NZ South Coast Adventure 1966

Y.M.C.A. ADVENTURE CAMPS 1966-1967 An account of Camp IV TE WAE WAE BAY – PUYSEGUR POINT – LAKE MONK – AND BY AIR TO TE ANAU th 26 December 1966 – 10th January 1967

REPUBLISHED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS ADDED FOR THE OCTOBER 2006 REUNION OF PARTICIPANTS

INTRODUCTION This document was transcribed from a report written by Phil Dorizac in 1967 following a “YMCA Adventure Camp” tramp by a group of 13 young men led by Phil, from Te Waewae Bay to Lake Monk by way of Puysegur Point. Copies of the original report are held by members of the party, some are in draft form, others are final versions complete with photographs, but all are in poor condition. This edition has been copied verbatim from the report, and as the original photographs are no longer available, other photographs from the same trip have been inserted.

The re-production of the report was timed to coincide with a reunion of the participants over Labour Weekend, October 2006. On Saturday evening a social gathering was held with partners in Louie’s Café and Bar Invercargill. On Sunday and Monday, those who were available, journeyed to Waitutu Lodge near the mouth of Wairaurahiri River where some members of the party retraced their steps of 40 years previously to view the viaducts. Our host for the two days was Paul Roff of Hump Ridge Jets who transported the party by Jet Boat from the shores of Lake Hauroko down the Wairaurahiri River to the Lodge and return.

Appended to this document is a paper by Dr Lucy Moore of the Botany Division, Department of Scientific and Industrial Research, Christchurch, as published in the March 1969 issue of the New Zealand Journal of Botany. The paper describes the significance of the find of Sprengelia incarnata as mentioned in Phil’s report, and acknowledges the members of the party involved in the collection of specimens. The paper was down loaded as a pdf file from a link located at http://www.rsnz.org/publish/nzjb/1969/7.php A Smithies Nov 2006.

Rear - Chris, Murray, Roley, Al, Gilbert, Bruce. Front - Paul, Ken. G van Reenen

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Y.M.C.A. ADVENTURE CAMPS 1966-1967 An account of Camp IV TE WAE WAE BAY – PUYSEGUR POINT – LAKE MONK – AND BY AIR TO TE ANAU 26th December 1966 – 10th January 1967 INTRODUCTION This was to be the most ambitious camp to date and indeed might well be considered as one of the toughest tramps that could be found in New Zealand. To my knowledge, there have been only two other parties to have completed the Te Wae Wae – Puysegur Point section in the last 40 years and, of those who made this overland journey before this time, there are few whose names are not featured in the pages of historical accounts as being lucky to survive or for the hardships, misfortunes or even death which befell them.

When Mr. D. Reisterer, then General Secretary of the Invercargill Y.M.C.A., approached me in 1963 with a view to my conducting the Adventure Camps he expressed the hope that eventually there would be some youths who would be capable of this trip which was part of a journey which two other experienced trampers and myself had just completed. The present General Secretary, Mr. E.G.D. McKenzie, wholeheartedly supported the idea and, when it was mooted for this year, gave the undertaking every encouragement. At any hour of the day or night he was cheerfully available for discussion and planning, and he efficiently attended to any requests made of him for assistance before and during the camp.

Such a prospect of real adventure seemed to appeal to a number of experienced youths, and enrolments came in at a rate that made it necessary to close registrations a week before the scheduled date. The numbers were already greater than those for which we had already allowed, but the caliber of those selected was such that the advantage of strength was considered to outweigh the size of the party.

Goodwill, assistance and general co-operation, from people associated with the camp and from a number of generous folk in other fields, were experienced at every turn and contributed immeasurably to its success. Mr. C.D. Kerr, of M.O.W. Dept., made important introductions to Capt. I. Williams, of M.V. Wairua, and to Mr. M. Pilone, Principal Keeper at Puysegur Point Lighthouse Station, whose kindnesses are later mentioned, and also to Mr. Allendon, Superintendent of the P&T Dept.

Transmitting Station at Awarua, who kindly arranged for me to speak directly to Puysegur Point before our departure.

Mr M. Kershaw, Senior Protection Ranger, N.Z. Forest Service, Invercargill, generously arranged the loan of two of the Forest Service’s remarkable portable twoway radios, through which we kept daily contact with civilization. The “civilized” end of our radio link was Peter Tait and, always backing him up, lest reception should be difficult, was Mr Andy Coburn, who none of us had met and who became known to us as G.T. five-zero, with the powerful set at Beaumont. Their will and ability to “be there” for the “scheds” was greatly appreciated and their personalities became part of our camp.

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PREPARATIONS: Capt. Williams had kindly agreed to carry stores to Puysegur point for us and, since this arrangement had been agreed to only a few days before the departure of M.V. Wairua, a mild packing panic ensued. Boxes were gathered from various corners of Invercargill and plastic bags were obtained from as far away as Otautau.

Finally, in the early hours of a November morning, the food was considered to be water and mouse proof. Later in the same day N.Z. Express Co’s generosity enabled us to wire the boxes. Still later in the same day, about 7 p.m., Chris Powley was able to accept Capt. Williams offer to take one of the party with the stores. Chris surveyed the scene from the drizzle of Bluff wharf. Winches, tractors and men strained and struggled to load two heavy hardwood radio masts, each of which seemed alive and possessed of a malicious intent to clout somebody. Realising that it would be a matter of all hands helping wherever possible at the Puysegur end of the journey, he gulped noticeably. He knew that there would be no wharf there. I am sure that I detected a hollow moan when, a few moments later, it became apparent that a solid looking black bull was to be a Puysegur passenger also. A note of relief was heard in Chris’s voice a few days later as he related that the keepers were now taking care of the stores and that he had not had to swim ashore holding the ring through the bull’s nose.

I had been concerned that the condition of the three major rivers – Wairaurahiri, Waitutu and Big Rivers – could create too great an element of risk for our crossings. Much would depend on the weather preceding the trip. The Wairaurahiri, falling over 500 feet to the sea from Lake Hauroko, must be considered uncrossable at most times, as the volume of water carried is about half to two thirds that of the Waiau River at the outlet of Lake Te Anau. N.Z. Forest Service were interested in our constructing a bridge across this river but were uncertain as to whether funds would be available. So, in the September school vacation, a small group (some of whom were unable to take part in Camp IV) spent a long weekend traveling to and from and repairing an old and derelict “cage” crossing which still spanned the river a few miles up from the mouth. New U-clamps were fitted to the main cable, from which a deep sag was removed. All that remained of the “cage” itself were two iron bands which still hung from the cable. Timber was cut and the “cage” refashioned. Finally the lighter hauling cable was re-established with new clamps and the old pulleys, and a new approach was constructed. This river would now present no problem and it remained to be seen how the elements might force our hands with the others.

GETTING STARTED: Our party was:Alan Duff, Roy Heiskel, Ken Jones, Ross Kerr, Bruce Rhind, Eric (“Strat”) Ridley, Paul Sapsford, John Smith, Murray (“Miff”) Smith, Alastair Smithies, Gilbert (“Lurgi”) van Reenen and the staff being Chris Powley, Roley Menzies and myself. A total of fourteen.

