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Lil & Bill Blackadder's house at Rosstown, Reefton AND Blackadder family history
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DescriptionThis house in Rosstown, Reefton was owned by my Grandparents Lil &Bill Blackadder. This was used by the family as a base in Reefton but they lived out on the farm at Maruia. My grandmother had nine children so prior to giving birth she could come here and be close to medical care. My grandfather was a councillor and surveyor/valuer for many years so he travelled around the West Coast a fair bit. In the earlier years their travel was by horse and dray to get supplies and that was a two or three day exercise sometimes. So it must have been a haven for them. Unfortunately it was burned down and was replaced by a little brick cottage.Map[1] ContributorMaud Ferguson
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Landmark (Place) Lil & Bill Blackadder's house at Rosstown, ReeftonEventVilla
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Category TagOld Houses
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CommentsDaryl Aitken
So in later years Athol King lived there
Sarah Ashby
Beautiful place
John Lester
In the springtime we had a lovely time bird-nesting in the manuka trees along the way. Though it took us about two hours to get home from school, I don't remember ever getting a scolding from Mum. Home-made bread and jam were ready for us before we had to help milk the cows. I learnt to milk when I was eight, and to my sorrow it was a must after that. The hours spent at the cowshed were really some of the happiest days of my childhood.
It was in 1929 that there was the awful mouse plague. I would see the mice run up the cocksfoot stalks, bend the seed head over and bite it off. They swam the creeks and infested everything. I wouldn't eat trout because they ate mice.
I remember having gone to Maruia Springs with my mother and grandfather when I was young. We travelled in a buggy drawn by two horses. We stayed one night with Oscar Win and one night with Norriss's. I remember the rickety swing bridge over to the hot springs and the old bathing shed. We stayed a night at the Maruia Springs and nearly froze to death, as we had no mattress to sleep on-'-just some covers on the wire mattress. They supplied us with a single bunk and we slept like logs, one in each end of the bed, till morning, exhausted after our hard day crossing the Lewis' Stream countless times and travelling up and down the riverbed, through bush where not even a track existed. On our way up the Lewis we had been held up for a considerable time about half-way between the Nina and Bunny Flat, where Punch jibbed when we came to a. very wide, muddy stretch of water. In the finish, I pulled on the leading rein while Bill got behind with a big waddy. Punch made a jump, splashing mud and water all over me, getting rid of pots and pans, and, to top it all off, sank down to her belly, and it took us quite a time to unload het, get her out, and re-load again.
The next morning, we set out from the Maruia Springs in company of one of the men, who let Bill ride one of his horses as far as the junction of the Reef ton track. Arriving at the farm in the late afternoon, we pitched a tent, unloaded the horses, stored the goods in the- tent, and set off for Blackadder brothers' farm, Bill and Tonga being in partnership. They had two chaps staying there; one man's name being Cochrane, so, after a good meal, Bill
and I slept in the hayshed with the mice. I stayed at Blackadders while Bill went to Reef ton for stores.
On the third day we moved to the farm and started to fell trees and split them into slabs and shingles for a hut, 14ft v. lOft (4m x 3m). After about two or three
weeks, Bill bought a 12ft x 10ft (3.7m x 3m) tent, a lot of cooking gear, and a tent fly from a party of surveyors. We
were more comfortable, as we could cook under the tent fly erected between the two tents. Bill made me learn to cook. In about a month the hut was completed. In exchange for two horses Bill had brought in Reef ton, George Baily and Tom Ball felled some trees, first for the hut and then to clear the ground for sowing grass.
For meat, Bill bought six sheep in Reef ton, and we occasionally shot a wild cattle beast. We collected our mail from Walker's Station, leaving the farm about 1 p.m.and returning about midnight. We proceeded across Walker's 1,000 acre (405ha) paddock, on to the river beach and, travelling about ten miles (16km), crossing the river three times, we would arrive at the station and have a yarn before returning. When it got dark, we left it to the horse to find its way, because otherwise we would end up in trouble and get lost. .
