A Gold Mine at Trotters Gorge

During the Great Depression, the government paid men to prospect for gold in the hope something might eventuate from a find. There were workable deposits at Livingston and of course there is the big mine now operating across the ridge operated by Oceana Gold at Macraes.

I knew the creeks running from catchments within the forest were prospected - all along to lower Kakanui Range really. Not much was found though some guys were suspected of making money from some creeks. Of course I had a little fossic in some of the creeks and found some shiny dust, but not any gold.

Sometimes when the scrub or fern is burnt well in preparation for planting, the land is revealed as it has not been for years. This also happens when a forest matures and the trees cause other vegetation to die off through a lack of sunlight.
On the Trotters Gorge Block, the controlled burn of Compartment 73 was particularly clean and it revealed a small small gold mine. Water races, holding reservoir, sluiced areas and some mining equipment.
I asked around but found nobody who knew of this enterprise and so cannot report on the success - but the pictures tell as much as I know.

Viewed from above the reservoir looks small - in the center of the photo. Else, the very clean burn.








The reservoir with Colin standing in shows that it must have held a lot of water.
The bluffs are limestone, the same as the gorge.







Inside the reservoir showing the edge of it and the work involver in its construction.








The water race seems to end in this gulley, and a track continues on the same contour, so maybe the race was never completed.








Colin standing in one of the water races, showing that they must have carried a good volume of water.











In several laces the race is formed with considerable rock works.












A Kowhai tree growing in the race shows the age of the workings.












The race and areas where sluicing took place.









Another of the sluiced areas.









A mineshaft on the ridge.









Colin standing in one of the mineshafts








Miner's cradle left in the small rock shelter.












The gold pan we found in the rock shelter. All was left the as it was for someone else to enjoy finding.

Freezing Workers

It has to be said that workers from the Pukeuri Freezing works paid a large part in the development of Herbert Forest. While it is admitted that the permanent workforce could not have completed work required without the help from these guys, we did not particularly like having them foisted upon us.

It was not only freezing workers, but they were a large proportion of what was generally termed 'Winter Employment Scheme'. And was often initiated by various governments.
Sometimes we would weekly report the the number of workers and the work completed so the Minister of Labour or Forestry could stand up in parliament and tell the country how the unemployed were being utilized.
Of course politically it was deemed better to have people on employment schemes rather than have them sitting at home on the dole - and the money for such works came out of a different barrel.

The seasonal nature of the freezing work industry saw the factory closing down through the winter months, so a lot of labour became available during the winter months.
In the early days, the Labour Department guy in Oamaru would ask us to take some people, and we did so, but if we said there is no work for them, he would have pressure applied from the Dunedin office.
Of course we had a reasonably small programme before Fraser's Block was purchased and extra workers were perceived to be taking taking work form our permanent workers, so we had to 'create' work for the extras and it was difficult to motivate supervisors as well as workers to carry out work that was deemed to be filling in time.

Once the Diamond Hill block and Fraser's Block were purchased, we began to plan with the winter employment workers in mind and we utilized them well, but often for political reasons we had to take on more than we needed, but by this time, with more land and an increased interest in formation of walking tracks we could utilize these people more effectively.

We had to go through some difficulty on the way. Our local workers and I were not really union savvy and were generally lax with what could be termed 'union rules'. But of course the freezing workers were staunch union supporters and liked the rules to be followed to the letter.
This made life interesting and it made it more difficult for me to appoint supervisors to the work crews - we called them 'gangs', but that name is used for other groups these days.
Some complaints were made to their union about 'what they had to put up with' as far as transport, work conditions and equipment were concerned.
I guess this stemmed from, as far as they were concerned, work on the hill is physically demanding and guy raw from town felt the pain of getting up to speed.

