✨ Expedition Narrative
69
the whole surface was covered with an ex-
ceedingly dense growth of scrub; high bush
grew round the edge of this—we determined
to proceed through this latter. We left the
river, and in about a mile reached this forest;
it was, however, equally dense with under-
growth; from the excessive rain it was one
large lagoon; we waded on all day above the
knees in water, in the direction of the river,
which we reached in the evening. We passed
the night under an overhanging rock, which
protected us from the wind and rain, made a
good fire, and slept pretty well; we set our
rat-trap every night but without success;
we could hear no wood-hens, or anything else
that we could eat. The day following it
ceased to rain; Mr. Whitcombe again observed
with his instrument, and said we could not
be above 1000 feet above the sea. We were
able this morning to follow the bed of the
river, but always on top of enormous rocks;
about twelve o’clock we reached a spot where
the river is closed in by two perpendicular
walls, not more than five or six yards asunder,
the water running through with indescribable
velocity. Here, also, ends the roughest of the
road. With some difficulty we crossed over
this rocky barrier, having to make a circuit
of over two miles before we could descend on
the other side. Having reached the river-bed
again we found the road much improved;
we could now follow along the shingle
beds. We soon arrived at another river
which was impossible to cross, also coming
in from the north side; we followed
it up for some miles to where it di-
vides; we were able to cross the first, but
not the second branch, this we ascended
still higher to where it again divides,
and here we crossed over. The same evening
we returned to the main river, and as it
ceased to rain we kept on a good way to a
small rivulet, where we passed the night.
Next morning I made some tea, while Mr.
Whitcombe examined the road we had to go;
by chance, looking towards the bank of the
stream, I observed some splendid looking
washing stuff—fine gravel, mixed with quartz
and ironstone. I took the lid of the billy and
washed about two handfuls, and found some
fine specks of gold—what diggers call “the
color.” I washed some more, and laid the
result on a green leaf. When Mr. Whit-
combe returned he asked me what I was
doing; I showed him the gold; we no longer
thought about our breakfast—he knocked
down the stuff with the iron point of his
compass-stick, and I went on washing as fast
as I could; I think I got somewhere about
two grains of fine gold; then Mr. Whitcombe
cried out, “That is enough, Jacob, we shall
claim the reward, we cannot spend any more
time here.” He then asked me if it would pay
to work; I answered perhaps it would, with
a ground sluice, not in any other way, but we
had not found the bottom, which is always
the best. He scraped up the gold carefully
on a bit of paper, which he tied up in a
corner of his handkerchief. He spoke of it
the whole day and had great hopes concern-
ing it. The same day he found a slate, of a
silver greyish color, of which he brought away
some specimens with him; he said that was
the proper sort of slate. I found a piece of
greenstone as big as my two fingers, very
pretty, and transparent. We were obliged
again to take to the bush and swamps; it
rained hard, and was very cold; we camped
in the bush, with a very poor fire, and spent
a very cold night. On the following day we
could hear the noise of the sea; we came to
a deep river also coming in from the north,
with thick, black water, almost motionless,
but very deep; I cut a long pole to try the
depth, but could not reach the bottom—it
was over twenty feet deep. I wanted to
follow the river and find a ford, but he would
not, he said he could easily swim across, then
I could fasten the packs to the rope for him
to drag over, he would then throw the end of
the line back to me, which I could take in
my mouth, and thus swim across easily. He
began immediately to undress, while I walked
along the bank, and perceived a small tree
lying about four feet under water, right
across. I came back quickly, and told him
what I had found, and that I would prefer
trying to cross on the tree than to swim. I
took the swag on my back and went very
carefully over on the log; I got over safe; he
followed me at once, with equal success.
Now, in going through the forest we heard
the sea distinctly; about mid-day we thought
we saw the shore, but it was only a line
of small scrub; we had made a mistake;
we camped again in the bush. The next day
we had to cross a low hill. I slid down
about ten feet into the bed of the river, when
the bag in which I carried the biscuits
caught in a branch, which tore it in two,
losing some of our remaining dough such a
mishap had happened once before. We
reached a very swampy place and had to
make a circuit of many miles through dense
scrub, which scratched and tore our hands
and faces; weary to death, we lay down
and were half frozen with the cold all night.
I had not the energy to make a fire. The
next day we met the same difficulties, going
through briars and deep swamps trying to
reach the sea, but in vain; and night over-
took us. We could, however, now see the
sea-shore distinctly; it could not be more
than five or six miles from us. Mr. Whit-
combe found to-day a very beautiful stone,
of a greyish colour, nearly transparent, with
red veins; he brought it with him; it was
not quartz, but looked more like marble.
We had to camp again in the bush—the
rain was ceaseless. There was nothing we
could catch to eat; all that remained was
about a handful of dough, which would have
been uneatable if we had had anything else.
Mr. Whitcombe said we had better finish it.
There was not half enough for one man, and
we had hopes to find a Maori on the beach
who had supplied Drake and me with eels
and potatoes; we could not sleep—we were
so cold. The next morning we continued on
through the densest bush without any break-
fast; it took us the whole day to reach the
sea-shore, which we did about four o’clock,
the weather clearing up a bit. I recognised
the place, having been there once before;
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Publication of West Coast Expedition Narrative
(continued from previous page)
🏘️ Provincial & Local Government29 June 1863
Expedition, West Coast, Narrative, Publication, Jacob Louper
- Jacob Louper, Expedition member
- Mr. Whitcombe, Expedition member
Canterbury Provincial Gazette 1863, No 10