We had very few visitors. The Blackadders, Tom Ball and George Baily were our nearest neighbours, who used to call -for a yarn and to borrow some tea or such that they had run out of and we used to do the same, so it worked out. Besides, we were all too busy to pay social calls. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
They were hard days as the girls learnt to cook meat or bake bread in a heavy camp oven fire. Groceries were collected very infrequently from a store over at Horse Terrace in those early days. How difficult it must have been to know what to order for months ahead. A
"Bath night" must have been a real occasion when the copper was filled and heated, and after Father had bathed, Mother and the children enjoyed a soak in a tub of hot water."'Usually it was a basin of cold water and ,no time wasted over washing, in the cold, dark mornings.
No electric light or heaters in those days! If the weather was very cold, a brick might be heated, wrapped in a blanket and placed in a bed to warm it, but life was spartan and such luxuries infrequent.
Picnics were popular. Every year my parents invited the neighbours for a plum tree picnic, for a number of cherry-plum trees were still growing where our first home was built. After lunch, sheets and blankets were placed under the trees to catch the fruit that was shaken down. The fruit was put into boxes to take home to make preserves, jam or pickles
16h
Reply
Maud Ferguson
John Lester Not sure when this photo of the Rahu road was taken but it was in fairly good shape compared to when you were describing I imagine. That’s my uncle Afton Blackadder and my grandad Bill Blackadder snr
John Lester
MR W. BLACKADDER'S REMINISCENCES BILL BLACKADDER'S EARLY DAYS IN THE MARUIA
(as told to his son, Mr W. Blackadder, April, 1962, at his residence).
Bill Blackadder began his story of his early days in the Maruia by telling of the difficulties in getting food and other goods into the farm and of driving the lambs out and packing wool. Everything had to be brought in on pack-horses-camping gear, tents, cooking utensils, axes, shovels, etc., when Bill Blackadder and his mate, Billy Paterson, took up sections in the Upper Maruia Valley after the Government ballot in 1905.
"We used to pack all our tucker in on horses. Later, when we bought some sheep, we would pack the wool out. We would have big, cumbersome loads, not very heavy, but seemed awfully bulky.
"When we first arrived in the Maruia, we pitched our tent around where Jack Ferguson's sheep yards are now.
"When we wanted the horses they were always away, because we had no fences to hold them in, so after the camp, one of the first jobs was to fence in about twenty acres (8ha) to hold them. Once we had a paddock that could hold a hack or two, we could ride out and bring the others in as and when we wanted them. .
"The first year, after building the hut and fence, we bought 40 lambs and 60 ewes, so we had just over 100 sheep on the place. I have been told since, but I didn't know at first, to have a look in their mouths to tell their age by their teeth. As far as we knew, a sheep was just a sheep. The chaps that put us wise to this were Sandy and Jimmy Ross. They also told us that we would want to watch the sheep and keep them under our eyes all the time and not let them get all over the place but keep them together, otherwise they might wander away down the river. .
"My mate, Billy and I made an arrangement that I would get up in the morning to have a look at the sheep, while Billy cooked breakfast. I would get out of bed, put on my boots, pants and singlet, and I would be off. By that time it was May, with cold, wintry, frosty mornings. Well, I would start off, get into a dog-trot till I came to where the sheep were camped, take a count and find out if all could get on their feet. We made a habit of that all the winter, and for many more winters, too, but found that it paid.
"We expected to get more lambs than we did. We only got 24, but expected to get at least 60, but we had bad luck. '
"These sheep after a while began to get a bit wild, and I asked Jimmy Ross what was the cause of it. He told me that it was a good sign and that they were getting plenty of tucker. I thought that was all right then and was satisfied.
