Here The Good Woman Of The House Took Us Into Her Confidence In The
Matter Of Her Corns, From The Irritated Condition Of Which She Argued
That Bad Weather Was About To Ensue.
The next morning, however, we
started anew, and, after about three or four miles, entered the valley
of the south and larger Ashburton, bidding adieu to the plains
completely.
And now that I approach the description of the gorge, I feel utterly
unequal to the task, not because the scene is awful or beautiful, for in
this respect the gorge of the Ashburton is less remarkable than most,
but because the subject of gorges is replete with difficulty, and I have
never heard a satisfactory explanation of the phenomena they exhibit.
It is not, however, my province to attempt this. I must content myself
with narrating what I see.
First, there is the river, flowing very rapidly upon a bed of large
shingle, with alternate rapids and smooth places, constantly forking and
constantly reuniting itself like tangled skeins of silver ribbon
surrounding lozenge-shaped islets of sand and gravel. On either side is
a long flat composed of shingle similar to the bed of the river itself,
but covered with vegetation, tussock, and scrub, with fine feed for
sheep or cattle among the burnt Irishman thickets. The flat is some
half-mile broad on each side the river, narrowing as the mountains draw
in closer upon the stream. It is terminated by a steep terrace. Twenty
or thirty feet above this terrace is another flat, we will say
semicircular, for I am generalising, which again is surrounded by a
steeply sloping terrace like an amphitheatre; above this another flat,
receding still farther back, perhaps half a mile in places, perhaps
almost close above the one below it; above this another flat, receding
farther, and so on, until the level of the plain proper, or highest
flat, is several hundred feet above the river. I have not seen a single
river in Canterbury which is not more or less terraced even below the
gorge. The angle of the terrace is always very steep: I seldom see one
less than 45 degrees. One always has to get off and lead one's horse
down, except when an artificial cutting has been made, or advantage can
be taken of some gully that descends into the flat below. Tributary
streams are terraced in like manner on a small scale, while even the
mountain creeks repeat the phenomena in miniature: the terraces being
always highest where the river emerges from its gorge, and slowly
dwindling down as it approaches the sea, till finally, instead of the
river being many hundred feet below the level of the plains, as is the
case at the foot of the mountains, the plains near the sea are
considerably below the water in the river, as on the north side of the
Rakaia, before described.
Our road lay up the Ashburton, which we had repeatedly to cross and
recross.
A dray going through a river is a pretty sight enough when you are
utterly unconcerned in the contents thereof; the rushing water stemmed
by the bullocks and the dray, the energetic appeals of the driver to
Tommy or Nobbler to lift the dray over the large stones in the river,
the creaking dray, the cracking whip, form a tout ensemble rather
agreeable than otherwise. But when the bullocks, having pulled the dray
into the middle of the river, refuse entirely to pull it out again; when
the leaders turn sharp round and look at you, or stick their heads under
the bellies of the polars; when the gentle pats on the forehead with the
stock of the whip prove unavailing, and you are obliged to have recourse
to strong measures, it is less agreeable: especially if the animals
turn just after having got your dray half-way up the bank, and, twisting
it round upon a steeply inclined surface, throw the centre of gravity
far beyond the base: over goes the dray into the water. Alas, my
sugar! my tea! my flour! my crockery! It is all over - drop the curtain.
I beg to state my dray did not upset this time, though the centre of
gravity fell far without the base: what Newton says on that subject is
erroneous; so are those illustrations of natural philosophy, in which a
loaded dray is represented as necessarily about to fall, because a
dotted line from the centre of gravity falls outside the wheels. It
takes a great deal more to upset a well-loaded dray than one would have
imagined, although sometimes the most unforeseen trifle will effect it.
Possibly the value of the contents may have something to do with it; but
my ideas are not yet fully formed upon the subject.
We made about seventeen miles and crossed the river ten times, so that
the bullocks, which had never before been accustomed to river-work,
became quite used to it, and manageable, and have continued so ever
since.
We halted for the night at a shepherd's hut: awakening out of slumber I
heard the fitful gusts of violent wind come puff, puff, buffet, and die
away again; nor'-wester all over. I went out and saw the unmistakable
north-west clouds tearing away in front of the moon. I remembered Mrs.
W-'s corns, and anathematised them in my heart.
It may be imagined that I turned out of a comfortable bed, slipped on my
boots, and then went out; no such thing: we were all lying in our
clothes with one blanket between us and the bare floor - our heads
pillowed on our saddle-bags.
The next day we made only three miles to Mr. P-'s station. There we
unloaded the dray, greased it, and restored half the load, intending to
make another journey for the remainder, as the road was very bad.
One dray had been over the ground before us. That took four days to do
the first ten miles, and then was delayed several weeks on the bank of
the Rangitata by a series of very heavy freshes, so we determined on
trying a different route:
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