26 Dec. It was a fine Boxing Day morning as members collected the food and partyequipment which had been sorted previously. Originally, a couple of cars had been thought sufficient to take us to the start of the journey but, with the larger numbers, we found ourselves cramming into a rented truck. Strat and Roley were still to be collected at Otautau but their places were already filled by two who were to bring the

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truck back. Although not overloaded, the truck’s deck lacked wheel-wells other than those worn in it previously by the tyres.

Maintenance checks and cockpit drill completed, the Fiordland ferry edged away from the Y.M.C.A. kerb (and various chock-stones) at about 9.30 a.m. At Otautau we were grateful to Strat’s parents for offering to take their car as well for the remaining 40 miles and so relieve the transport situation.

Dolphins playing in the breakers greeted us as we arrived at the end of the beach road, and the general summer scene infused a somewhat sleepy attitude into the party which belied the activity shortly to be displayed. Lunch seemed to be considered more as a means of reducing the weight of packs than of satisfying hunger, as Christmas pud seemed still to linger.

Soon after 1 p.m. the walking journey began and shortly a line of packs snaked its way along the track. As we broke from the bush to take to the reefs, the Ridley family farewelled us and we severed our ties with civilization. Soon after, a fur-seal stared wide-eyed at the new wildlife. Ken’s hat must have been more than a little disturbing being covered with computer-like calculations and also being surmounted by a plastic propeller on a wire!

Encountering little delay with the tide, the party reached Port Craig in about three hours. Although, before 1930, this was the site of the largest saw milling operation in the southern hemisphere, most structural remains are derelict now. The old school, however, serves as an admirable shelter for stalkers, trampers and the like, its survival having been prolonged by the recent attention of the Forest Service.

Port Craig School A Duff Nevertheless, indications were that accommodation might become strained that evening due, not so much to the numbers of visitors in the locality as to the presence of the juvenile son and daughter of a visiting stalker! Possibly they were specially trained to convince visitors that the place was crowded. Being convinced, we signified that we had no ties for the old school and continued for an hour or two along the old bush tramway. Alan, Strat and Roley went ahead with the rifle to get meat in the vicinity of Sandhill Point and were successful. Some other hunters gave them a deer which they had just shot!

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Ahead of us now lay the hair-raising viaducts. Meeting the first of these in calm air-conditions, we elected to cross it rather than look for a bypass. Casual observation leads one to believe the deck to be in good order, but several of us knew, from recent experience, that this was a false impression. Large-headed spikes indicate the position of the main bearers. Walking precisely on this line, we were soon 20 feet out and 50 feet or so above the gorge floor. “Cardboard” decking squeezed spongily under the boots, or there was no decking at all and it became necessary to tip-toe between the spike-heads or to jump to the next piece of “cardboard”. The crossing, of about two chains, was soon completed and, with the day now well advanced, we decided to camp.

It seemed simple enough camping with tents and flies along the only site, the bush tramway, but in spite of each individual’s experience, chaos reigned. We still had to become a team. Nobody knew where the axe was at any one time, cords fell off the tents, the fire smoked, the red and meager water-supply became muddied and the packet of toilet paper fell in it! Tea concluded about 11 p.m. and perhaps it was after midnight when the strains of “We all live in a yellow nylon tent” were heard.

All learned a lesson here and camping technique improved considerably as the trip progressed.

27 Dec. After but a short time on our way next morning we encountered the next viaduct stretching before us for 5 or more chains and towering over 100 feet above the valley floor.

A magnificent structure in its day, its condition now is as bad as that of the first viaduct. Crossing it with a pack on is like walking around the handrail on the Eiffel Tower. Having crossed it we used some time in photography before proceeding. Later, we crossed two smaller but similar viaducts.

Percy Burn Viaduct A Duff

At times now the track was very muddy and gradually became more difficult to follow as the growth seemed to crowd in. John, who was carrying the axe, noted that it did not seem to get worn away much when we stopped to do an occasional clearing job. In fact he declared that it was heavier each time he picked it up. Finally there was no track and we had reached the Wairaurahiri River terrace. Following a little misguided guiding and some “floundering” we reached the “cage” crossing where a suggestion that there be a luncheon adjournment was greeted with more than a little enthusiasm.

On the occasion of our earlier visit to repair the crossing, the size of the cable had not been accurately known, so a selection of heavy clamps had been taken.

Insufficient of the correct size had been included, so we now set about completing the work (or rather, Roley did). Subsequently, the present Conservator of Forests, Southland, Mr G. M. O’Neill, told me that many years before he had assisted in

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building the crossing. His party had used a bicycle-wheeled hand-cart for carrying in the heavy cable which had been part of the Dunedin cable-car system.

We found the cage at the other end of its crossing, and this seemed to confirm the belief of some stalkers encountered earlier that 2 stalkers had gone ahead of us that day with a view to traveling to Big River and eventually returning over the same route. We found no evidence of this later, and we found that they certainly did not reach Big River, but at the time of this crossing we were concerned The Track Becomes Overgrown that they would not have known of R Menzies our intention to be in the area. If we delayed a little there was less likelihood of our encountering them, and this factor as well as indications of deteriorating weather decided us to camp soon after crossing the river.

A campsite on the river’s western back seemed suited. There was no apparent need for urgency, but realism was suddenly upon us as the sky opened. We peered at each other as though under the bathroom shower, with mouths agape and sometimes spluttering. Paul and Ken, who had been helping Ross light the fire, added to the insanity of the situation by stepping into the river at points separated by about 20 yards, the downstream idiot strolling in an upstream direction while the upstream clown wandered downstream to make a pseudo-historic meeting. Such was the lightheartedness that greeted most of the difficult situations throughout the trip and which so obliterated the adversities as to make the memories all happy ones.

The fire was lit, the tea cooked, and the tents were soon erected. We now prepared to make our first radio contact with Peter who we knew would be calling from his home at Otahuti. So bad was the weather that the Wairaurahiri, although lake-fed, was rising noticeably and was discoloured. The front would now be approaching Peter and we chuckled as we informed him that the thunder, which was making it difficult for him to hear, was shortly going to develop into a downpour which might leave him stuck in his car in the paddocks from which he was calling.

28 Dec Excitement came early next morning when, within half an hour of our start in the dripping forest, a nice eating-size pig dashed across our path. With the fern being dense here, there was no opportunity to use the rifle, and the forest soon rang to the war-cries of the “lost-tribe” as fourteen pairs of boots crashed through the undergrowth. Finally the bewildered pig fell victim to half the largest pair of boots and was quickly dispatched.

The victorious safari soon had a further success by locating the derelict ‘phone line to Puysegur (see Appendix at end of account). This would serve as a direction guide in the heavy and flat-floored forest. It is problematical as to whether following this is

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quicker than using a compass course but we decided in favour of the line. Today, the wire can be difficult to locate but the general line is often easily picked out by the denser growth where the route was once cleared.

After crossing the small but flooded and dirty Crombie Stream we could not easily locate the line again and, having already seemingly wasted much time in relocation, we decided to head to the mouth of the stream and the open views of the coast. The reward was two-fold. With a stealthy approach and a well directed shot a golden coloured rabbit was felled on the “bowling-green” type of flat behind the sand-hills. At the same time we emerged from the all enshrouding forest.

