# Rambles on the Golden Coast of New Zealand/Chapter 5

LAKE M‘KERROW.
CHAPTER V.
HE party who had left the “Geelong,” and had crossed the Hollyford (or Kaduku) bar, described as sailing up towards the head-waters of Lake M‘Kerrow (or Kakapo). The two names of the places are given, because the first is the name fixed by the map: the second is that in most familiar use; and there are reasons for about the same amount of sympathy for one as for the other. The river flows into the lake by two channels, about half a mile distant to each other. We correctly chose the stream on the right hand, and found it quite as much as we could do, with oars and sail, to stem the current at its junction with the lake, and to get over the little “bar” caused by the strength of the breeze. Immediately inside of this, we landed at the foot of a spur, which, by the predominance of the birch-tree, by the extensive slip of rocky débris which its side presented, and by its snow surmountings, had rather an Alpine aspect. As we landed, our attention was attracted by an object common enough among our company, but but uncommon as a feature of the country—an old coat, hanging from a rata tree. It had evidently been left by some digging party as a signal, as in a hollow behind the tree, covered with the “fly” of a tent, was found a bagful of flour, an adze, a parcel of nails, and portions of blankets. On a tree, a few paces behind, were carved the words “J. Wallace; Jan. 3, ’64;” and on another tree the words “Howden and party.” It was apparent that the first inscription had no relation to the “plant” near the beach. Although acquiring a musty aspect, it had been deposited much more recently than the date indicated. Its contents had probably been left by the party whom Mr Cleave describes as having visited the head of the lake, for, near hand, there was a “mogey,” or a compromise between a boat and a raft, formed of ship’s planks and stems of Native flax—a primitive means of conveyance which, Mr Cleave states, the party had constructed. There were also traces of a canoe having been formed out of the trunk of a tree, by which the party had probably returned to the coast. In the vicinity there were traces of a camping place, and remnants of old boots, which had evidently done eminent service in the exploration of the country. We were puzzled by the presence on the beach of a vessel’s boom or topmast, but its appearance at this distance from the sea was explainable by the remembrance that the schooner “Pride” had been wrecked at the mouth of the river, and it was possible that this relic of her had drifted hither on a solitary voyage of exploration, or, what is more likely, that it had been used by the diggers as the keel of their “mogey.”
It had been ascertained, during a short stoppage on the beach at the lower end of ​the lake, that we had come ashore rather indifferently supplied with provisions, in the event of any accident happening to prevent our return to the steamer. Some of the digging party, who were “shell-backs,” and good hands at the oar, were therefore despatched to the vessel in the smaller boat for additional supplies, and for stores to be left for the surveyors. The remainder of the party came on to the head of the lake in our boat, and they camped at this old camping place. Others of us pulled the boat up, and, when that became impossible, tracked her to the first fork of the river; and there we also camped for the night. The camping place was picturesque enough, being in the midst of a tiny clump of shrubbery at the extreme point of the island formed by the division of the river into the two streams which fall into the lake; but it was not a very prudent choice, except upon the faith of the continuance of dry weather. It was already all but encircled by the stream, and it was evident, from the numerous large logs, and the considerable area of bare boulders in the neighbourhood on nearly the same level, that the upper part of the island—and under extraordinary circumstances, perhaps the whole of it—is occasionally overflown. The river at this point runs between ranges 3000 and 4000 ft. high, some of them rising almost precipitously from the banks of the stream, and all of them more or less snow-clad. Through openings in the ranges on the Milford Sound side, could be seen the immense snow-fields of Tutoko Peak—a mountain not less in height, if not higher than, Pembroke Peak—and we were sufficiently near it to hear, during the dead of night, the loud thunder sound of the avalanches descending its steep sides.
