Suddenly a little cloud of dust is driven down the river-bed a mile and a half off;it increases,till one would think the river was on fire,and that the opposite mountains were obscured by volumes of smoke.
Still it is calm with us.By and by,as the day increases,the wind gathers strength,and,extending beyond the river-bed,gives the flats on either side a benefit;then it catches the downs,and generally blows hard till four or five o'clock,when it calms down,and is followed by a cool and tranquil night,delightful to every sense.If,however,the wind does not cease,and it has been raining up the gorges,there will be a fresh;and,if the rain has come down any distance from the main range,it will be a heavy fresh;while if there has been a clap or two of thunder (a very rare occurrence),it will be a fresh in which the river will not be fordable.The floods come and go with great rapidity.
The river will begin to rise a very few hours after the rain commences,and will generally have subsided to its former level about forty-eight hours after the rain has ceased.
As we generally come in for the tail-end of the nor'-western rains,so we sometimes,though less frequently,get that of the sou'-west winds also.The sou'-west rain comes to us up the river through the lower gorge,and is consequently sou'-east rain with us,owing to the direction of the valley.But it is always called sou'-west if it comes from the southward at all.In fact,there are only three recognised winds,the north-west,the north-east,and the south-west,and I never recollect perceiving the wind to be in any other quarter,saving from local causes.The north-east is most prevalent in summer,and blows with delightful freshness during the greater part of the day,often rendering the hottest weather very pleasant.
It is curious to watch the battle between the north-west and south-east wind,as we often see it.For some days,perhaps,the upper gorges may have been obscured with dark and surging clouds,and the snowy ranges hidden from view.Suddenly the mountains at the lower end of the valley become banked-up with clouds,and the sand begins to blow up the river-bed some miles below,while it is still blowing down with us.The southerly "burster,"as it is called,gradually creeps up,and at last drives the other off the field.A few chilly puffs,then a great one,and in a minute or two the air becomes cold,even in the height of summer.Indeed,I have seen snow fall on the 12th of January.It was not much,but the air was as cold as in mid-winter.
The force of the south-west wind is here broken by the front ranges,and on these it often leaves its rain or snow,while we are quite exempt from either.We frequently hear both of more rain and of more snow on the plains than we have had,though my hut is at an elevation of 1840feet above the level of the sea.On the plains,it will often blow for forty-eight hours,accompanied by torrents of pelting,pitiless rain,and is sometimes so violent,that there is hardly any possibility of making headway against it.Sheep race before it as hard as they can go helter-skelter,leaving their lambs behind them to shift for themselves.
There is no shelter on the plains,and,unless stopped by the shepherds,they will drive from one river to the next.The shepherds,therefore,have a hard time of it,for they must be out till the wind goes down;and the worse the weather the more absolutely necessary it is that they should be with the sheep.Different flocks not unfrequently join during these gales,and the nuisance to both the owners is very great.
In the back country,sheep can always find shelter in the gullies,or under the lee of the mountain.
We have here been singularly favoured with regard to snow this last winter,for whereas I was absolutely detained by the snow upon the plains on my way from Christ Church,because my horse would have had nothing to eat had I gone on,when I arrived at home I found they had been all astonishment as to what could possibly have been keeping me so long away.
The nor'-westers sometimes blow even in mid-winter,but are most frequent in spring and summer,sometimes continuing for a fortnight together.
During a nor'-wester,the sand on the river-bed is blinding,filling eyes,nose,and ears,and stinging sharply every exposed part.I lately had the felicity of getting a small mob of sheep into the river-bed (with a view of crossing them on to my own country)whilst this wind was blowing.There were only between seven and eight hundred,and as we were three,with two dogs,we expected to be able to put them through ourselves.We did so through the two first considerable streams,and then could not get them to move on any farther.As they paused,I will take the opportunity to digress and describe the process of putting sheep across a river.
