, and were steaming furiously. About half past ten we commenced the ascent of Tongariro and as we mounted we saw Lakes Roto Aira and Taupo spread out below us with the splendid stretch of bush covered hills that lie between them. Unfortunately the clouds now began to roll up and the top of the mountain was veiled in mist and when we gained the edge of the north crater (6,100 ft.) at 11.45, we were enveloped in a dense fog. However, Mr. Hannen and I walked round the lip of the north crater and, crossing the western one, climbed up through the snow to the highest point of Tongariro where the trigonometrical station is situated (6,458 ft.), but the red or active crater was quite invisible though it was just below us. It was intensely cold and soon snow began to fall and we could not see more than 20 feet ahead, but with considerable difficulty we managed to retrace our steps and, traversing the west crater again, scrambled once more up the north cone, from which, through a rift in the clouds, we could see the

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Blue Lake lying to the east of us. This is a little sheet of water which now fills an extinct crater and is the most wonderfully vivid blue. Then, dropping into the cup, we found Mr. Percy Smith and the men--and very irate men they were, for while we had kept tolerably warm climbing, they, who had been standing still waiting for us, had been almost frozen to death. We had been gone about an hour and a half and they had not dared to go away and leave us, and when they had eaten all the food they decently could, there was nothing to be done but stamp and curse. Hurriedly we swallowed the food that had been left for us, crossed the crater where the snow was half up to our knees, passed over the lip, and began the descent. On the way down we had a good view of the Te Mari blow-hole, which was throwing up a big column of steam; and keeping south of the Ketetahi Springs, we came to our horses about half past three in the afternoon. We were very tired after our strenuous exertions, but we mounted and rode back to our Otukou quarters, where we were thankful to arrive about 5.30. We had dinner and a smoke and were soon rolled up in our blankets, sleeping as men can sleep after a long, hard day in the open.

Next morning Mr. Smith decided to return himself to Tokaanu, so Mr. Hannen and I, with the two men, packed up and moved on about ten miles to the Mangatipopo Stream and pitched our camp near a small patch of bush there. After lunch we walked out to inspect our route for the ascent of Ngauruhoe next day. It was a fine clear afternoon and we could even see Mt. Egmont miles and miles away, so with

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the aid of glasses we had not much trouble in picking out the line that seemed to offer the fewest obstacles. Going back to our camp, where the men had made us comfortable fern beds, we had our supper and turned in betimes, as we were going to make an early start in the morning. We got up at daylight, had our breakfast, and were on our horses before 7 a.m., getting to the foot of Ngauruhoe, where we left them, about nine o'clock. We had a terribly rough scramble over the loose scoria, slipping back a foot for every two that we progressed, and our boots were almost cut to pieces. About 500 feet above the saddle between Tongariro and Ngauruhoe the really stiff climbing began, and but for the fact that there had been a fall of snow, I hardly think we could have made the ascent, as the scoria gave us no foothold, but by taking advantage of the snowdrifts the going was not too impossible, and Mr. Hannen and one of the men arrived at the edge of the crater just before noon. About half an hour later I reached the top of a smaller one somewhat higher than they were and, proceeding round the west and south sides of the main crater, always keeping a little below the outside rim to escape the sulphurous fumes which were pouring forth, came to the point where the trigonometrical station is situated, 7,515 feet above sea level. Mr. Hannen joined me there, having passed round the other way. The snow was pretty deep and it was very cold, also clouds came up and spoiled the magnificent panorama we had had till then of Tongariro, Ruapehu and the surrounding country, with the small lake of Ngapuna-a-Tama lying far below.

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The peep into the mouth of the volcano, now of course only smouldering, was very impressive. The top of the mountain was one huge extinct crater. Inside it were two smaller ones with a narrow ridge of ground between them. That to the north-west was extinct, its bottom and sides being covered with snow, and only at a few places there were small steam jets visible. The other, to the south, was active. It consisted of a hole with perpendicular sides like a huge well, and there was no difficulty in getting to the very brink. The best point, however, from which to look into it, was from the top of a tiny extinct crater on its edge. Standing on this we could look sheer down into the steaming gulf from which columns of smoke, and even some stones, were being thrown up. Needless to say, we were on the windward side. Mr. Hannen threw a large stone into the pit and it took nine seconds to touch bottom. Ngauruhoe is often in violent eruption and we noticed the last lava stream on the east slope of the mountain and others to the right and left of it.

After eating our lunch we turned to descend, and I stopped in one place to get some specimens from a flow of sulphur which streams over the edge and down the mountain when any large eruption takes place. We had a fine run through the loose scoria to the saddle and from there followed the bed of a creek to the Soda Spring, which comes bubbling out of the earth. If it was not so far from civilization, it would certainly be utilized and probably would be of considerable commercial value. Then, continuing along the creek and crossing the tail end

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of the scoria, we reached the horses and got back to camp late in the afternoon. We had taken a totally different route from that used by the surveyors and others who had climbed the mountain before us, and as far as I know, we were the first to tackle it from that side.

