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To increase our difficulties, the canoe got adrift and floated up the lagoon out of sight.

pinches were fewer and more easily surmounted. There was also much flat land on that side, which, although covered with dense scrub, freely intermixed with wild vines and supple-jacks, and, lower down, interlaced with the wild convolvulus and ‘bush-lawyers,’ afforded far better travelling ground. Soon after passing the mouth of the Thomas, which appears to traverse a fine open valley, the horizon alone bounded our view. The mountain ranges began to recede, stretching away to the north-east and south-west so as to form a semi-circle enclosing a large area of flat land, the central point of which is about nine miles from the shore, whilst the extremities of the arc run out into the ocean in bold rocky cliffs at Arnot’s Point and Jackson’s Bay. This flat, which constitutes the delta of the Haast, is entirely covered with the densest scrub, with occasional belts of rimu and white pine—is pierced with deep lagoons, and chequered with extensive swamps. Scattered over the plain are several isolated round hills, rising like islands from a sea of vegetation. Three of these are especially conspicuous—one, Mosquito Hill, being on the north bank of the river, and the others some distance to the south.

When about five miles from the sea the river set in against the bank, running with a swift current behind and around the base of one of these hills, where it was joined by the waters of a lagoon, to head which we were compelled to make a sharp detour. Thinking to pass the hill we struck into the bush, and were intercepted by a swamp rank with vegetation, and noxious from fetid exhalations. Endeavouring to avoid this swamp, we insensibly diverged from our course, till on reference to the compass we found that we were heading for the south-west. The ground, covered with a thick carpet of moss, through which the water oozed at every step, offered no available camping place, and we were, moreover, desirous of escaping from such an unwholesome locality. Whilst in this dilemma the daylight left us; but fortunately the moon shone out clear and unclouded. By the dubious light we endeavoured to cross the swamp on the ferns, and tussocks, and fallen timber which pervaded the deep water holes; but after persevering till nearly ten o’clock we were fain to give in, and to wait for daylight. We camped in the midst of the swamp on a small hillock, dry only by comparison. It was useless to think of erecting the tent; so lighting a fire we wrapped ourselves in our rugs and lay around it. In the night it began to rain, and intermittent misty showers continued till noon the following day. For a few minutes only the sun shone out, and notwithstanding our discomfort, I could not but admire the beauty of the scene which presented itself. Lofty fern trees formed a verdant canopy, the delicate tracery of their silvery leaves standing out in bold relief against the sky, relieved, here and there, by the pendant branches of the elegant rimu, and the slender leaves of the sword plant, whilst high above towered gigantic pines, their limbs hung with fantastically disposed festoons of beautiful lichens, and interlaced with supple jack, which spread from tree to tree like the cordage of a vessel. In the swamp-holes flourished enormous ferns, and other aquatic plants, amongst which was particularly noticeable a coarse grass, with drooping leaves three feet in length, growing in bunches somewhat resembling the head of the cabbage-palm. This plant rises with a single stem, about three or four inches in diameter, and grows in self-supporting clusters. But it is also parasitic, twining in close folds around lofty trees, and throwing out its branches profusely as it climbs upwards, often to the height of eighty and ninety feet, until the whole assumes the appearance of a huge grass-tree.

By steering as near as possible a north-east course we succeeded in getting through the swamp, and ascended a hill, whence we obtained a view of the river and the open ocean. Descrying the other side we again struck the river, and followed along the bank to within a few hundred yards of the sea-beach, when our progress was again barred by a deep lagoon, interspersed by branches, which we in vain strove to head. An old ‘dug-out,’ or canoe, lay high and dry on the opposite bank; but as it was late, and the men were exhausted, we camped by the side of the lagoon, intending to fetch over the canoe in the morning. But in the night a terrific thunder-storm care on, the rain fell in torrents, the wind blew a hurricane, the tide rose to an unusual height, and a heavy flood came down the river. Under these combined influences the water backed up the lagoon to four feet above its usual level. Early in the morning we had to retreat precipitately from our tent, within which the water rose a foot deep, and to cut an opening in the scrub, where, from a narrow ridge, we watched the flood gradually rising around us until we began to speculate on the strength of the cabbage-palms, in the branches of which it seemed probable we should eventually be compelled to seek refuge.