One fellow walked all the way down from Government Hill - maybe a hour for a fit guy - leaving without telling his supervisor and wanting a lift home. He reckoned he had 'ricked' his stomach.
Admittedly is was a cold, Southwesterly morning, but I demonstrated the planting technique to a new recruit and then when he had a try, I pulled out the ten trees he had planted because he had obviously taken no heed of what I had shown him. He asked me to take him back to HQ and he would go home, never to return.

I had trouble with one small guy who was the union organizer - he had told me that as long as they were careful as to their demands, strike action was very productive. No strikes were held against us, which was a bonus because you don't want trouble in the workplace - besides cutting gorse with a slasher teaches humility if nothing else.

In the end freezing workers were an asset to our work programme and contributed in a valuable way.

A Deer Hunt at the back of Fraser's

As part of the development of the Fraser's Block, which was to become known as 'south Block', I first had to establish a survey line from Trig G because there were no old survey pegs to tie in to. Well at least we did not have access to the Cadastral maps and I couldn't find any boundary pegs. The only aerial photo was very old and GPS had not been invented yet, so land survey was the way to go.

The beehive shape of the bluff has almost gone
because of the vegetation, but it is about 50metres high.

Already Mick and I had established the main access road, which I called 'Beehive Road' - no, not because of the bees, but because of the huge yellow sandstone bluff that was roughly the shape of a beehive. This bluff was the target of artillery reservists who practiced fired at the bluff from [apparently the coast]. We found many of the timed shrapnel shells around the bluff - lump of lead shot in them about the size of a large marble! Bloody hell who would like to be in a war with them flying/exploding overhead?

The lay of the land was a bit difficult, because we needed to put the road above the bluff and we did not really have much choice about the distance because the road took off past a small saddle - the old geometry thing, the hypotenuse is the grade - height is the vertical - distance the horizontal. The easier the better for all operations, especially log transport.
I took a reading with my Abney level from the saddle to the top of the bluff and wet forth through the scrub with 'survey cloth' - linen rag that is ripped into strips to 'flag', mark where the top of the 'cut' was to be. Meaning where the bulldozer made its first cut to form the road.
Actually I nearly fell over another small bluff that was hidden by scrub because it was right in the middle of the proposed road! This caused me to modify the line making on section of the road steeper than I would have liked, but it was a straight, short section, so not so bad.

Once the road was formed Colin and I carried out the survey and I plotted on a map, finishing the survey at the boundary strainer on Lindsay Clearwater's place.
Mick on the old D6 opened up the old tracks, making them useable for our vehicles and so we could plan the future roading pattern.

There was a leading ridge that headed West and fell steeply into the South Branch of the Waianakarua River, which was the boundary between the forest and Walter Rutherford's property. The whole area was clothed in quite magnificent Manuka/Kanuka forest and scrub with broadleaf forest in the gulleys. Actually this was the area I saw puffballs which are an indigenous truffles
.



Mick and I had seen deer sign along this ridge when we opened up the track along the top as we sat on the moss covered rocks to look down into the river bed. So we planned a days hunting - there were to be four of us, Mick, Merv McCabe (sen), Steve (Mag's young brother) and me.
On a cool, autumn morning we parked up at the end of the ridgetop track and Mick paired off with Steve to head down the Northern flank of the ridge, while Merv and I headed to the South. The Kanuka was tall and open because the understory had been grazed for years by sheep, deer and pigs, so the going was easy, it a little steep. Merv did not want to go down too far, because he thought of the climb out, so he headed along the contour Northwards while I kept on going down towards the river.
I hadn't gone very far, when in a small basin, I spotted two spikers [young stags] in a little basin. I decided to shoot both because I thought Merv was handy and would come down to help me with the carcases. He didn't arrive, but while I waited for him I took the back and fillet steaks and skinned the carcases and cut the backbone so we could each carry a set of hind quarters each.
It was my expectation that they would have heard my two shots, and would surely come to meet me, so I started the heft and climb out. I was used to the old imperial measurement and could visualize a cricket pitch at 22 yards [steps] and that equated to one chain and there were eighty chain in a mile. I counted 22 steps as I carried the first set of hind quarters up the steep hill. There I left them and went back down to collect the other set, and counted 11 steps after I passed the first set. From then on I took each set one chain at a time as I proceeded up the hill.

