December 1846

3rd.  Mr Empson drove me up to Mr Duppa's, where I slept.

4th. Walked down to Mr Kerr's farm and saw my natives, who were staying there, but they would not move until the next day. Slept at Kerr's

5th. After some trouble in packing our loads we started for Mr M'Rae's farm, where we stayed over Sunday.

6th. Self and natives attended Divine service, and heard Mr Butt.

7th. Our loads being heavy, I employed a man to help me over the Motueka range, but halted at the Waiiti.

8th. Walked to Fraser's station in the Motueka valley, and discharged the man.

9th. Stayed at Fraser's, who was from home, to get his mule to carry our loads to the Rotuiti.

11th Started on our journey, with Fraser and mule assisting to carry our loads. Walked about six miles up the Motupiko.

12th. Walked about two miles up the river, past the junction of the Mapu and the end of the surveyed country.

Sunday, 13th. In order to allow Fraser to return we walked on, contrary to my intention of keeping Sunday. We reached the grass of the Rotuiti, the mule having carried her load of 150 lbs. gallantly.

14th. The natives requested me to allow them to keep today as Sunday, which we all did.

15th. Divided amongst us our mule's load, and crossed the River Rotuiti. Slept at our old house on the Pukawini, or Howard, a small tributary stream, where we took possession of a bag of shot left on our last excursion.

16th. Walked up the Pukawini, but soon stopped, and built a house, being frightened by a shower of rain and a dull day.

17th. All hands affected more or less with dysentery, and with difficulty reached our old sleeping quarters in the bush.

18th. Crossed the hill at the head of the Howard, and reached the Roturoa about a mile from its outlet. Epike and wife and baggage paddled down to the river in our former canoe. Wind and cloudy all day.

19th. Showery, with wind. Natives out eel fishing. Rain at night.

20th. The heavy rain towards evening compelled us to repair the old house built by Ekehu when here before.

21st. Rain with wind all day.

22nd. A heavy gale of wind prevented us from proceeding up the lake according to my wish and intention.

23rd. Embarked on board our canoe. Came up to a remarkable fern-hill on the opposite side of the lake, and stopped there.

24th. Paddled up nearly to the head of the lake. Day windy. Explored the head of the lake, and found it entirely surrounded by a chain of snow-capped mountains, with a good sized stream flowing into it from the southward. There is certainly no accessible pass from the Roturoa towards the east, there being no break in the hills, or rather snow-capped mountains. The Wairau was the old pass of the natives who formerly resided at the pa on Waimea Plain.

There is a fresh-water mussel abounding in the Roturoa, called the kaiehau, which, boiled with the roots of the raupo, or bulrush, makes a palatable dish, and was the favourite meal of the celebrated savage Rauparaha.

With a very little expense a good track might be cut from the Motupiko to the Rotuiti Valley; the bush is open and clear, and the descent easy: distance about six miles. I am of opinion the Rotuiti is too cold and open for a sheep-run, and the grass much inferior to the Waira'u.

In the Rotuiti Valley is found a species of spearplant, called by the natives taramea, which is much valued by them. From its leaves they extract, by heat, a species of gum, which gives out a very pleasant and lasting scent. One seldom meets an old native that has not a bunch of feathers, in a bit of old blanket, scented with this gum, and tied about his neck.

25th. Heard a report, like that of a great gun, about sunset last evening; this frequently occurred in the sequel. On one occasion, further down the river, the reports were so regular and continual that Ekehu said they were the guns of a ship in distress at sea. Kept Christmas.

26th. Ascended a high hill to the north, whence I looked down upon the Rotuiti, with the expectation of getting a view to the east, but found it entirely shut out by the high snowy range. I could trace the outline of the mountains on each side of Blind Bay. The direct distance between the two lakes does not, I think, exceed six miles.

27th. A cold windy day, with showers.

28th. Raining all day, and the hills around covered with snow.

29th. Collected a quantity of fern-root and paddled back to our former quarters on the opposite shore. Wind and showers. 30th. Drying our fern-root and otherwise preparing for a start.

31st. After securing our canoe we started for the bush by our former route to the Tiraumea Valley, but made a poor day's walk, owing to the heavy loads and the wetness of the bush.

January 1st, 1847. 

Proceeded this morning at a good pace, when unfortunately Epike's old wife was suddenly missing. We retraced our steps but did not find her till the evening. She said she had been struck by the Taipo, and did not know what she was doing until she came in sight of the remains of our last night's fire.

2nd. Reached the eel station in the Tiraumea, and camped for the night.

3rd. Awoke this morning under a heavy shower of rain, which drove us from our quarters to seek a shelter, which we contrived to make out of the bark of the manuka.

4th. Staying under our bark shelter, the river too high for proceeding.

5th. The river still an obstacle to our onward progress. I ascended the river, whence I could see the valley Tutaki and part of the Matukituki. A fine day. The hills dividing the Tiraumea from the Tutaki are those to which the natives formerly resorted for the purpose of catching the kiwi and kakapo. These birds are now extinct here, having been destroyed by the wild dogs. formerly belonging to the natives, but which have taken to the bush. Numbers of them are to be seen here. At this place my two female traveling companions quarreled and fought. Their husbands taking part in the combat, I had much difficulty in reconciling them, and persuading them to continue their journey.

6th. This morning found the weather changed into a regular soaking wet day.

7th. Raining incessantly the whole day.

8th. The sun has again made his appearance, dispersed the clouds, and, with the assistance of a southwester, given us a fine day. Great fresh in the river. Collecting fern-root.

