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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 13, Issue 11 (January 1, 1939)

A Chat About Akaroa — … Where Peace Abides

page 60

A Chat About Akaroa
… Where Peace Abides

When you are weary of the daily spread of dread in the press, tired of the raucous yap of Europe, you are well advised to throw a few things together and speed away to Akaroa, a place of peace, where dictators cease from troubling and the happy are at rest.

It's very easy, you simply go to Christchurch, and let the Railway people take charge of you. They whirl you away in a comfortable bus, or they take you in a train as far as Little River, and pass you on to a car for the run over the hills and along the blue bay.

It is well to use the train for one of the journeys, because the carriages command delightful close-up views of Lake Ellesmere with its stately fleets of black swans in happy sanctuary during summer, and the lovable impudent pukeko flashing their blue plumage in games of hide-and-seek among the raupo.

Road and rail both give you some charming glimpses of harvest fields and pastures, cosy homesteads with bright gardens and tempting orchards—a real Canterbury salute which fills you with confidence that New Zealanders will continue to have a good living, plenty of the things which help a waist to keep its curves. Yes, it is a fortunate country, a favourite of Nature.

* * *

Once you are in Akaroa, you simply do as Akaroa does (enjoying the moments as they come). Everybody is friendly; there is plenty to eat and drink; the clear, clean water of the harbour is warm; the native birds sing for you; you wonder why you have ever worried about anything; you sleep well; nobody in Akaroa has nightmares; nobody has “nerves.”

* * *

The old French impress meets you in the names of streets—Lavaud, Balgueri, Benoit and others, and in the walnut trees. One feels that some of the French settlers must have had competitions in walnut planting. One can imagine the shout of joy long ago when an enthusiast found another good place for a tree. The beautiful foliage colours the hillsides, and in autumn the nuts drop on pedestrians from branches hanging over many of the paths which meander among orchards and gardens. A glance through leafy aisles shows the noble blue of the bay.

* * *

Various towns — particularly New Plymouth, Wanganui, Nelson and Greymouth—believe that they hold the tui championship. Well, if they can beat Akaroa they must have a marvellous wealth of tuis. During antumn and summer visits to Akaroa I have heard the chants and chuckles of tuis from dawn until dusk. There are also plenty of bell-birds. Early in January I heard their heavenly chimes—the peals of single birds—during the whole of an afternoon, a few minutes’ walk from the waterfront. In the Domain I saw bell-birds gracefully sipping the nectar of creamy flowers of the Kai-komako beside a path. They had not the least fear of me. Fantails and native pigeons were also friendly in that public woodland. I picked their thought: “This is Akaroa; everybody is kind to us.”

(Govt. Publicity photo.) A glimpse of romantic Akaroa.

(Govt. Publicity photo.)
A glimpse of romantic Akaroa.

* * *

A launch takes you to all kinds of cosy little nooks among the green hills, but chiefly to a cave near the heads. It is a huge temple of Nature, which fills the intruder with a vague sense of reverence. High up on niches of rock stand pied shags like statues. Now and then a bird flies across the huge dome. One can imagine that old-time Maoris came to that temple for some of their ceremonies.

* * *

Another day you have a seat in a Railway service-car that runs through the eastern bays, which carry on the peaceful tradition of Akaroa. The driver knows everybody and everything; he will write a book some day; it will be a good one.

On the summit road the many-bayed harbour plays hide-and-seek with you. One moment you think you have left it behind, but it is waiting for you page 61 again around the next bend; it is a piece of blue magic.

* * *

So in that old-world town of Akaroa the days and nights glide on blissfully. Finally you feel that there is only one thing wrong about it; you have to leave it. The terrible hands of duty clutch you, snatch you away, but you have memories that will comfort you when you are caught up again in the urge and surge of things in a place that is not Akaroa.