Meantime, the others had gathered back at the truck wand were waiting form me, and I was taking a long time. They had not heard my shots. Mick and Merv played tricks on young Steve, telling them that I go 'bush happy' when I am on my own and I might walk for miles - they might even come back tomorrow to find me. I worried the lad.

It took me until late afternoon to reach the ridge and for the others to hear my approach, and they came rushing to give me a hand - at last! They were pleased with my efforts and apologetic that I was left to lug the meat up on my own! Still we shared the meat as is usual, because another time it would they who did the shooting/carrying.
Actually, fit as I was, it had been a huge effort to carry those hind quarters out and secretly, it took me a couple of weeks to recover!

A more distant view of the South Block and the Beehive

Hooks

We called Colin Bartrum 'Hooks' because he was a keen fisherman, but he liked and took an interest in all sports, playing cricket and golf.There is a lot I could write about this guy because he remains a good mate of mine and we did a lot together over the years.

Hooks never married and when he moved out of his parent's home, the old manse in Herbert, he bought a house in Hampden where I visited and checked that he being tidy and ate well. He never liked green vegetables but could eat the best part of a chicken at a sitting!

When I arrived at Herbert Forest, Colin was a Reg 130 Forest Hand One that classified him as a laborer with forest skills. I promoted him to Leading Hand putting him in charge of work gangs, something he did not altogether like, but he accepted the challenge of it.
So he became my right hand man and I found him to be the first to agree with my sense of sustainability - taking just enough fish, whitebait and preserving native flora and fauna. Mind, he was a sportsman [always fair, if hard] and he shot deer and pigs for sport with the advantage of the meat byproduct. I shot deer, pigs and hunter possums because it was my job. I have always liked animals but quickly learned in my forestry training that animals such as pigs, deer, chamois, thar, goats, rabbit, hares and possums were noxious animals and government policy was to exterminate them. This was because there were no indigenous mammals [save a small bat] in New Zealand. These introduced animals caused erosion on the mountains and decimated our indigenous plants. So whenever the opportunity arose, I would shoot, or otherwise kill these animals - I remember being accused of participating in blood sports. No, rather my duty because I was skilled to carry out that kind of work.

I enjoyed the competitiveness with Colin. We would lay a long line of cyanide to kill possums and then later go out to skin them. We did not share - whoever skinned the animal packed it and it was his to stretch and dry - then we would go together to sell them to old Fred Barklay of course to get the best price. This was in the back-blocks and we would go all day without food and drinking only from creeks or the river. By the end of the day the full pack became heavy!
Likewise marking trees; few that I have worked with have the same idea of tree selection as Colin did - well I guess I trained him to some extent, but there were times when discussion raged on.

He was a good chainman working with me when I carried out chain and compass surveys to plot land information on maps. The chainman ensured the line to be surveyed was clear and the chain was not compromised to give an untrue reading - this was for distance and we needed to be accurate! If the survey plotted onto the map did not close within two degrees, the survey needed to be remeasured and I did not like doing that. Colin helped me to be very accurate.



Above is a prismatic used to measure the angle between pegs. Mine was ex-army and accurate, forward bearing should be 180 degrees different from the reverse bearing (a check

The chain was not made of the chain links like the older ones, this was a thin steel band - the reader end [my end] with actual links marked on, the last chain if you like, and the rest the actual chain, which Colin called out.

The Abney Level was to check the slope because the all lineal measurements need to be brought to level to fit on to a map. There was a table to read off in the office. All had to be entered into a note book, starting at the rear with notes about topography and anything of interest along the way.

