Picturesque Dunedin/Walks and Drives
WALKS AND DRIVES.
(The following poem, by Thomas Bracken, descriptive of a scene which no visitor to Dunedin should omit to view, is inserted here as a fitting introduction to the more prosaic description of Dunedin's picturesque surroundings).
DUNEDIN FROM THE BAY.
Go, trav'ler, unto others boast
Of Venice and of Rome;
Of saintly Mark's majestic pile,
And Peter's lofty dome;
Of Naples and her trellised bowers;
Of Rhineland far away:—
These may be grand, but give to me
Dunedin from the Bay.
A lovely maiden seated in
A grotto by the shore;
With richest crown of purest green
That virgin ever wore;
Her snowy breast bedecked with flowers
And clustering ferns so gay,—
Go, picture this, and then you have
Dunedin from the Bay.
A fairy, round whose brilliant throne
Great towering giants stand,
As if impatient to obey
The dictates of her wand;
Their helmets hidden in the clouds,
Their sandals in the spray—
Go, picture this, and then you have
Dunedin from the Bay.
A priestess of the olden time
(Ere purer rites had birth)
On Nature's altar offering up
The homage of the earth;
Surrounded by grim Druids, robed
In mantles green and grey—
Go, picture this, and then you have
Dunedin from the Bay.
Can I forget that hour,
As standing on the vessel's deck
I watched the golden shower
Of yellow beams, that darted
From the sinking king of day,
And bathéd in a mellow flood
Dunedin from the Bay.
I.—THE QUEEN'S DRIVE.
Although the civic rulers of Dunedin have not, as yet, done much to enhance the beauties of their city, they have earned the thanks of many an inhabitant and visitor, as they will continue to do so long as the city exists, by affording facilities for admiring the natural beauties with which it is so richly endowed by Nature. The wise forethought of the founders of the settlement in reserving a wide belt round the city as a public park has been supplemented by that of the City Council in forming a road throughout its entire length. This road, which was constructed during the mayoralty of Mr. H. J. Walter, and is known as the Queen's Drive, winds along the face of the hills above the town and from this vantage ground many of the finest views of Dunedin are obtained. As the stranger first strolls or drives leisurely along its meandering course new beauties are continually displayed. There is a sameness in the prospect, and yet it is never the same. The town is always seen nestling below, with the lake-like harbour and the sunny slopes of the Peninsula beyond; but each point of view presents these features in some new aspect. The character of the Belt itself is also varied, for while at the north end the road winds through shady groves of native bush, at the south end it leads along the grassy heights, so that the Queen's Drive may lay claim to many and diverse beauties.
II.—THE ROSS CREEK RESERVOIR.
This favourite resort lies to the northward of the town, being situated on a tributary stream to the Water of Leith. The approaches have lost much of the beauty they once possessed in the days gone by, when the valley of the Leith was filled with a forest of dense bush containing many a noble pine and stately tree which have long since disappeared to supply the inhabitants of Dunedin with building material or fuel, and the picturesque outline of the hills alone remains unchanged. Still, when Messrs. Fergusson and Mitchell's paper mill is passed, the visitor to the locality finds himself in a secluded glen which might be miles from "the busy haunts of men." A wide, well-made footpath (beneath which lie the water-pipes for the supply of the city), raised above the creek bed by a retaining wall, leads up this sequestered gully, whose steep sides are clothed with native bush, still the home of many a luxuriant fern, while the streamlet in its stony bed below murmurs on its downward way. Emerging from the narrow glen, which widens suddenly at the site of the reservoir, the visitor finds a pretty little sheet of water spread before him, and though here also the woodman's axe has been at work and denuded the surrounding slopes of their covering of bush, there is compensation in the fact that the sides of Flagstaff and other neighbouring hills are more exposed to view. If a longer walk be desired it can be obtained with much pleasing variety of scene by proceeding along the side of the reservoir, and after passing the head of the smaller upper basin a road is reached, and from this point the visitor may regain the Leith Valley by a longer way than that by which he came, or he may make his way home by crossing the upper end of the Kaikorai Valley and reaching town by way of the pleasant township of Maori Hill.
III.—FLAGSTAFF.
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SCENE IN THE LEITH VALLEY, ON THE ROAD TO RESERVOIR.
obtained. There are two routes by which this can be accomplished; one by way of the Halfway Bush up the south-eastern spur over the open ground, and the other by a steep path through the bush from Ross Creek, which leads on to the open land on the north-eastern shoulder, whence the top is most easily reached by making a detour to the northward. To anyone unacquainted with the country who desires to go one way and return by the other, the ascent by the Ross Creek track is recommended, as the way down by the other route is easily found, but it is not so easy to discover the opening of the bush track; indeed, persons who have ascended by that path and who were not blessed with what is known as a "good bump of locality," have often failed to find the track again, and have in despair taken to the bush and made the descent at the expense of great exertion and torn clothes in scrambling downwards through the thick undergrowth, a process not unattended by personal danger. Choosing then the route by Ross Creek, and leaving roads and habitations below, the climber enters the bush a little way beyond the furthest dwelling. The ascent is steep, and after rainy weather somewhat muddy and trampled into holes by the cattle, but a stick to assist in the climb is easily procurable, and there is much to please and attract the eye in the bush vegetation, which may afford an excuse for frequent stoppages to admire these beauties of nature more closely. Shortly after entering the bush, by turning aside to the left a few yards, a glimpse may be had of a pretty little waterfall, pretty in itself, but which derives its main beauty from its surroundings, for the little stream comes tumbling down the mountain side overshadowed by embowering trees, whilst ferns of innumerable form and shade deck the banks with a mantle of green. It is a temptation to linger in such a spot, but the goal is afar. Returning to the track and climbing steadily upwards, only stopping now and again ostensibly to admire some fairy moss, lovely fern, or other sylvan beauty, but possibly really to gain a few minutes breathing space, the climber at length emerges on the open land beyond. After a short rest on some grassy knoll the upward way is resumed, and keeping well to the right and circling round the hill top to avoid encountering some rough stony ground, the summit is reached by an easy climb. A glorious prospect over hill, dale, and ocean is the reward. To the northward the prospect is limited by Swampy Hill and Mount Cargill, but turning to the eastward an extensive view is obtained of the lower lying hills about Dunedin and over the Otago Peninsula, with the wide Pacific stretching away beyond. Turning further round, the Green Island uplands, the Chain Hills, and those of Otakia district meet the eye, with glimpses of the lowlands between, while the dark wood-crowned summit of Saddle Hill stands out conspicuously against the sea and sky beyond. Away in the south may be seen the distant coast-line and the hazy forms of the South Molyneux ranges. Looking over the Taieri the bulky form of Maungatua looms large, beyond which lies the rounded top of the Lammerlaw. Further round again to the westward the long range of the Rock and Pillar mountain appears, with possibly patches of snow in its hollows, and if the day be clear the summit of distant Mount St Bathans and the Old Man or Umbrella Ranges, may be descried, whilst some long-sighted mortals say they have even seen the far-off peaks of the rugged Remarkables. Leaving these distant mountains the eye completes the circuit by resting on the grey rocky pinnacles of the Silver Peaks, and the bush-clad gullies of the Silverstream and its tributaries. By proceeding a little way down the mountain a more extensive view of the Taieri Plain is obtained, which lies at the feet of the observer like a gigantic irregularly marked chess board with its squares of varied colours, and the gleam of the sunbeams on the Waihola and Waipori lakes may be seen in the distance. The lover of such fair scenes will linger long revelling in the grand panorama by which he is encircled. But the descent must be made, so choosing that by way of the Halfway Bush and keeping well to the right along the leading spur, he rapidly descends the grassy slopes till he joins the North Taieri road near Ashburn Hall, whence by the Halfway Bush and Roslyn he makes his way back to town, tired probably, but certainly pleased with his excursion.
IV.—MOUNT CARGILL.