To increase our difficulties, the canoe got adrift and floated up the lagoon out of sight.

About 11 a.m. the sun shone out, the tide ebbed and the water began to recede, and in a few hours Jack was able to get through the scrub and fetch the canoe, which had stranded on the bank above us. In this we crossed the lagoon. Whilst the men were unloading the stores, Mr. Coates and myself forced our way through a belt of scrub, and in a few minutes we stood upon the sea-beach and the waves of the ocean laved our feet.

I remained on the coast three days, with the double object of allowing the men to recruit their strength and repair the damages sustained to their clothes, and of waiting for the subsidence of the flood in the river. Our stock of provisions at this time was reduced to twenty pannikins of flour and meal, and a little tea and sugar. But the lagoon was well stocked with fine eels, on which, with a few red-bill, we subsisted during our stay. We kept an anxious look-out for passing vessels, but none appeared in sight. I was not aware until my return that miners were located at Jackson’s Bay and Bruce Bay (Porangirangi), but if I could have procured a supply of provisions, I should have pushed on to the latter place with the view of seeking for a pass through the Gray Ranges.

The sea-beach is flat and sandy, extending, in an unbroken line, northwards to Arnot Point, and southwards to Jackson’s Bay. About a mile above the coast the Haast divides into two main channels, which rapidly diverge from each other till within a hundred yards from the shore, when the south arm, which is much the largest, sweeps suddenly round, running in a northerly direction parallel with the beach for three-quarters of a mile, and entering the ocean a mile and a-half to the south of the other arm, which also takes a turn to the north. The two channels are united by a shallow backwater behind the beach, which thus forms an island. The space between the north and south arms is filled up with shingle and treacherous quicksands, which can only be traversed at low tide; and abutting on the southern channel, a single island of soil, about half-an-acre in extent, and overgrown with flax, veronica, and a few palms, agreeably diversifies the scene. Both mouths of the river are fordable at low water. There was about four feet of water on the bar at the south arm, but the river was then flooded. The north arm is much shallower.

We commenced our return journey on the 5th October, with tolerably fair weather, varied by occasional showers by day and thunder-storms at night—the 7th being the first entirely fine day experienced since the 27th September. The river was much higher than on our downward route. Keeping on the south bank all the way to the Burke, we found an excellent road, encountering few obstacles of any moment. On that side of the Haast there is no river, nor any considerable stream, from which I infer that the water-shed is limited. About five miles above the junction of the Thomas, we noticed a remarkable rift or fissure in the mountains, running with a gentle incline to a low saddle, through which no other ranges are visible, even when viewed from the opposite hills, and apparently leading in the direction of Jackson’s river valley.

On arriving opposite our depot, below the junction of the Clarke, I sent two of the party across the river to fetch the stores from the cache. Unfortunately, one of them, when returning, attempted to ford the Haast where the water was deep and the current very strong. The consequence was that he lost his footing, and was obliged to drop his load, swimming ashore with difficulty. We thus lost all our oatmeal, tea, sugar, and flour, but recovered about six pounds of the latter on a sand-bar; and this, with a little brose-meal, was all that was left us. I then, for the present, reluctantly abandoned my intention of exploring the Gray Ranges. Incited by the scantiness of our rations, and the extensiveness of our appetites, we hurried onwards till we reached the Burke, where we crossed and re-crossed the Haast at our old fording place; and pushed on through the gorges to our former camp, No. 8, taking up the biscuits left opposite the Wills, as we passed by. To our utter disappointment the mules had broken through all our fences, and crossed the Fish Stream. Indeed we subsequently recovered them near the head of Lake Wanaka. We were therefore compelled to leave the contents of the cache, and to press forward to camp 3, in the Makarora valley, which we reached on the following evening, and with great satisfaction found the cache there uninjured. Convinced of our difficulty, however, we experienced in getting past the Fish Stream, which, flooded by incessant rains, was roaring and raging through its rocky channel in a torrent which it was impossible to ford. Tree after tree was felled in the vain effort to throw one over the chasm, and nothing but the fact that our last biscuit