In his younger days, old Hooks uses to play cricket for the MCC! Actually Maheno Cricket Club, he was a good and keen cricketer and represented North Otago. He enticed me to fill in at a game at the Orari Domain, and unknown to me at the time, he told the others that I had played Brabham Shield cricket, but I got the message when I was facing the bowling. Me? I know how to hold a bat because there is a thin end and the bowler charged at me like the boar on the Toyota ad! Well I didn't have to see the ball to have it hit the bat and run off to the boundary! Anyway I was soon out and at the after-match raffles, Colin won a can of oysters. I managed to eat most of them on the drive back, but after we had dropped Ronnie off at Waimotu, I vomited them up! The taste wasn't as good the second time around!

Colin had a fi shing boat, the 'Ilene' and he had a slipway at Shag Point. Colin used to like me to drive the old girl [drive is not the word, but I'm no seaman] because of my experience as a surveyor, I could us landmarks as pointers and find the good fishing spots. She was a good little boat but sailing into the slipway was dangerous, as she was slower than the surf, with the danger of going sideways, so timing was critical. He would sit at the stern watching the sea and yell 'Giver her arseholes!' - full throttle!
I always felt safe out in the sea and maybe that is a dangerous thing, but one time I did sweat! Something huge passed under the boat, we never identified it, but we think it may have been a whale shark. It had the potential to tip us over.
We used to go go netting for flounders off the Hampden beach, sometimes catching elephant fish as well. I would hold the rope on the beach and Colin would row out [we would only do this when it was flat calm] dropping the drag net after him and then we would pull the net in. One day a dolphin was swimming in the bite of the net and I had visions of Colin being dragged out to sea! But no, Colin was unaware but the dolphin went straight through the net leaving a big hole! We had some good feeds in those days!
He replaced the boat in later years a larger more powerful one! We spent ages fixing it and cleaning the Volvo stern drive. It had a Zephyr Mk3 motor, so it was powerful. Well the day came to launch her at Moeraki and we puttered out on the axillary motor. In Moeraki harbor Colin fired up the motor! It all happened at once! The throttle was jammed full on! She was in gear and the steering didn't work! We were on course to cut David Higgins' boat in half. Colin tried the controls but on we roared, so I turned the key and it worked! We avoided David's boat because luckily the axillary motor started first pop and we were able to make a turn! We never put the boat back in the water!

Colin trained as beekeeper with Stan Davidson and his own farther, old Stan Bartrum used to keep bees as well. When Colin found out that I was interested in bees, we each bought a couple of hives and built up our population. As w ell we set p a couple of hives on the Forest HQ site and supplied honey to the workers.
There is a lot to know about bees and bee keeping and we were generally successful. The regulations were not as strict as today, although each hive had to be registered and inspected.
One evening we decided to shift six of out hives to the other side of the river. We loaded them on a trailer when we though all the bees had come home, then Colin driving his Landrover, slowly drove through the paddock. Every beekeeper's nightmare - the hives all tipped over! we had taken out protective gear off and it was not an option to cover ourselves outside! The cab of a short wheel-base Landrover is not ideal for a couple of guys to put on overalls.
Once outside, the bees hit us en mass ! In the end we managed sort things out as best we could and the hives survived.

One of Colin's tricks was to catch a handful of drone, they have no sting, and frighten people with them - usually asking someone to hold a hand out and he would put them in there! He delighted in the reaction.

German wasps are a constant danger to beehives, because they rob honey and kill bees, so Colin and I would kill any wasp nests we alerted to or found. The bes t method was to fill a beer bottle with petrol and push the neck of the bottle into the exit hole of the nest. Some people light the petrol, but it is dangerous and there is no need to. The fumes do the job.
There was a huge nest just by the bridge in an old tree stump and it was proving difficult to get on top of. One day we filled some Indian Knapsack Pumps [for fighting fires] with petrol, donned our protective gear and started the fight. It was a hot day, which caused the petrol to evaporate more quickly - a good thing or bad, I don't know - but the wasps were active and attacked us. We had cut a line to the stump as far as we could without being savaged [we were not suited up for that job] and we found that there were several exit holes in the nest. Once we reached the nest, we took turns spraying the attacking wasps with the petrol while the other poked the nozzle down each hole to give it a dose. Killing wasps does nothing in the end, you have to kill the queen. When all the pumps w ere empty. We made our retreat and a few days later we could tell we had won the battle. Never the war though - queens hibernate and set up nest the following spring.