The shot disturbed a nearby stag which escaped across the mouth of the stream, and two “white-hunters” gave chase.

Whilst Dinner waiting, some of the others played bowls with A Smithies washed-up round fishing floats. The rest walked along the shore to the next promontory where they suddenly gave an extraordinary and puzzling display. Throwing stones at the black boulders near the water’s edge, whooping wildly, and leaping furiously towards the breakers from the top of the steep shore’s bank, they landed amongst twofoot boulders and kept yelling (not so surprisingly). With arms outstretched they now flung themselves amongst the boulders. Such insanity had not been achieved on the trip to date. This was surely an attempt on the record. As some of the “black stones” scrambled towards the bush the onlookers fathomed the performance and rushed to help capture the pigs which had been feeding on seaweed. When the “white-hunters” returned empty handed the pig hunters proudly displayed three more pigs as latest additions to the larder.

High tide obliged us to take to the cliff-tops but, in a short time we came to a clear area from which we obtained a fine view. The blue water of the Straits rolling into the base of the cliffs became progressively paler and eventually so clear as to permit a view of the strangely patterned reefs. Straight lines criss-crossed to form an intricate network pattern.

The vantage point also seemed an ideal place from which to push any stumps which might happen to be handy.

Two were found to be handy.

Long Point from the Cliff Tops.

A Smithies

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The pleasures of the coast had to be left after a time as we were now to head behind Long Point in a direct approach to the Waitutu River. Angling away from the coast we soon located the telephone line again and attempted to follow it. After losing and relocating it often, we came, in the evening, to what must surely be the Waitutu Valley. Once more the phone line was lost but knowing our direction to be fairly correct we plunged from the shoulder of the valley down through head-high fern, the freed spores of which filled mouth and nostrils. Logs across our path were often camouflaged sufficiently to add another bruise to a shin or knee or to suddenly halt progress with an “oougmph” but, just before 7 p.m. we pushed through a short swamp and some supple-jack to stand on the bank of the river, a few hundred yards up from the mouth.

Whispering as it sweeps smoothly yet swiftly to the sea, the Waitutu River has the impetus of a hundred foot descent in about 4 miles after draining the 20 mile long Lake Poteriteri and its water-shed. The clear water is deceptively deep all the way across the 50 or 60 yard wide river, and the recent heavy rain increased the hazard of our crossing. Eventually, we chose a place for testing where the stony bottom was relatively smooth and where, on the far side, there was a gravel shoal as a “run-out” about a hundred yards downstream. Low bushy banks overhanging deep holes close in, would have made the use of the rope dangerous except as a rescue tool. With the rope and its controllers positioned downstream on the near bank in case of miscalculation, the first three of the party, holding a pole inched carefully across. The depth increased steadily to chest-level, and then, at the three quarter way mark, the packs began to float. Although contact with the bottom was only now occasional, the group, having less current to contend with, made a co-ordinated hopping-bobbingswimming approach to a slower and slightly shallower spot 70 yards downstream.

Adopting the same method and, with each group being received by the preceding one, the remainder were soon safely across. Late, wet and cold, we were all the same, a happy party establishing camp that night. Behind us lay what had been anticipated as, and indeed proved to be, one of the most dangerous obstacles to be overcome on the trip.

29 Dec With an early and energetic start next morning we reached knife and steel reefs before low tide and spent a highly successful hour or two fishing. Miff and Alastair delighted in catching fish faster than Ken could thread them onto a carrying string. A little later the back view of a pile of fish walking along the beach on two legs was certainly impressive.

No less impressive was the Maori-Pakeha style hangi at lunch time.

Murray, Ken and Gilbert at Knife and Steel A Smithies

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Big River, our goal for the day, did not seem an ambitious target and, with the tide temporarily

against progress, we spent a pleasant afternoon in the sheltered locality which bears the anciently bestowed name of Price’s Boat Harbour. The warm sun encouraged some to swim in the gently lapping waters of the bay and to shower under the wispy waterfall which dropped directly to the beach. From a nearby rock tower a group of nesting gulls gawked as down to the water galloped a ludicrous gang, naked, except for boots! Others of us explored around the area and later searched unsuccessfully in the rough country behind the beach for signs of the old gold workings indicated on old maps.

Time and tide showed no sign of departing from the rules laid down in the old proverb so, reluctantly, we gathered clothing and sleeping bags which had been left to air. The tide would soon be at its lowest and the surge channels known to exist just prior to Big River would not be passable at any other time. Strange caves, each one like the “Eye of the Needle” successively gave access through the cliffs to one beach after another. Eventually, however, we met the first of the surge channels. Layers of bull-kelp made a weird carpet which led to another surge channel where an exploratory scramble around the cliff face revealed that too much risk was involved in attempting to pass. Back we went and, after some paua-collecting and a chat to a bull fur-seal, we struggled and roped our way up the cliffs until we had a view 200 to 300 feet straight down on to the impasse. Soon we descended again to the next sandy beach from where we were able to see that the first attempted route had no possible outlet.

Another climb over a smaller and less significant ridge this time, could not be avoided and, oddly seemed to sap our strength. It was a relief to descend once again and finally make an easy crossing of Big River, the tide having exposed a line of rocks near its mouth so that we were never quite to waste depth.

A shot echoed amongst the surrounding cliffs as we established camp. It could have been fired by a party who were expecting our arrival or it could have been from the group who had supposedly traveled ahead Big River of us from the Wairaurahiri A Duff River. A visit to the Tourist Air Travel hut, up river, established that the permitted party were our only neighbours and that one member was suffering from a badly cut finger. Two of us inspected and dressed the wound. I recommended that the man go out for a doctor’s examination and attention. It transpired that, when their party had flown in by amphibian to Lake Hakapoua, that they had omitted to bring the headphones for their radio set.

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30 Dec Next morning, as we sent the required message through our radio set, we coincidently raised Peter, who was busy trying to obtain a weather report for us. We kept a listening watch until the plane arrived after 3 p.m. This delay was not without its benefits for us, however, as Peter arrived on the plane and delivered some fresh fruit etc. He was also able to take out and forward some plants which we had collected as part of our project for the Botany Division of the D.S.I.R.

Amphibian Arrives on Lake Hakapoua A Smithies

One hour, one apple and one banana after the plane’s departure we had found, and lost, the old phone line and were headed to the “tops” west of Lake Hakapoua.

Eventually, we found the line’s route again on the “tops” and, as there was no wire left and little indication of direction, we recut a section to help others who may attempt to travel here.

31 Dec & 1 Jan For two more days we moved through steep and broken country (occasionally chasmed) of strongly resisting scrub which was severe on body and clothes. A branch, which flicked back suddenly, caught Miff in the eye so inflaming it that for a day or so, it caused everyone concern. That is everyone except Miff, who said he couldn’t see it. However, it responded well to treatment with special drops.

Rest Stop – Cavendish River Valley A Duff

There were some lighter moments. In the “middle of nowhere”, on the scrubcovered slopes of Kakapo Hill, a sodden collapsed structure was all that remained of a phone-line maintenance hut. The finding of a bedraggled, wooden-cased telephone amongst its debris prompted Lurgi to make a pseudo-call to Puysegur to advise them that the phone line was out of order.