Another pleasant mountain expedition, though not such a favourite with the people of Dunedin as the ascent of Flagstaff, is the climb to the top of Mount Cargill, which lies to the north of the town and rises to a slightly greater elevation than its companion hill, it being 2292 feet high. Formerly, this hill, with its nearer buttress, known as Pine Hill were covered with dense, unbroken forest, composed chiefly of large pines intermingled with leafy trees of lowlier stature, beneath whose shade luxuriant ferns of all sizes and many species, from the lofty, wide-spreading tree fern to the tiniest of the filmy ferns, found a congenial habitation. But now, alas, fire and the axe have wrought havoc with sylvan beauty, and the slopes of Pine Hill and Mount Cargill now furnish sites for the home of many an industrious settler, which is doubtless some compensation for the loss of beauty they have sustained. Even the small patches and clumps of bush which remain have suffered much from the inroads of vagrant cattle, so that the side of the hill next to Dunedin at least, which was once the happy hunting ground of the fern collector, is now, in his eyes at least, a desecrated paradise. One mode of reaching the summit of Mount Cargill is by the road to Blueskin, from which, after a steep climb through the bush, the summit is gained; but the more generally adopted route is by way of Pine Hill. Taking the road leading up the hill which leaves the North-East Valley Road at the junction of that valley with that of the Water of Leith, and following it steadily upwards, the pedestrian eventually reaches a point where an old survey line, now a cattle track, diverges to the right along the face of the hill. After following this for some way a sharp turn to the left is taken, and a stiff climb through the now burnt bush brings the climber to the rocky summit. The prospect is in some respects similar to that from Flagstaff, though such features of the landscape as are visible from both localities are now seen from a different point of view. The main difference, however, is in the view northwards, which from Flagstaff was shut out by the intervening hills. From this point a view of the coast stretching away to the north is obtained, with the hills lying in the same direction, such as Puketapu, the conical Hill, which rises above Palmerston, and the more distant Horse Range, over which appear the peaks of the Kakanui Mountains. The foreground is very different from anything seen from Flagstaff, as at the feet of the spectator lies a large tract of still comparatively unbroken forest which covers the slope of the mountain down to the head waters of the Leith and Waitati streams. The pedestrian in returning may clamber down to the Blueskin Road, or, if more adventurous still, find his way into the Valley of the Leith; but the more prudent course would be to return by the way he came, enjoying as he does so the prospect of the fair city of Dunedin from the many favourable points of view passed in the descent.
V.—THE PENINSULA.
One of the pleasantest drives in the neighbourhood of Dunedin is that down the Peninsula. Let us suppose we are off in a tip-top turn out from one of the best livery stables in Dunedin, spanking horses, a splendid drag, exhilarating atmosphere, roads first-class, spirits up to the highest pitch that health, choice company, glorious scenery, and a determination to be happy, could raise them to, for anyone would be a moody individual indeed, who refused to be satisfied in such circumstances. As we leave town and pass by Anderson's Bay Road, along the harbour side, the foreshore, if the tide be out, will indicate what a considerable portion of the site of Dunedin at one time was—a mud flat. This unattractive waste is a part of the Harbour Board endowment, and in a few years hence it will be all reclaimed, let at big rents, and occupied by a busy population.
Stepping out briskly along the fine level Anderson's Bay Road, the gallant steeds bring their freight to the first rising ground, known in older days as Goat Hill, now studded with a number of residences, occupied by leading citizens, among whom may be noted Mr. Justice Williams and the Crown Solicitor, Mr. Haggitt; a little further on, the town residence of the Hon. Matthew Holmes is passed. Passing through the village or hamlet of the "Bay" the stiff pull up to Shiel Hill is accomplished, and here the grand panorama begins to open up to the ravished vision. No pen can describe the infinite and varied beauties spread around. They must be seen to be known and felt. Poet Burns, in describing the gowan, fell considerably short of the reality when he said so exquisitely to the
Wee modest, crimson-tipped flower,*****There, in thy scanty mantle clad,
Thy snowy bosom sunward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In humble guise.
And how much more difficult our task to describe the sempiternal beauties of this favoured locality?
Immediately beneath on the left the placid waters of the harbour lie sleeping in drowsiness, sinuously wending their course along through and among sandbanks and rocky isles, bluff headlands and receding bays, until absorbed in the great Pacific they cease to be recognised. Away to the right the majestic ocean spreads, its limitless bosom wide open to the gaze, so that far as the eye can reach any object on its surface can be descried.
Lot's wife was turned into a pillar of salt because she looked behind her at the city which she had left, but no such risk is incurred by looking back from the peninsula hills on the fair city of Dunedin. And perhaps from this point of view she is seen in her widest extent if not in her best display. Looked at from almost any point, however, the remark of inhabitants of Old Edinburgh regarding their fair city, that "she's a bonny toon," holds good.
The city itself with all its surroundings can hardly be surpassed anywhere for exceeding beauty. Whilst halting to look behind, the attention will be attracted by the coast-line to the south, which can on a clear day be discerned as far as the Nuggets, south of the Clutha, on which one of those beacon lights has been erected to guide the mariner along the frowning coastline.
And now in front of us the northern seaboard as far as Oamaru can with a good field glass be traced. A curiously indented coastline it is. Rounding Purehurehu and Hayward's Points, the furthest out stretch of the land on the north entrance to the harbour, lies Kaikai, or Murdering Beach, of which a ghastly story, as the name indicates, could be told. The coast here is hidden from our point of view by Mihiwaka and other heights. The land recedes from old ocean's embrace, again to project at Kaiweka, or in our less euphonious language, Potato Point, again to enfold the old sea-king in her bosom as far as Otokoroa and Parintaha, jostling him out again round the shore of Purakanui Bay and at Mapotahi, fantastically exhibiting itself at the erstwhile dreaded cliffs, around which the North line of railway sweeps along, allowing of a passing glimpse of the restless billows and foam in which Neptune delights to revel—immediately afterwards giving way so that the shallow basin named Blueskin Bay, receives the waters of the Orokonui, Waitati, and Whatiripuku Creeks. We pass in rapid succession Te Awakoa, Te Akaipaoa (Green Point), and Te Pahawea (Yellow Bluff), until Waikouaiti Harbour is reached, which, if justice had been done in the estimation of the residents, would be the best harbour in the Province. To dilate on all the points of interest which jut out before us from the point of vantage which we occupy would, take too much space; suffice it then that we briefly enumerate the headlands, receding bays, outlying reefs, and other notabilia which the eye and through the glass can be descried, looming away to the north. Passing Tumai and Pleasant River, Bobby's Head is easily distinguished. Nearest beyond is Shag Point, and then comes Moeraki with its associate point and sands and reefs, on which the wash can easily be seen. Otopopo, noted for its Waianakarua River, troublesome in early days, a short distance ahead Aorere Point, indicating under its lea a good boat harbour, and then the Kakanui, where works were erected to supply one half the world with preserved meats, till Cape Wanbrow with its light tells that the limits of our vision and of the Province terminates in Oamaru, our fair northern town.
Whilst the pen could long be occupied in faintly describing the many attractions of the distant scene, the visitor's attention is naturally attracted by places and objects nearer at hand. Well, be it known that we are now at High Cliff, about half-way on the road to Portobello, and that this name High Cliff has been bestowed because on the right hand side, down towards the ocean, a barrier to the roll of the waters of the modest height of 800 feet stands guard against further encroachment. A perpendicular wall eight hundred feet high is not to be met with every day, but it is not visible from the road, so in our next journey a little further information will be given concerning it.
Immediately in front stands the "camp" home of our genial friend and representative of the district, the Hon. W. J. M. Larnach, C.M.G., who has done more for the district than any other hundred men in it. To visitors this commanding seat has always been open, and so far as the laird himself is concerned he neither regrets nor begrudges his hospitality. The camp, or as some folk persist in calling it, Larnach's Castle, against the owner's wish, is a little off the main road, but the well-used line to it would at once indicate the position even although no "Scotch neebours were near, frae whom you could speer."
Down past the first dairy factory started in the Province our steeds gallantly carry us along, just giving time for a peep to the right and to the left of picturesque scenes such as are rarely to be met with. There is the hill called Harbour Cove, or Sugar Loaf, standing sentry, with old Captain Leslie still steady on the look out, and inviting the digger to set in and exhume the precious treasures it possesses, and for the accomplishment of which considerable labour and money have already been profitlessly laid out. But enough of that, we are not gold but pleasure seekers, and arriving at Portobello, if the hampers with their contents of good cheer have been omitted, there is the hotel, where Mrs. Coneys will supply food and drink for man and beast at the most reasonable of costs.
And now sufficiently refreshed we strike across the narrow neck in the centre of the Peninsula and at an easy distance reach Hooper's Inlet, or it may be Papanui, according as the driver or driven may select, and going at an easy pace reach the Cape Saunders Lighthouse, where the intelligent and obliging keepers will describe the whole surroundings, not garnished with the fables old Pilot Driver was wont to relate. A few hours well spent on this detour, the ride is continued from the last starting point down from the Maori Kaik to Taiaroa Head. Let us, however, pause a moment or two on the nether side of the Kaik.
