Station Amusements in New Zealand by Lady Mary Anne Barker (best large ereader .txt) 📕

a splendid "bush," extending over many hundred acres, only added to the lonely grandeur of the scene. We rode almost the whole time in a deep cold shade, for between us and the warm sun-rays were such lofty mountains that it was only for a few brief noontide moments he could peep over their steep sides.

After two hour's riding, at the best pace which we could keep up through these terrible gorges, a sharp turn of the track brought us full in view of our destination. I can never forget that first glimpse of Lake Ida. In the cleft of a huge, gaunt, bare hill, divided as if by a giant hand, lay a large _black_ sheet of ice. No ray of sunshine ever struck it from autumn until spring, and it seemed impossible to imagine our venturing to skate merrily in such a sombre looking spot. But New-Zealand sheep farmers are not sentimental I am afraid. Beyond a rapid thought of self-congratulation that such "cold country" was not on _their_ run, they did not feel affected by its eternal silence and gloom. The ice would bear, and what more could skater's heart desire? At the end of the dark tarn, nearest to the track by which we had approached it, stood a neat little hut; and judge of my amazement when, as we rode up to it, a young gentleman, looking as if he was just going out for a day's deer-stalking, opened the low door and came out to greet us. Yes, here was one of those strange anomalies peculiar to the colonies. A young man, fresh from his University, of refined tastes and cultivated intellect, was leading here the life of a boor, without companionship or appreciation of any sort. His "mate" seemed to be a rough West countryman, honest and well meaning enough, but utterly unsuited to Mr. K----. It was the old story, of wild unpractical ideas hastily carried out. Mr. K---- had arrived in New Zealand a couple of years before, with all his worldly wealth,--1,000 pounds. Finding this would not go very far in the purchase of a good sheep-run, and hearing some calculations about the profit to be derived from breeding cattle, based upon somebody's lucky speculation, he eagerly caught at one of the many offers showered upon unfortunate "new chums," and bought the worst and bleakest bit of one of the worst and bleakest runs in the province. The remainder of his money was laid out in purchasing stock; and now he had sat down patiently to await, in his little hut, until such time as his brilliant expectations would be realized. I may say here they became fainter and fainter year by year, and at last faded away altogether; leaving him at the end of three lonely, dreadful years with exactly half his capital, but double his experience. However this has nothing to do with my story, except that I can never think of our skating expedition to that lonely lake, far back among those terrible hills, without a thrill of compassion for the only living human being, who dwelt among them.

It was too cold to dawdle about, however, that day. The frost lay white and hard upon the ground, and we felt that we were cruel in leaving our poor horses standing to get chilled whilst we amused ourselves. Although my beloved Helen was not there, having been exchanged for the day in favour of Master Mouse, a shaggy pony, whose paces were as rough as its coat, I begged a red blanket from Mr. K----, and covered up Helen's stable companion, whose sleek skin spoke of a milder temperature than that on Lake Ida's "gloomy shore." Our simple arrangements were soon made. Mr. K---- left directions to his mate to prepare a repast consisting of tea, bread, and mutton for us, and, each carrying our skates, we made the best of our way across the frozen tussocks to the lake. Mr. K---- proved an admirable guide over its surface, for he was in the habit during the winter of getting all his firewood out of the opposite "bush," and bringing it across the lake on sledges drawn by bullocks. We accused him of having cut up our ice dreadfully by these means; but he took us to a part of the vast expanse where an unbroken field of at least ten acres of ice stretched smoothly before us. Here were no boards marked "DANGEROUS," nor any intimation of the depth of water beneath. The most timid person could feel no apprehension on ice which seemed more solid than the earth; so accordingly in a few moments we had buckled and strapped on our skates, and were skimming and gliding--and I must add, falling--in all directions. We were very much out of practice at first, except Mr. K----, who skated every day, taking short cuts across the lake to track a stray heifer or explore a blind gully.