I took him Thar shooting at Mt Cook, well we stayed in the Fred Stream hut and climbed the mount ains behind. We slept on the floor and Colin complained that rats crawled all over us and were playing football with an empty tin on the floor. I heard nothing, but the next night, I found that he was right, there were a lot of rate in the hut! He slept in the car, but I felt safe enough.
One morning as we set off, there was a car parked in a pull off area and we could see the car was in motion. As we became closer, we could see a pink pair pf women's knickers on the steering wheel. I had to physically pull Colin away, because he wanted to creep beside the car and let off a shot of his rifle at what he called, 'the gravy stroke'! We left them to it.
We did climb the slopes of Mt Cook, seep and through snow, and on the leading ridge this Swiss guy came bouncing down, from rock to rock! We were amazed because we had used a deal of energy getting to where we did! The Thar were quite safe, we never fired a shot!

We made two trips to Stewart Island, the first time flying across in the Domini sea plane. We took my dog Wally, coated in baby powder so he didn't stink out the other passengers. One woman took a liking to him and I was nervous that he was going to vomit in her lap! I managed to distract him enough.
We had blue cod and crayfish there, staying at Chew Tobacco Bay. The area lacked fresh water and we suspected Wally of licking our plates clean because we had not washed them!

The next time we took Spencer King with us [one of our work mates] he took a bottle (several?] of rum - Colin and I did not drink very much - and old Spencer would have a toddy or two each evening after the day's hunt - never offering us a swig. When there was about an inch left in the bottle, Colin and I drank it and replaced it with cold tea. Spencer did not notice it in his first toddy, and the second he looked quizzical when he poured the rest, we gave the game away by rolling on the floor in laughter!

It's a quieter life now for us all!

The Logging Arch

I attended a local birthday party last night (and I don't do that too often) where I met up with Geoff Herbert. Herb, as we call him, used to be a silvercultural contractor who worked on the forest for some time and I admired the hard work he carried out.

Luck did not always follow poor old Herb and he never really recovered from the setback caused when the guy he was in partnership with in a logging operation, drove off with the log-skidder and sold it in off, pocketing the cash!

Herb now is in the firewood business and uses a small crawler tractor, winch and logging arch to extract his produce.

I was interested to know where Herb had found a logging arch, because these days they are not used so much because there are more modern machines available to 'the big boys' today.

He had found the one that I arranged for Bert Bennett!

This takes me back to 1965 or 6! Bert, who owned the local sawmill used to log farm blocks in the district to run his sawmill. He used a TD6 crawler tractor with a winch and skidded the logs out of the bush causing the butt of the logs to be filled with soil and stones.
My old mate Keith Gibson, was the sawyer at the mill and as part of his duties he sharpened the saw blades. Keith operated the breaking down bench which cut the logs down to a suitable size for the breast bench which cut the actual timber.
To reduce time and saw maintenance, Bill Matches was employed from time to time to chip away the rough bark, soil and stones from the butt of the larger logs.

I suggested to Bert that a logging arch help produce cleaner logs and make for a more efficient logging operation (and Bill had died). Through my forestry contacts I was able to source an arch from Tapanui for Bert to try. It was an instant success and old Bob Yates (who operated it) wanted Bert to keep it.
Well I did have some influence! Bert was given the arch because, as I put it, he would be logging in the forest soon.

Well the arch was used for some considerable time but became redundant when Bert bought a Timberjack log-skidder.

I am thrilled to know Herb is now getting very good use out it!

Allan Ross

My good neighbor Allan Ross died recently and of course I attended his funeral.