Not far distant lies the sepulture spot of the Native race, where rest the remains of many of the heroes of olden times, and over several of whom a grateful country has erected enduring mementoes, bearing suitable inscriptions. Transcribing a few, the fore front must be given the father of the present chief, G. G. Taiaroa, Esq., M.L.A.
In Memory of
Taiaroa,
Of the Ngaitahu tribe, and of the Katimohi Family,
A great Chief of the Southern Island of New
Zealand.
He died 2nd February, 1863, aged about 80 years.
His direction of his people was eminently good, and his attachment
to the Queen's rule was great.
In Memory of
Ngatata,
Who died in Otago in 1854.
A leading Chief of the Ngatiawa, who welcomed the
Pakeha to Cook's Strait.
He was the father of the Hon. Wi Tako Ngatata, M.L.C.
Erected by the New Zealand Government in honour
of his memory.
In Memory of
Karetai,
A Chief of the Ngaitahu and Ngatimamoe Tribes in
the South Island,
Who died 30th May, 1860, aged 79 years.
Under the shelter of Queen Victoria his conduct to
the people of the Maori and European races
was kind and liberal.
Many others could be given, but the visitor should inspect for himself, and read the records on the tombstones, whereon, in highly poetic language, is recorded the devoted loyalty of some of the old chieftains to the cause of the Queen and the Pakeha, and which speak nothing but the truth.
Returning to Portobello, and again resting our horses and refreshing ourselves, we return by the road up the harbour side to Dunedin. Here the sinuosities of land and sea, while protracting the journey, add immensely to the interest, as features of the landscape are revealed from unexpected points, which otherwise would be withheld. The artistic eye can best appreciate these unfoldings of beauty which a slight bend or turn displays, as we move along in contemplative silence. Each object has its own peculiar attraction. Primitive nature, as regards its forest clothing, has been destroyed, but in the contour of the land it is permanent. Different minds will form diverse opinions, but the original can never be restored.
Leaving Portobello Bay and crossing the narrow neck of land which still remains, joining Ridley's Peninsula to the mainland, and which, in some former day, was connected with the Quarantine Island and Port Chalmers Peninsula, so that the ancient traveller, if such a one existed, could walk dry-footed from one spot to another, we now swoop merrily along the level road up to Dunoon, thence round Broad Bay and Grassy Point, until reaching Macandrew's Bay, the vista of Dunedin becomes fairly opened up, developing at every sweep some new beauty to admire. A few choice residences only have been built on this the best side of the harbour. Of these, the names of Colinswood, the home where Otago's foremost man (Macandrew) resided; Glenfalloch, the mansion of G. G. Russell, Esq., a citizen worthy of the highest honours; and pressing onward, as our nearly forty mile journey is somewhat exhaustive, we pass Anderson's Bay with its many villas, where law-makers, administrators, merchants, and professionals enjoy solace and retirement, if not seclusion, after the busy toil of the day, preparing for the morrow; and in good time for dinner we reach our hotel in the city.
VI.—THE PENINSULA.
(Continued.)
The Peninsula furnishes another very enjoyable ride or drive, not so long as the previous one and hardly one whit less interesting, as in the first portion new attractions are exposed to view, and in the latter half, sights which, on our former trip, could be seen only by turning round are now a fair prospect lying before us unfolding at every turn something new and impressive.
Starting from the city the line of tramway may be followed to St. Clair, the favourite and health-giving resort of Dunedin citizens when holidays present the opportunity. Not being a very warlike race, and little up in big guns—we are flattered by the high encomiums bestowed on the three fortifications erected along the beach to defend the city from any would-be blackmailer. The visitor can leisurely inspect the St Clair Thunderer, proceed quietly along the sands, provided the tide permits, and inhale the healthful ozone, which the not always balmy breezes waft in towards the passer by, and renew or revive fading energies. Or if old father ocean declines to permit the liberty, there is the road by the racecourse by which the central battery can be inspected, and passing the temporary residence of His Excellency the Governor, onward by Tahuna Park Show Ground, and the silent spot within whose pale perfect equality alone obtains, we reach Lawyer's Head, on which the third piece of ordnance constituting our city defences is placed. The descent is then made into the Tomahawk Valley with its small lagoon, once a much more attractive object than now, when it lay smiling sweetly amid its forest-clad surroundings. Abruptly rising again over the Tomahawk ridge with its reefs lying half a mile out in the ocean, the homes of a number of well-to-do old settlers may be seen scattered on the hills and valleys around. Then again dropping down gently to sea level in another valley, an uphill pinch has to be tackled, which, on being accomplished, we now reach the top of the cliff with a sheer face of 800 feet, and at whose base the waters are perpetually surging and lashing, slowly but gradually undermining the solid wall which has resisted and will for centuries continue to resist their attacks. From this point a splendid view of the southern coast can be obtained, whilst immediately in our front lies Seal Point, with its two digits defying the water sprite, the beach along Sandy Bay, with the Gull Rocks standing as sentinels a few yards off, and the Low Rock as outer guard, fully a mile out to sea. Beyond this point the road along the coast is not yet formed, so that the excursionest cannot get down to Hooper's Inlet, but this is unimportant, as very little variety in scenery here presents itself. We therefore take the road to the centre of the Peninsula, and pass around groves and glens, where the fancy can rove at its own sweet pleasure, and the eye be delighted with glimpses of Nature in her most attractive garb, almost as she existed when the Pakeha first intruded on her solitude. On the return journey along the main road into town, many varied and enchanting views of water, land, and city will be obtained. The harbour, the hills, and the town show a different phase of beauty at almost every bend of the very winding road which had to be followed in order to secure an easy grade. The ardent wish of every traveller is to renew the visit to the Peninsula as frequently as opportunity will permit.
VII.—THE TAIERI WILDS.
A trip up the Otago Central Line is one which the visitor should not omit. This line has been a bone of contention for a long period of time. To gain the interior of the Province and open up its vast resources for development, as well as to give the greatest facilities for bringing the products to market, has unquestionably been the aim of all interested. How best to attain this has been the question of difficulty. Several different routes were suggested, all of which had their ardent supporters, who were equally strong in their denunciations of the rival lines.
A Royal Commission decided on the present course, and what Royalty does cannot be wrong. So the traveller, in journeying along in the comfortable carriage must just give rein to his fancy, and in idea form an estimate of how valuable these disturbed hills, glens and chasms would have been for human occupation, had nature only put a sufficiently heavy steam roller over the surface, squeezing down here and filling up there, so that there would be space flat enough on which a man could place the soles of his feet. There are pretty glimpses of crag and river to be gotten which will in the days to come fascinate the artist, but fine views do not fill the purse nor captivate the majority of human kind. As far as opening up land for settlement goes, this line, so far as it has gone, is decidedly the worst of those proposed.
The train after leaving the Main South Railway carries the travellers over a larger extent of splendid agricultural country—across the heart of the Taieri Plain—than either the famed carses of Stirling or Gowrie in the old land contain; and then leaving the flat country and taking to the hills, a winding course is followed, and now and again darkness envelopes, whilst the engine with panting haste passes through four short tunnels, "heighs and howes" occupying the intervening space. Then the Wingatui Viaduct is reached, which holds the reputation of being one of the greatest triumphs of engineering skill in the Southern Hemisphere, and for which Mr. Blair, the Engineer, and his assistants have received every meed of praise.
A journey along this line is strongly recommended, showing as it does the contrast between fertile plains and barren hills.
The Viaduct is, however, an interesting work. It stretches between two ridges of the mountain, and was preferred by the engineer to filling in and embanking, both for durability and safety. The length of the Viaduct is 690 feet, divided into eight spans, the widest of which stretches 106 feet, the others 66 feet The height of the line in the centre from the bed of the creek is 154 feet, and the width of the platform or carriage way is 12 feet 8 inches. The pier at the base has a width of 33 feet. The structure, viewed from the ground around, looks slender indeed, and many timorous passengers would shudder at the thought of crossing it at an ordinary rate of speed, and would be very chary about committing themselves to the experiment of so doing. Strength and durability are not, however, to be estimated by bulk. The secret of success lies in the mathematical accuracy which Mr. Ussher, assistant engineer, has displayed in calculating the strength of the bearing points, the truthfulness and precision with which each part has been put together, and the trustworthiness of the material employed. The total cost of the Viaduct was about £22,500.
