In the south-west corner, instead of rivers, we find a whole group of fiords, deep inlets running up between mountain walls and leading nowhere. Here is some of the most beautiful but least known country in New Zealand; there are no railways and practically no settlement, as we shall find on our visit. In short, the island looks to the Pacific and turns its back on the Tasman Sea. On the east side there is more room. The province of Otago is hilly, but further north is the great expanse of the Canterbury Plains. North of the plains are more mountains, the Kaikoura Ranges, lying parallel to the east coast; so that even on this side of the island there is no through communication from end to end. We shall see later that this peculiar grouping of the physical features has had a great deal of influence on the nature and history of settlement in South Island, or Middle Island as some prefer to call it.
South Island: Orographical.
We will now start on our trip to the mountains, lakes, and fiords of the south-west. The first part of our journey is by train, past fields of oats and rough grazing land with sheep scattered about, and here and there a clump of firs. Soon we are running through a valley between the hills, and following the line of a grey-looking stream, to the town of Lumsden. We 4 are coming to the end of the railway and must change into a motor car to complete our journey. Our destination is the beautiful Lake Manapouri, one of a group of lakes which wind in and out among the valleys of the western mountains just as the fiords which run in from the sea. Here is a piece of our road, with the mountains in the distance; notice the team of horses 5 carting wool.
We sleep at an accommodation house, and in the early 6 morning go down to the little pier and board the launch which is to take us up the lake. Here we see it lying 7 below one of the tree-clad slopes. In the distance, veiled in cloud, are the Hunter Mountains; here is a 8 nearer view from which we can form some idea of the wonderful colours in which these mountain lakes abound. Further up the lake on the north side we see 9 the Cathedral Peaks, with patches of snow still lying, although it is past midsummer; while all the lower slopes, right down to the water’s edge, are covered with green beech, called birch by the natives, with here and there the scarlet blossoms of the rata tree making a patch of bright colour. Finally we see the end of the northern arm, with Spire Peak shooting up in the 10 background.
From Manapouri we drive across to another lake, Te Anau, where we again find a launch. From the northern end of this long, narrow and somewhat uninteresting lake we must walk the thirty miles over the Milford track, if we wish to see Milford Sound, one of the grandest of all the sea fiords. We are now beginning to realise how very much out of the world we are in this corner of the island.
Our path lies for many miles through a dense forest of beech. From the roots, and far up the trunks, the trees are covered with mosses, lichens, and small ferns. On the ground are more thick mosses and myriads of ferns great and small. Everything is moist and green in this part of the island, where the perpetual westerly winds bring heavy rain all the year round to the mountain slopes. In fact, we shall be lucky if we finish our walk without meeting with a downpour. Here we see part of our track on the way up to the Mackinnon 11 Pass, with the dense bush below and the snow-capped mountains above. All the way through the trees we 12 have glimpses of cataracts, seaming the rugged slopes above the limit of the forest. Many of the torrent beds are dry now, like the one in front of us, but we 13 can easily imagine the force of the flood water from the appearance of the stones and debris strewn about it.
It is a long walk, and we stop for the night, wet and tired, at the Government huts at Pompolona, where we sleep, if we can, in rough wooden bunks fixed round the inside of the walls. In the early morning we start again, making our way by the side of the Clinton River which flows down the pass between dark woods not yet touched by the sunshine. So we 14 go on over the Divide and down the valley of the Arthur River, through more dense jungle of tree ferns, to Sandfly Point, on Milford Sound, where Donald Sutherland is to meet us with his launch. It is growing late, and there are sandflies in plenty, but no sign of the launch or its independent owner. Sutherland was the original discoverer of the Sound and of the famous falls named after him, and for a long time he lived here in sole possession. He is now a kind of guide and guardian of its magnificent scenery, and has the air of a landowner showing visitors over his private estate. Here is his portrait, that of a typical blue-eyed Scot. He arrives at last and takes us by moonlight 15 to the little landing near his house.
In the morning we make a voyage down the Sound. All around us are steep mountain slopes with wisps of cloud hanging upon them not yet dissipated by the sun. At the head of the Sound we can see the Bowen 16 Falls, and our boat will take us right up to their foot for a closer view. We pass Mitre Peak, with its remarkable 17 shape, and then are shown Two Man Beach, where Sutherland landed first with one companion, prospecting 18 for gold, thirty years ago. The rock above is dark purple-grey, with splashes of green and scarlet from the small trees clinging to it and the blossom of the rata. Finally we reach the Heads and the open sea, and 19 turning look back. Notice how the mountain walls close in on the blue-black water. Sheer above the surface they tower for half to three-quarters of a mile, carved and polished by the great glacier which filled the Sound long ages ago. We may see something like this in the West of Scotland, though on a far smaller scale; but to find a close parallel we shall have to search among the fiords of Norway. Here is a map showing the district of the Sounds. When we have 20 seen Milford, we have seen the essence of all the thirteen Sounds; though each has its own special beauty; so we start on our long tramp back, turning aside a mile or two from the Quinton Huts to visit the Sutherland Falls, 21 which claim to be the highest in the world; and so to our motor car for Lumsden and the railway to Dunedin.