It is always sad to witness the passing of out elder citizens and Allan was a good Christian citizen who contributed throughout his life. Sad as I was at his passing, something else saddened me. You see Allan was a Returned Serviceman and old soldiers - that tern encompasses all the services - pay homage to their fellow by placing a red poppy on his casket. A fitting thing to to. But these old soldiers, among them Hugh Muldrew and Phil Wilkie, are just that - old. Each one sore within his frame, bent and slow. These were the guys who carried us through the war years! Strong, fit and brave - even if they were scared! There is no immunity to old age.

Of course you don't get to know all about a person until you hear the eulogies from those dear to him and I was impressed that during his final years, he learned Spanish to ward off a staling of mind - he thought that if he could not be fit in body, he could be in mind.

I fist met Allan late 1965 when I ran over one of his sheepdogs! I was chugging down Mt Misery Road in the old Commer truck and the dog had slipped his chain and lay waiting for me in the shelter of the sheep yards. On my approach he charged out and simply went under a wheel. There was that sickening bump.
Allan's house was nearby and I went there to find him having a cup of tea. He showed no ill toward me, though he regretted the loss of a good working dog.

A while after I had bought my small farm, Allan inherited the block next door and across the river. This was old Billy Sharpe's place. He had died and his wife Francis lived on there until she passed away with Allan managing the farm and looking after her. She was born in that house!
The fences were not too good and Allan's stock strayed on to my place but we never had words and from time to time he would donate me a few bales of hay to compensate for any losses. His son Peter took over the farm when Allan retired and he was no different to Allan.

Allan had some rough gorse covered southerly faces on his farm and over the years I planted them up for him with P. radiata. Most is now harvested but on block in particular was difficult to establish and as a fundraiser for the North Otago Women's Hockey, I supervised them in hand releasing the trees (cutting the gorse for smothering the trees) - I have managed unskilled labour before but this was something else.

Rest Allan, you have earned the right to it with honor.

Wheels

Throughout my working life I needed some form of transport to get around but, especially in those early days, Herbert Forest was the Cinderella of the Southland Conservancy - indeed Dunedin District. Actually I liked it that way because we didn't see big noises too much and were pretty well left to get on with things our way.

In those earlier days, all vehicles were the Forest Service yellow colour and wore the green triangle badge. Some of the pics are not my actual vehicles because I don't have pictures of them.

Early on at Herbert I had two forms of transport, my own little Commer Cob and Shank's Pony. I never claimed nor recieved compensation for using my own vehicle - I did not expect it really and using it was at times more convenient than walking. A lot of the time though I would walk and that too is a good thing because that's the way you find out about an area . Sometimes I would cut a track - using a straight edge slasher - to make a more permanent shortcut. I guess I was pretty fit then. As well I would have my .303 over my shoulder and if I saw pigs, I just might have a delay.

I could use old Russell's truck to a certain extent but it would be borrowed for this and that, but that old A2 Bedford was a good truck. The same body fits the three ton model so there was plenty of room for the smaller engine in the engine bay. Between the seats there was plenty of room to sit my rifle {or Russell's old .3006 and the passenger seat held two comfortably - usually old Bert or Mick. Comfort?
You could always tell when the oil was getting low, the oil light came on going up Middle Ridge Road! But it was no good at towing the Wajax trailer up hill because it lost traction' too light in the arse end' Mick would say. We had a bladder for emergency storing water and it held 200 gallons. With that filled with water on the back, there was enough traction to climb most hills with gravel roads.