The Railway Commissioners now carry their patrons much further on between eminences which, in other countries, would be called mountains, but here, only ridges, along the banks of the river Taieri, once in its day a pellucid water, fit habitat for the trout or any other of the finny tribe, now, alas, a thick "drumlie" current, into which one would hesitate to dip lest he should emerge therefrom with the complexion of a Chinese. The gold diggings, away up in the distant Naseby and Kyeburn Districts, and others nearer hand, have caused this radical change.
Seated in a railway carriage, bearing us onward at 15 miles per hour, sometimes in the open air, at other times momentarily under ground, still wherever the eye can see, there is that accompanying Taieri sluggishly moving along with scarcely a ripple on its turbid surface to indicate that life or vitality existed at all within its bosom.
The railway has not yet reached Middlemarch, the first stopping place in the open strath that lies beyond the rocky gorge, but even had it done so we should not have proceeded further. So returning down the line again we now leave the train at Mullocky Gully, where horses having been previously arranged for, we take to the saddle, and follow the ideal road line (which is neither formed nor fenced in), along the top of the range, where the traveller may revel amid scenes which even Turner's wildest ideals could not surpass. If he has a gun, "the conies among the rocks," the rabbits, will give him sport; but the true lover of Nature in her wildest mood would forget such sport amidst such a scene, wild and desolate in the extreme.
How turbulent must have been the forces which were in operation ages ago to produce such a scene as that on which we now look with calm complacence, and allow fancy to play in tracing verisimilitudes, as we compare these massive overhanging rocks in the words of Burns to "Ruins pendant in the air," or recall the lines in which Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, described a scene tame in comparison to what is now spread before us:—
"What bard could sing the onward sight?
The piles that frowned, the gulfs that yawned beneath,
Downward a thousand fathoms from the height,
Grim as the caverns in the land of death;
Like mountains shattered in the Eternal's wrath
When fiends their banners 'gainst His reign unfurled,
A grizzly wilderness, a land of scaith,
Rocks upon rocks in dire confusion hurled,
A rent and formless mass, the rubbish of a world."
The reach of the Taieri from the Deep Stream to Outram is far and away the bleakest and most desolate of any river stretch we know of on the eastern seaboard of the Province. It will never be fit for anything but the habitation of wild pigs and rabbits.
The Taieri River is the most tortuous and sluggish of streams. From its source to its mouth it wends a weary way over 150 miles, although the crow starting from its source and landing at its confluence with the sea, would not traverse much more than forty miles, provided it took its proverbial straight course.
It is perhaps unnecessary to state that on this journey it is absolutely necessary to dispense with wheels. To traverse this enchanting country perhaps even a horse might be found superfluous, and the individual be confined to his own powers of locomotion. However, we come safely out on the Strath Taieri Road, and in less than an hour we reach Outram, where we rest and are thankful.
VIII.—OPOHO AND THE BREEDING-PONDS.
For a quiet walk, when time presses not, the visitor to Dunedin could not do better than take the tram-car down to Dundas street and there alighting wend his way across the Leith and up to the Northern Cemetery grounds. To a spot like this, the attractions are very varied in character. Some frequent it to show their lasting devotedness to those who have gone before, others simply to read the records of the past and admire the artistic skill displayed in the attempts to perpetuate the memories of very many who formerly acted their part on this busy stage. To the stranger, the view of the city and its surroundings which is obtained is unsurpassed. Many declare it to be the best to be had from any point. So far as that question is concerned, the answer must be relegated to the observer, whose every reply will be—Beautiful, most beautiful.
Leaving the sacred acre, a pleasant and very enjoyable walk can be had through the Town Belt at the present time, the native manuka being in full bloom, filling the air with delicious perfume, regaling the senses with a profusion of delights. Along this road there are many fine vistas. The elder Kean, on his retreat at Loch Fad, in Buteshire, inscribed the immortal quotation:—
"Through this loop-hole of retreat
I gaze upon the world."
And so can the traveller do here. To be appreciated, these peeps must be experienced, and when once beheld, the temptation will be to dwell on them longer than time will permit. So onward our course must be taken to Opoho, a very pleasant place to live in, and where the grounds of the Acclimatization Society are situated. The obliging Curator, Mr. Deans, will be ready, if at home, to show all the curious developments in fish life, from the egg or spawn onward to the matured trout, salmon, perch, or other representative of the finny tribe, and explain the different stages through which they pass, the methods of treatment, the distribution throughout the Province, and the results of all this artificial work. The Opoho grounds were also the source from which the introduced birds, at once the plague and the pleasure of the inhabitants, were liberated and spread over the country to delight the ear with their warbling, contribute to the gastronomic tastes of the wealthy, and make deadly havoc on the fruits in the garden and the grain on the field.
Signal Hill rises up beyond Opoho, and as the ascent is easy, and the road in fair condition, its summit can easily be reached, and a magnificent view of land and water, hill and dale, be obtained. But if the energies have been sufficiently taxed, turn to the left, and soon the North East Valley is reached, the spot in which most of the early settlers made their first suburban selection, and which is now constituted a borough of the same name. Here the tram-car will convey the passenger up the Valley to the old Port Chalmers road, and on the ride, both up and down, some nice scenic views will be obtained, the murmuring brook and the crested mount alike demanding a share of admiration.
Some of our prominent citizens have elected the Valley as the place of their abode, and have erected handsome mansions, with tastefully laid out gardens and orchards.
This Valley, forty years ago, was a dense forest. There was not a single acre of clear ground throughout its length and breadth, so that judging from this fact alone, the mighty change which has passed over the scene may, to some extent, be realized. The clearance has not been effected without great labour and considerable cost. Add to this the fact that a large number of the early settlers were as little acquainted with bush work and tree felling as dwellers in town usually are, and the traveller may form some idea of the magnitude of the labour involved.
IX.—CORSTORPHINE TO TAIERI MOUTH.
As our purpose is to show our friends the best of everything we possess, our proposal is that starting from Dunedin, on horseback or in buggy, we pass through the village of Caversham, and half way up Look-out Point take the road leading by Corstorphine to upper Green Island. The approach cannot boast of much beauty, but when once the hill is fairly gained, the panorama is grand indeed.
The vast expanse of restless ocean, the capacious harbour, the long stretch of coastline from the far north to the Nuggets, the numerous indentations and promontories, half-covered reefs and sea-girt rocks, sandy beaches and beetling cliff, city and suburbs, seaport and shipping, hills, dales, and mountains, the varied foliage of the native bush and the contrasting hues of introduced plants, herds and flocks, imposing mansions and sod huts, and a hundred other objects which meet the eye, bestow an interest on the locality which very few other districts can excel. Nature's lap has been filled to overflowing with gems of rarest loveliness, and is it to be wondered at that amid scenes like these the goddess of poetry should have enwrapped so many of her favourites in the mantle of her genius? Even prosaic individuals could hardly fail to draw inspiration from such abundant resources. The fact has been somewhere recorded that the rhymester who first felt the afflatus was a resident here; at all events volumes of poetry have issued from the Dunedin press, indited by local celebrities. One of the earliest efforts was thus expressed to Otakau:—
"Land of the laurel and pine-circled glade,
Land of the fern and evergreen shade,
Isle of mild beauty in midst of the sea,
What island in sweetness is equal to thee?"
We are passing through changeful country in name as well as in character. The first surveyors called it Ocean Beach District, then the largest proprietor, Mr. Sidey, whose residence we see on the hillside, named it Corstorphine, after his birthplace, near Edinburgh, which name it now bears. From the summit, looking towards the east, a splendid view of the Peninsula, the harbour, the mainland, and a portion of the city is obtained. In front is the mansion of Mr. Cargill, appropriately named The Cliffs, as it stands almost on the brink of a precipice, 320 feet in height, with White and Green Islands lying close in shore; whilst the ocean, calm this morning as a mirror, displays its vast bosom to the rays of the heat-giving sun in all his unclouded splendour. The southern coast-line shows the course we propose to follow, and will then have special notice. Turning inland, the Kaikorai Valley lies before us, stretching up to Wakari, and having its surface dotted with numerous factories, the homes of divers thriving industries. At the head of the Valley, and in the Borough of Roslyn, are Bone, Flax, and Flock Mills, and most notable, the Roslyn Woollen Mills, well worthy the inspection of the visitor, which the spirited owners, Messrs. Ross and Glendining, will readily grant. Immediately opposite another extensive Woollen Factory is at work, being a branch of the Mosgiel establishment. Lower down the Valley, which has all been surveyed into townships, are the chemical works of Kempthorne and Prosser's Co'y., adjoining which are the Cattle Sale Yards and the Refrigerating Company's premises. Then further down the Valley, along the main road, lie numerous wool scouring establishments, the iron boiling mills of Smellie Bros., a large soap and candle factory, tanneries, and a couple of flour and oatmeal mills. Coal mining, brick and cement making, and several other industrial pursuits, find a habitation along the line of this Valley, which has received and deserves the name of the principal industrial centre in our Province.
