Searching for evidence of historic gold prospecting. Did I find it?
With a larger expedition planned in the coming weeks with Tony Weir, exploring Gollans Stream from its upper reaches to the southern end of the Northern Forest, I decided to undertake a shorter reconnaissance trip, keeping an eye out for evidence of historic gold prospecting. Several old newspaper articles describe prospectors from Days Bay and Eastbourne crossing the range in search of gold, so I was particularly interested in finding any traces of their activities.
I began above Days Bay, climbing the Korimako Track to the Main Ridge Track. According to the DOC map at the entrance, a short walk along the ridge would bring me to a gully where a creek descended directly into Gollans Stream.
I saved myself a considerable climb by parking at the top of Korimako Road, eliminating roughly a third to half of the ascent. Once on the ridge, I found the gully, but it looked uninviting, with fallen trees and dense supplejack obstructing the descent. The terrain eventually opened up, although the slippery slopes remained challenging. Fortunately, the supplejack provided useful handholds.
A small stream eventually formed, which I followed until it mysteriously disappeared, leaving a dry creekbed. Further downhill, the water reappeared beneath a pile of rocks. I continued downstream, occasionally scrambling along either bank to avoid dense vegetation.
As the terrain levelled out, I spotted my first nikau palm of the day. I’ve often found that nikau palms favour gentler and more solid terrain, so their appearance was encouraging.
Eventually, I reached the junction with Gollans Stream and realised I’d been here before! This was the exact location we had reached during Bush Bash 88, when we descended from Lowry Peak before turning back.
I continued south along Gollans Stream into new territory (for me) and soon discovered a bait-line track, which I suspect extends to Butterfly Creek. Although difficult to follow in places, I repeatedly picked it up again after bush bashing through the undergrowth. Fortunately, it generally stayed close to the stream.
I passed the famous S-bend, where the stream’s sharp change of direction can supposedly cause disorientation, with water appearing to flow in opposite directions when viewed from the middle of the bend. Beyond this, the stream straightened somewhat and I continued for a while.
I was looking for another creek marked on the map, descending from the Days Bay ridgeline and Kereru Track. My intention wasn’t to follow that track, but to regain the Main Ridge Track from that gully and return via Korimako, where my car was parked.
Identifying the correct tributary proved difficult, with numerous creeks descending from the surrounding hillsides. One was noticeably larger, and I considered following it uphill. However, I changed my mind and instead turned around and followed Gollans Stream north, to go beyond my original entry point, hoping to locate Top Forks to confirm my bearings.
During this part of the journey, I noticed two creeks entering Gollans Stream from the Wainuiomata side, roughly below Mt Puketea. This area interests me because of historical accounts of gold prospecting around Gollans Valley by old time residents of the Coast Road valley.
It was here that I made an intriguing discovery: old corrugated iron lying beside a small wooden retaining wall. Could this have been associated with the elusive gold-mining winze I’ve been searching for?
I lifted the iron but found only solid ground beneath it. Perhaps it had once formed part of a small shelter. Alternatively, could it have covered an old winze that was later filled in because of the danger it posed near the bait line? The small wooden retaining wall may also have served to prevent soil and debris from falling into the shaft. At the time, I couldn’t think of another obvious purpose for it, although, in hindsight, it may simply have been built to create a perfectly level area for a shelter, despite the ground already being relatively flat.
However, a historical description mentioned boards covering the winze to obviously prevent objects falling into it, making the discovery particularly interesting. Its close proximity to Gollans Stream added another element of intrigue.
An 1882 survey map by James Daniel Climie labels the waterway “Goldmans Creek”. To play Devil’s advocate though, this may simply have been a naming or transcription error, given the similarity between “Goldmans” and “Gollans”. The name appears on no other known maps, including other surveys by Climie himself, casting doubt on whether it was ever a genuine alternative name.
There is no firm evidence linking these remains to the historic gold workings, but the combination of clues makes the location intriguing. Could an early prospector have discovered gold in Gollans Stream and excavated a winze nearby in an attempt to locate the source reef? Another possibility is that the structure was simply a shelter, while a nearby hole I photographed could be the remains of an old prospecting pit. Unfortunately, that possibility never occurred to me at the time. Had it done so, I would have investigated the hole more closely to determine its depth. Perhaps it’s all just wishful thinking, but these possibilities are certainly worth considering.
Moving on, I went passed the creek I came down in and headed further upstream but couldn’t locate Top Forks, and with time running out, I turned around again to locate my original entry point. I didn’t locate it exactly as I decided to climb a spur that looked easy to ascend up to the Main Ridge Track. As it turned out, the spur formed the northern flank of the gully I’d descended earlier. It was indeed easier to navigate and offered another opportunity to search for traces of prospecting by early gold seekers from Days Bay and Eastbourne.
However, the ascent was deceptive. Three times I thought I was approaching the ridgeline, only to reach a saddle and face another climb. Finally, on the third section, I eventually emerged onto the Main Ridge Track, just north of the Korimako Track.
From there, it was a mostly downhill walk back to my car.
What was supposed to be a modest excursion had become one of the most gruelling bush treks I’ve undertaken, at least according to my legs. After six hours of climbing and descending ranges and searching the valley floor, I was spent.
Climbing back into my familiar car was an immense relief. After a demanding day in the bush, it almost felt like coming home.