We were up again at daylight, packed and started back to Tokaanu, but at Otukou we turned off the main road and took a Maori track along the western shore of Lake Roto Aira and across the Pihanga Hill by a low saddle. This was supposed to be a short cut, but the track through the bush was very steep and rough, and in places so deep and narrow that we rubbed the sides of our legs against the banks, so I do not think we saved any time by going that way.

In the afternoon Mr. Percy Smith and I had another interview with the Tokaanu natives and finally arranged that certain reserves that they wanted in the township site should be kept for them. After that we attended a football match and saw some excellent play, which showed what fine athletes the Maoris are.

Next day, Sunday, we had a last interview with the native Chief and with Mr. Biggs, the surveyor who was to carry out the survey of the township, and, our business being over, I packed up so as to be ready for the coach which left early in the morning. Here I said goodbye to Mr. Hannen and we both expressed a hope that we might meet again in England, and then, with other passengers, I departed in a downpour of rain for Waiouru, and so to Wellington.

My next trip was to Auckland, to inspect the office there, and then to go with Mr. Mueller,

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the Chief Land Commissioner, to visit Hokianga and Whangaroa, neither of which places I had seen before. One afternoon I went with Mr. Mueller to see Lake Takapuna, pretty and very strange and interesting, for though it is within two hundred yards of the sea, its waters are quite fresh, and, more curious still, it has no visible inlet or outlet and is of enormous depth, evidently filling the crater of an extinct volcano.

We left Onehunga Harbour at 3 p.m. the next day, crossed the Hokianga Bar about nine o'clock the following morning, and, passing Omapere, steamed on to Opononi, where we landed and went up to Mr. Webster's place. He kindly showed us over his house and we saw his paintings of the South Sea Islands, taken 50 years before when he visited them in his yacht, the Wanderer. He also showed us many curiosities he had collected in his numerous cruises among the islands, and took us through his orange grove. He was at Hokianga at the time of Heke's war at the Bay of Islands and he was a great friend of Judge Maning, the author of that charming book "Old New Zealand by a Pakeha Maori," the best description of the Maoris ever written.

Later in the day we saw from the deck of the steamer Kuohi, the house where Maning had lived, then passing through the Narrows, we reached Rawene, or Hokianga, where we stayed the night.

Next morning we went in a steam launch up the Mangamuka branch of the harbour, through the Narrows described by Mr. W. Reeves as the most beautiful piece of river scenery in New Zealand. It is certainly very pretty, but in my

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opinion not equal in grandeur to the Wanganui River. We went as far as the bridge and then returned to the hotel for lunch, having thoroughly enjoyed our morning trip up and down these beautiful Narrows. In the afternoon we went up the Taheka River to the head of the navigation in the harbour, where Mr. Patterson, known as "the Gum King," had an hotel. By arrangement he met us there with his express waggon and drove us on to Kaikohe where he himself lived. He entertained us royally, showed us his gum stores and gave me some fine specimens of kauri gum.

Leaving in the morning, we drove to Ohaeawai and went into the church built on the site of the old Maori pa where so many English soldiers were killed in 1845 during an attack on the pa by Colonel Despard with soldiers of the 58th and 96th Regiments.

After leaving Ohaeawai, we drove past Mr. H. Williams' place, called Pakaraka, and over some low hills to Kawakawa, the Bay of Islands coal mine. We lunched there and went by the railway to Opua, where the coal is shipped and then on, in the steam launch kept there, to Russell, the oldest town in New Zealand. It was a quiet sleepy little place stretching along the strip of beach at the foot of the hills and it has considerable old world charm and great historical interest for the New Zealander. The Bay of Islands was visited by Captain Cook on November 27th, 1769, and it was he who gave it its name. There the first mission station was founded by Samuel Marsden in 1814, there also the treaty of Waitangi, the first treaty with the Maoris, was signed in 1840, and in 1841 Russell

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became the seat of the first Government. The harbour is extraordinarily beautiful, its surface dotted with innumerable islands, and its shore line broken by countless bays and headlands. At this time there was little cultivation and the surrounding hills were mostly in their wild natural state. A more perfect paradise for the yachtsman or the fisherman could hardly be imagined, for all kinds of fish abound and many days might be spent exploring the inlets and coves.