Splendid views are had of the mountain scenery. Starting from Saddle Hill, the grand faithful sentinel standing as outer-guard, and passing along the Chain Hills, we rise to Flagstaff, the inner-guard, flanked by the Silver Peaks, so named from their colour; while in the distance rises the Lammerlaw, seemingly running into the Rock and Pillar Range, with their slightly snow-streaked peaks peering out as if part of the clouds, and nearer at hand stands Maungatua himself, backed up by the Lammerlaw, and its remarkable stone, surveying now smilingly and anon frowningly everything above, around, and beneath him.
Even when this survey is taking place, the horses are moving onwards, and after a sudden and somewhat rapid descent, for which a good brake and steady cattle are indispensable, the sea level may be regained; but to avoid unnecessary risk of being bogged and stuck, although at the loss of the sight, "o' some bonnie spots," the driver will take a little longer route and reach the road from Green Island Borough, celebrated for its hams and bacon, by an easier gradient, proceeding thence smoothly and comfortably along, and crossing the bridge over the Kaikorai stream, we are fairly on the high road to Boat Harbour, re-christened Brighton. A well-sheltered little harbour it is, where safe places for bathing can be selected, and in moderate weather the pleasures of boating and fishing can be indulged in; and as the country around has plenty attractions for riding, walking, or collecting specimens, Brighton has many of the requirements of a watering place, to which dignity it may some day attain in the distant future.
At Brighton there is a good country accommodation house, where a plain, substantial repast can be obtained, and the water is first-class. Here, too, a pre-arrangement can be made for a change of horses, as the journey going and coming is rather too severe a tax on the willing steeds.
The farthest away headland within the range of vision is the Nugget Point, south of the Clutha River, which is so prominent as to shut out everything beyond from view. Nearer at hand the Wangaloa stream empties itself into the sea, and still carrying the eye northward, Quoin Point and the Tokomairiro River, with its small island rock, can be descried, and passing Akatore we see the Taieri Mouth, which is the limit of our journey. Having arrived at the south bank of the river, whilst the horses are having a spell, the man in charge of the punt, who is one of the oldest residents in the Province, will convey us safely across to the opposite side for a trifle, and, if inclined to listen, will tell some reminiscences of the past, interesting in the extreme. We are now landed on the north side of the Taieri, where a few scattered houses can be seen. This is called the Township of Hull, at present, and likely long to remain, in embryo, although the discovery of a large deposit of the black oxide of manganese may add a few souls to its present limited population. Looking up the river and on its overhanging hills on both sides, new and distinct sources of enchantment will be opened up to view, whose attractions will be visited on our next excursion.
But we must retrace our steps, so coming back to Brighton the return journey to Dunedin should be varied by taking the main south road up the Kaikorai Valley instead of the way we came. By so doing an easier route is obtained, and we pass close to nearly the whole of the busy industrial hives which we saw from the top of the upper Green Island on the beginning of our journey.
Leaving Green Island Borough behind, we pass these various works in rapid succession till we reach the top of Look-out Point, and after a glimpse is obtained of the Industrial School, we descend quickly through the Caversham Valley, and passing the now unoccupied Immigration Barracks and the Benevolent Institution, we reach town in good time, and ready to do justice to a well-appointed dinner.
X.—THE TAIERI RIVER.
In order to see the beauties of the lower reaches of the Taieri River the visitor must take time by the forelock and be up and ready for a start at 8 a.m., for at that pleasant hour of the morning the only train which suits this excursion leaves Dunedin.
Starting with the morning train, after passing scenes already noticed, and rushing through the Chain Hills Tunnel, we suddenly emerge on the great Taieri Plain on its eastern margin, which is certainly its poorest side, although the first occupied by settlers, and are whirled along past Owhiro, Greytown, and Otakia, we are safely deposited at Henley Station, whence, after a short walk, just enough to put the joints all right after our two hours' confinement, we reach the unpretending but comfortable hostelry of Mr. Amos McKegg, where comforts of every sort are to be obtained, and where, perhaps, the largest apiary in the colony can be seen, with all the newest processes certainly not for making, but for extracting the honey and saving the wax.
The inspection of this industry is not our object, so we embark on board the little steam launch, and gliding gently down with the stream we pass the old Maori Kaik, whose inhabitants have sadly diminished in numbers, and at a sudden bend, where the Waihola, Waipori, and Taieri streams are confluent, we pass beneath the East Taieri bridge, and gain the wide basin of the tidal reaches of the river.
The screw, however, is propelling us along, and ere we quit this fine land-locked sheet of water, we take a good look of the Kuri Hills to the left and on the Beauly or Ferry Hills to the right, and the conclusion is at once arrived at, that this is not country fit for settlement. Nor is it. Nor are we on the outlook for flat and profitable country. We came for and we want scenery. The strong arms of the second occupants have denuded the hill sides of their bush, and the bare surface is exposed to view, a comfortable homestead or cottage dotting the surface here and there, everything indicating peace and comfort. Unless the thought arises, How can people make a living out of such land as this? But be satisfied, critical visitor, many have on this same seemingly and really wild spot thriven and become prosperous.
We need not linger on this theme, as our mission is to view the wild grandeur of this river, towards which the steamer steadily bears us. In front rises a bluff—a bold projecting rock, which seems to arrest the further progress of the river, as, in days long past, it doubtless did, but now, after a long struggle, it has had to succumb and allow the water to make its way over its hard breast, wearing it down, until now the river course is deep enough to float half a dozen of the largest ships in the world.
Onward the river glides, winding through a narrow gorge in the hills which rise on either hand, now well-nigh precipitously, anon more gently, from the water's edge, the grey and forbidding aspect of their weather-beaten cliffs contrasting well with the softer hues of the stunted native bush, which clothes many a steep slope with a mantle of green; while in the hollows and ravines the trees attain a larger growth, and from beneath their friendly shelter the tree-ferns look out upon the swiftly-flowing stream. So sinuous is the course of the river that reach after reach presents the appearance of some lovely lakelet, till we arrive at the turning point, when another hill-encircled sheet of water meets our view. Proceeding onward, we at length reach a point where the hills recede and sandy shores intervene, with a rocky island seemingly shutting out the sea. This is our destination, and we steam slowly alongside a jetty and moor the launch.
This river was once the highway for the early settlers in the Taieri and Tokomairiro, who, instead of having our easy means of locomotion, were obliged to take ship in an open whaleboat from Dunedin or Port Chalmers, and after a passage of sometimes twelve hours, at other times some days, they reached the Taieri Mouth, and camping for a night or two under a cabbage-tree, proceeded up the river with the tide, and ultimately reached their destination by this toilsome and roundabout route.
But these reminisciences are out of place here, though they were evoked by a question as to the use of the jetty or platform near which we lie. It was erected by the Provincial Government, who attempted to make this a landing-place for goods consigned to the Tuapeka Diggings, when roads were not, and in those days a steamer used to trade between Dunedin and the river mouth.
After a short halt the ship is put about, and we now steam back again up the river, getting another, and perhaps a finer view than on the passage down. To the casual visitor the names of each particular hill or promontory are not of much interest; the general or prevailing features are all he cares for, and in sailing upwards new views are disclosed.
Facing us now is that beetle-browed precipitous point, whose back we saw in coming down stream, but which now openly asserts its pre-eminence against all assailants. And it has a tale to unfold. Where was there ever a weird spot like this, to which some incident was not attached? And the wilder the country, and the more rugged the inhabitants, the more romantic would be the tale.
The steamboat is brought to a standstill whilst the narrative is told by the captain.
It was a beautiful summer evening, and the declining sun, glancing through the tops of the trees, cast a golden reflection on the smooth waters of the Waihola Lake, and rested on the form of a young girl, who was reclining on its banks on a rude couch of dry grass, beneath a large fern-tree, whose noble fronds almost touched a small canoe which was made fast close to the shore.
A richly-coloured mat fell in graceful folds to her feet, and was fastened below her shoulder by a large knot of purple flax, while her splendid dark tresses were interwoven with the wild vine and convolvulus. Her dark eyes sparkled with pleasure as the branches were heard to rustle, and a tall, handsome young man approached her. He was deeply tattooed, and his spear, the axe in his girdle, and his massive earrings, proclaimed by their curious carving that he was a man of some importance in his tribe.
