were there now, soothing and loving. They had obviously been out looking, because they already had my bike and school bag; they had been standing on the Frankton Road Bridge as we were swept underneath.
The Shotover River runs close to our farm, and the events of April 1949 have remained with me ever since that fateful day, when Skipper came into my life.
Chapter Three
I was now twelve and quite big for my age, so I was expected to assist my father at milking time, which required me to be up at five in the morning to bring in the cows. Skipper was now a working dog alongside Max and Shep, but he and I had a very special bond. He learned how to round up the cows as we brought them in for milking and really enjoyed running with the other dogs. During winter, it would be almost completely dark, and I was always amazed at the times I would see shooting stars, as there was no light interference in the atmosphere.
My parents were members of the local Baptist Church and played a big part in that community. So Rachel and I got taken to church every Sunday. My dad also said grace at mealtimes and often read to us from the Bible. I mentioned a topic we were discussing at school called ‘evolution’, and my dad turned red in the face. He started to speak loudly, then stopped and paused as if trying to regain his composure. He coughed, then said quietly, ‘You must never use that word in this house.’
I couldn’t understand why, as he made no further explanation, and I felt a strange atmosphere around my dad for quite some time. Eventually, I raised this with my mother, who sat me down and told me about the teachings at church and how God had created the earth in seven days. She went on to explain that evolution was a theory that disagreed with creation and that we went to church to learn the truth.
I was not sure how I would explain to Mrs Baxter, my teacher, that ‘evolution’ was such a bad word. When the time came and I had discussed my problem, Mrs Baxter gently told me that the learning process in our education involved our history and that people disagreed with a lot of historical facts. ‘Some parts of history are difficult to think about,’ she said. She also talked about wars and atrocities and human behaviour in history that would not be tolerated today. ‘But that is history,’ she said, ‘and we cannot change it.’
Mrs Baxter also said that learning needed not be a threat to anyone’s beliefs and that our class topic involved books written by a man called Charles Darwin on the origins of animal species. ‘The books take a view that may seem to contradict the teachings of creation as mentioned in your family’s church,’ she told me but said we wouldn’t use the word ‘evolution’ again, and I was quite relieved. Mrs Baxter gave me a book called The Voyage of the Beagle as I was interested in animals and nature. She said I might be a little young to read it, but I could keep it and try again as I got a little older
My love of animals went beyond Skipper; in fact, I regarded all animals as equals. I became very interested in the relationships between various animal species and also birds. I would play with our goats, pretending I had food so they would chase me. I would then chase them, and they seemed to enjoy it. I was also fond of our sheep, particularly at lambing time; there were several lambs each year, and we had names for them all. I felt sad that the sheep were just kept for their meat.
Another sad event that really troubled me was when the male calves were taken from their mothers at one week old, put in a pen at the farm gate, where they would bellow out to the mothers, only to be picked up and thrown into the back of a truck, taken and slaughtered for veal. Although I loved my father, I sometimes found him to be heartless and cruel to the animals, not just the calves. Whenever I mentioned it, he would say we must be cruel to be kind, and I knew that he meant it, but I found it hard to accept. Although he was kind within our family, he was strict as far as religion and morals were concerned. My father never seemed to discuss matters that were important to him and seemed to consider one’s thoughts and beliefs as private.
Rachel had taken up horse riding when she was seven and was a very good rider. There was no opportunity for organised competition of any kind, so riding was just for fun. I loved our horses: Tempo, a fourteen-hands bay gelding, and Redhead, which was a chestnut mare, just thirteen hands, slightly smaller but built more solidly than Tempo. Rachel preferred to ride Tempo, which suited me fine as Redhead was much livelier. We would ride down to the river or up into a wonderful valley in the hills, with Skipper following or running on ahead, often arriving home as it was getting dark.
In winter, our whole family would go skiing at Coronet Peak, which was only about thirty minutes’ drive from our farm. Rachel and I could ski well and it was a lot of fun. At the end of the day, we would come home and sit in front of the fire. My mum would make us hot vegetable soup, and steak and kidney pie, and we would all talk about our best ski runs.
Chapter Four
My dad told me that he needed to buy a merino stud ram, and we would have to travel to a sheep station aboard the steamship Earnslaw. We drove in the truck to Queenstown and parked in Ballarat Street outside Eichardt’s Hotel and close to the lake. I had convinced my dad that Skipper should come, and I was still really surprised that he had agreed. It seemed to me that my dad was trying to mend fences, and I was responding as best I could. My mother had sent a letter to school advising of my trip and asking for a day off. Mrs Baxter had agreed as long as I recorded everything from my day off and spoke to the class about the trip on the next school day.
My dad went off to buy our tickets and make arrangement for Skipper and the passage of the ram back to Queenstown. There were a few shops in Ballarat Street, including a milk bar with seats and tables down one side and a jukebox where you could put in money and play records. I walked back to the truck and let Skipper jump down. We walked down to the lake and out onto the jetty. There were two Maori kids – one I knew from school, Winstone Ratea – who were dropping bits of bread into the water. There were dozens of huge brown trout swimming below, and I could hardly believe my eyes when Winstone walked down the steps and caught one with his bare hands. I was relieved when it wriggled free and swam away.
I walked around to where the Earnslaw was berthed and ran into my dad on the way. Although it was early spring, there was still a lot of snow on the Remarkables, the wonderful range of mountains alongside Lake Wakatipu. We went aboard the beautiful old ship and put Skipper into one of several pens along with a few other dogs. I had brought along a notebook and a pencil and started making some notes to satisfy my agreement with Mrs Baxter. I found a brass plate on one of the walls with details of the Earnslaw and started writing:
In the late 1800s, a number of vessels provided access to isolated sheep stations around the shores of Lake Wakatipu. Demand for an improved shipping service led to tenders being let for the building of a new vessel.
A tender for £20 850 was accepted in 1910. Prefabricated in Dunedin, the vessel was dismantled and railed to Kingston at the south end of Lake Wakatipu. Reassembled in Kingston, the TSS Earnslaw was launched on the 24th of February 1912. In October that year, the vessel was officially handed over to New Zealand Railways Department.
Her details were:
Gross Weight: 330 tons
Steel Hull-Kauri Decks: 160 feet long, 24 feet wide, 7 feet deep
Engines: two 500-horsepower steam engines
Maximum load: 1035 passengers, 100 tons cargo, 1500 sheep, 200 wool bales or 70 cattle.
Crew: eleven
Speed: 13 knots
My dad went off to see the captain while I stood at a railing watching the furnace and the men shovelling coal into the flames. I understood how the boilers provided steam to drive the big turbine engines, but this was where my understanding ended, although I was fascinated by the way enough power could be generated to drive a big ship like the Earnslaw. We began to move, so I went outside as the ship gradually turned, disturbing a big flotilla of ducks and black-billed gulls, which took to the air. I walked up to the bow and watched the black smoke billow from the funnel as we built up speed. Although it was September, the wind was quite cold, and I did up the top button of my jacket and felt the wind ruffling up my hair. I went back to check on Skipper, who was having fun wrestling with a cattle dog in his pen.
I