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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 9, Issue 2 (May 1, 1934.)

A Glimpse of Old New Zealand

page 47

A Glimpse of Old New Zealand

Entrain for Kaikohe or for Donnelley's Crossing, and on alighting an interesting journey by service car awaits you. If you wish to make the best of your holiday, you will enter this semi-tropical wonderland by the one route and, unless you decide to stay, you will make your exit by the other. Probably the Northern Wairoa route will suit you as you will be anxious to see the world's last great kauri forest—Waipoua. Its giants belong to an older New Zealand than Maning or even Tasman knew—they were centenarians when Kupe came. Close by their great trunks and the graceful nikau palms and tree ferns you pass, en route to the land—and the inland waterway—that Maning knew and loved. Presently you are in the valley of the Waimamaku (“River of Big Ferns”), once known near and far as “The Canterbury Settlement,” which gives a clue to its origin. Waiotemarama (“Water of the Moon”) is the poetical name of a tributary river flowing through the “Auckland Settlement,” founded in times very similar, in one respect, to our own—perhaps it gave the idea which has made the Small Farms Scheme of to-day such a success in the Hokianga district. Old settlers could tell you of the days when some of the Waiote-marama people were grateful for old clothes, and you may hear of cups made from jam tins and of home-made cheese. The knitting craze was at its zenith in the early days of Waiote-marama. The uses of flour bags were numerous.

Soon you have reached the shores of the beautiful Hokianga, and along the beach under the pohutukawa trees you journey to Opononi, and the home of John Webster, which you will recognise by the tropical aspect of the old garden and the cannon which protrude at you through the sea-wall. Webster used them mainly to fire salutes to the early governors, or other celebrities who visited him. If you have not read Webster's “Reminiscences” you have a treat in store for you.

A companion volume is Judge Maning's book which, if you are a New Zealander, you must have read. The author of “Old New Zealand” and the “War in the North” lived at Onoke, between Opononi and Rawene. It was afterwards the home of Colonel Noake, a Crimean veteran—one of the many English gentlemen who resided in this land of sunshine. Another was a son of Dr. Arnold, of Rugby.

Nearby, at the foot of the bush-clad Wakateres, is Whirinaki, a model native village situated on the stream of that name. Now you must hurry on (though as you are in the land of Go-Easy, don't make yourself conspicuous by hurrying) to Rawene, the county town, in which the progressive element largely migrated from the south has installed such modern conveniences as water supply and electric light. Again—as in the case of Waiotemarama—the word Rawene has a special significance; it means “A Beautiful Sunset.” That is why the setting sun figures in the window of the County Hall. But its older name of Herds has an historical association. It was Captain Herd, of the brig “Rosanna,” who visited this spot a century ago to spy out the lay of the land and a purchase was made here on behalf of the New Zealand Association. Colonel Wakefield visited it in 1840 and inspected this and the area opposite, at Motukaraka, which was purchased from Lieutenant McDonnell, a retired naval officer who settled on the Hokianga in 1828. He was a pioneer of the shipbuilding industry in New Zealand and besides a good demand for his vessels he had ample raw material for their manufacture. McDonnell was one of the few courageous spirits who returned to Hokianga after the failure of the Earl of Durham's settlers to make a landing—two thousand Maoris on the beach, armed and performing a grotesque dance was too much for them!

The sawmilling days followed the trading days and hundreds of ships sailed to Australia with cargoes of timber. Their visits were still fairly frequent ten years ago, but now dairying has entirely taken the place of lumbering. And how easy is dairy farming in this land of sunshine. Even in winter time horse and cow covers are rarely seen, and cropping for the provision of winter fodder is neglected.

Maybe while you stand on the wharf at Rawene, admiring the famous sunset, you will notice beneath the glow of the sky a large white cross beside a bay. The house nearby is the old Roman Catholic Mission—a link with Bishop Pompallier and the days of French missionary and colonial enterprise. Pompallier established the mission in 1838, but shortly afterwards left for the Bay of Islands. At Purakau, as the old mission station is called, many experiments were made in the cultivation of Mediterranean and tropical fruits—pomegranate and coffee, for instance, being grown successfully.

De Thierry Street, Rawene, perpetuates the name of one of the most romantic figures of the early days—Baron de Thierry, the Frenchman who persuaded some of the native chiefs to proclaim him king of New Zealand, and who thus, incidentally, hastened the proclamation of British sovereignty.

It would be worth your while to approach one of the launchmen and ask him to convey you to Rawhia. He may be brown-skinned, and he may not be inclined to hurry, possibly he belongs to the old go-as-you-please days when the harbour was the only road and water taxis were the rule in the “Venice of the South.” At Rawhia you will be shown the grave of Jacky Marmon, an escapee from the convict settlement across the Tasman. It is said that this relic of the late eighteenth century so thoroughly adapted himself to his new environment that he became a cannibal!

Now, when you pass through the waving fields of paspalum, the Maori villages and their cultivations, and under the frowning mountain on your way to the station at Kaikohe, you will remember that the name Hokianga means “To come back.”