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

REPUBLISHED WITH PHOTOGRAPHS ADDED

FOR THE OCTOBER 2006 REUNION OF PARTICIPANTS

1

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

2

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 two-

way 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.

3

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 party-

equipment 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

4

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.

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!

Port Craig School A Duff

5

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.

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

Percy Burn Viaduct A Duff

6

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

that they would not have known of

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

The Track Becomes Overgrown R Menzies

7

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

waiting, some of the others played bowls with

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 two-

foot 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

Dinner A Smithies

8

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-bobbing-

swimming 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.

Big River, our goal for the

day, did not seem an ambitious

target and, with the tide temporarily Murray, Ken and Gilbert at Knife and Steel

A Smithies

9

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

of us from the Wairaurahiri

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.

Big River A Duff

10

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.

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.

There were some lighter moments. In the “middle of nowhere”, on the scrub-

covered 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.

Amphibian Arrives on Lake Hakapoua A Smithies

Rest Stop – Cavendish River Valley A Duff

11

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

weight of numbers Deer on Beach

A Duff

12

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 mutton-

bird 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

13

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

14

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

continue in case they might

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

Puysegur Point A Duff

15

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 10

th 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 A-

frame 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

Bjerg’s hut, half a mile

away, at the northern end

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

Jules Bjerg’s Hut A Duff

16

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 high-

fenced 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

17

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

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

Bush Tramway to Golden Site Mine A Duff

18

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 south-

western-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

taken us about thirty miles

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.

Preservation Inlet from Bald Peaks A Smithies

19

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.

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!

Murray on Razor Ridge leading to Caton Peak

A Smithies

20

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”

21

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 staff-

member 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

comparison of this effort

with the one near Port Craig

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!

Small Mountain Lake “Just over the hill from Lake Monk”

A Smithies

22

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.

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

Final Destination – Lake Monk

Paul, Phil, Al, Bruce, Roley, Strat, Murray, Chris, Roy, Gilbert, Alan A Duff

23

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

on its way and would pick up

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

Amphibian Arrives at Lake Monk A Duff

Outlet of Lake Monk

A Smithies

24

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

25

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.

26

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.

27

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

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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

30

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."