When I was at Naseby Forest, there was an old Commer gang truck, but it was not used very much, so whenever anyone went to start it, there was always a problem because the carby would flood. Nobody liked to drive the old girl because she has a crash gearbox. Later vehicles had syncromesh which allowed gear changes to be smooth, all modern vehicles have something like that. I took a gang of guys to Wanaka to collect Douglas Fir seed in the old Commer and she performed well - as did the lads if the complaint's from fathers about the welfare of their daughters was any indication. Just another issue to sort out!
Anyway this Commer became my truck for a long time and one thing you could guarantee, nobody else would use it because it was so hard to drive - double de-clutch was the term. As well as the tricky gear bow, it was very heavy to steer - no power steering here. and often mud grip tyres were on the front wheels The Gearbox and diff growled so much I ended up putting thicker (SEA 140) oil in them. It was slow and the heater blew cold air whenever the vehicle was going down hill. Low gear most times uphill!
The old Commer had a canopy on the back (to house passengers) but that made it difficult to reverse - when we were making Moir's Gulley Road I had to back a trailer-mounted air-compressor [it had a Vanguard motor] way down there and around a sharp corner so we could drill the rock and set explosives. It took about two hours!
One time I lent it to a crew of students who were staying at Hampden - they phoned me to say that the gearbox was jammed! It had no oil in the gearbox, not a scarrack! I have no idea how that happened but with more oil there was no other problem.

Bob was the District Vehicle Inspector and I guess that there was more than me who was a constant thorn in his side. He liked to keep vehicles going, serviced well and in a tidy condition. He bordered on the pedantic and more than once he referred me to Keith Prior and later Jack Barber who were the respective District Rangers. My knuckles usually received their monthly rap a day or two after Bob's visit. After all, I was in charge of the forest vehicles and machinery and I did take the responsibility seriously, but clean vehicles when there was a lot of mud around - I don't think so. One time was when in a howling wind on top of Government Hill I stopped to open the gate, the door caught the wind and the door/hinge was twisted when I tried to close the door. We were fencing up there, so I took a crowbar and eased the door up so it would close. This put a small dent in the door frame and on the bottom of the door. Bob's report quoted how much extra the bill would be to fix the extra dent/s. Good old Jim though charged only for repairs to the hinge and took the rest out of my hide!

One day though, Bob took the old girl off the road! The frost plug at the back of the motor was so corroded that it 'was unsafe/unreliable to drive it. So she sat in the garage for a while until a decision could be made on what to with her. She would be auctioned off at a sale down at Conical Hills! I had to drive her down there - with no backup - but she didn't let me down!


As a replacement, I was given a Yamaha motor cycle - I think 75 cc but maybe a it more - a crash helmet and a PVC outfit of jacket and leggings. It was pretty much hopeless as forest vehicle and Robert Hutton (who had taken over Waianakarua Garage after Jim had retired) fitted a 72 tooth rear sprocket. This gave the machine power on the hills, but on the open road it was screaming at 70kmph. I lost a lot of time putting weather proof gear on and taking it off every time I went to check on something in the forest. I would get hot walking around then cold on the bike which caused me to have colds and flu!
Out by Trig J I was puttering along a narrow track [should have been walking] and over we went! It was quite steep and as I fell I was conscious of the fact that the bike was coming for me. I can't really say how I managed to dodge it but I did, and the bike went far down the hill - mainly sideways flipping over and over - sliding too. Bruised and sore, I walked down to the gang who were cutting a track through the bush towards Rutherford's - they hauled the bike out for me and other than broken mirrors and tail light, she survived and I was able to ride her to the garage for repairs.
It was not much use for delivering trees to the planing site, so Robert made a very nice trailer and fitted a draw-bar to the bike. This worked well, even if it did compromise my balance from time to time and was also good for collecting the empty tree cartons. But Bob arrived and said that 'it was not an official modification' frowning, there and then took the draw-bar off the bike! As he drove out the gate, I was putting it back on, but he sprang a surprise visit before I could take it off again! Luckily the planting season was finished, but he took the draw-bar and trailer to Dunedin with him. And my knuckles were rapped again!