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New Year resolutions to “stay in bed longer” lost some conviction when a mystery voice asked John to “hand up that billy of cold water”. John’s reply that the billy was needed for breakfast preparation, checked the exodus with several renegade resolutionists sitting up changing their shirts. Before they had time to slide back into their sleeping bags however, a wet, cold, clammy tent had collapsed onto the naked or semi-naked backs. A brand new set of resolutions did not appeal to the culprit who hastily disappeared.

Sometimes we found the phone wire, sometimes we did not, and on occasions we followed a compass course. Except for a small area in the Cavendish Valley, the country was totally unsuited to deer or pigs, nor was there sign in any place other than here, so there was some elation when the hunting group lowered a deer as we arrived at the mouth of the Grace Burn in the Green Islets area. Eastwards, beyond the neck of the peninsula stands the remarkable rock in the “Boat Harbour” area 100 yards long, over 100 feet high and 30 feet thick, it looks like a large slice of bread with a hole in it. Our first view was from the top of 200 foot cliffs and we agreed that it could well have had the title Arc de Triomphe.

1967 appeared to be starting well. On its first day here we were in a good campsite with clear (instead of the usual swampy) water, we had meat, the scenery was grand, the weather was holding and radio reception was excellent. On the face of things nothing was amiss. We even thought it amusing when the larger of the two pressure cookers, used for cooking venison, bulged and blew out its lid.

Unfortunately, we were behind schedule, largely as result of the delay at Lake Hakapoua. Keep moving we must, but the hard going was beginning to have some effects. A couple of the party were developing sore ankles.

2 Jan As we thrust towards the Kiwi Burn we found our way rather more readily than I had expected from my earlier experience here. However, with the route being close to the coast, it rose and fell with every gully. The actual coast, being precipitous, offered no solution, so we were glad of the occasional stops to collect plants. Whilst Roley made sure of some venison for tea, we found interest in the quantities of “latex plant” growing at the mouth of the Kiwi Burn. Thoughtlessly, the deer got itself shot on the wrong side of the unfordable mouth of the river. By slinging a rope to Roley and Strat we were able to recover the meat without a long carry.

Progress was now reasonably good along the coast, and the deer were so common that we virtually shooed them aside as we went.

One old hind, in fact, jumped back only a few yards when Alan startled her from about five yards. She finally gave way to sheer Deer on Beach weight of numbers A Duff

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when she moved to one side to join others of the herd that wandered slowly away on our flank.

Soon being forced behind the coast again, we located the wire which, in spite of it being broken or well camouflaged in many places, led us near to Long Reef Point. “An inspection to confirm our location”, was the best excuse we could think of for putting down our packs. The rocks and continuous broken water stretching into the straits left no doubt about the aptness of the name, or about our location.

On the near end of the reef a lonely Fiordland Crested Penguin stood as a stolid sentinel. In the ground on the cliff-tops, where we stood, there were muttonbird burrows. Within the small peninsula’s periphery the forest floor was naked.

There were a number if mature trees and a veritable forest of tree-fern trunks, but the latter were all dead. The area had the hall-marks of an opossum invasion, but pig and deer sign were the only animal evidence that we could identify in the time we had.

About the turn of the century, Gates Boat Harbour (east of Windsor Point) reputedly boasted an accommodation house and a general store. On our arrival there in the evening however our search was unyielding, except that in the most promising area some barbed wire was found. Probably the remains of a horse paddock from the time of the installation of the phone line in 1908. We wuz gona pitch the tents anyway!

3 Jan Puysegur Point seemed within the range of the party next day but some of the party were having difficulty in keeping up. Also, the route was to be inland through dense scrub, with only a 50% chance of locating an old disused track for the last 3 or 4 hours of the journey. So, breaking camp before 6 a.m., we “glued” ourselves to the No.8 wire that had once been the phone line and made a slow but relentless onslaught on the scrub. By mid-morning we were overlooking the Wilson River Valley from the tops of 20 foot high “trees” which clothed its shoulder. Mercilessly the phone line headed straight across the valley directly towards Puysegur, but it appeared that the lower less precipitous and possibly more open country was yet further inland. Being aware that the “more open” country might well turn out to be a mass of impenetrable scrub, we chose the phone line and quickly lost several hundreds of feet of height by descending to Wilson River.

The wire took a short cut high above us so, a snack and one hour later, we had regained the lost altitude but had failed to relocate the wire. This failure was almost deliberate. The line had been often more hindrance than help. Swinging now northeast along the ridge, we were happy to be making for the “open” country.

During the midday radio link we heard a puzzled Five-zero relay our position to Peter. “According to my map, they are only a few miles from Puysegur. I can’t see why they are not sure that they will make it tonight.” A few seconds later his qualifying remark saved a Rumplestiltskin act at our end of the link. “Of course, the map doesn’t show what the going is like”. How true this was. West of our ridge, precipitous bluffs bounded the valley which was but one of several gashes of hundreds of feet depth between us and our destination. During the next hour or two of scrub-pushing, however, we had moments of being not entirely convinced that the

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direct route was less preferable. At last though, there were clearings, and suddenly below us lay a saddle, with leading up to it, a hewn rock track, overgrown but looking like a main highway. This would take us to Puysegur that night.

An unfamiliar plant here puzzled me, as it was to later puzzle the country’s experts at Botany Division in Christchurch. We collected specimens of the stranger, along with other requested plants in the locality. Subsequently, Dr Lucy B Moore made comparisons with some herbarium specimens from Australia. Our specimens, which were found to be Sprengelia incarnata were passed to Mr A.J. Healy, assistant Director, for further report. He has since advised that he intends to include details of it in a forthcoming paper of new introduced species in New Zealand. The following quotation, from his letter to me, indicates why there is some excitement over the find.

“Prior to the finding of Sprengelia, no introduced species of the Epacridaceae has been found in the wild state in the South Island, and the three allied species of Epacris of Australian origin, all recorded prior to 1900, are still restricted to localities near Auckland.

You will appreciate then that the discovery of Sprengelia in Southland was a matter of considerable botanical interest.”

Footmarks, on the track, seemed to confirm that we had not been “hearing things” when we had heard a rifle-shot earlier. Now, as we rose from collecting yet another orchid, soprano voices hailed us from the bend in the track below us. That at least some of our group didn’t believe in fairies was confirmed by a duet of “WOMEN!” from our midst, and a “could I borrow your comb when you’ve finished with it please?

Mrs. Norris and her daughter, Sandra, explained that they were from Puysegur Point and that they had followed the light house keepers who had left earlier to come and meet us. They had heard our previous night’s message to Peter that we had

Rear – Ross, John, Bruce, Paul, Chris, Ken, Murray, Roy Front – Roley, Gilbert, Al, Phil, Strat A Duff

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members experiencing some difficulty, and they kindly decided to “go for a walk” (about 4 hours each way) just in case we needed a hand. Obviously, they were now somewhere beyond the point at which we had come to this old miner’s track, so we brewed up some cocoa whilst waiting. As Ross set about helping with the brew (he always seemed to have a hand in the cooking somewhere) he remarked that this was my second good idea in the one day. We had a brew of cocoa at 4:30 a.m. also!