For a party of nine, the tent accommodation was not extensive, but it was economically dispensed; and if there was limited comfort, there was at least a picturesqueness about us befitting the fashion of things around. The comfort was not inconsiderable, but it was mixed. With the Superintendent and Secretary for Lands and Works acting as hewers of wood and drawers of water; with a bed of fuschias and veronicas carefully spread by the hands of the Harbour Master; with the tit-bits of pigeons shot, waded for to the waist, plucked and cooked by one’s companions; with all these conditions combined, a man would surely be bold to complain. Any one who was luxuriously disposed might have walked about with his hands in his pockets; but it was just at that point that there was a failure in the completeness of things; for hath not a man ears with which to hear, and eyes with which to see, and is it likely he would submit to have them literally “bunged up” by sandflies, in exchange for all the moral satisfaction he might derive from the other circumstances by which he was surrounded? The vote was unanimously in favour of physical comfort versus moral satisfaction, and we lit a big fire, with a view more to the size of its smoke than its cheerful blaze; and later in the evening, we hailed the gentle dew which fell, and the clear moon which rose above the snow-peaks in the east. By their assistance we managed to get two or three hours’ sleep, to be awakened by the sweet notes of the morning song of the thrush, and the irritant pricking of these same sandflies; for neither reasoning nor wrath would turn them away. It is fair to say, however, that it is not here that these pests were most ​troublesome, and that a great deal depends upon the choice of one’s camping place. Taken as a whole, the West Coast did not present them, at any one time, in such aggravating numbers as we found them afterwards on our visit to the Bluff, and practised bushmen are, no doubt, able to avoid their presence and their inconvenient admiration of the society of men. Fortunately there was not the additional nuisance of rats performing nocturnal steeplechases over our noses—a common enough experience on the West Coast, as elsewhere. In fact, the untouched flour left by the digging party indicated that they are enemies to domestic comfort which have not yet found their way thus far south. Natural decay was, exclusive of our appetites, more an enemy to our stock of provisions, and as the meat we had with us gave intimation of its length of absence from the slaughter-yard, the Secretary sat up later than the rest of us, to keep turning the string from which two big pieces of beef depended; and in the morning we found that, unlike King Alfred, he had been “a good and faithful servant,” and that his work was “well done.”
In the morning, the Secretary and Mr Wright pushed up the stream some miles further; but, it was found impossible, in consequence of the rapids, to take the heavy boat which it was necessary for us to have, any great distance up. Dr Hector had had a small boat adapted for the purpose, and his party tracked it up for some miles, conveying their “swags,” but the convenience, it is confessed, was in that case doubtful. Compared with the season of the year at which Dr Hector visited the locality, there must have been a greatly larger body of water in the river. In fact, in its present trackless state, and the frequent necessity for making the river the road, the summer season must be considerably the worst for getting over the ranges to the Wakatip. The Secretary and his companion went past a large moraine, and, I suppose, nearly to the border of the limited breadth of flat country which, above it, occupies what is apparently the bed of an old lake. The drift along the banks of the stream is described as not unlike that of the Shotover. Among the shingle were picked up numerous pieces of green-stone—not the green-stone of the Maoris; and round our camp we found a few pieces of porcelain jasper. The beaches of the lake, lower down, seem to consist of granite gneiss, and disintegrated schist. Though tall trees grew here, on what may be literally described as suction—for they stand on the bare rock, without even the semblance of soil—there seems to be, on some parts of the island, some cultivatable ground, and it might hold a homestead; but rich as is its vegetation, it is hard to say how far it is guaranteed against floods. In the event of a tract being cut from the Wakatip to the M‘Kerrow, this would naturally be a stopping place. Rather, it would be its western terminus; beyond it the lake provides preferable facilities for travel.
The boat which had been despatched to the steamer had not returned, and, having seen all that was apparently to be seen in this the least practicable part of the district, we started for the return trip by the lake. The diggers were all scattered, and beyond “hail,” except three, and two of these came with us to take a spell at the oars in pulling down against the stiff head wind which we had to face. It was arranged that, for the ​others, one of the boats should be sent back. So far, and, indeed, until the end, they did not get the “colour;” the formation was, in the mining sense, altogether too hungry-looking.
The lake seems at any time good 12 or 15 miles long; but the pulling distance, regardless of the impediment of wind, was something well above 20. The lake waters, as we saw them, were clear, and a peculiar appearance is presented on the rocky face under the surface by bright green alge or moss. This may be worth remembering, as any one having a sympathy for minerals, instead of plants, might delude himself with the hope that it might prove to be copper; and its examination is not accomplished without some risk of going down “fathoms deep.” The trees along these precipitous shores are chiefly the birch and the rata, and there is a shrub which we had not previously seen, as pleasing by its appearance, though not as in fragrance, as the sweet-smelling hawthorn. As a feature of the shore, they are just a shade less observable, but not less attractive, than the scarlet tips of the branches of the rata. It would have been more pleasant to have pulled down by the eastern shore of the lake, where there is more of a beach, and where some prospecting might have been done; but, as the wind was, it was most exposed.
