Chapter 6 - First Days
“O-koro-pong. O-koro-pong” clattered the wheels of the train. Sam slept. He was going to work with his loved elder brother for a few years and then – what adventures would there be? But Fred listened to the rhythm of the train and worried. What if he became sick? Or his stock got some disease and died? He was tired. It had been a hectic fortnight since he had signed up on April 21st. He had to go back out to Meremere to tell them he had bought a farm in the Waikato and arrange for his share of the grass seed. Then home to pack. Where do you start when there is nothing except the walls of a two roomed whare with an open fire?
A black iron kettle, a heavy iron skillet to fry their bacon and make scones when the bread failed; an iron pot, oval, big enough to cook a roast and a round saucepan to make the porridge. This iron saucepan grew shiny with age as it made porridge each morning and boiled potatoes each dinner time for 40 years; 29,200 boilings not to mention the fudge it made when there was a special treat. It was only pensioned off when an electric stove made a lighter saucepan more desirable. Money well spent indeed. But, “everything is so expensive”. Bed and blankets; sister Edie was able to purchase these from the D.I.C. where she worked. Any discount was very welcome. A basin to wash the dishes in and another for themselves. Oh, there seemed no end of necessary things. Fred packed his books and his photographic gear. “Life’s not going too be all work,” he told his family who gave advice and added anything they thought might help. Nine big boxes have gone to the station. Then he thought of the day he had spent with Esther to share his joy.
“Esther, Esther” clacked the train and his apprehension faded as rosy dreams came; a gracious homestead where his lovely Esther reigned and there were children, especially a little son who would love the farm too.
The express left Fred and Sam at Frankton Railway Station at 3:45am.
“Can’t hang about here” Fred said and the coach took them to the Commercial Hotel in Hamilton.
A fine morning that Tuesday 6th May 1913 as Fred caught the train to Morrinsville Sale. The first livestock for his farm; three horses; Darkie, Quid and Bobbie were purchased.
“It isn’t going to be a very easy journey home leading a couple of strange horses”, Fred was thinking.
“Hey, Fred Williamson, what are you doing here?” called a voice. It was Alex Webster, one of the old Bible Class group. Alex was able to ride home with him. It was 3:30pm when they reached the Okoropong whare, and, rather stiff and sore, let the horses go hoping the fence was adequate to keep them in.
“Sam will be there,” Fred told his friend, “I’d arranged for one of the neighbours to take a wagon to the station for some of our gear.”
Sam had indeed arrived earlier and the fire was going, but they had not thought to label the boxes. There was no tea, no cups, and no cutlery. For their first meal on Okoropong they cut the bread with their pocket knives and drank from Bell Tea tins; the sausages were cooked; or burned; on manuka sticks.
“This floor is hard, and newspapers make noisy blankets,” Sam commented next morning. “You crinkled and rattled all night, Fred.”
As soon as it was light enough, the three men went outside to look around. Rough grass grew on the rise on which the whare was built. On all sides it was surrounded by acres of straggly manuka, raupo and rushes.
“It is not really so isolated,” Fred commented,” You can see eight houses.”
There was a slight emphasis on the word “see”.
“That roof’s the Hukanui Hall. I suppose it is only a couple of miles away if you fly like the swans; there’s lots on the lake; but it is four miles by road.”
Directly north the green flax that sheltered Peach’s house about two miles away, contrasted with the miles of grey manuka. To the west, the land sloped gradually down to the swamp.
“I’ll build the shed here,” Fred told Alex, “It will be in the centre of the farm where the flats are productive.”
Alex looked incredulous. “How could anyone imagine that tangle of fern and scrub would ever turn into a grassy paddock!”
The waters of Lake Tuna Whaka Peke Peke sparkled in the sunlight. “No chance of boating,” Fred had to admit. “The waters really brown and smelly and there are scum-covered bottomless pools that will trap horses and cows. The eels are vicious too and its pity help any animal that is not rescued quickly.”