Apparently in response to a strong smell stimulus, the three keepers, Messers Pilone (Principal), Norris and Connell swept down from the Saddle as the sweet aroma wafted from the billy. We warmed to our task (cocoa-drinking) and I doubt if we really realised that it was raining.

As we wound our way Puysegurwards, our tired party, who had the additional problem of getting their packs over, under, or through the many fallen logs and other obstacles on this disused track, found the pace set by the ladies to be quite fast enough. The two young Pilone boys came to meet the group as it arrived at the lighthouse station and, in spite of our rough and fearsome appearance, showed us the same friendliness as all on the station did for the whole of our stay. From the moment of our arrival we were the recipients of the most extraordinary hospitality – excellent accommodation, plenty of room to sort stores, a kitchen with a good stove and coal, hot water, showers, a bucketful of fresh milk (not for showering), fresh baking, conducted tours of the station, these were but some of the kindnesses we received.

Frank Cross, relieving keeper here at the time, seemed quite unperturbed by having 14 extras under the same roof as himself. How difficult it was for us to tear ourselves away from these kindly people the next day. Indeed it was nearly 4 pm, before we managed it.

So well had everyone revived in this new and favouring environment, that we had second thoughts about the three who were to be flown out from here.

Very probably they were now sufficiently recovered to undertake the remainder of the trip but, since we were behind in schedule, they considered they should not Puysegur Point continue in case they might A Duff be responsible for slowing the party at some important stage. We were indebted, once again, to the keepers for their extended hospitality and for their co-operation in arranging for aircraft etc.

It is no discredit to the three party members that they left us here. The journey from Te Wae Wae Bay to Puysegur Point is one to deter the hardiest and most experienced trampers and stalkers, and almost invariably has. Since our return to civilization, I have heard of some experienced fellows who, in January, set out on the journey but at Big River, decided not to continue. I understand they are making

14

another attempt as I write. The tracks have been obliterated by dense regenerated scrub, which often camouflages the old felled timber, and which, like most of the other coastal scrub encountered, is nigh impenetrable and has an affinity with barbed wire. The underfoot conditions vary from dry or moss covered rocks to soft sand or bogs (knobbly or gooey), or involve the ascent or descent or sidling around of steep slopes, so that it would be a wonder if any party (let alone a large one) arrived at Puysegur without showing some effects. It is also accepted that it is harder to travel as a member of a large party than as one of a small party. Further, we had been obliged to attempt to maintain our schedule, so there had been few places for recuperation.

4 Jan

If we were to be airlifted from lake Monk on the 10th January, we should aim to be there on the night of the 9th or earlier. Anxious that we should strike the best route to Te Oneroa, the keepers had each briefed us! When Mr. Norris obligingly took us to the start of the ridge from where “there is a blazed track starting just up by those trees”, he inadvertently put us on the wrong ridge. With three sets of instructions now rushing through our minds, we were hilariously confused. The country did not seem to lie correctly but, it was no good our just sitting. To reach our destination by dark, we must move. Out came the compass and, endeavouring to use faint deer tracks to advantage, we followed a course we believed to be somewhat parallel to the side of the Inlet. It could have been a lot worse but, after a couple of hours of blind flying, we sent Chris to emulate his ancestors up a tree. From his lofty perch he told us what he could see. We argued that he was up the pole and assured him that he would be dislodged from his elevated position in the world if he didn’t give us an improved picture. He re-focused and agreed that the map could be right after all. When he had descended in orthodox fashion (i.e. not by his tail), we continued to a point where we were able to resect our position from points about the inlet. For another hour or two our descent to shoreline was thwarted by high bluffs, so it was dark when we climbed eventually from a dingy gully and sidled from the ensnaring supplejack on to the southern end of Te Oneroa’s Long Beach.

We were near the Aframe hut, “Sandfly Chapel”, where the amphibian leaves stores when landing conditions are unfavourable at the lighthouse station.

However, our goal was really the late Jules Jules Bjerg’s Hut Bjerg’s hut, half a mile away, at the northern end A Duff of Long Beach. So we crunched our way along the gravel and finally located it a few yards back behind a line of second growth.

This hut is a gem. The patriotic Dane painted large red crosses on the outside walls. Inside, the floor slopes noticeably, to facilitate sluicing out operations. Inner

15

walls and ceiling are papered with picture pages of the “Weekly News” dating from about late 1948 back, and which feature a variety of such topics as the sailing ship Pamir and the rediscovery of the Takahe.

The spotlight and slot in the porch wall are positioned to command the highfenced garden where he grew carrots and the “parsneyips” from which he brewed his renowned potent wine. Deer, approaching his garden, would rattle trip-wires connected to the hut and Jules would use spotlight and gun to add protein to his diet and blood and bone to his garden.

The recent addition of an adjoining room to the hut (possibly by fishermen) did much to solve our overcrowding problems. A kerosene refrigerator (which was not operating) was an unexpected amenity. It served admirably as a cupboard which was proof against the equally unexpected mouse!

5 Jan Sandflies and a continuing sense of schedule helped us to a reasonably early start the next morning. In the bush, somewhere up the fan behind the hut lie the remains of the one time wealthy Morning Star gold mine. We made a sweep in the hope of locating it as we went to Cromarty but, although we did find some sign of human activity, time did not permit us to complete our search.

The presence of pig rooting around Te Oneroa was important and interesting to note, as it is not generally realised that these animals have reached Preservation Inlet.

A sketch map and notes supplied by a previous inhabitant, Mr. E Bradshaw, who also had the distinction of being Ken’s grandfather, added interest to our inspection of Cromarty which locality had a population of a thousand in the 1890’s.

Sawmill Boiler at Cromarty - Murray, Al, Chris and Bruce A Duff

16

The remains of a couple of wharf piles, faint traces of wooden bush-tramways, a few Rhododendrons and willow and an even growth of beech trees collectively point to past occupation, but the most material evidence remaining is the large sawmill boiler which the Fuchsia trees now threaten to engulf.

Following leads supplied by Dr. A. Charles Begg, Co-author of “Dusky Bay”, I searched for the lost grave of the Dusky Sound hermit who, about 70 years ago, died here of a heart attack whilst en route to Invercargill by ship. Roley shortly joined the search, and later, as we examined a specific locality which fitted Dr. Begg’s description, he spotted the faint but unmistakeable outline of the grave. The photographic evidence has since been forwarded to Dr. Begg.

An old bush-tramway leading to the “Golden Site” gold battery was well graded and generally good travelling, and we soon covered its five or six miles, but we regretted that time did not permit a diversion to the “Alpha” Battery (which Chris delighted in calling the “Alphabettery”).

Heavy growth now obscures the huge dual five-stamp battery of the “Golden Site”, but this and other associated heavy Bush Tramway to Golden Site Mine A Duff machinery which now litter the locality, impressed upon the party the industry and perseverance of the men who had hauled and erected the equipment in this remote corner of New Zealand.

A lonely, almost derelict hut, possibly reconstructed more recently, is all that appears to remain of the settlement buildings. The open fire-place is almost as big as the rest of the hut, which proved barely sufficient as a cookhouse for our hungry mob who shivered miserably in the cold wet conditions outside as they awaited their turn to be served.