We were glad to land and breathe in the first little bay which presented itself in the beautiful beach which surrounds the lower end of the lake; to squat upon a patch of green sward—not grass, but the Maori tea-plant; and to solace ourselves with scraps from the “shrunk shanks” of the larder. It is at this point that the undulating beach begins, which, on this side, extends for a couple of miles towards the river, fronting the flat land which, in increasing width, reaches to the sea. The breadth of the beach indicates that the lake is occasionally 6 or 8 ft. higher than when we saw it, but, in most parts there is a terrace of nearly equal height above high-water mark; and beyond that, there is a free sandy soil, upon which fine, straight, and heavy timber grows, with no great amount of underwood. In patches, the soil is gravelly close to the surface, but that is usually where there is, at seasons, an overflow of the mountain streams. On the debatable ground between the forest and the lake, the tutu plant grew as elegant trees, usually overhung, in the back-ground, by the lighter-leaved and drooping branches of the “Kowhai.” The character of the forest, and the general richness, without rankness, of the vegetation, is easily accounted for, looking at the shelter which this part of the level country, even more than that on the north side, receives from the southerly breezes by the ranges behind, and the mass of mountains towards Milford Sound.
Up to this time, the boat despatched to the steamer had not returned, and, fearing an accident, it was resolved that some should pull to the river mouth; others camp on the opposite shore, at the mouth of the Hokuri Creek, or rather river—a locality opposite us, and, from our point of view, not unlike Lower Portobello Bay. But, as we were preparing for this, the boat was seen upon the beach by the Superintendent, who had walked along the shore in advance of us, and from the crew the particulars of the ​capsizing of the ship’s boat on the bar, and the providential return of this boat in connection with the rescue, were ascertained. They proceeded up the lake, to bring down the diggers whom we had left. They took with them also, to be deposited in the cache (I believe that is the correct word) where we had already found the flour, the following stores:—Four bags of flour, one bag of sugar, one bag of salt, one side of bacon, one bag of biscuits, three pounds of candles, two bars of soap, five tins of sardines, one bag of tea, and three tins of baking-powder. Inserted in a gin-bottle, to keep company with the old coat, was the following written intimation:—“December 12, 1867.—These provisions are deposited here at the expense of the Provincial Government of Otago, for the use of surveyors. Any parties travelling, and requiring supplies, are requested to take what they require, and to leave the remainder carefully secured, for the use of any others who may be in the same position as themselves.” We crossed the lake and camped for the night, near the mouth of the Hokuri Creek.
At the point where we crossed Lake M‘Kerrow, from its western to its eastern shore, for the purpose of camping for the second night, its waters are about three miles in breadth. On the east side, as upon the west, there is a broad white shingle beach—a delightful promenade, much appreciated by us, who, from our cramped positions in the boat, had for days been gazing at upright hills; and not to be despised by even the most elegant lounger on the most extensive esplanade of the most fashionable or highly favoured watering-place. As we saw it, there was room for the driving of two or three four-in-hands abreast of each other; but it is occasionally limited to a narrow strip in front of the rich vegetation of the terrace; this only when the lake is unusually high, by the increase of the streams which flow into it, or—what is, no doubt, a more frequent cause—high spring tides. There was a perceptible rise and fall of the lake, in accordance with the tides, during the short time we were there; and it is stated by Dr Hector that though the great bulk of its waters are fresh, there are occasions when, near the lower end, they are distinguishably brackish. We camped near the mouth of the Hokuri creek—a considerable stream, which runs rapidly towards the lake along a valley visible for some distance along the hills in the direction of Big Bay. While some were camping, or cooking the dozen of pigeons, “rolling fat,” which two of the party brought down with their guns in a very few minutes, others walked along the beach to a point denoted on the map as the site of the “Government Store,” and as far as Gravel Cove—a bay of miniature size, but of much picturesqueness, where, during a part of her visit, the “Matilda Hayes” had been moored. Near where the Government Store should have been found, a pole was seen driven into the beach, surmounted by a board with the inscription, “J. Cook, March 26, 