“Why did you buy such a place?” exclaimed Alex. “It looks like nothing but hard work to me.”
“You should see the model farm at Ruakura,” replied Fred, “the grass there is as good as any round Wellington. The Waikato’s the coming place. We’ve only to cut the manuka and drain it with a bit of top dressing you won’t be able to see us for grass. We’re planning to milk 46 cows.”
“That’ll be a big herd,” commented Alex. “You’d better hurry up and get a wife and kids to milk them.”
“Oh, no” Fred responded quickly. “We’re going to get one of those new milking machines.”
Alex snorted. “The Waikato Times is still printing the names of those farmers silly enough to install them.”
Sam said, “I expect we’ll only be able to use the hill at first.”
It is just as well they did not know how many years it was to be before the swampy flats became productive.
Later in the day, they went back to the station in Mr. McMullen’s wagon to pick up the rest of their goods. George McMullen laughed, as they thanked him for the loan of the vehicle.
“Oh we all help each other in the country. We’ve got to. You will be in my hay making gang and besides;” and he tried to look very impressive, “my land drains into yours and it is important for me that you keep good drains.”
They were still unpacking their cases when the neighbour from the other side came to welcome them and suggest that the drain be opened as soon as possible. “Most of the land from Horsham Downs to Taupiri on this side of the road belonged to Freshfield Estate, and the even bigger Woodlands estate was on the right side. The workers on the estate dug drains without even considering any overall patterns; now that the district has been cut into smaller farms, most drains go through several properties.” He said.
It rained. Fred spent a day in town pricing various implements. Another visit to Ruakura State Farm reassured him of the potential of Waikato land and still it rained. Already the drain overflowed and on May 12th they began draining.
Up to their knees in the chilly, evil-smelling water they used wide-mouthed shovels to lift the soft peat out of the drain. Sometimes chunks fell into the place they thought they had cleared and blocked the flow again. Wet through, completely chilled, with hands beginning to blister they trudged home that Monday night.
“Oh for a hot bath,” moaned Sam. “You can’t get warm or properly clean in a tin tub with water heated on an open fire.”
Fred was determined they’d have a bath as soon as possible.
“We’ll clean our drains in summer time,” they promised each other. But they would not give up and four days of unremitting toil brought them to McDonald’s boundary, where, as he had promised, he came to help. Another day and the drain was opened from McMullens right through Okoropong to Peach’s boundary.
“It flows through Peach’s land now till it empties into the Komokarau Stream the other side of the village,” said Mr McDonald. “Mr Peach always promises to keep the drain open...”
And he paused significantly.
But all over New Zealand new farms were being developed. Older farmers were indignant to find their land flooded from new drains in higher country; well intentional men just didn’t get round to cleaning their drains before the rains set in and then the water banked up and low lying areas were flooded. It became clear that some over-all control was necessary.
The drainage Act of 1908 provided for the establishment of small drainage districts with a right to level rates, borrow money and maintain jurisdiction over the drainage problem in their area.
When the vote was taken with the 29 farms in the Freshfield area only two voted against the proposal so in 1914 the Freshfield Drainage District was constituted.
“It will only mean more taxes,” warned J. Riddell, and perhaps it did. In the 1916-17 period the Okoropong Drainage Board Assessment was £5 with an extra £12 to survey a better outlet at the end of Peach Drain. (lambs cost 19/6d each; cows about £10) In 1919 the Okoropong Land and Income tax was £13/2/4d. Cement was £6/15/- a ton, tea 2/2d a 1b. & sugar 35 1b. for 9/6d.
“The system of drainage throughout the whole catchment area is important, not just on my own property,” he wrote to his father and though he wondered when there would be time for anything extra he accepted a position on the Freshfield Drainage Board as a member, later as Chairman and as a representative when all the boards in the area amalgamated with the Taupiri Drainage and River Board. Shovels were replaced by dredges, the car superseded the pony when work was to be checked. Only death ended the “route march” to inspect Flaxmill drain.