6 Jan After such a miserable camp we were in need of the improved weather, which followed in the morning. At last we were back on schedule as we climbed on to the flat semi-open ridge north-east of Wilson River. Two Southern Skuas (sea hawks) flew near and eyed us meanly, seemingly indicating that they might still be nesting this far inland, as had been noted here four years previously.

An approaching amphibian spurred us to spread a yellow nylon tent to boast our progress, but the plane skimmed quite near to us, en route to Puysegur, without the pilot noticing.

Scrub-crashing could no longer be considered a popular sport with us, so we concentrated on trying to connect from one clearing to the next throughout our

17

advance. In the main we succeeded, but the gains were largely nullified when low cloud obliged us to camp below the main climb at an early hour. This also meant that we were still below the deer country, and so yet another meatless meal was eaten.

7 Jan When meat is short, there is nothing surer than the escape of every deer encountered and so, whilst we climbed (in between gathering orchids) next morning, we had a hunter walking ahead. The deer were there but seemed completely invulnerable or were perched in such outlandish places that they would have been irretrievable if shot. Soon we were atop the main ridge and pressing forward in case the hovering cloud should redescend. Since this was the most awkward moment to shoot a deer, one fell to a long shot and crashed down a steep spur through the scrub to an almost, if not quite, unattainable position. It stopped a yard from the next long drop and was in such a position that the meat had to be cut off at that spot. After a long struggle, the meat was brought to the ridge top, and we could carry on. The cloud too could almost have been hovering threateningly to cause such unseemly haste, for now it lifted noticeably.

The crest of the ridge became more of a razor the further we went, until ultimately we met a knife-edge that had slipped away on one side. This was difficult to negotiate because of the vegetation growing over from the other side. A stag feeding on the slip below, received a nasty surprise when someone dropped a large rock alongside him.

With our numbers unchanged after the negotiation of this tricky corner, we continued on to the top of Bald Peaks. Although our altitude was only 3578 feet, we had climbed the southwestern-most peak of the Southern Alps. From here the whole of the Alps seem to lie before us, but a check indicated that Mt. Aspiring, 150 miles away, was the northernmost peak visible.

Below us our view encompassed the seaward ends of Chalky and Preservation Inlets with, further southwards, the thousand foot high scrubby shelf of the goldfields stretching ten miles to Puysegur Point.

It had Preservation Inlet from Bald Peaks taken us about thirty miles A Smithies of tramping to come from the lighthouse station to our present position, but this was one of the moments which made it worthwhile. We set about identifying peaks, and found greatest difficulty with the “nearer� mountains, such as those around Doubtful Sound. The snow-capped Tutoko and Christina in the Milford-Hollyford area were easy to pick.

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As we sat just below the top, on the sunny side, the moderate south-easterly of that day had little effect. We realised that, at this rarely visited spot, we could be the first people to have had conditions which permitted enjoyment of the view. The peak could hardly be more exposed. To the west lies the southern Tasman Sea, indeed a line due west would pass south of Tasmania and South Africa to South America. To the south water stretches to Scott base. The peak has an annual rainfall of about 200 inches and will, of course, be subject to the gales for which Puysegur Point is renowned, and which have been known to be far in excess of 100 miles per hour on occasions.

Murray on Razor Ridge leading to Caton Peak A Smithies

Ahead, the ridge appeared to be reverting to its razor form and, as we progressed, we found this to be true except that there were occasional nasty gaps in the razor. At one of these gaps, as Bruce struggled to remove the rope from his pack, he turned a little green when he almost stumbled over the pack. Ultimately, being sufficiently awe-inspired by the terrain in front, we decided to turn and descend to a basin in the head of the Kiwi Burn. A dibble-mark, apparently made by a long beak, seemed not only to indicate the appropriateness of the stream’s name but also that kiwis still live in this locality.

The basin seemed a pleasant camp-site, and although it was only mid afternoon, we were easily convinced. We considered that there were 1½ days of tramping from here to Lake Monk, and we had two days to do it in. More important, the remaining country would still be negotiable in low cloud or other unfavourable weather. We camped!

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With a very venisony tea completed, Chris announced that part of his thick plastic plate was missing. We were surprised, as we had considered the venison to be quite tender and, in fact, Lurgi was already setting about roasting some more on a stick over the embers. Shortly, he was joined by ten others jockeying for positions at the ever-dying glow, so that each piece of “cooked” steak that came off was progressively nearer the raw state. One of the party, who preferred to eat his venison cooked, found something else to occupy him – the remains of Chris’s plate. How solid it was, and how it could float through the air. The second throw was intended to sail high above the camp fire, back to Chris’s pack, but the aerodynamics had been incorrectly calculated for ¾ of a plate. It snarled viciously as it turned on edge and plunged from the darkness between the assembled ears. Fortunately, it chose to pass between two that were not connected by a head. The roar from Bruce, on the opposite side of the fire, suggested that he was unkindly disposed to persons who thought they could get his place by crushing his fingers with a plate. Others obviously considered that showering them with embers was an unfair tactic compared with merely blowing smoke over a competitor. Little fire remained now and there were a number of disputed claims for ownership of the least be-ashed chunks of steak being gathered from around about. Finally, most if the party decided that they “preferred bed to eating, anyway”.

8 Jan I had vivid recollections, from my previous trip, of the scrub to be found near the head of the Dawson Burn. Doubtless the blue tint which we noticed in the air as we came near next morning, was lingering from four years before. In deference to the bodies (particularly the ears) of the party, I resolved to avoid as much scrub as possible here. During the descent to the Dawson – Cavendish Saddle, Roy was heard to remark, “If this is an attempt to dodge the scrub, what would it be like if we tried..”

The sarcasm was curtailed as he slithered down a steep, down sloping, greasy branch and used all his energies to avoid becoming impaled on the up-pointing branches of a different bush.

Except for the occasional exasperating section, the climb to a bush-line position on the side of Caton Peak was accomplished, surprisingly, fairly simply.

Encouraged by this important success, we set about the next scrub dodge. Our sidling went quite normally for a time, with Chris singing whilst the rest puffed, but shortly we were in trouble. Even Chris was silent, due to having a mouthful of leaves, and Miff interrupted the grunting match to ask if this was some sort of a joke. It was necessary, but nearly impossible, to force our way upwards to pass a steep face.

Eventually, with half an hour to go to our radio schedule, we had made our way to where we could see the clear area near the Dawson-Big River Saddle. Trouser seats wore as we slid downwards under the scrub in an effort to crash our way to the clearing before the noon “sked”, but time was lost in disentangling caught-up packs, so we continued with the heaving-crashing technique. Although head and shoulders sometimes protruded, thus helping with direction finding, the minutes were seemingly ticking away faster than we were making progress. Suddenly insanity decided to strike again, led by Paul a race developed! The noise was something akin to a dozen two-ton boulders crashing down the slope. Unyielding bushes either yielded or fired their assailants back uphill to be pushed madly downhill by the next wave. So firm were the branches that it was nearly impossible to hit the ground, but a fall was rather like a “belly-flop” into a barbed-wire factory. No one was maimed and the “sked”

20

was made on time with Alan and Alastair acting as radio masts. We made out last radio contact with the faithful Peter who was now busily engaged in being a staffmember with Camps II and III in the Lakes Hankinson and Thomson areas, 70 or 80 miles north of us.