"We had a book we called 'The Settler's Diary.' It said you were supposed to start shearing them about November, so we got our sheep in and started shearing. We made a pen and also split some slabs, as there was no sawmill in those days, to get sawn timber, and made a floor to shear the sheep on. We put the sheep in the pen and then dragged them out onto the slab floor. We had an awful job shearing these sheep, as neither of us had seen sheep shorn before, so you can imagine what sort of a job we made. We had an old pair of shears and a new pair, but found that they wouldn't cut, as we didn't know that the new pair needed sharpening and setting first. We shore away with the old pair, taking turns, but we made mighty slow progress. It was a regular pantomime. We made some packs out of flour sacks, packed the wool and took it to Reef ton to sell it. We had 600 pounds (272kg) of wool from under 100 sheep, and weren't we proud of it, too. A man in Reef ton offered 7d a lb for it, but we went down to Greymouth, where we sold it for 9d, which was very pleasing, too.
Our sheep increased very slowly, taking us four years to get 150 sheep, although we gave them the same attention as previously. We realised that we would have to buy more sheep to build up the flock enough to be worthwhile, so we bought 400 more, mostly on promissory notes. We lost about 100 ewes that winter, but got about 220 lambs.
As we owed £400 ($800), we sent a truck of lambs away; I used to worry if I owed anyone £5 ($10), so you can see we were worried stiff when we owed £400. We got only 6d (5c) for the wool' and were lucky enough to sell a line of sheep to John' Dick, butcher in Reefton, 250 ewes and some wethers for 15/- ($1.50), which was a remarkably good price in those days. I had to deliver them to Reefton in lots of 60, 70 or 80 sheep. Taking them through a boggy bush track was slow and tedious. .
By that time we were getting some horses on the farm. We bought horses that were knocked up, spelled them for a while until they fattened up and were fit again. We needed plenty of pack-horses, as we used five at a time, especially for wool.
Shortly after the wool had been sold, we obtained a State Advances loan, as we needed improvements to our fences, so with. the wool, lamb and sheep money, we were able to clear the mortgages off and had £300 ($600) besides, so we were able to buy a few comforts and pay our tucker bill, which was a relief.
After we had been working for a while, we became accustomed to the work, a lot of which we did on horseback. Our horse population increased to 30-hacks, packhorses and brood mares and foals. We. made something out of horses and cattle as well. We had to keep an eye on our cattle, as cattle running all over the place belonged to Walkers, and if ours were mustered with Walkers, it took the best part of a day to get them back.
THE LACK OF ROADS
When we took up farms in. the Maruia, we were all single, but later on, a lot of the chaps got married. The roads were not made then. Anyone wanting to go out would have to travel up the Maruia River bed, that being the only road, or rather track, we had, leaving the beach at times and proceeding out on to Walker's Plains, then after a while, back to the river. Unless you had arrangements to be met at Stevenson's Flat, you would have to ride all the way to Reefton.
As we had floods to contend with, women could not travel about much for the river might be up or the ford washed out, and sometimes the river would be in flood for days on end and none of us could hope to cross. It happened that children were born in the valley in the homes, three were boys, who grew up to be very fine men indeed, but the girl died when very young. .
. That was the great drawback-lack of roads. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
John Lester
MR W. BLACKADDER'S REMINISCENCES BILL BLACKADDER'S EARLY DAYS IN THE MARUIA
(as told to his son, Mr W. Blackadder, April, 1962, at his residence).
Bill Blackadder began his story of his early days in the Maruia by telling of the difficulties in getting food and other goods into the farm and of driving the lambs out and packing wool. Everything had to be brought in on pack-horses-camping gear, tents, cooking utensils, axes, shovels, etc., when Bill Blackadder and his mate, Billy Paterson, took up sections in the Upper Maruia Valley after the Government ballot in 1905.
"We used to pack all our tucker in, on horses. Later, when we bought some sheep, we would pack the wool out. We would have big, cumbersome loads, not very heavy, but seemed awfully bulky.
"When we first arrived in the Maruia, we pitched our tent around where Jack Ferguson's sheep yards are now.
"When we wanted the horses they were always away, because we had no fences to hold them in, so after the camp, one of the first jobs was to fence in about twenty acres (8ha) to hold them. Once we had a paddock that could hold a hack or two, we could ride out and bring the others in as and when we wanted them. .
