From: Blenheim, Marlborough:
On the edge of Queen's Park, along Victoria Street, is the Southland Museum and Art Gallery. At the time of my visit, the museum was undergoing extensions and renovations, and not much art was on display. The museum has a good collection of Maori artifacts: weapons, carvings and a hand-carved dugout canoe. The Maori were what I suppose would be regarded as hunter-gatherers, and I was particularly fascinated by the collection of hand-made fish-hooks; there were hooks crafted from bone, wood and stone, with woven or twisted fibres attached. Adzes, weapons and tools crafted from wood, stone and fibres are on display.
The few ceremonial carvings on the display are interesting, and seem to feature human heads and faces to some extent. I had an odd sort of train of thought; when I landed in New Zealand, on the southeast shores of the Pacific Ocean, I reflected that thirty-two years ago, I had sood for the first time on the far north-east shore of the Pacific, on the beach at Vancouver, British Columbia. There the Coast Indian tribes, the Haida I can recall, also had a long tradition of wood-carving, for instance in their elaborate totem poles and lodge-fronts. To a lay observer like me, the difference seemed to be that the Canadian indians concetrated on images of animals: their totems carry images of the Beaver, the Bear, the Deer, creatures that had some mythical significance, and atop many totems is the image of the Thunderbird, a bird I suppose like a super-eagle, that occupied some important place in their oral tradition. The name was also crassly hijacked by the Ford motor Co for a particularly ugly motor car.
On this brief visit to New Zealand, I've not seen much of native Maori art, but I would be interested to compare it with the Canadian indian art. A friend with whom I stayed in Vancouver showed me some of the Coast indians' drawings, in black ink on a white background, which had become very sought-after by rich collectors from the south. The young indians had been suddenly inundated with dollars paid for their art, and often as a result succumbed to the ravages of strong drink, as their culture had very different view of traditional barter systems, and of course they had no bank accounts. The Coast indians used elaborate animal masks for their traditional ceremonial dances, and these also had acquired an inflated value among the rich collectors; just another tragic consequence of so-called "colonial values"? For a good story about the Canadian coast indians, read I heard the Owl Call My Name, by Margaret (?) Craven.
But I digress from my brief account of New Zealand and the Maori, people of Polynesian origin (I think), and there can hardly be a cultural connection across that sort of divide. I'm told by my hostess that the Te Papa Museum in Wellington is essential viewing, and will try to do that when in Wellingon the week after next.
The Southland Museum has a good display about New Zealand's sub-antarctic islands, away to the south: Auckland, Bounty, and several others, up to 600 km souh of Stewart Island. The remote islands are now being rehabilitated as nature reserves, unique ecosystems. Formerly they were the site of many shipwrecks; the islands lay close to the great circle route of the old sailing ships from Australia to Cape Horn, and many a ship went ashore there. for a time a coastwatch was kept there, with emergency supplies to aid distressed mariners. At the height of the 19th century whaling boom, many whalers called there. The demand for seal fur led to the wholesale killing of fur seals, practically wiping them out; the New Zealand fur seal is now a protected species, but it's doubtful whether they will ever regain their former numbers. The traffic of shipping around the southern end of New Zealand was busy in the sailing ship era, and many were the wrecks on the coast around Bluff, the southern-most town. Bluff, incidentally, is said to be the oldest continuously inhabited town in New Zealand: the first settlers established themselves there in 1824.
For some reason, the Southland Museum has an unusal nature section, housing the small breeding population of the very rare Tuatara lizards. These reptiles are apparently directly descended from the dinosaurs; they look a little like a monitor lizard ('leguaan' in South Africa) with a more knobbly hide, and a fierce appearance. Many years ago, when Gerald Durrell visited new Zealand, he mentioned that the only remaining Tuatara were located on a lonely island off the coast. The department of conservation have succeeded in esatbilshing a small breeding group of these unusal creatures, unique to New Zealnd, I believe. The repiles have an uncanny ability to stand perfectly still, without blinking, for long periods. The first time I went there, I viewed them through the outdoor windows, and was convinced they were plaster models! A closer inspection, and reading the information boards, I realised they were the real McCoy. They are reputed to grow to about 60 cm long, but those in the Southland Museum are much smaller. The largest and oldest has been nicknamed Henry by the staff: Henry very nearly fooled me again by staying perfectly still for about 20 minutes. Towards midday, when the windows of the enclosure were warmed by the sun, some more specimens appeared, and at last Henry actually turned round and walked into his burrow. The was a cage containing some babies, living in miniature burrows, who also moved. If I'm not mistaken, that is the first batch of Tuatara successfully bred in captivity. There may yet be hope for these dragon-like creatures to be seen in the wild again, perhaps in small numbers.
But to return to the day visit to Stewart Island, the last substantial piece of New Zealand before Antarctica. On 27th September I took the light plane, a Britten Islander 10-seater, from Invercargill airport to Stewart Island, a journey of only about fifteen minutes across the Foveaux Strait. The airport on the island was about the most isolated I saw in New Zealand -- just an asphalt strip in the bush, no beacons, lights or terminal building. A minibus took us to the little town of Oban, the only settlement on Stewart. Most of the island is undeveloped, and set aside as a nature reserve. There one can find a unique population of wildlife; it's one of the few places where the native Kiwi bird can be seen. Oban lies along the shore of Halfmoon Bay, with a long stretch of clean beach. There are a few shops, a visitor centre, the ferry terminal and a fishing wharf. The island is popular for summer holidays, and holiday homes and campsites are spread around Oban. The area has beautiful beaches in secluded bays, and a number of private boats were moored around Oban and Paterson Inlet, a deeply indented part of the coast, offering secure moorings. Having finally reached my 'furthest south' destination, I took off my shoes and socks, and paddled in the shallow water; it was icy, and I doubt if I would have swum there even in summer!
On a hill overlooking Halfmoon Bay stands a small wood and corrugated iron Presbyterian Church, built (I think) in 1904. I found it quite touching to find this remote settlement bordering on the Southern Ocean, half a world away from the charming West Highland town of th same name, where I stayed while touring scotland in 1969. Tthe Scots, like the Irish, have settled in many of the old dominions, and Scottish roots go deep; one can only imagine the feelings of the lonely Highland folk who settled this tiny piece of land in the 19th century. Most of them would never see their homes again, and their descendants now form a part of the stolid and hardy population of the southern islands of a new nation. In the church were some cards in envelopes stamped "Presbyterian Church, Oban, Stewart Island". I bought one and sent it wih good wishes to an old friend of my late mother; they had travelled and taught together and enjoyed a wonderful bond of friendship. They had also been to the West Highland town of Oban, I think.
Later in the afternoon, I was taken back to the very basic airport, and taken back to Invercargill, to rejoin the modern New Zealand. The next day I took the Air New Zealand morning flight back to Christchurch, with good memories of my little southern adventure. From there I took the railway excursion up to Arthur's Pass, but that is a story for another day.
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