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Memories of early days in Pokororo

My parents and family sailed from Nelson to Motueka in the old paddle steamer Lady Barcly in 1869 en route to Pokororo with the intention of settling there some eighteen miles from Motueka. We spent the night at the Motueka Hotel and next morning were on our way, with three bullock drays carrying all our goods and chattels. It was a long and dreary trek, but the good old bullocks got us there safe and sound. Once we had settled in we soon found that we were not able to get out when we wanted to as there were no punts or bridges in those days and we had to depend on being able to ford the river with a horse. Often we were isolated for a whole month so we did not receive mail very regularly as the Post Office was five miles away.

The Tableland track was opened up as far as Flora Creek (a pack track). I remember the men well as I used to pack their stores in for them. It would be about 1870, as the Franco-Prussian War was on at the time. After delivering the stores at their camp I would go along the track to see how they were getting on. There were quite a lot of hairpin bends, but, as my horse did not believe in going into the bend, he would leap across, damaging the men's work before it was passed. I may say that I was nearly unseated twice. However they felled a tree across the track and so put an end to my little escapade.

About this time there were some forty to fifty diggers on the Tableland picking up a little gold. Sometimes a group of them would come down to the Homestead and buy milk and drink it and pay the same for beer, but they did not get intoxicated and were always cheerful. When the horse track was completed a man started a butcher shop on the Tableland. He would yoke two sheep together and drive them up the track, a bullock he would lead. He was often seen riding his horse with a swag on his back.

We were very fortunate as far as sickness was concerned, but we always helped one another out. I remember hearing a tap on the window at midnight. It was a neighbour asking me if I would go to Motueka for him and get the doctor as his wife was very ill. The river was in fast flood so I had to cross in a canoe, then walk three miles to rouse a kindly neighbour and borrow a horse. I then made for Motueka as fast as I could. I did not like facing the old doctor very much, but after a while he calmed down a bit, got his horse and we started on our journey. We arrived at the boat landing, tied our horses to the fence, got into the canoe, landed and walked half a mile to the patient's home. After a rest and some refreshment I had to journey back to Motueka with the doctor to get the medicine. I delivered my neighbour's horse on the way back, then three miles home on foot. There was another instance of a poor woman whose husband was away all week, she was very much on her own and appeared to be getting a bit 'funny', so a neighbour asked me to go and get her husband to come down from the Green Hill where he was working. I did this but later on the poor woman ended up in the Mental.

The greatest flood we experienced in the Motueka River was in the first page 30week of February 1877. We had several young cattle drowned, one of our steers landed eight miles down the river, quite unscathed. A neighbour had some young horses drowned in what is known as Haycock's Bend. Before the big flood was one in which Mr G. Harden lost his life. He was the storekeeper who supplied the diggers. The river had risen very rapidly during the night. The house was built on a very low bank and was soon surrounded by water. Mr Harden decided to release his pigs which were in pens some distance from the house. He and a miner who boarded with him lashed two sluice boxes together to use as a raft; it was supposed that it capsized. Though he was a good swimmer Mr Harden drowned and his body was found some eight to ten miles down the river. The miner landed in a tree on an island just below the Homestead. Mr J. P. Salisbury, a well-known figure in Pokororo at that time, and a good canoeist, rescued him. He was exhausted.

I remember a man who broke his leg in the vicinity of the Tableland. I was one of a party to bring him out on a stretcher down to Mr T. Heath's homestead, where he was well looked after by the late Mrs Heath, who was always to the fore where there was sickness.

On one occasion the storekeeper asked me if I would take a packload of stores to the Tableland. He would give me fifteen shillings if I would. I willingly accepted and thought my fortune was made. I was only a lad at the time and wages were about five shillings a day, so the next day saw me on my way with my packhorse and sundry goods. I arrived safely and the diggers greeted me with empty panikins. I soon found out that they were waiting for Perry Davis painkiller which was in goodly supply in the pack. I heard a commotion inside the tent and found that they were looking for another mug to treat me to a 'Perry Davis'. I told them I did not take the stuff unless it was necessary. They could not understand my refusal, in fact they seemed to take it as an insult. They used it as a substitute for spirits as there was no licence to sell spirits in the district. The empty bottles about some of the camps should be a memorial to these old diggers. Three diggers were well known to the early settlers. Mostly they 'fossicked' on the beaches during the winter months and returned to the Tableland in the summer. They were noted for their hospitality. Wayfarers calling at their camp were always treated to a mug of tea and a snack. Their names were Dick Ross. Harry Robins and Bob Hawke, all have gone to their last long rest.

Another little incident that I recall concerns a woman who had lost her husband. His cart had overturned and caused serious injury from which he did not recover. She had a small farm and a few cattle on which I kept an eye as she lived in Motueka. Occasionally she came up to have a look at the stock. This time we found the stock alright but among them was a cow with a very young calf. I said to my companion that I thought we had better get out as it did not look too safe. No sooner had I said this than the cow had the lady down and was bellowing for all she was worth — the cow I mean. Fortunately there were plenty of stout waddies about at that time, so I hastily picked one up and struck her on the head and all the fight went out of her. That cow evidentially did not like petticoats! My companion had no bones broken, but was very bruised and shaken and we were able to get home, walking very slowly.

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Some sixty to seventy years ago pigeons were very numerous. They came, like starlings, in great flights, especially in showery weather. I remember shooting as many as thirteen pigeons out of one miro tree (to my shame). I would go a good bit out of my way to save the life of one of those lovely birds now. It is a good thing we did not have the breach loader in those days instead of the old muzzle loader or I am afraid our lovely birds would have suffered to a great extent. It was quite a business to load the old gun. First you get your powder flask and measure your charge from it down the barrel, wad on top, then ram with ramrod shot likewise then cap on nipple.