1864.” Had the date been just a little less distinct, there seemed to be a remote hope of one of our party returning to Dunedin with the conviction that this was a record of the visit to these parts of none other than the celebrated Captain Cook; but a learned and eloquent disquisition upon the ancient character of the carving led to a closer examination, and to a realisation of the humble and unromantic truth, that it was simply a record of, I think, the visit of the party who ​were despatched in search of Dr Hector. The Government Store, in the condition we found it was, a significant indication of the mutability of things, and of Governments. The building, nothing much at first, was already, though only two or three years old, reduced to the remnants of the frame, rotten and tottering—its floor, a shrubbery of a growth as high as what were once the walls; and around it, in admired confusion, were the relics of a few cases and casks, which had stood until “rust and moth” had corrupted them, and then collapsed. Upon a tree in Gravel Cove was nailed a piece of printed calico, with the words “Good News to the Diggers. They are come at last. Who? The Diggers’ Friends!” It is just possible that the Superintendent and the Secretary for Lands and Works may have accepted this as a personal compliment, specially prepared for them, in recognition of this visit; but, if I am not mistaken, I have seen the same sort of thing about Bullen’s corner, or in the windows of “The Greatest Wonder of the World.” By what chance it had got here, it is hard to say. As a development of the advertising mania, the circumstance may not be without interest to those for whose genius there may be an outlet in the establishment of the first morning paper at Martin’s Bay. Upon another tree at the same place were carved the words—“Kakapo Lake, Gravel Cove, ‘Matilda Hayes,’ Geo. Surv., Otago, Sep. 17, 1863;” and underneath these “J. Cook, A. 2, 1864.”
It is in this vicinity that there are some of the choicest spots for settlement, although there are superior situations on the left hand bank of the river, when sailing down, and half-way to the sea. A small township at this end of the lake is not an improbable realisation of the future, in connection with the settlement of Martin’s Bay. There is deep water close to the fine beach—occasionally close to the bush; there is a level or gently rising ground behind; and it commands the finest view of the lake. But Gravel Cove, even with the facilities for settlement or shipping, is almost too pretty a place for anything but a picturesque pendicle to some privately-owned estate. The township, if there ever be one, will probably be where there is an equal extent of practical resources, and less of the picturesque. There is no paucity of situations of either sort, but the most probable selection will be on the left hand side of the river, after crossing the bar. On the right hand side there is an extensive sandspit, quite as applicable to the purposes of a township as the site of Hokitika, but it is not required with such a choice of other and better area around.
Our camping place for this night had been chosen from a point of view which coincided with highly cultivated notions of the picturesque, but without a due regard to one of the natural features of the place—the presence of blow-flies, sand-flies, and mosquitoes. There were indications of an early downfall of rain, and the sand-flies were especially active and ruthless in their attacks. Your correspondent, with a prescience for which he gives himself great credit, had provided himself, before leaving Dunedin, with a pair of dog-skin gloves, but the others had neglected this precaution, and at teatime, this evening, the majority appeared—and without even making apology—with their hands, instead of their feet, enclosed in their woollen socks. Taking into ​consideration the circumstance that we were unprovided with knives and forks, it can easily be conceived how, with these impedimenta, there was, in the handling of ham-bones or legs of mutton, some difficulty experienced in paying proper attention to the usual amenities of the tea-table. One of the party was missing altogether, but he revealed his proximity by the smoke of a large bush fire which he had organised, several degrees too near the camp to be either safe or pleasant. He was just visible in the midst of its smoke, and, when gently remonstrated with for his insane behaviour, he said something like “Hang it!” and plaintively added—“This is the first five minutes’ peace I have had all this day.” Poor fellow!—he was much to be commiserated. He had tried salt water, and he had tried soap, and he had tried—I regret to say—some hard swearing; but all were of no avail. Here he had now burnt a good quarter-acre of scrub, and, standing, with his arms folded, in the midst of the smoke, he compared himself to Alexander the Great. He had made a desert, and he called that peace!