9th. A dull dirty day, with rain in showers.

10th. Very fine and warm. I again ascended a hill to the southward, but could see nothing but hills, or rather mountains, all round.

11th. Started this morning to wade the river Tiraumea. We passed the Mai, or waterfall, once celebrated as a kakapo station. Two or more persons crossing a river will find it much easier and safer to hold altogether by one long stick, using both hands, and holding it on the palm, the elbow downwards, the strongest of the party up the stream. The quicker you walk the better, taking care to keep the step of the leader. It is a curious feeling, particularly to your feet, which, from the force of the stream and the slipperiness of the stones, seem scarcely to touch the bottom. Made a good day's march, the river being warm and clear, and a very fine day overhead.

12th. The natives awoke me this morning to announce the approach of rain, which soon began to fall heavily, driving us from our quarters to wade the river in search of some hole or other place wherein we could stow ourselves, there being no materials for house-building on the spot. To improve my comfort I missed my footing and fell into a hole over my head. We found an overhanging rock, and managed to get through the night.

13th. Walked to Ekehu's first wari (whare or hut) in the Matukituki valley (Matakitaki), on the banks of the Buller. The rocky gorges through which the Buller runs up to this point now cease for about six miles, and the mountains receding, leave a valley called Matukituki, into which open two others; the Tutaki, running parallel to the Tiraumea, and separated from it by a mountain ridge on one side; and the Matiri on the north; each contributing its river to swell the waters of the Buller. The Matiri is a valley of considerable size, and, from its length and direction, I imagine the mountains which form its upper extremity must be the dividing ridge separating it from the valley 6f the Takaka opening into Massacre Bay. Fine day.

14th. Waiting for an abatement of the fresh in the river: Fine day.

15th. Started for the ford where Mr Fox was carried down, which we found much deeper than when we formerly crossed it; we all, however, reached the other side in safety, and proceeded to the next fall, which was much changed, and caused us all to drop our loads and look for another. We, however, could find none; so Ekehu agreed to go over first, and then return, if possible; he did so, partly swimming, partly wading. We then agreed to venture, all five holding our stick, taking off all our clothes, and securing our loads high on our shoulders: the river in some places 'ran just mouth high, with a powerful current. We, however, reached the other side, having well wetted our clothes and loads.

16th. Walked on to my former return station, and repaired a house there.

17th. Spent in drying our clothes and kits.

18th. Finished making a kupanga, or net, which is about fifty feet by four. In the evening took a draught of about fifty good-sized fish with it, called the upukuroro, or fresh-water herring.

19th. Collected a quantity of the roots of the ti, or cabbage-tree, which we placed in a humu:, or native oven, for the night. The natives prepare a very palatable dish of the ti and fern-root. They extract the sweet particles of the former by beating and washing it in a proper quantity of water, and when about the consistency of honey they soak in the liquid some layers of well-beaten and cooked fern-root, which, when properly moistened, is eaten, and has a similar relish to gingerbread. This can only. be made when staying two or three days at a station. The root of the ti is the part used by the natives. It is generally from three to four feet long, and of a conic shape, with an immense number of long fibrous roots attached to it; so that the natives, whose tools consist of a pointed stick, and their hands, consider they have done a glorious day's work if they manage to obtain five ti roots in the day. It requires an immense oven, and to remain twelve hours baking. Fine day.

20th. This morning opened our oven, which smelled like a sugar-boiling establishment. Found the ti excellent, but rather too sweet for a diet; however, this and the fish make a fine meal.

21st. Collecting fern-root. Collecting fern-root is very difficult, there being but a very small quantity eatable, and that the oldest, or deepest growth. Unfortunately my spade broke, so we had no tool but a pointed stick. Day showery.

22nd. Drying our fern-root, and making straps and baskets for the better carrying our loads. Fine day.

23rd. We have caught about 15 fish this week with our net, a great portion of which we have salted and dried for our future subsistence.

Sunday, 24th. Kept as a Sunday. Exceedingly warm.

25th. Having thus by a week's halt laid in a store of provisions, we packed our stores and kits and crossed the river again in the manner I have before described. We got our kits wet, redried them, and walked about three miles down the northern bank of the river. From this point the country was quite new both to myself and my companions, and I found the river assumed an entirely different character, being deep and still, flowing over and between large granite rocks, and through a black birch country. Before, it abounded in eels, but we found none amongst the granite rocks or anything else fit to eat in the black birch forest; neither were there any ducks, and but few other birds. .

26th. This morning the day looked dirty, and we almost determined to return to our old quarters in the Matukituki ; but the general opinion was in favour of proceeding, and we therefore commenced climbing along our granite path. Towards the afternoon we had occasional showers, but we kept pushing on, and just before dusk reached a large ana, or hole in the rocks, where we put up for the night. The rain soon began to fall so heavily that we were all afraid of being drowned in our shelter before morning by the rising of the river.

27th. This morning at day-break we had to turn out of our cave, it being no longer safe, the fresh having risen to the threshold. We then built a bark house, and moved into it. Continual heavy rain. Having selected a dry spot for a house, we could find no materials for roofing it except the bark of the tawai, or black birch; this being heavy, requires a strong framework. To break the bark, Ekehu cuts it all round, and then with a chisel-pointed stick loosens it and breaks it off, which he generally does about twelve feet long. This bark forms a good roof when new, but soon curls "with the heat of fire or a few dry days.

28th. Steady rain throughout the day.

29th. Heavy rain. Great fresh in river.

30th. Rain all day.

31st. Towards eve the wind changed, and gave us once more a peep of the sun.