Tales from the Whakanui Shore

Great Storm of 1868: Refuge in “Arms” of Ashburton

Two years ago our District experienced the worst flooding in living memory, closely rivalled only by the April 1951 Canterbury flood event. Severe floods have occurred with moderate frequency in the past, including the February 1936 flood event, but these were not quite on this level in terms of sheer flow. On 28 May 2021, MetService issued a red alert for Canterbury, having forecasted 200-300mm of rain in the high country. Two days later, a state of emergency was declared due to the sheer volume and duration of rainfall across Canterbury. 19 river flow recorders owned by Environment Canterbury were destroyed or damaged as the rivers reached record levels. ECan reported that their rain gauge in Mt Somers had recorded its highest 48-hour rainfall ever, at 526mm. According to the Ashburton District Council, the damage to our local roads cost $4 million to repair over six months and uninsurable damage to properties totalled $14 million. Numerous farms and buildings were wrecked, roads were washed out and bridges were battered, including the bridge between Ashburton and Tinwald on State Highway 1. The closure of our town bridge made national headlines and the South Island was essentially cut in half for days. I am sure most local readers will remember the headache that caused! It is expected that climate change will increase the intensity and frequency of extreme weather events like the 2021 Canterbury floods. However, extreme flooding typically occurs anyway once every two hundred years, give or take, which seems almost correct when you examine the Great Storm of February 1868 and the floods that resulted from it. From 4 to 6 February 1868, an ex-tropical cyclone bore down on New Zealand, which resulted in extreme weather conditions and flooding across the entire country. As many as 40 people died during the event and there were 12 shipwrecks reported. Almost the entire east coast of the South Island was flooded. On 10 February 1868, a Lyttelton Times correspondent wrote about their experiences travelling through our district at the time of the infamous storm, under the title “A new chum’s experience of a day and night of the weather and rivers of New Zealand.” Rising river or sinking coach? Our anonymous writer’s account begins in Timaru on Monday, 4 February 1868. That morning, they recall being “tired with the gaieties of Timaru” where they had been “forced to vegetate for four days.” They promptly decided to move on and secured a place on a Cobb & Co. coach headed for Christchurch, aboard which they chose the box seat (next to the driver, raised in front.) The writer soon regrets this decision, as it began raining that morning and did not show any sign of stopping. “After leaving the first station, I was informed by a fellow passenger that we were then on the runs, and that we should not leave them again till we reached Christchurch. What he meant by runs, I was then at a loss to explain, unless it was a continual run of water down my neck for the remainder of the journey.” Before crossing the Rangitata our writer switched places with the aforementioned passenger to sit further back within the coach, but they still found themselves experiencing “by no means an agreeable shower-bath.” While crossing the Rangitata River, the coachman quietly observed that he thought the river was rising, but the writer naively thought the coach was sinking while it plowed through the river. “After this came a long, miserable, dreary wet ride for 18 miles” until the party reached the Hakatere/Ashburton River. “Here, as I thought, my sorrows for the time were over, but alas! In attempting to cross with the pioneers, the coach actually stuck, and began settling so fast that at last the water was up to our waists. We were told we must jump for it, and that quickly, into about six feet of water, with the pleasing reminder that if we jumped a yard wrong, we should feel the full force of a New Zealand current. “Thankfully, all aboard made the jump safely “with only a thorough wetting.” After negotiating another channel on horseback and running through the remainder of the river, they made it to William Turton’s Ashburton Arms accommodation house intact. However, after rummaging through their luggage for a change of clothes, our writer found to their horror that all their belongings were soaked. The coachman drove off without waiting for them, and they were left behind at the accommodation house. “After borrowing a change from the obliging landlord, and getting a good dinner, things assured a much brighter aspect; still the wind kept howling frightfully, and the river was rising, though no thought of real danger occurred to anyone.” Refuge in the Arms of Ashburton The writer went to bed at 10 o’clock that night, expecting a restful night’s sleep, but two hours later they were told to get up immediately as “the river was still rising fast and was, in fact, at full flood.” They go on to describe the following events: “The water was within a few inches of the door. At this time a faint cry was heard, and some men returned, having to wade some distance up to their shoulders, with a woman and a baby, and it was known that the house was flooded, and would probably be carried away immediately. Still the water kept rising, rising, fast; and, after measuring, we found it within an inch of rushing in the house; in fact, it had commenced to flow under one of the doors.” “The agony of the poor people coming in at this time was indescribable; most of them had seen pigs, crops, poultry, sheep, and, in some instances, horses washed away, and their houses nearly floating before they quitted them. Through what can be called only the mercy of God the wind changed, and, as it was ascertained the following morning, the river had broken into a creek, which seemed to carry away a deal of the water.” In closing their correspondence with the Lyttelton Times, our dear writer says “Had it not been for this intervention of Divine Providence I should probably not be alive to write this, my first, and I can assure you I fervently hope my last, experience of the freaks and vagaries of the New Zealand rivers.” Overall, the Great Storm of 1868 and the resulting floods caused between £500,000 and £1 million in damage across the country (roughly $20-50 million today, adjusted for inflation.) Unless otherwise stated, photographs and research materials on this page are owned by the Ashburton Museum & Historical Society Inc. This post was modified for this blog and was originally published in the Ashburton Guardian, 4 June 2022.