On the following afternoon, we left in the coastal steamer, the Clansman, for Whangaroa, and at daylight were on the landward side of Stephenson Island and steaming towards what looked like a solid wall of cliffs. After a little while, an opening appeared and through this our boat passed into one of the most lovely harbours in New Zealand. On either side are high rugged cliffs of the strangest and most fantastic shapes, and there are twelve remarkable looking hills, called the Twelve Apostles. It was in this harbour that the massacre of the crew of the ship Boyd took place in the year 1809. A full description of it is given in Brett's "Early New Zealand." Shortly stated, the story is as follows. The ship came over to New Zealand laden with Australian red gum spars, the captain intending to complete the cargo with kauri spars, at that time in great demand for the masts of ships. On board was a young Maori boy, son of a chief, and for some misdemeanour the captain had ordered him to be flogged during the voyage. The Boyd put into Whangaroa Harbour, which happened to be the home of the Maori

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boy's tribe; he landed and told of his treatment, and it was resolved that he should be avenged. Then the captain and part of the crew were invited on shore to look at kauri trees in the forest, where a party of natives were concealed who attacked and murdered them all. In the dusk of the evening some of the natives dressed themselves in the sailors' clothes and went off in the captain's boat to the ship. The mate, thinking it was the captain and the sailors returning, allowed them to hook on, and the Maoris then sprang on board and murdered the rest of the crew, but spared the lives of a woman and two children who were passengers. These were rescued later. While looting the vessel next day, a Maori who was smoking dropped a spark into the powder magazine which blew up, killing several of the natives and setting fire to the ship, which burned down to the water's edge, drifted up the harbour, and sank. The settlers who came there years afterwards were able at low tide to get out some of the Australian spars, and a piece of one was given to Mr. Mueller, the Auckland Commissioner, who was with me. He took it back to Auckland and had it turned into a stick which he gave me, and which I use to this day--one hundred and fifteen years after the massacre of the Boyd.

Steaming out of Whangaroa, we proceeded along the coast and passed through Doubtless Bay into the small harbour of Mangonui, one of the safest in the island.

Two days later I reached Auckland and from there returned to Wellington, having had a delightful trip to a most fascinating part of New Zealand.

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In August I had to visit Christchurch to arrange about the sale of Chilcomb, and on the steamer, to my great surprise, I met my friend Mr. Hannen, who was then supposed to be on his way to England. He had come back to New Zealand to marry Miss Mabel Gould, of Christchurch, whom he had met in Fiji. Next day being Sunday I went to the Cathedral, and heard Bishop Julius preach a sermon on the death of Mr. FitzGerald, who had been Superintendent of Canterbury when I landed thirty-nine years before. I also paid a short visit to Horsley Downs to say good-bye to my old friend Jim Lance, for as we were leaving New Zealand so soon I felt I was not likely to meet him again. On my return to Wellington I went up to Mangaweka to hold my last land sale, and then on October 6th there was the last meeting of the Land Board, and the farewell to its members.

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Mr. Mackenzie, the Minister of Lands, and Mr. Percy Smith, the Surveyor-General, both wrote and expressed their regret at the loss of my services, and I was granted three months' leave of absence and the usual compensation given to officers retiring from the Colonial Service. The Wellington School Board and the Wanganui Harbour Board also sent letters of thanks, the former for the valuable reserves to which they were entitled, and which I had selected for them, bringing the total up to 28,500 acres. The Wellington papers, too, gave a flattering account of my colonial career. After this came days of packing and forwarding direct to England such of our possessions as we did not want to take with us on our travels.

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I had to pay yet another visit to Christchurch to attend the auction sale of my property, and to say good-bye to the many friends I had made there, Mr. Noel Brodrick, one of the oldest of my Invercargill friends, coming to Lyttelton to see me off. In Wellington I had a last hectic week, packing, sorting, and arranging papers at the office, and working there up to one in the morning. I called to say good-bye to the Minister of Lands, and the next day there was a gathering of the officers of my department, fifty-eight of whom presented me with an illuminated address and a gold watch inscribed with my name and official title "as a tangible expression of their recognition of able services rendered to the State." Looking back I think I may be permitted to hope that since my arrival in New Zealand in 1857 as a half educated boy of fifteen I had done with credit my small part towards the colonization of the country.

Two days later I handed over my keys and left Wellington for New Plymouth, where I joined my wife and daughter. We did not actually leave the country for a month after this, and we spent the greater part of that time at Rotorua, since my wife had not seen any of the wonderful sights of the Thermal region, and my daughter had been ordered a course of baths for rheumatism.

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At last on November 23rd, 1896, we found ourselves on board the steamer bound for Sydney, setting out for a tour of the world. We sailed from Auckland at five o'clock on a lovely spring evening, and on the wharf, to wave us farewell, were my friend Mr. Mueller, with whom I had taken so many pleasant trips, and Mrs. Field, a daughter of my oldest friends, the Brodricks, of Invercargill. We were all sad to think that this was really good-bye to New Zealand, and we lingered on deck till it was no longer possible to see even the dim outline of its coast.