"The first year, after building the hut and fence, we bought 40 lambs and 60 ewes, so we had just over 100 sheep on the place. I have been told since, but I didn't know at first, to have a look in their mouths to tell their age by their teeth. As far as we knew, a sheep was just a sheep. The chaps that put us wise to this were Sandy and Jimmy Ross. They also told us that we would want to watch the sheep and keep them under our eyes all the time and not let them get all over the place but keep them together, otherwise they might wander away down the river. .
"My mate, Billy and I made an arrangement that I would get up in the morning to have a look at the sheep, while Billy cooked breakfast. I would get out of bed, put on my boots, pants and singlet, and I would be off. By that time it was May, with cold, wintry, frosty mornings. Well, I would start off, get into a dog-trot till I came to where the sheep were camped, take a count and find out if all could get on their feet. We made a habit of that all the winter, and for many more winters, too, but found that it paid.
"We expected to get more lambs than we did. We only got 24, but expected to get at least 60, but we had bad luck. '
"These sheep after a while began to get a bit wild, and I asked Jimmy Ross what was the cause of it. He told me that it was a good sign and that they were getting plenty of tucker. I thought that was all right then and was satisfied.
"We had a book we called 'The Settler's Diary.' It said you were supposed to start shearing them about November, so we got our sheep in and started shearing. We made a pen and also split some slabs, as there was no sawmill in those days, to get sawn timber, and made a floor to shear the sheep on. We put the sheep in the pen and then dragged them out onto the slab floor. We had an awful job shearing these sheep, as neither of us had seen sheep shorn before, so you can imagine what sort of a job we made. We had an old pair of shears and a new pair, but found that they wouldn't cut, as we didn't know that the new pair needed sharpening and setting first. We shore away with the old pair, taking turns, but we made mighty slow progress. It was a regular pantomime. We made some packs out of flour sacks, packed the wool and took it to Reef ton to sell it. We had 600 pounds (272kg) of wool from under 100 sheep, and weren't we proud of it, too. A man in Reef ton offered 7d a lb for it, but we went down to Greymouth, where we sold it for 9d, which was very pleasing, too.
Our sheep increased very slowly, taking us four years to get 150 sheep, although we gave them the same attention as previously. We realised that we would have to buy more sheep to build up the flock enough to be worthwhile, so we bought 400 more, mostly on promissory notes. We lost about 100 ewes that winter, but got about 220 lambs.
As we owed £400 ($800), we sent a truck of lambs away; I used to worry if I owed anyone £5 ($10), so you can see we were worried stiff when we owed £400. We got only 6d (5c) for the wool' and were lucky enough to sell a line of sheep to John' Dick, butcher in Reefton, 250 ewes and some wethers for 15/- ($1.50), which was a remarkably good price in those days. I had to deliver them to Reefton in lots of 60, 70 or 80 sheep. Taking them through a boggy bush track was slow and tedious. .
By that time we were getting some horses on the farm. We bought horses that were knocked up, spelled them for a while until they fattened up and were fit again. We needed plenty of pack-horses, as we used five at a time, especially for wool.
Shortly after the wool had been sold, we obtained a State Advances loan, as we needed improvements to our fences, so with. the wool, lamb and sheep money, we were able to clear the mortgages off and had £300 ($600) besides, so we were able to buy a few comforts and pay our tucker bill, which was a relief.
After we had been working for a while, we became accustomed to the work, a lot of which we did on horseback. Our horse population increased to 30-hacks, packhorses and brood mares and foals. We. made something out of horses and cattle as well. We had to keep an eye on our cattle, as cattle running all over the place belonged to Walkers, and if ours were mustered with Walkers, it took the best part of a day to get them back.
THE LACK OF ROADS
When we took up farms in. the Maruia, we were all single, but later on, a lot of the chaps got married. The roads were not made then. Anyone wanting to go out would have to travel up the Maruia River bed, that being the only road, or rather track, we had, leaving the beach at times and proceeding out on to Walker's Plains, then after a while, back to the river. Unless you had arrangements to be met at Stevenson's Flat, you would have to ride all the way to Reefton.