Early Urban Ashburton

Ashburton as we know it has been constantly evolving ever since the construction of William Turton’s first accommodation house along the Hakatere Ashburton River in 1858. Rural has become urban, paddocks have become suburbs and buildings have been built, moved, modified and demolished. Ashburton was first surveyed by Robert Park in 1863 and from there our town began to grow. Generally speaking, urban Ashburton spread from the vicinity of Mona Square, northwards along East Street, and outwards along the side streets. Shops, offices, grain stores, agents and auctioneers quickly populated our fledgling central business district faster than you could say ‘Ashburton Borough Council’. Before we were even considered a borough, considerable growth had occurred. In 1903, a volume of the Cyclopedia of New Zealand covering the Canterbury Provincial District was published, which included an extensive section about Ashburton. Let’s take a look at how Ashburton was faring as a burgeoning town just after the turn of the century and see if we can draw any parallels between our past and our present. Before we dive into the cyclopedia however, let’s consider the importance of this land before Pākehā settlement and its significance for takata whenua. Our shared past Before towns and suburbs, this little slice of Aotearoa was more than capable of supporting growth and livelihood. Māori were the first to know the land that later came to be known as Ashburton District. This area contained a wide range of natural resources that were sustainably managed and collected, including seasonal foods and stone materials. Travel routes through the region were deliberately punctuated by stopping points which were in the vicinity of such resources, as well as water and shelter. Prosperity for takata whenua in this area and across Te Waipounamu (the South Island) relied on the important matauraka (knowledge) of mahika kai, the concept of valuing the natural resources that sustain life. Early urban landscape Ashburton in 1903 was described as having “the appearance of a healthy, prosperous, inland town, and that it is the centre of a rich agricultural district can be seen by glance at the large grain stores situated in the neighbourhood of the railway. The public buildings, and many of the business premises, are handsome and imposing, and the wide and well-formed streets, on market day especially, present a very busy aspect.” “The town is well built, and the streets and houses lighted with gas. With an ample supply of water always flowing in the side channels, the sanitary arrangements are excellent, and Ashburton is one of the healthiest places in New Zealand. The local industries comprise a woollen factory, flour mills, a brewery, and the Fairfield freezing works.” As for Ashburton’s population at the time, the cyclopedia states that “the recorded population of the borough, within the statutory boundaries, 2,322, does not represent the actual number of residents in the business centre of the district; if the immediate suburbs of Hampstead and Allenton were included, it would amount to at least 5,000.” Unless otherwise stated, photographs and research materials on this page are owned by the Ashburton Museum & Historical Society Inc. This post was modified for this blog and was originally published in the Ashburton Guardian, 12 March 2022.

The Components of the Humble Kiwi Villa

Throughout the closing decades of the nineteenth century, New Zealand was undergoing rapid population growth and huge urban development. Factors such as improved transportation and an influx of steam-powered woodworking equipment gave rise to a new kind of house: the iconic villa. From the 1860s until the end of the First World War, villas were a very popular option for new builds. These bigger, more expensive homes were an iteration on the classic cottages which were so widespread in the preceding years. Construction Villas were constructed almost entirely of native timber, including fixtures and fittings, with a metal roof. There were exceptions to the rule. For example, there is a bay villa on Wakanui Road, designed by Ashburton architect Harry E. Vincent, which was built using bricks from Crum’s brickworks instead of being of typical weatherboard construction. Thanks to advances in machine moulding and woodworking, many villas bore ornate features and ornamentation. These new accoutrements would have been out of the price range for many people just decades before the villa’s rise in popularity. Some of these houses were architect-designed, like the brick villa, while many others were built from pre-prepared plans. The customer would choose their desired floorplan and accessories from a catalogue. As suburbs developed many of the villas seen dotting the streets were built in this fashion. Two-storey villas were also not unheard of. In Jeremy Salmond’s Old New Zealand Houses 1800-1940 it is noted that different features were more common in different regions: bigger verandas in Auckland, cast iron fretwork in Dunedin and narrower two-storeyed designs were preferred in Wellington. Form and function The concept of separating public and private spaces within the home was a central feature of the villa. A villa’s central hallway would usually be cut in two by an ornate archway, which marks the dividing line between the public and private parts of the house. The parlour, or formal sitting room was used to receive and entertain guests (not for everyday leisure) and so it was at the front of the house, while the kitchen and bathroom were at the rear. The best furniture and family treasures were often found in the parlour, where they would be seen and enjoyed by visitors. The reasoning behind the parlour being at the front of the villa may have originated from earlier cottages, in which the closest room to the front door was the sitting room, or the front door opened into the sitting room which acted as a thoroughfare. One of the most striking features of any villa is the bay window, which would typically protrude from the parlour room, facing the street. Walking through the hallway, you would find a couple of bedrooms branching off the long main hallway before you reach rooms such as the kitchen, scullery and pantry. Larger bay villas would have squeezed in another bedroom, bathroom and laundry. Of course, you can’t forget the front veranda; an enticing perch upon which families would sit and enjoy the fresh air. Today we still see it as a prime spot for some outdoor furniture (an old crusty couch will do in a pinch.) A kiwi icon Villas are unmistakably, undoubtedly Kiwi. Each one is a slice of social history, a residential landmark, almost. On many streets throughout Ashburton you will find at least one, or several villas with families or flatmates living in them. With a bit of care and insulation they quite often make great homes despite being what you could say to be a hundred years past their prime. Unless otherwise stated, photographs and research materials on this page are owned by the Ashburton Museum & Historical Society Inc. This post was modified for this blog and was originally published in the Ashburton Guardian, 25 September 2021.