One of the party who had been several miles up the Hokuri Creek, brought back with him some samples of clay-slate and cement; and in the morning a number of us started to “prospect” the locality. The Hokuri is by no means such a small stream as the use of the word “creek” would imply, and it required some agility to walk up along its bed or by its steep bank of gravel wash, without getting precipitated into a hole which might necessitate swimming. About a mile and a-half up the stream we came to a cliff 200 or 300 ft. high, and from which there had been an extensive slip of soft clay-slate. This deposit underlies an older “wash” than that formed by the present stream, and it looked a likely enough bottom upon which gold might be obtained. The diggers tried a few prospects, but were unable to raise the “colour,” and as it began to rain heavily, an elaborate examination was not to be expected. From the appearances, it is possible that this formation extends towards Big Bay, and it is a formation with which the diggers were better pleased, with regard to the prospects of gold, than that of any of the other localities which they had cursorily examined.
As the fine weather we had had was apparently at an end, and there was a danger of the wind setting up a sea, which might cut off the possibilities of retreating to the “Geelong,” we started for the mouth of the river, leaving directions for the digging party, who were expected to return from the head of the lake, to follow at once.
As we re-entered the river at its source from the lake, we tried the depth of water from side to side, and found that there is a considerable area of bank on the western side of the lake covered with only three or four feet of water; but in the proper channel, on the east side, we could not touch the bottom with the 10 ft. boat-hook, and there was apparently ample width of channel for the passage of any vessel capable of crossing the bar at the river mouth. At this point the river is about three chains wide, and it maintains an even breadth for some distance down. The banks, more especially on the left hand side, are steep, and between 30 or 40 ft. high—too high to admit of the flats being, by any chance, flooded. On the other side there is a bank of similar gravel wash, but scarcely so elevated. At different points, on each side, some of the party landed, to ​prospect as to the closeness of the bush, and the quality of the ground; and the report, in every case, was a favourable one as to the fineness of the timber, its freedom from undergrowth, and the richness of the soil. These features prevailed along the banks of what Dr Hector has named the “alleys” of the stream proper—branches of the river which once surrounded islands, but which have become “blind channels,” while the islands have been converted into peninsulas. Approaching the mouth of the river, its resemblance to one or other of the branches of the Clutha was, as I think I already said, most striking. In fact, in reality as well as in appearance, the sides of the river partake very much of the character of portions of Inch Clutha or its neighbourhood; and the experiences of the settlers here would be nothing worse, if not a strong shade better than the experiences of the Otago pioneers who had made the Clutha district their home, and the garden which, in many parts, it now is.
Considerable quantities of white-bait were to be seen in the stream, as they had been in the lake, and even in the Hollyford proper; and other fish of small size were occasionally visible. The woods also were extensively inhabited by pigeons, kakas, and wood-hens, and the smaller birds, whose notes filled the air almost day and night. No man with powder and shot need be without, at least, one description of food, and the simplicity with which the wood-hens were caught made the gun not always indispensable. We failed, however, in casually meeting with any more specimens of the kiwi or the kakapo, but their capture was not essentially an item of our programme.
Based upon the appearances of the weather—for it was now raining and blowing hard—bets were made that the “Geelong” would be found to have sought the shelter of Milford Sound; but when we reached the sandspit, a few of us scampered over it, and had the gratification of seeing her looming—and rolling not a little—in the distance. She was still at her original anchorage, and, as soon as the fire we made was seen by Captain Hart, he sent the boat ashore, and we mixed crews for the pull across the bar. There was a considerable surf on the beach, but the river was quite accessible by boats; and the theory is, that going out over a bar is, at most times, the safer of the two operations. On this occasion, at any rate, we found it a matter of no difficulty. It was the intention of our party to have given a day to the examination of Big Bay, but the altered weather interfered with that arrangement. The weather and the trifling time they had to prospect were also the inducing causes of the diggers coming off to the steamer, after their first determination to remain. They have since found reason to repent of their resolution, and it is not improbable that they will yet do penance by walking thither overland.
This is the last I am to say, though it is not the last that might be said, of the West Coast and Martin’s Bay. Much of what has been said has had reference to the picture which the coast presents; comparatively little, perhaps, as to the practical resources it may possess. The existence of the latter, so far as they were seen, has merely been reported upon. The mode of their development is a matter which rests with the Government. It may be suggested, however, that communication with the Lake District is a prime necessity in connection with the settlement of country at Martin’s Bay.