Well I think they took the hint, and Jimmy, a brand new Suzuki LJ50 arrived. It was the first model I think and had a three cylinder, two stroke engine. It was a very light vehicle, and it did not have much compression so the engine could not hold it from speeding up going down steep hills - so you had to to use the brake a lot. But my, Jimmy could climb - pretty much where a bulldozer could go, Jimmy could. The Suzuki was a bit inclined to lift a front wheel when crossing ditches and the like which tingled the nerves until I became used to it. As it had a narrow wheelbase, side-slopes were a problem and it was more than once passengers leaned uphill [like in yachting] or three guys held me up on the downhill side. Once I was stuck so well in mud that I could not open the door - lucky Mick was nearby to pull me out with the D6!
I could carry a lot of trees by taking them out of the carton, just leaving them in their plastic bags! It saved a lot of walking time for the planters. But I took risks and luckily they came off. Out by Trig J we had a sudden dump of snow, so I went out late in the day by myself to recover the seedling trees - it is tricky in snow because you cant see rocks or holes and really, I guess the trees would have been fine! By careful maneuvering however I managed to extract all the trees and was home by dark.
While I was on long service leave, my replacement, Frank, ran Jimmy out of oil and seized the motor. The repairs were done in Dunedin and the workshop forgot to fill the oil tank, so when Frank picked Jimmy up it seized again going over the motorway!
Frank conveyed to the District Office that Jimmy was not a suitable vehicle - to me it was perfect but someone set the wheels in motion!

From the sublime to the ridiculous, Jimmy was replaced with a Nissan Patrol! A four litre petrol beast with absolute power to burn! Red in colour and impossible to keep clean - ow go my knuckles again! I once towed a caravan to Naseby in a howling [head] NW wind. The caravan swayed from side to side but when I went fast the caravan just flew behind me! I can never remember getting stuck in it but the bonnet was huge [I said half an acre but that's stretching the truth] and it felt uncanny at the top of a steep climb when I couldn't see what was over the bonnet! Dangerous really!
By now we had this big tandem trailer for transporting trees because we were planting larger areas now with a larger planting gang. The soil at Trotter's Gorge was much like that of Engorora and Manyata - sticky and slippery when wet. I had a full trailer load of trees and spades/planting bags to take up to the planting site and this involved a steepish climb up a razorback ridge. Well, it was a bit wet and half way up the vehicle sledged backwards! It was difficult to judge, but I managed to slide down without going over the edge - that would had been trouble! I put chains on the front wheels and had another go - I managed to climb further this time and fortunately while I sledged back, the chains gripped enough for me to direct my descent - the wheels were going forward, but we were still going backwards. Time was money and I was determined [foolishly] to get the trees up there. Close by there was a heap of Manuka planting poles and I strapped a heavy load of them to the bull-bar! She didn't miss a beat and I delivered the lot to the site!
Bulldog Kerr was driving the Patrol back with me in the passenger seat from Oamaru and he was always inclined to drive a bit fast, but he was faultless here. At Reidston, an elderly woman in a small car crossed suddenly in front of us - she was looking a the sign advertising tomatoes and fixed only on that. Bulldog tried to go around her and swerved sharply. We hit the rear of her car and we tipped up on two wheels- sitting up there for a time, almost rolling, then thumped back down on to four wheels.
The woman was shaken and unhurt so we comforted her until the law arrived to assess things. I took the woman over to a guy I knew nearby and she was given a cup of tea and was well cared for until someone picked her up.
The Patrol was drivable and I limped it back to HQ.

By now I was in charge of harvesting and the watchful eye of Laurie King was on me to run a cost-efficient operation, so I conned Bulldog into exchanging his vehicle, a white Diahatsu double cab. The pic is actually Toyota but anyway it was a bit like it. He liked the powerful Patrol but it was costly to run. The Diahatsu was diesel and very economical but it was a bit inclined to get stuck, luckily there were plenty of machines handy to extract me. In this vehicle I taught out older son to drive - a biggish truck on narrow roads, not easy for a young fella, but he mastered it in the end - even if I did lose some hair.

So its been a merry old range of vehicles over the years, none of them are the best - they all do their job. It is a matter of trying and finding out what each is capable of and driving within those constraints.