Sitting down beside her, they conversed familiarly; but alas! they knew not that from a tree close beside them a man—who from the fiendish hate displayed in his face might have been mistaken for a demon—was listening to all they said.
Every now and then he poised his spear, as if about to throw it; and at length, just as the lovers were about to step into the canoe, he threw it with such deadly aim and force that it completely transfixed the youth, then springing from his hiding-place, he laid hold of the girl, and with a peal of savage laughter, pointed to the bleeding corpse, and with one blow of his tomahawk cleft her head; and the flowers which at sunset had bound her hair, the first beams of the rising morn beheld steeped in her life's blood.
Pursued by the vengeance of the tribes, who were exasperated by the violation of the sacred tapu in the murder of their gallant chieftain and the loveliest maiden in the pa, the murderer was hunted from place to place, ultimately taking refuge in a hollow tree on the spur leading to that cliff on the river side. Discovered in this his last retreat, he was pursued to the top of yonder precipice. His enemies were close behind him; there were no means of escape. He knew that if he were taken, the most horrid tortures awaited him; he preferred risking the leap and trusting to the river. With a wild unearthly shriek, he sprang from the top, but striking the rock in his descent, he fell into the water a mangled corpse. From that circumstance the cliff derives its name of the Maori Leap.
This is the tradition handed down from generation to generation of the dusky race, and communicated, in the first years of the settlement, to one of the earliest settlers, who faithfully transcribed it, and so it has been handed down, probably with emendations, to our own times.
"Time and tide for no man bide," so having breathlessly listened, the engine gives a shriek and a puff, and we are away from these memories of the past, hurrying on to the hotel at Henley to obtain some refreshment, and wait for the Invercargill Express, by which in due time Dunedin is reached.
XI.—LEITH VALLEY AND WATERFALLS.
By most people, a journey up and down this sequestered dell is considered one of the most enjoyable around the city. It is not now so lovely a grove as it was in days of yore, when the dense bush was penetrable only to the more intrepid of the citizens, and even to them, for a good portion of the way, the margin or bed of the creek was the only traversable spot, shut in as it were on to the sides of wood-clad precipices and steeps, along which progress could, with the utmost difficulty, be made even with the aid of the branches of the overhanging trees. To walk, drive, or ride, is now at the option of the visitant. In many respects the natural beauties have been considerably marred by the encroachments of the settlers, who are studded thickly along almost the entire route; in other respects, the prospect has been opened up by removal of the timber, so that a much more extensive range is exposed to the vision, still a sufficient number of the romantic attractions remain, and will continue to the end to exist, fully entitling this valley to a place in the front rank among our picturesque delights.
The traveller may leave Dunedin by the coach, which for a modest fare takes him close up to the Waterfall, which forms an interesting feature in the scenery of the valley. Before reaching this spot, however, he will pass through the Town Belt, on which will be presented to view the first saw and flour mill, erected in the Province in 1850; not exactly the identical building, for it has undergone many enlargements as well as mutations, but the present building occupies the same site, and the same motive-power is used. The portion of the borough of Maori Hill, which we enter after crossing the Belt, where we escape from the jurisdiction of the city magnates, was called by its first purchaser Woodhaugh, and in the course of years a very extensive trade was done at the saw mills, which, as the remains will show, dotted the valley along the river course, but their occupation, if not in every case like Othello's—gone, is very nearly so. The Woodhaugh Paper Mills, the first which were established in the Colony, are situated at the bend of the river crossing, where the road leads off from the main road by the side of the creek to the Dunedin original Waterworks.
From this point the road follows the centre of the valley, and here will be seen the effect produced by disturbance of the ground in removing the timber. A few years ago, during a continuance of wet weather, the Leith stream became so great in its volume and impetuous in force as to tear down its shingly banks, spread over the narrow valley, and form for itself new channels where it had never flowed before. So great was the havoc committed to both the county and borough works, as well as to those of private individuals, as to cause the better filled purse of the Colonial Treasurer to be invoked to have the damages to bridges and roads repaired.
We soon pass an old totara tree, which has for centuries occupied its position, a grand specimen of the kind in its day, and now, even with its broken limbs and noble trunk, a picturesque object, though degraded to the condition of being the bearer of a municipal notice board, instead of being carefully and zealously protected. If the visitor is an artist, it will be hard to drag him beyond this hallowed spot, and when the eye has taken in and recorded all the special points of beauty and interest here to be observed, it will not be long before the pencil of the admirer will be busy in recording his impressions in a more enduring form. But without such artificial aids to memory when our journey has been completed, contemplation and reflection will enable us to realise the truth of the words of the ploughman bard:—
"Still o'er these scenes, my memory wakes
And fondly broods with miser care;
Time, but the impression deeper makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear."
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NICOL'S CREEK WATERFALL.
If, however, we are to loiter, no not loiter, but dwell on points of marvellous beauty which ravish us at every turn of the road, it will be quite twelve months before we get back to our starting point. Just cast the eye downward for a moment to the gurgling brook, its crystal waters now dashing into foam over some rocky impediment, or with calm and sullen face o'er-covering some old obstruction, which at a long antecedent date made a powerful but futile effort to stop its current. A little bend may show some laughing children disporting themselves in the shallow stream, and not far from them a waiting, watchful angler plying his art over some pool, where he knows the speckled trout love to congregate, while, as a mantle of green overhanging them, the native bush spreads its curious limbs and varied foliage to shelter from the too piercing rays of the mid-day sun. The picture is completed by those almost sheer cliffs, wherein, not whereon, trees of mighty stature have obtained a holding by simply penetrating and wedging their at first tiny rootlets into any rent or crack which unseen to mortal eye existed, and from whence these trees have for ages drawn sustenance, from which the eye rises to the clear blue vault above.
Onwards and upwards we pass, through glades or along embankments, and the vista becomes more fascinating at every turn, until at length, after a four-mile drive, "too pleasant to have expired so soon," the confluence of Nicol's Creek is gained. It is so called because a gardener of that name had bought a section, on which to graze his stock, on the hillside above, through which the creek ran. Perhaps as on his ground the burn had its source, he claimed the parentage.
Be that as it may, the visitor alighting from the vehicle may, if in season, regale himself with strawberries and cream before essaying the climb which lies before him. Now refreshed with the momentary gratifications, up the creek is the word. Devastations, irreparable and uncalled for are noticed on every side.
Let it be borne in mind that thirty years ago human foot had scarcely trod this sacred spot, where, in its deep solitudes, those gems of beauty, ferns—the exquisite Hymenophillums, Adiantums, Lomarias, Cyatheas, Dicksonias, Alsophillas, and others—were scattered in great profusion. Time would fail to recount their graces, and to express the regrets that the habitats, of which they were the fit adornment, now bear but faint and few traces of their existence. Still the eye and hand of the diligent can discover and secure mementoes of the former glories.
The distance up to the first Waterfall is about half a mile, and on the road up, by way of the creek bed, a passage is made between precipitous rocks, rising on each side, leaving only a narrow way between, the sides of the cleft being decorated by the hand of nature with a covering of ferns and mosses. At length the fall is reached, and as the quantity of water in the summer after dry weather is comparatively small, it may, at first sight, be to many disappointing, but as it drops over a face about 30 feet in height, which is covered with mosses of the finest green, it possesses beauties of its own, and on a hot summer's day it conveys a suggestion of coolness, not afforded by a more turbulent stream. After a fresh, however, the volume of the stream is of considerable magnitude, rising, as it does, from a rift in the side of old Flagstaff itself, and gathering its waters from a considerable water-shed above. A little period of rest and dalliance is generally indulged in here, admitted by all to be extremely pleasant. This over, those so disposed can tackle the ascent, not very difficult, and reach the upper falls, four in number, one of which is considered by some finer than the lower, and all of them derive a charm from the fact that the bush above is still almost in possession of its virgin beauty.
On reaching the summit the explorer can either follow the creek up to its source, and from thence along the mountain side and reach Dunedin by way of Halfway Bush, or, if this route be too long, a shorter one can be taken across country, bringing him to the Reservoir, previously alluded to, whence, reaching Woodhaugh, he may join the coach for the return journey, or he may deviate at the Reservoir and come along a very pleasant line to Maori Hill, from thence descending through the Belt, down past Cosey Dell to George street.
