start on an exploring expedition to the wanaka lake.

we had just now capital pig-hunting. the severity of the snow sent the animals into the flats, where we shot them down, riding being impracticable.

my visit being ended and the weather favourable, i proceeded to christchurch preparatory to resuming work. i was accompanied by a young man named evans, a stockrider from one of the ashburton stations, and on arriving at the rakaia, being in a hurry, we foolishly tried to ford the river without a guide, as i had frequently done at other times. the river was quite fordable, but the streams were fairly deep, taking the horses some way above the girths. we had nearly crossed the largest when my horse suddenly went down, and in an instant we were swimming in a swift current nearly to the waist. evans's horse followed the other's example. they were both good swimmers, and took us out safely on the side from which we entered, some 300 yards down stream. another try under the forder's guidance was successful, but the accident detained us at the north bank accommodation house for the night.

in addition to the completion of the ashburton gorge road, i obtained a contract from a wealthy runholder in the neighbourhood to put up many miles of wire fencing, then just coming into use for dividing the runs, and also for the erection of several outstation buildings, all of which i had completed before the middle of the summer season, and i was in treaty for further work when i received an offer from mr. t. moorhouse, at whose station i had been so ill, to accompany him on an exploring trip to the head of the wanaka lake, in otago province. he had taken up (or imagined he had done so) some sheep country there, and the expedition was for the purpose of inspecting his newly acquired possessions. nobody had yet seen this country, or at any rate, been on it.

the journey would be about 300 miles, in addition to the voyage up the lake by boat, about twenty miles. it would be a new experience for me, and i was delighted with the offer, the more so that i would receive a good return for my time with all expenses paid, and i was glad to have an opportunity of again visiting the lindis and the country far[pg 86] beyond my late travels, during the summer, when all would look its best and camping out be a real pleasure.

as we were not to start for ten days, i went to christchurch to receive payment for work, and i was anxious to purchase a good saddle horse in place of my big mare, which was too clumsy and heavy for our proposed ride to otago. on the day on which i purchased the animal there was an auction sale of walers in the town, and i was sitting on the stockyard rails, looking on, when i saw a jockey riding a powerful bay up and down in front of the stand. this jockey proved to be an old acquaintance, and although some 60 years of age, was still an excellent rider. he was a popular little fellow, a character in his way, and was known by the name of "old bob." i was on the point of speaking to him, when the horse he rode was called for sale, and bob was desired to show off his paces. for a turn or two the animal behaved well, and the bidding was brisk, when apparently, without any cause he bucked violently. i think bob held on for four or five bucks, then the saddle went forward, and he was shot off, striking the hard road on his head. he seemed to roll up or double up, or something, and lay still, several people rushed to him, but he was past all help, his skull was split in two.

on my return to moorhouse's our preparations were soon completed. in addition to our saddle horses we selected for pack animals as well as for occasional riding two of the best of the station hacks; one of them carried stores and some cooking utensils, while the other was laden with clothes and blankets. we travelled lightly, it being our intention to put up at stations or accommodation houses as much as possible till we arrived at our destination.

the route we followed was for the first 150 miles the same as that described in our journey to the diggings. we moved much faster and in six days reached miller and gooche's, the former of whom was now on the station. mcgregor miller was one of the finest men i had seen, a hercules in strength and build, and as jolly and hospitable as he was a perfect gentleman. we stayed two days with him. the station as well as the country presented very different aspects to what they did on my previous visit. a new house had been built and furnished comfortably, and the surroundings were fast being improved under the guiding hand of the "boss," who worked with his men as one of themselves, and easy-going fox-hunting squire as he[pg 87] was in the old country a couple of years since, he could handle an axe, spade, or shovel with the best of them.

on the first day's ride from here we went over the lindis pass, the scene of so much hardship to us diggers, and on to mcclean's station, where we received a hearty scotch welcome and an excellent dinner, and sat up late with the old gentleman discussing whiskey toddy and chatting over old times. the moorhouses and mccleans were old friends, and had been together in australia on the diggings many years before. he was not, i recollect, much impressed with moorhouse's speculation, but as he had a run at the south of the wanaka and a homestead there he arranged for our reception and for a boat to take us a portion of the voyage up the lake.

the next day's ride lay through the scene of the late lindis diggings, but not a vestige of the encampments remained beyond the ruins of the hut walls and excavations. the gold diggings proved a failure, and within a few months of our leaving them they were deserted. they were, i understood, subsequently re-opened by a company who employed machinery with more success than was possible with manual labour.

the country beyond this was bleak and uninteresting, until the following evening when we arrived at the molyneux river, where it flowed out of the south end of the wanaka lake. we were here again in the midst of mountains and very near to the great alpine range which towered above us and which, although it was midsummer, was capped in snow.

upon the opposite side of the river, and on the shore of the lake, stood the very fine group of station buildings erected by mr. robert mcclean. his people having been advised of our coming, a boat was sent across, behind which we swam our horses, and were soon comfortably fixed for the night and hospitably received by the overseer, who had a boat ready to convey us the following day twenty-five miles up the lake to another station formed there.

the molyneux struck me as being the clearest water i had ever seen; it was quite colourless, and though of great depth, even here at its source, the bottom was distinctly visible from the boat. it was a grand river, large and deep enough to float a small steamer.

early the following morning we saw a large timber raft come down the lake and enter the molyneux. there were extensive forests at the head of the lake, and an energetic contractor had engaged men to cut timber there, which he[pg 88] was now floating down the river to the coast some 200 miles distant. the raft was forty feet square, composed of rough round logs bound together and covered with a load of split and sawn timber, forming altogether a very valuable cargo. the contractor and four other men stood on the raft, each provided with a life belt, which he wore ready for accident, and fastened to the side of the raft lay several coils of stout rope with grappling hooks attached, by which they would be able to anchor by throwing the hooks round some object on the bank.

notwithstanding these precautions there was considerable danger in navigating the river in some parts, where occurred rapids and rocks, and occasionally as we were informed, a raft would get overturned or broken up, in which case the men in charge would have to swim for their lives or drown unless they had taken the precaution to provide themselves with lifebelts.

we left our horses and most of the impedimenta there, and about mid-day took boat with three of the mcclean men to assist at the oars. the boat was a fine one and carried a light sail, which unfortunately was no use to us, the little wind there was being dead ahead.

the wanaka is, i believe, the largest and most beautiful lake in new zealand. on one side, for nearly the entire length, it was bounded by steep hills, for the greater part clothed with forest and undergrowth crowned by noble promontories and headlands. above and beyond were seen the mountains receding away to the snow line in their various and changing colours. the opposite side was more homely and less grand in outline, but still very lovely. the low hills were broken by extensive tracts of undulating or flat land, where flocks of sheep or herds of cattle grazed, bordered by sedges and marshes with flocks of wild duck in all the enjoyment of an undisturbed existence.

looking up the lake to where the mountains seemed to meet, the colouring and grandeur of the scene was sublime. since i voyaged up the wanaka i have seen mountain scenery in many other lands, but i cannot call to mind anything which for beauty and grandeur surpasses that by which i was now surrounded. it had, may be, a peculiar wildness of its own not elsewhere to be met with, except in the himalayas, and no doubt much of the effect is due to the exceeding rarity of the atmosphere, and hence the greater extent of landscape which can be observed at once.