My father told us many tales of his early working days up the Cairn with his father. They did fencing work. It was an area beyond Kuriwao Gorge, part of the Clinton area. They lived rough, staying out all week, often sleeping in a tent with bracken for a mattress. Wild pigs disturbed them regularly.
Dad was a lean wiry man and very strong. His hand grip was like a vice. The most mind-boggling thing he told us of those days was the fact that he used to carry three coils of fencing wire at a time, each weighing 50kg. One was over each arm and a third around his neck.
His descriptions of the bush written to my mother when he was courting were beautiful to read and had a clarity of expression. What impressed me most was his love of the beauty of nature. The picture he painted with words, of the rata in bloom and the bush lives in my mind still.
Dad was a lean wiry man and very strong. His hand grip was like a vice. The most mind-boggling thing he told us of those days was the fact that he used to carry three coils of fencing wire at a time, each weighing 50kg. One was over each arm and a third around his neck.
His descriptions of the bush written to my mother when he was courting were beautiful to read and had a clarity of expression. What impressed me most was his love of the beauty of nature. The picture he painted with words, of the rata in bloom and the bush lives in my mind still.
Stories for my Grandchildren, Isobel Spence
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