As we had floods to contend with, women could not travel about much for the river might be up or the ford washed out, and sometimes the river would be in flood for days on end and none of us could hope to cross. It happened that children were born in the valley in the homes, three were boys, who grew up to be very fine men indeed, but the girl died when very young. .
. That was the great drawback-lack of roads. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New Year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
13h
Reply
John Lester
Continued -In the springtime we had a lovely time bird-nesting in the manuka trees along the way. Though it took us about two hours to get home from school, I don't remember ever getting a scolding from Mum. Home-made bread and jam were ready for us before we had to help milk the cows. I learnt to milk when I was eight, and to my sorrow it was a must after that. The hours spent at the cowshed were really some of the happiest days of my childhood.
It was in 1929 that there was the awful mouse plague. I would see the mice run up the cocksfoot stalks, bend the seed head over and bite it off. They swam the creeks and infested everything. I wouldn't eat trout because they ate mice.
I remember having gone to Maruia Springs with my mother and grandfather when I was young. We travelled in a buggy drawn by two horses. We stayed one night with Oscar Win and one night with Norriss's. I remember the rickety swing bridge over to the hot springs and the old bathing shed. We stayed a night at the Maruia Springs and nearly froze to death, as we had no mattress to sleep on-'-just some covers on the wire mattress. They supplied us with a single bunk and we slept like logs, one in each end of the bed, till morning, exhausted after our hard day crossing the Lewis' Stream countless times and travelling up and down the riverbed, through bush where not even a track existed. On our way up the Lewis we had been held up for a considerable time about half-way between the Nina and Bunny Flat, where Punch jibed when we came to a. very wide, muddy stretch of water. In the finish, I pulled on the leading rein while Bill got behind with a big waddy. Punch made a jump, splashing mud and water all over me, getting rid of pots and pans, and, to top it all off, sank down to her belly, and it took us quite a time to unload her, get her out, and reload again.
The next morning, we set out from the Maruia Springs in company of one of the men, who let Bill ride one of his horses as far as the junction of the Reefton track. Arriving at the farm in the late afternoon, we pitched a tent, unloaded the horses, stored the goods in the tent, and set off for Blackadder brothers' farm, Bill and Tonga being in partnership. After a good meal, Bill and I slept in the hayshed with the mice. I stayed at Blackadders while Bill went to Reefton for stores.
On the third day we moved to the farm and started to fell trees and split them into slabs and shingles for a hut, 14ft v. lOft (4m x 3m). After about two or three weeks, Bill bought a 12ft x 10ft (3.7m x 3m) tent, a lot of cooking gear, and a tent fly from a party of surveyors. We were more comfortable, as we could cook under the tent fly erected between the two tents. Bill made me learn to cook. In about a month the hut was completed. In exchange for two horses Bill had brought in Reefton, George Bailey and Tom Ball felled some trees, first for the hut and then to clear the ground for sowing grass.
For meat, Bill bought six sheep in Reefton, and we occasionally shot a wild cattle beast. We collected our mail from Walker's Station, leaving the farm about 1 p.m.and returning about midnight. We proceeded across Walker's 1,000 acre (405ha) paddock, on to the river beach and, travelling about ten miles (16km), crossing the river three times, we would arrive at the station and have a yarn before returning. When it got dark, we left it to the horse to find its way, because otherwise we would end up in trouble and get lost. .
We had very few visitors. The Blackadders, Tom Ball and George Bailey were our nearest neighbours, who used to call -for a yarn and to borrow some tea or such that they had run out of and we used to do the same, so it worked out. Besides, we were all too busy to pay social calls. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on.
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New Year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
They were hard days as the girls learnt to cook meat or bake bread in a heavy camp oven fire. Groceries were collected very infrequently from a store over at Horse Terrace in those early days. How difficult it must have been to know what to order for months ahead. A "Bath night" must have been a real occasion when the copper was filled and heated, and after Father had bathed, Mother and the children enjoyed a soak in a tub of hot water."'Usually it was a basin of cold water and ,no time wasted over washing, in the cold, dark mornings.