I despair of making my readers see the scene as I saw it, or of conveying any adequate idea of the intense, the appalling loneliness of the spot. It really seemed to me as if our voices and laughter, so far from breaking the deep eternal silence, only brought it out into stronger relief. On either hand rose up, shear from the waters edge, a great, barren, shingly mountain; before us loomed a dark pine forest, whose black shadows crept up until they merged in the deep _crevasses_ and fissures of the Snowy Range. Behind us stretched the winding gullies by which we had climbed to this mountain tarn, and Mr. K----'s little hut and scrap of a garden and paddock gave the one touch of life, or possibility of life, to this desolate region. In spite of all scenic wet blankets we tried hard to be gay, and no one but myself would acknowledge that we found the lonely grandeur of our "rink" too much for us. We skated away perseveringly until we were both tired and hungry, when we returned to Mr. K----'s hut, took a hasty meal, and mounted our chilled steeds. Mr. C. H---- insisted on bringing poor Mr. K---- back with us, though he was somewhat reluctant to come, alleging that a few days spent in the society of his kind made the solitude of his weather-board hut all the more dreary. The next day and yet the next we returned to our gloomy skating ground, and when I turned round in my saddle as we rode away on Friday evening, for a last look at Lake Ida lying behind us in her winter black numbness, her aspect seemed more forbidding than ever, for only the bare steep hill-sides could be seen; the pine forest and white distant mountains were all blotted and blurred out of sight by a heavy pall of cloud creeping slowly up.

"Let us ride fast," cried Mr. K----, "or we shall have a sou'-wester upon us;" so we galloped home as quickly as we could, over ground that I don't really believe I could summon courage to walk across, ever so slowly, to-day,--but then one's nerves and courage are in very different order out in New Zealand to the low standard which rules for ladies in England, who "live at home in ease!" Long before we reached home the storm was pelting us: my little jacket was like a white board when I took it off, for the sleet and snow had frozen as it fell. I was wet to the skin, and so numb with cold I could hardly stand when we reached home at last in the dark and down-pour. I could only get my things very imperfectly dried, and had to manage as best I could, but yet no one even thought of making the inquiry next morning when I came out to breakfast, "Have you caught cold?" It would have seemed a ridiculous question.


Chapter V: Toboggon-ing.

I cannot resist the temptation to touch upon one of the winter amusements which came to us two years later. Yet the word "amusement" seems out of place, no one in the Province having much heart to amuse themselves, for the great snow storm of August, 1867, had just taken place, and we were in the first days of bewilderment at the calamity which had befallen us all. A week's incessant snow-fall, accompanied by a fierce and freezing south-west wind, had not only covered the whole of the mountains from base to brow with shining white, through which not a single dark rock jutted, but had drifted on the plains for many feet deep. Gullies had been filled up by the soft, driving flakes, creeks were bridged over, and for three weeks and more all communication between the stations and the various townships was cut off. The full extent of our losses was unknown to us, and dreary as were our forebodings of misfortune, none of us guessed that snow to be the winding sheet of half a million of sheep. The magnificent semi-circle of the Southern Alps stood out, for a hundred miles from north to south, in appalling white distinctness, and no one in the whole Colony had ever seen the splendid range thus free from fleck or flaw. We had done all we could within working distance, but what was, the use of digging in drifts thirty feet deep? Amidst, and almost above, the terrible anxiety about our own individual safety,--for the snow was over the roof of many of the station-houses,--came the pressing question, "Where are the sheep?" A profound silence unbroken by bleat of lamb, or bark of dog, or any sound of life, had reigned for many days, when a merciful north-westerly gale sprung, up, and releasing the heavily-laden earth from its white bondage, freed the miserable remnant of our flocks and herds. At least, I should say, it freed those sheep which had travelled down to the vallies, driven before the first pitiless gusts, but we knew that many hundreds, if not thousands, of wethers must have been surprised and imprisoned far back among the hills.

Such knowledge could not be acted upon, however, for no human being could hope to plunge through the drifts around us. Old shepherds who had lived on the run for fifteen years, confessed that they did not know their way fifty yards from the homestead. The vallies were filled up, so that one gully looked precisely like its fellow; rocks, scrub, Ti-ti palms, all our local land-marks had disappeared; not a fence or gate could be seen in all the country side. Here and there a long wave-like line in the smooth mass would lead us to suppose that a wire fence lay buried beneath its curves, but we had no means of knowing for certain. Near the house every shrub and out-building, every hay-stack or wood-heap, had all been covered up, and no man might even guess where they lay.

This had been the terrible state of things, and although the blessed warm wind had removed our immediate and pressing fear of starvation, we could not hope to employ ourselves in searching for our missing sheep for many days to come. None of us had been able to take any exercise for more than a fortnight, and having done all that could possibly be done near at hand, F---- set to work to manufacture some sledges out of old packing-cases. Quite close to the house, a hill sloped smoothly for about 300 yards, at an angle of 40 degrees; along its side lay a perfectly level and deep drift, which did not show any signs of thawing for more than a month, and we resolved to use this as a natural _Montagne Russe_. The construction of a suitable sledge was the first difficulty to be surmounted, and many were the dismal failures and break-neck catastrophes