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The Journal of Edward Ward 1850-51

Monday, January 13th

Monday, January 13th

About eight miles to the Ashley—on our way to Oxford—camped there for noon—shot two ducks and grilled them at ease for the evening. The one, a 'paradise' duck, was tough and dark in the flesh, the other, called a 'grey' duck, was tender and good. From this we started at half past two, and tramped pretty quick over the interminable plain, which, in the direction in which our heads lay, had no boundary but a horizon of itself. Sandy at first, from the right bank of the Ashley, then on, a very light soil with scanty vegetation; soon after, a stony land, which became better and better clothed as we proceeded inland. The rain came on just before we reached a Maori kyak, or fishing village. Here were seen two or three little green haystacks and a miserable hut. The haystacks were piles of the root of the ti palm thatched with flax, and prepared ready for baking like bars of soap. The hut contained two men and a woman. Eel nets were lying about, but the question was, whether this was a permanent residence or a fishing lodge merely. Certainly nothing ever came nearer to my idea of a 'lodge in some vast wilderness' or 'the swate little house, delightfully placed in a bog'. The page 110place was literally almost in the centre of the plain, and with the mist surrounding the hills on three sides and obscuring the distance, it seemed hundreds of miles from any inhabited place. The rain continuing, and there seeming no place for a lodging, we pushed up the stream—a wide and sparkling full one. We continued on its course up through the richest pasture land. The pasture and the stream (the Cust) were in a beautiful long valley bounded by low ridges of hills. The whole will make a splendid cattle run, but will not do for sheep on account of the abundance of prickly bushes in some parts. We halted after the rain ceased, near the bed of this stream, and lighted a fire with some difficulty in a large hole in the grass, which looked like a cattle lair. The only firewood we had was the dried up sticks of a little shrub, which burned quickly and strong, but we could not get enough of them. However, we boiled a kettle of tea and rolled ourselves in the blankets, feet to fire. The damp of everything around, including our blankets, was rather dispiriting, and often during that night, when I woke and began to fear it was going to rain, and felt it blowing cold over our damp garments and thin covering, I began to be 'sorrowful and heavy'. Wortley had a toothache; everything was against us. But fortunately the rain kept off during the night and we got a little sleep and no mosquitoes.

Kaik, South Island Maori variant of kainga, an unfortified village.