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The Press section refers to standing orders for someone stupidly getting injured.. The bit about getting lost was I think tongue in cheek. No one ever admitted to being lost, temporarily misplaced was as close to lost as you could get and still have your mojo.
Different era Tureha, they were Referring to DOC in the Press. DOC's attitude is far different from Internal Affairs or the Forest Service that spawned them. DOC are busy now trying to convincing the public that our mountains including the Coromandel are too steep to carry out ground based pest control.Quote:
Originally Posted by Turehu
Hell, we used to send our worn out old cullers up to the Coromandel Ranges when they neared retirement age.
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One memorable Man ...Alan Hunter
There is no doubt that some of the cullers were 'hard men' but most were just regular guys who enjoyed what they did. I think expectations and attitudes have changed over the years, and what some younger readers would consider 'hard' was just accepted by us as normal (in fact I think some of the cullers from the '30's would have considered us soft). We just got on and did what had to be done. We had a job to do and it was a matter of pride to do it as well as we could. The hard times usually occurred when a few of us hit town at the same time after a season in the hills! Today's gear is vastly superior to what we had and much lighter. We wore shorts and woollen Swandris, Everest socks and Anson D-ring boots (with steel tricounis), and carted a Fairydown sleeping bag in tanker frame Mountain Mule pack (along with some dry clothes, food, a Primus white spirit stove, billy, enamel plate and mug) and wore a Green River knife on a leather belt with a small canvas bag for ammo and bit of first-aid gear. That was all top of the line gear in the '60's, so I guess we were soft compared to the old guys who humped their gear in a sugar bag pikau. The normal culler's rifle was the .303 sporterised open-sighted SMLE, either from NZFS stores or your own .303 if you preferred. Private sports shooters were switching to more modern rifles with scopes during these years but the .303 ruled.
It'd be worth reading "Of Mountains, Men and Deer" by Brian Burdon for anyone who hasn't. Was my favourite book to read as a kid. Would love to meet him but I'd imagine he'd be gone by now.
Yes, @gundoc...we must not forget that there were many who had survived the war to came back determined for our country never to see nor become what they saw...they had a country to help build, to get on with the job, bridges to span and onwards and upwards...I always think about the guy whose job it was to haul in the canvas tent :o...and for certain they and private cullers carried .303s...afterall some had been using them for four years to great effect...and how rationing influenced things would be interesting to know...
For the rationing, they needed these...got some tea and sugar one's somewhere.Quote:
Originally Posted by EeeBees
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they were hard men cos the had bugger all choice not to be.
hard in spirit hard in play but the salt of the bloody earth in every other way::yuush:
i happen to know and latterly nursed one of the hardest of the hard men.Les Kemp was the name .wirey as a manuka stockyard post ,smoked ryos and ive read from men who knew capable of consistently knockin deer off at 300yds with open sights rain hail or snow. a famous tale once tells of les &a mate in the westcoast tops(i think)and facing a humungous snowstorm. despite the cold it was still business as usual and according to the teller he witnessed Les drink a bottle of worchester sauce to keep warm.
in his latter years les was a whitebaiter bar none and those fellow coasters will remember Les perched in his tent on the "rock"in the grey river waitng for the bait.
Im fairly sure the famous photographic book"the coast&the coasters"by one John Burford(adopted coaster but extraordinaire with it) shows a cracker photo of Les with RYO in corner of mouth sitting waiting for them wee white fellas like a hungry shag on a rock.
Truly a man who earned that title"a hard man"
As a kid Ive vivid memoires of Les being involved in a fatal drowning accident on Lake Brunner.
A boat he was in capsized and he quick thinking as he was saved himself by drifting to safety clinging to a petrol tin.
In modern times Les's son Ben has established himself as a topnotch westcoast fishing guide who is an expert in drift fishing using american designed double ended boats on the Arnold river flowing from Lake Brunner,joining the mighty Grey just above Stillwater.
Here's a pic of Mick Halberg in 1926. Him on the right- shot both waps apparently.
Uncle of Murray and about similar fitness.
Tony was his son.
Imagine that clothing in the Fiordland rain..
http://i316.photobucket.com/albums/m...ps2b777bc3.jpg
He was living, and still goat culling in Northland from memoryQuote:
Originally Posted by Bavarian_Hunter
Ran across him in the Kaweka's years ago when he was taking photo's for 'Of mountains.."
Rocks Ahead from memory.
Nice guy to yarn with
The Mangaohane was the top up zone for Warren,Satherley etc.There was some pretty thick scrub around Ohutu Ridge.The tent camp at Ironbark was hardly luxury.The biggest curse for the culler was not the weather but that condensed milk. It sure ruined the teeth on some of them.The memories of the early 70's..Quote:
Originally Posted by Scribe
I think you'll find Brian Burdon retired down Central Otago.
I knew he was working down there, but thought he was living Kerikeri way ? (Retired)
But I've been known get details wrong !
OMG--Me thinks there's competition--Alaska's State Bird appears to have a rival of threatening proportions to the south...