The text-book energies of peanuts, cheese and raisins etc. seemed reluctant to be released, and we lolled lethargically after lunch, readily agreeing that this was another suitable day for resting. It was oppressively warm, but it was also the 8th of January, the day before we were due at lake Monk. We pressed on but ran into trouble, after an hour or two, in the bluffs above the northwest branch of Big River.

Reluctantly we retraced some of our steps and then lost a great deal of valuable altitude by descending to the valley floor. The frustration spurred us to an effort, over the next hour or so, which must surely have regained the lost time. We were practically running, and were stepping over and under obstacles as if they didn’t exist.

Ultimately the tiredness we felt began to show outwardly. The pace slowed as false crests and confusing deer trails (with no deer on them), leading to the wrong saddle irritated us. The already long day had to be extended two or three hours yet, if we were to maintain our schedule.

About 8 p.m. the whistle of a Blue Mountain Duck, one of the world’s rarest water-fowl, greeted our very weary group as it reached it’s day’s goal, the outlet of a small mountain lake, situated “just over the hill from Lake Monk”. Poor Roley was sent to quickly search the nearby bush-fringes for meat for the pot, but found nothing.

A hurried inspection of the extensive bogs disclosed the presence of three scattered “drier” patches. Remembering a chill which had affected Roy back at the “Golden Site”, the team combined smoothly to pitch tents and cook tea as darkness fell and cold wind and drizzle swept fitfully down from the pass and over the lake.

I made a mental Small Mountain Lake “Just over the hill from Lake Monk” comparison of this effort with the one near Port Craig A Smithies on the first night. Here, in spite of conditions and party weariness, tea was over and sleeping bags were being occupied in an hour.

9 Jan With a fairly early and quick morning start we pushed through bog and wet scrub, finally sidling into the pass as the weather began to clear. Towering columns and billows of fog confronted us but, as we peered down from under our dewy brows and forelocks, a view of a park-like valley opened up. Then, beyond it, Lake Monk!

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Framing each side of the view, the partly enshrouded mountains added grandeur.

Two deer trotted peacefully in the clearings, firstly down the valley and then back up to the tops. It was a picture-book. We moved down to become part of its pages.

Final Destination – Lake Monk Paul, Phil, Al, Bruce, Roley, Strat, Murray, Chris, Roy, Gilbert, Alan A Duff

On reaching Lake Monk’s shore, we travelled steadily just above it until we neared its northern end, our ultimate destination. Once again, the last half hour before the noon “sked” required an extra effort. It was noon to the tick as we dumped our packs on the beach. Out came the radio and in one minute we were speaking to G.T. five zero. Two days earlier we had predicted this moment, but we had been certainly hard pressed to keep it.

In Tourist Air Travel’s hut was a note, from some deer-stalkers, saying that they had left that morning to visit other stalkers at Lake Hakapoua. They expected to be back in nine days.

They returned during the afternoon and were amazed at the number of packs on the beach. Having seen footprints near the pass, they had assumed that their friends had come up to see them.

We must have passed each other in the open, unnamed “picture book” valley, and this would explain why the deer had turned back to the tops. After a drink, the stalkers left to go back to

Paul at hut, Lake Monk A Smithies

22

their packs near the pass and to continue with their original plan. We were, once again, on our own. Some sun-bathed and slept. Others read paper-backs and slept.

Of course, this quietness didn’t last long. Strat, with a roar that would have done credit to Roley, reminded the camp that there were things to be done, and the place came to life.

We had our reasons for conserving the remainder of our food. With the lake having a high backdrop of mountains at its northern end, aircraft are able to take off in a southerly direction only. If the wind should be blowing from either of the usual directions, westerly or northerly, then the plane cannot take off from the lake. Similar problems occur for landing when the wind blows the other way. Also, the thinner air at the lake’s 2000 feet level reduces the payload of the aircraft at take-off.

10 Jan The tenth dawned gloriously calm, but anxiety set in as we noticed wisps of cloud racing across from the west, at about ten thousand feet. At 8 o’clock, still calm on the deck, but more high, fast-moving cloud. At 8.15 a.m. we anxiously kept our appointed “sked” with Tapanui. A great rush ensued as all heard the news that the Super Widgeon was already Amphibian Arrives at Lake Monk on its way and would pick up A Duff the first group in a quarter of an hour. How quickly they were loaded and away, and how quickly Paul said “Come on, let’s get stuck into the tucker. I’m for some chocolate.” Seeing that Paul was a strong-looking type, we gave in and helped him! We still, however, kept a good reserve.

A ripple on the lake showed that the last party was getting out just before the Nor’-wester hit. We were pleased to feel the plane lift off but just a little disappointed that conditions did not favour a flight over the mountains.

There was still much of interest though in the route taken over Lakes Hauroko and Monowai, and finally to Te Anau.

It had been a hard trip, and yet one which we had all enjoyed.

Contributions to its success had been made by so many people and there had been no major hitches from the time of our first consideration of the trip to its

Outlet of Lake Monk A Smithies

23

finish. In the end though, it falls on the personnel who take part. It is a credit to the even-temperedness of the party that such a trip should have been so harmonious.

Some years ago, a man who knew but a small part of the South Coast said, “It’s no place for ‘boys’.” I agree. We had none on our trip. I have bothered to write this report because I count it a privilege to have accompanied these young men, and to have known their fortitude and endurance and their personalities.

Phil. Dorizac April 1967.

Phil Dorizac with Son-of-Rex, Puysegur Point – January 1968

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APPENDIX Information supplied to P. K. Dorizac by Mr C. E. Bennett, Engineer-in-Chief’s Office, G.P.O Wellington PUYSEGUR POINT TELEPHONE LINE A cabinet decision of 13 January 1908 authorised the line to Puysegur Point, and the way was clear at last to proceed with the work.

No time was lost, for the coming months were the best time of the year for such work in this region. On 30 January Orchiston and two gangs were ready to proceed and as no boat could be chartered from Bluff, the party was taken by launch from Riverton by a skipper who knew every inch of the coast.

The first two gangs were supplemented by another two gangs, and by May fifty miles of line had been completed from the Tuatapere end, although the work had been hampered by bad weather. All possible assistance had been rendered by the lighthouse keepers at Puysegur Point. This line, seventy miles in length, was erected without having recourse to a single orthodox pole. The difficulties of transportation through virgin bush, mountainous country and across dangerous rivers, precluded the adoption of the usual methods. In this case the course adopted was to cut down standing trees of all descriptions, leaving stumps about ten to twelve feet in height, an insulator being screwed into the top of the stump. Prejudices were cast to the winds in selecting the timbers; whichever tree happened to be standing in the most convenient position was commandeered to do duty as a telephone-pole. The bulk of New Zealand timbers, with the exception of those found only in the Auckland District had their representatives in this unique line, even the much despised tutu, which grows to abnormal dimensions in this locality, being included. The timbers most frequently used were the southern rata, totara, broadleaf, fuchsia, matai, silver-pine, bog-pine and birches.

The line was ready and the telephone office was opened in charge of the principal keeper on 20 July 1908.

On 8 January 1923 the “Southland Times” drew attention to the precarious communication with Puysegur Point and called for action in installing radio.