But it will not do to leave those at the Waterfalls who desire to go further in country, so returning to the conveyance, if it be a specially hired one, the traveller may proceed along a road of easy grade and good condition still further up the valley. The vistas opened up at every turning in this the county of Waikouaiti, (for we have left municipalities behind us), show something ever changing, ever new, both on the right hand and on the left, all of them tempting enough to induce a stoppage in the journey, with a view of going up some of those tempting purling brooks, hopeful that in some dark spot on the downward career some rare specimen may be obtained, to be treasured as a memory of one of the most delightful excursions which can be enjoyed. The horses are a little anxious, however, so onward is the order, and in due time the apex or saddle is reached, near the head waters of the Leith and the Waitati streams, each taking their several ways to the ocean.
We now propose to follow downward the Waitati, after having surveyed the mountains around, Flagstaff, Silver Peaks, and the Hummock. The road is very tortuous, and there are several points of divergence, so that it were well that the guide knew the locality. Many of the places indicated in the Peninsula drive are seen here closer at hand, but not more effectively, so need not be re-enumerated. A short run brings us down to Blueskin Bay, where at the Saratoga Hotel some refreshment can be had before commencing to re-ascend.
A very good view of the line of railway can be had from Waitati, standing at sea level, whence the gradients, both north and south, are stiff and the curves sharp, neither, however, so much so as to prevent the powerful engines dragging the heavy freight upwards, or to incur over ordinary risk in turning the corners. To the north stands Seacliff Asylum, which provides a home where those afflicted with the most terrible calamity which flesh is heir to, can and do receive the humanest treatment which the most modern experience can suggest. To those interested in the question of insanity, the best mode of visiting the Asylum is to proceed by train. On the line to the south the bluff at the edge of the bay shows when the cliffs up to Mapotaki begin, and which for a time were passed along with no slight degree of terror on the part of the more timid passengers. Experience has proved, however, that the roadway is as safe as the most level part of the line, and a tunnel has recently been formed, through which the travellers escape passing what was deemed the worst part by the timorous.
On our way homeward, by the main Dunedin road, the first objects of interest seen and passed are the buildings intended for "Orakanui College," at the mouth of the creek of the same name, which was started as a private enterprise, but being too heavily handicapped by the opposing endowed institution, it soon ceased to exist as a school. Close by is the Reserve, conferred on the district for agricultural shows, and not far off is the inevitable cemetery, containing the remains of one of Dunedin's well-known and highly esteemed citizens, James Marshall, to perpetuate whose memory the Jockey Club have instituted the "Marshall Memorial Stakes." In this connection it may be mentioned that the Blueskin races are held on the sands within the area of the bay, but the course, said to be a fine one, is only visible when the tide goes out. This circumstance recalls to the mind of the guide that on the far off corner of the land to the north of the bay is the country residence of the Hon. George McLean, M.L.A. and President of the Dunedin Jockey Club, as well as Chairman of the Colonial Bank and Union Steam Ship Company, one of the most genial and truest-hearted citizens our colony possesses.
For a time the road traverses ordinary-looking country, skirting the outline of Mount Cargill on the right, which was a dense forest of splendid totara some years ago, but now thoroughly denuded, until the junction with the Port Chalmers road is reached, and coming down hill into the North East Valley some of the choicest views of Dunedin and its surroundings are to be obtained. In fact, so highly appreciated was this line in former days, that visitors of note were driven by it into town, so that its attractiveness might be fully displayed. Down the hill we come now at a brisk pace, and passing along through the main street or road of North East Valley Borough, which, practically speaking, is the only level street within its bounds. The city is soon entered by the Leith Bridge, the point of departure, and each wends his homeward way after a delightful day's excursion, through scenes of rare beauty, of about thirty miles.
XII.—OUR PLAIN.
What dweller in the South Sea Colonies, and even much farther afield, has not heard of the Taieri Plain? Agriculturists, in particular, and those interested in the industry, may have noted the extraordinary yield of cereals obtained, the weight and quality of its oxen and sheep, and the superior excellence of its cheese and butter.
That long, wide stretch of land, forty years ago reckoned an irreclaimable swamp, fit only to be gazed on and moaned over, is now one of the grandest sights, as an agricultural and pastoral district, anywhere to be witnessed. 'Tis a transformation indeed, not yet altogether completed, however, as owners, either impecunious or absentee, have left specimens of what was the original swamp in a modified degree, for improvements have been effected by the labour and expenditure of neighbours, of which the drones gain the benefit. The labour, skill, and cash expended, have been enormous, but the return has, in most instancs, justified the outlay.
A good view of the Plain can be easily had from the top of any of the surrounding hills, Saddle Hill or (Maori) Pikawara, by way of preference, from which a bird's-eye-view can be had from north to south and east to west. To those who want more than a superficial view, it will be necessary to descend into the Plain itself and traverse its different road and rail lines. Already, in going up to the Taieri wilds, we have skirted the North Taieri District and seen the splendid farms of Messrs. Andrew, Shaw, Gow, Gibson, Oughton, Thompson, Gawn, and many others; and then on another journey to the river, along the east district, the celebrated farm of the Grange might have been observed, whose owner's name, Nimmo, stands prominent in more than one department, as well as those of Cullen, Allan, Dowrie, Callander, Stevenson Brown, and many more in close succession; whilst on the other hand lie farms showing the results of the labours of Smith, Cooper, Todd, Kirkland, Law, McKay, Sutherland, Blackie, Prain, and Charters, some of whom are still to the fore, and in their quiet contemplative moments laugh at the difficulties which their youthful successors have to surmount in comparison with those of over a quarter of a century ago, which they themselves encountered and overcame.
There is undoubtedly a great contrast between the comfortable, yea elegant houses of these and other farmers basking in the sun, surrounded with arbours, gardens, and orchards, and the old time sod or clay whare or weather-board "but and ben," which constituted the whole family apartments; between the comfortable and pleasant now, with the less comfortable, but not less happy then.
To get a fair and satisfactory view of the Plain, our route must be to the west side. The east is steep, broken, and thin in depth of soil; the north is, to a large extent, shingly; the west and centre are decidedly the cream of the country. So having left Dunedin with the first train, or perhaps better, the Outram train, at 9.20, we pass through the classic Mosgiel, now devoted to industries of various descriptions, most prominent of which are the woollen factories, well worthy a passing call, and where machinery is in operation for carding, spinning, weaving, and carrying out all other processes requisite to produce fabrics of different descriptions and in every variety of pattern and colour, unsurpassed by any other manufacturing locality in the world. These woollen and worsted goods are all produced from wools grown in the colony. No raw material from foreign parts is needed, everything is from our soil, by way of the sheep's back to the loom, and shoddy is not to be found.
Resuming our journey across the Plain, we pass through the farms of the Findlays, Reid, Boyd, Thomson. And here it may be asked why the name Duke's Road Station was bestowed? It arose from the circumstance that His Royal Highness the Duke of Edinburgh, who honoured the district with a visit in 1869, drove along this road four-in-hand and officially declared it open. To commemorate the event, the name of Duke's Road was bestowed. In connection with this little historical episode, another event connected with the district may be related. On the Silverstream course the first great New Zealand Champion Race was run, under the management of the Otago Jockey Club, for a prize of one thousand sovereigns, with sweepstakes, which was gained by the Victorian "Ladybird," the time being 5 min. 52½ sec., distance 3 miles.
We now enter the grand farm land of the Plain, owned or occupied by such familiar names as MacFarlane, Anderson, Carmichael, Buchanan, until the train stops at the celebrated estate of Abbotsford, carried on by its first owner with wonderful energy and enterprise, but with such a lack of prudence and discretion as to bring him to disaster. A large proportion of this estate was recently sold by auction at prices ranging up to £31 per acre.
Reaching the small township of Outram, where the railway terminates, before partaking of a slight repast a little time can be delightfully spent in a stroll to the West Taieri Bridge, where the river emerges from the gorge, little in bulk at present, but at times of great magnitude, overflowing its banks, covering the lower portions of the Plain, causing immense devastation and destruction. Councils and Boards have been created to do their best to keep the old river within bounds, and they have exerted their utmost skill in this direction, but a flood comes and the puny efforts are swept away by the raging element. It is to be hoped better results will be obtained in the future.
Maungatua shows his immensity, towering away above, 2,944 feet, and stretching miles away before us. For the purpose of getting a better view, instead of driving along its base by Woodside, we keep the road line further out on the Plain, and pass through lands of extraordinary fertility. We have the Grants of Gowrie, Granton, and Cray, Patrick, and Heenans, Hastie, Ford, Thompson, Gordon, McDiarmid, and all the rest of the numerous clansmen.
