THE LAST PIONEERS

The Tylden family were discussing plans for the future. "When we break up the old family unit, there won't be enough money for each of us to buy an improved farm," said one of the brothers. "Land prices have skyrocketed in the last few years."
"There are still a few areas of cheaper farms that are well back but..."
"We have to have a place close enough to a school for the children," finished Marie.
One of the brothers remembered seeing an article about breaking in Waikato peat lands.
"It's going cheap for someone who is prepared to work." Max remembered. So the young people came down to Gordonton to see for themselves. A new bridge had been completed across the dirty little Komakorau creek. It was easy to see how much smaller it had become with the deepening and straightening process of 80 years of development, but once over the bridge, the land looked very much the same as it had appeared to travellers in the Waikato when New Zealand first became a British Colony. The cars could get as far as the Lord's farm, but after that, ti-tree, ti-tree, ti-tree as far as the eye could see. The tall thin trees grew so close together, that it was almost impossible to force a way through.
"Perhaps you ladies had better go back to the car," suggested the land agent who was showing them round. The men pushed through some of the scrub and found that it wasn't quite as uniform as it looked. They came out into an area of upland.
"Look at those rushes," exclaimed Max, "they must be at least twelve feet high!" but the farmer's eye was looking at the root island mats, two to three feet across, and Max wondered how they could be broken up to allow room for grass. On another part of the property grew a different type of rush; much smaller, and between the plants were pools of dark brown water, covered with ugly yellow scum. When the agent trod on a patch of pretty green and red moss, it quaked and trembled, letting him fall through the mud up to his knees. Before they rejoined the ladies they were wet and muddy and very tired, quite convinced of the hard work needed to convert it to a productive farm. For days Max and Marie discussed the Gordonton farm land.
"It will be hard work," said Marie.
"I'm not afraid of hard work," said her husband, "and at 21 Pounds an acre it's a price I can afford.
"There's no electricity, no telephone, no road," objected Marie. But the road had cut off about an acre of the site bought for the school and this was standing unused. Although the committee tried hard to get the Education Board to use this for a schoolhouse, they said, "We've a perfectly good site for a school house," and gladly sold the section to Tyldens. So that difficulty was met.
Always in the Waikato, (and everywhere else, I guess), roads are essential to the development of the land.
"If the farmers will give the land, we'll put through the roads," said Mr. True of the Waikato County Council. He and his men developed a new way of making a road. The mechanical drain digger worked along emptying the fill into the middle of the road. Now came the trucks to the turning place, turned and backed up emptying the metal and spoil in big heaps. The bulldozer pushed out the piles running backwards and forwards to consolidate the foundation. When the distance seemed too great for sensible backing, (and soon it seemed as if the young drivers could go as fast backwards as forwards), then they made another round place for turning. All day long for weeks and weeks the heavy trucks kept at the task and gradually the road pushed further and further onto the untamed peat.
Meanwhile the new pioneers did not have time to watch other people working.

Covered with black dust and ashes.

"I don't want the woolshed right by the gate," Max said and rode his horse round the half-cleared paddock; and in the place where it didn't sink, decided to build the shed. But first, of course, a drain; three feet deep and a bucket and a half at the top, and a bucket at the bottom. The specifications were precise, the sloping sides hopefully preventing the whole lot from falling in. This was done by contract, but the road to the shed site was pure "donkey labour". At the sandpit on the bank of the Komakorau stream by the house, Max loaded the truck, but at the far gate, all the sand had to be shovelled onto the sledge which he had fitted with dual-tyres both front and back. Then the sand was shovelled onto the track which slowly, slowly stretched across the bog to the shed site.
"A front-end loader would be useful, " he thought, "but it would also be very expensive, and young arms and determination are pretty good substitutes." Anyway, the road was finished at last, and a shearing shed built on a floating raft foundation. An Anderson engine was installed for the shearing stands.
"We're in business," said the owner, "In time for 1959 shearing."
The other farmers along "the road" were glad to use the shed too, until eventually they were able to build their own.
It was almost dark one summer evening, when Max returned to the house. His friend who had come down from the North, rose to greet him.
"Hello Max," he began, putting out his hand to welcome his friend, then stopped and stared. "Whatever have you been doing? You've black dust from head to foot. It's caked on where you've been sweating, too. Have you been swimming in it?"
Max laughed and said, "Wait till I've had a bath and I'll tell you all about it."
Comfortably seated with a cool drink after they had had their tea, Max told his friend about his new farm.
"It's interesting you know. By the nillrace drain, the peat burns to red ash and this is the most fertile part of the farm. There's about one hundred acres, and that is where most of the stock are running. They'll do well there too, until I can develop other parts of the farm."
"I wonder what that particular peat is made of," commented the visitor; but none of the books on the geology of the Waikato could explain.
"There's a layer of vegetation, and below that, a fine layer of sand; perhaps from the ash shower 130 years A.D. There are quite big ti-tree roots below that, and then another layer of sand. If that's from the Taupo Ash Shower of 2,000 B.C., the Waikato Basin must have been a big lake, because the sand seems to have been put there water action."
Max explained to his friend the methods he was using.
"I've a crush bar in front of the tractor," he said "and I crush the ti-tree, and at the same time, consolidate the dry spongy spagnam moss that often builds up a couple of feet above the firmer soil. Then it's rotary hoed in summer when it's as dry as possible. But if you really want to get dirty, come and help me burn off in Autumn."
"He always picks a day when it's going to rain," added Mrs. Tylden," and if it actually does rain the smoke sticks. I won't own him then." Everyone laughed.
"The biggest difficulty," said Mr.Tylden," is to get the lime on, at least two tons to the acre, and it has to be rotary hoed in. After the burn, the seeds are sowed in the Autumn, mixed with manure, and then rolled. I work a block of 20 to 50 acres at a time. The tractor has gone over it quite a number of times, consolidating the peat, as of course, so do the animals."
The two men discussed the relative value of the different makes of tractors, and the value of dual or three or four tyres.
"I usually only use dual," said Max, "though some of the neighbours have four wheels on each side to try to prevent the tractor getting stuck. The big ti-tree roots are a worry when you are using a rotary hoe. You've got to be always on the alert so that you release the trip immediately you strike a root. If you're not awake, the tractor's up to its axles before you can say 'Jack Robinson'. And that's not funny! It takes time and hard work to get it out again."
His friend asked about the stock on the place.
"I'm running Romney ewes with Southdown rams. Selling off the lambs as fat before Christmas. We get good lambing percentages in the Waikato, but we do have quite a lot of trouble with the ewes."
By 1964, the carrying capacity of the 343 acres had increased to 1,000 ewes and 100 breeding cows. It had been hard work, but reasonable prices for wool and fat lambs had helped to give a worthwhile return for the effort.
When the manuka and rushes had yielded to the years of work, and grass grew freely, Max sold the farm and came to, live in one of the historic homes of Gordonton - where the Primroses had first built and Mrs. McNicol had lived.

Chapman's Truck "On or Off'' Mier's Tanker Track. May '79.

Winstones in Drain At T. Joyce's Woodland' Road - May '79 Mier's Photo

References:
Rushes ‘an Raupo, To cows an’ Clover by Edith Williamson