A week later the District Engineer submitted a report which shows that in the last three years the line had been out of order for 701 days and that for 196 days linemen were engaged on its repair. The longest single period of interruption was the last one, 210 days. He estimated that if the Department had to repair the line each time a break occurred, it would cost between £200 and £300 annually.

The original cost of the Puysegur Point line was £4,500; the maintenance charges ran from £300 to £400 per annum, and the returns were negligible, stated a report in January 1923 submitted to the Marine Department. The Post Office therefore considered that the line should be abandoned. If the Marine Department wished for communication it was suggested that they should install a radio set in the lighthouse at a cost of about £250.

25

In December 1922 telephone communication was lost, never to be regained.

Eventually, in August 1925, the radio station communicating twice a day with Radio Awarua was opened.

This report was supplied through Mr H. C. Shelton about December 1962.

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NEW ZEALAND JOURNAL OF BOTANY

[MARCH 1969]

SPRENGELIA INCARNATA SM.: AN AUSTRALIAN PLANT IN FIORDLAND L. B. MOORE Botany Division, Department of Scientific and Industrial Research, Christchurch (Received for publication 2 December 1968) In January 1967 a party led by Mr P. K. Dorizac came upon Sprengelia incarnata in south Fiordland some four miles east of Puysegur Point, on the Wilson River-Macnamara Creek Saddle at c. 400-500 ft above sea level (Fig. 1). In well-drained open scrub land, thought to be possibly the site of an old burn, plants later identified as belonging to this species were locally abundant, being dominant over an area of 100 sq. yd. Height of the erect, narrowly branched bushes ranged from 15 to 40 cm and herbarium specimens (CHR174744) were collected right beside a track which might well have been formed originally as a mule track.

In January 1968, another party under Mr P. K. Dorizac collected similar plants (CHR183422) a mile or so to the north-east, near the "Golden Site" tramway in a semi-open bog, c. 900 ft above sea level, again in a place that had been considerably altered by prospectors during early mining operations.

Also in December 1967-January 1968, Mr P. K. Dorizac found a stand of the same species further to the north, in a locality with quite a different history. This was on the long stretch of generally flattish land between Dusky Sound and Chalky Inlet which closely resembles the stream-scarred shelf behind Puysegur Point. Collections were made at two adjoining sites in semi-open scrub-tussock: CHR183426 from between Lake Fraser and West Cape, c. 300 ft above sea level, CHR183397 from 3 miles inland near West Cape. Of this semi-bog area the collector wrote: "1 should be very surprised if any human had ever set foot there before us. No domestic herbivorous animal would have been there, or within the Chalky-Dusky peninsula. A few deer use the area but I doubt if they find the plant palatable. I saw no evidence of browsing. My field notes are 'Sprengelia found in tussock-bog containing manuka, yellowsilver pine, Dracophyilum longifolium, spider-fern (small Gleichenia sp.), Sphagnum moss, Bulbinella gibbsii var. balanifera, Aporostylis, Thelymitra, Prasophyllum, with nearby mountain and silver beech'."

All the plants collected look healthy though they are small, averaging

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NEW ZEALAND JOURNAL OF BOTANY

[MARCH 1969]

FIG. 1—Locality map. Broken lines show routes to two of the stands of Sprengelia incarnata. The drawing of 5. incarnata (X0.6) is reproduced from "The Student's Flora of Tasmania" Part 2. 1963, fig. 103. with the permission of the author. Dr W. M. Curtis. c. 30 cm in height, with leaves rarely as much as 1 cm long. Most of the specimens bear flowers, the petals and sepals being c. 5 mm long.

Sprengelia is a genus of some six species, generally considered to be confined to eastern Australia.

It shares many characters with Dracophyllum, but in Sprengelia the stems are very smooth as the falling leaves leave no obvious annular scars; corolla tubes are very short in Sprengelia, allowing the narrow lobes to spread widely whereas Dracophyllum flowers are more bell-shaped and mostly have longer corolla tubes. The Fiordland specimens fall well within the limits of S. incarnata Sm. Which is described by Curtis ("Student's Flora of Tasmania" Part 2, 1963, pp. 454-5) as highly variable, widespread in 28

NEW ZEALAND JOURNAL OF BOTANY

[MARCH 1969]

Tasmania and abundant especially in peaty heaths, from sea level to the summits of mountains. The species occurs also in South Australia, Victoria and New South Wales, and sometimes reaches a height of 2 m tall.

The status of S. incarnata in the flora of New Zealand remains in doubt.

The first record suggested that it should be regarded as adventive, since the area for some miles back from Puysegur Point was extensively prospected over for gold about the eighteen nineties and evidence of disturbance is still to be seen. There is a local tradition that mules were used to carry stores from the coast to the goldfields, and if these animals, or their fodder, or even the miners themselves, came directly from Tasmania or the Australian mainland, seeds of Sprengelia could have traveled with them by chance and could well have found conditions suitable for establishment.

The stand on the Chalky-Dusky peninsula, however, can hardly be regarded as arising from assisted immigrants since there is no history of settlement in the whole of this remote and inaccessible area and it seems unlikely that the species would have spread unaided from near Puysegur Point. This is the most westerly part of New Zealand and prevailing winds blow from the west. If the seed arrived with the wind, as a number of Australian birds have been known to do, and if, as with the birds, the habitat proved favourable, then perhaps S. incarnata should be accepted as a member of the indigenous flora of New Zealand. We have no record of the species in cultivation in this country.

NOTE ADDED IN PROOF During this summer's Adventure Camp Mr Dorizac deliberately selected, from an aerial photograph, a site on Five Fingers Peninsula where Sprengelia incarnata might be likely to grow. This peninsula forms the western part of Resolution Island, lying between Dusky Sound and Breaksea Sound to the north. The site, an open peaty area encircled by stunted forest, was reached by climbing the steep eastern face of the peninsula and there, on the ridge at an altitude of 700 ft, S. incarnata was found growing as isolated plants in cushions of Donatia novae-zelandiae with Pentachondra pumila. Living plants and herbarium material (CHR188853) were received at Botany Division on 19 January 1969.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks are expressed to Mr Dorizac lor presenting to Botany Division not only Sprengelia but also many other plants found in remote areas during Invercargill Y.M.C.A. Adventure Camps. In expressing indebtedness to those who helped him he conjures up some picture of the circumstances of the collecting. He writes: "I am grateful for and on reflection, can but be amazed at the patience of the young men who not generally being botanists, all saw fit to tolerate my collecting delays and even to humour me by assisting and by making safe-carrying space in their packs in this

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wild and often difficult country. My fellow collectors were: in 1966-67 (from Te Wae Wae Bay via Puysegur Point to Lake Monk) R. Menzies, R. Kerr, P. Sapsford, A. Smithies, C. Powley, G. van Reenen, B. Rhind, E. Ridley, M. Smith, A. Duff, J. Smith, R. Heiskel, K. Jones; in 1967-68 (from Dusky Sound to Chalky Inlet and Preservation Inlet) R. Menzies, R. Kerr, P. Sapsford, A. Smithies, P. Hay, P. Staite, B. Stewart. My thanks are due also to Mr J. Richmond who temporarily cared for some of the specimens on his fishing boat, and to Mr P. Tait who received plants airlifted out to Invercargill and forwarded them promptly to Christchurch."

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