Laying aside all prejudice or preformed opinion, it may be safely asserted that in no part of the globe which we inhabit could the eye be regaled with the sight of finer crops of all descriptions than can here be seen. It could not indeed be otherwise. The soil is rich alluvium, of considerable depth, with excellent drainage. This season has been very favourable, and the general management of the various farms shows that the owners know their business and attend to it.
We are now at the border town, Berwick, and it has been well named, as at this point the level lands terminate, and to proceed further would take us into a hill country indeed. Not that the journey would be devoid of interest, contrariwise it is brim full thereof, but it is beyond our scope. We are also entering on a Lake District, as immediately in front lie Waihola and Waipori, with their swampy margins and fantastic outlines; and it should not be omitted that in this land of Scotchmen, where everything Scotch has been renewed, the only sheet of water bearing the name of "Loch" is here situated. Loch Ascog lies quietly ensconced in a little hollow, and contrasted with its neighbours hardly deserves the name. The Waipori River has its source away back among the mountains in the Traquhair Hundred, and like its greater mate—the Taieri—causes the settlers considerable anxiety at times. The road from Berwick across the Plain is somewhat tortuous, caused by the creeks and pools which are encountered. Water fowl of different species are abundant, and in the close season are comparatively tame. On the road the changeful scenes opened up at every few paces will delight the eye and fancy of all observers. Hardly anything could be suggested as lacking. Nature's handiwork and human artifice are wonderously displayed, and on reaching Henley, on the east side, where the train for town is taken, the feeling is experienced that the time has passed too speedily.
XIII.—THE SILVERSTREAM VALLEY.
(By G. H. Turton).
This lovely valley may be visited either by walking, riding, or driving, although the last-mentioned cannot be recommended, as the road is very steep and rough in some places.
Leaving the terminus of the Roslyn Extension Tramway, we pass down to the left through the Kaikorai Valley, and on up he steep slope on the other side to the Halfway Bush. After passing the Halfway Bush Hotel, a very primitive road may be noticed on the right side of the main road, leading towards Flagstaff. About half a mile further on, the road, which has all this time been ascending, reaches the top of the ridge and begins to descend into the Taieri Plain. We need not dwell on the fair prospects spread before us at various points along the route, as they have probably been already visited in some other excursion; but their beauty never palls, though reiterated attempts at description would doubtless do so. As we continue our descent we notice a large water-race, which comes winding round the face of the hill, and diving underneath the road, stretches away in the direction of Dunedin. This is the race which conveys water to one of the Dunedin reservoirs from the Silverstream, a distance of about twenty miles. Another half a mile on our road takes us to the bridge over the Silverstream. We do not cross this, however, but turn up to the right and follow a track which leads along the left bank of the stream. Passing over some grassy flats we come to several clumps of kowhai or goai trees, which in early spring bear quantities of large yellow flowers, to sip the honey from which the tuis gather round from far and near, and make the air melodious with their music. The track we are following, which is nothing more than a dray track used for bringing firewood to the farms situated lower down the stream, now crosses the stream once or twice; but as the water is shallow, there is no difficulty in doing this. As we go on our way, the mountains on either hand become higher. On the left rises Chalky Hill, and on the right we see the back of Mount Flagstaff, over the shoulder of which we have to climb to reach town. After crossing the stream for the fourth time, the road branches. We take the right hand branch, and leaving the Silverstream behind us we pass up a pretty wooded gully, down which flows a small branch of the main stream. The left hand side of the gully is covered with dense bush, in which birds of various species disport themselves. About half a mile further on the road again branches, and this time we take the left hand branch, and begin to ascend. A little way up we again cross the reservoir water-race, and after a stiff pull up the hill we arrive at the highest point, whence we descend, in a short time arriving at the main road, close to Mr. Hume's asylum; thence we return to town as we came. For anyone who enjoys a good long walk, there is no more pleasurable excursion in the neighbourhood of Dunedin, for in the romantic valley of the Silverstream we find a fair wilderness where mountain, wood and stream combine to form picture after picture to delight the eye.
XIV.—THE HARBOUR.
Call it what you will—a river, harbour, a bay, an estuary, a firth, or by whatever name it may be known, the fact remains that up or down that basin of water there are gorgeous views to be obtained. A sheet of water, at first apparently circumscribed, but as we move on some new prospect opens up which tells the end is not yet. Turning that point, rounding this sandbank, between these islands, where it were hard to tell where the opening lies, the progress of the boat discloses bays and harbours, each different in shape, with winding approaches, so that the visitant wonderingly exclaims, Where is the pilot going to take us next?
All is right, however, the man at the wheel knows his duty, and is devoted to it, and so long as a hundred passengers, or thereabout, do not speak to him at once, he will keep the good vessel right. So along we spin, take the long or the short channel, it only makes a difference in time, and if the steamer go by one water-way and return by the other, all objects of interest will be seen. The great advantage is to have a thoroughly well-posted-up skipper or guide to tell the lore of ancient times: how on this side Black Jack's Point got its name, how across the water Grant's Braes came to be celebrated, and as the course outward is sped, how Burke's brewery on the one side, was celebrated once for the now exceeding excellence of its brews, and for the energy and enterprise which the owner always manifested in developing the resources of the Province; and to point out on the other side Macandrew's Bay; as well as to guide us through the intricacies of the channels, for, as the fates would have it, boats drawing two feet of water could sail across the bay at high tide, whilst at ebb the pedestrian could make seven-eighths of the journey almost dry shod, to find at the end of his mile journey that his stature must grow to 16 or 18 feet before he can cross the few yards yet to be accomplished, unless he were a powerful swimmer, and able to stem the current.
How can the steamer get through or between these rocks and hills ahead? Easily, it will be found, because there is a deep water fair-way between the islands, which the pilot knows well.
And now through the Narrows, Port Chalmers, with its not very busy, but picturesque appearance, unfolds itself. Rounding the point, on which the fishery establishment is situated, and from which the best and purest cod liver oil in the world is procured, we steam round Koputai Bay, formerly the rendezvous of the natives on their journeys south or north.
Leaving this lovely spot, our propeller posts us on to the Heads, past Carey's, Deborah, Hamilton's and Dowling Bays and Otapelo Point. The remarkable thing about the latter name is the presence of the letter "l," whilst Maori scholars tell us there is no such letter in the Maori language. Now, if the steamer is light enough in draught and the tide well up, we turn at Harrington Point, skirting the land past the Maori Kaik until we stretch into Portobello Bay, coming out again from this not very safe cove. Rounding the point, which, although the most prominent of the whole, has never had a name, and pass the Quarantine Island, we then sail along the coastline past Dunoon, round Broad Bay and Grassy Point, reaching the starting point in capital time.
Taking a retrospect of the pleasing scenes which in our voyage we have witnessed, different minds will call up different resemblances to scenes elsewhere, and contrasts and comparisons will be made, none of them to the disparagement of those we have contemplated. Scotchmen compare our harbour to the famed Kyles of Bute, Australians to some views in Sydney harbour, but the concurrent testimony is that a fairer view of nature's handiwork is rarely to be seen.
The change that has taken place, however, since the white man invaded the scene, must be considered. When the "Philip Laing," the ship, or rather barque, which bore the first settlers from the Clyde to this their distant and future home, cast anchor in Koputai Bay, there was only a whare or two at the Kaik, occupied by natives, some of them of high renown, as devoted friends to the Pakeha, who are elsewhere mentioned, and up at Koputai a few "Hielanmen" had settled down to traffic with the whaling visitors and with the natives. From shore to summit, on both sides, a dense carpet of foliage of varied and pleasing hue covered the whole face of the land, one or two spots alone being unclothed. The woods echoed with the notes of the native birds, and the water was dotted with the ungainly-looking shag, eager in its watch for its finny prey, and swift as a lightning flash to dive in pursuit. No smoke wreath issued from any spot indicative of human occupancy, silence reigned almost supreme, and the placid clear water, reflected as in a mirror its wooded surroundings. Viewed either at morn, noon, or eve, the scene was inexpressibly grand. It were a situation in which to realize the beautiful words of Young:—
"Twilight I love thee, as thy shadows roll,
The calm of evening steals upon my soul!
Sublimely tender, solemnly serene,
Still as the moon, enchanting is the scene."
But how changed was it when aneath a sullen sky a fierce, nor'-easter or sou'-wester disturbed the elements? The reader can realize that picture for himself.