No electric light or heaters in those days! If the weather was very cold, a brick might be heated, wrapped in a blanket and placed in a bed to warm it.Life was spartan and luxuries infrequent.
Picnics were popular. Every year my parents invited the neighbours for a plum tree picnic, for a number of cherry-plum trees were still growing where our first home was built. After lunch, sheets and blankets were placed under the trees to catch the fruit that was shaken down. The fruit was put into boxes to take home to make preserves, jam or pickles.
Linda Skelton
John Lester I think this post- Continued- is recalling memories of the Lesters who shaped a farm for themselves further down the valley than my grandad Bill Blackadder , in the first post with his memories.
Arthur Bass
Athol Kings old house. Tony Sheehan and Athol and Midges youngest daughter also. Tony was working for Temuka Transport and should be able to fill in the details.
Pauline Naylor
Beautiful house
Janette Schroeder
Is that where you lived
Glenda Begg
So in later years Athol King lived there
Sarah Ashby
Beautiful place
John Lester
In the springtime we had a lovely time bird-nesting in the manuka trees along the way. Though it took us about two hours to get home from school, I don't remember ever getting a scolding from Mum. Home-made bread and jam were ready for us before we had to help milk the cows. I learnt to milk when I was eight, and to my sorrow it was a must after that. The hours spent at the cowshed were really some of the happiest days of my childhood.
It was in 1929 that there was the awful mouse plague. I would see the mice run up the cocksfoot stalks, bend the seed head over and bite it off. They swam the creeks and infested everything. I wouldn't eat trout because they ate mice.
I remember having gone to Maruia Springs with my mother and grandfather when I was young. We travelled in a buggy drawn by two horses. We stayed one night with Oscar Win and one night with Norriss's. I remember the rickety swing bridge over to the hot springs and the old bathing shed. We stayed a night at the Maruia Springs and nearly froze to death, as we had no mattress to sleep on-'-just some covers on the wire mattress. They supplied us with a single bunk and we slept like logs, one in each end of the bed, till morning, exhausted after our hard day crossing the Lewis' Stream countless times and travelling up and down the riverbed, through bush where not even a track existed. On our way up the Lewis we had been held up for a considerable time about half-way between the Nina and Bunny Flat, where Punch jibbed when we came to a. very wide, muddy stretch of water. In the finish, I pulled on the leading rein while Bill got behind with a big waddy. Punch made a jump, splashing mud and water all over me, getting rid of pots and pans, and, to top it all off, sank down to her belly, and it took us quite a time to unload het, get her out, and re-load again.
The next morning, we set out from the Maruia Springs in company of one of the men, who let Bill ride one of his horses as far as the junction of the Reef ton track. Arriving at the farm in the late afternoon, we pitched a tent, unloaded the horses, stored the goods in the- tent, and set off for Blackadder brothers' farm, Bill and Tonga being in partnership. They had two chaps staying there; one man's name being Cochrane, so, after a good meal, Bill
and I slept in the hayshed with the mice. I stayed at Blackadders while Bill went to Reef ton for stores.
On the third day we moved to the farm and started to fell trees and split them into slabs and shingles for a hut, 14ft v. lOft (4m x 3m). After about two or three
weeks, Bill bought a 12ft x 10ft (3.7m x 3m) tent, a lot of cooking gear, and a tent fly from a party of surveyors. We
were more comfortable, as we could cook under the tent fly erected between the two tents. Bill made me learn to cook. In about a month the hut was completed. In exchange for two horses Bill had brought in Reef ton, George Baily and Tom Ball felled some trees, first for the hut and then to clear the ground for sowing grass.
For meat, Bill bought six sheep in Reef ton, and we occasionally shot a wild cattle beast. We collected our mail from Walker's Station, leaving the farm about 1 p.m.and returning about midnight. We proceeded across Walker's 1,000 acre (405ha) paddock, on to the river beach and, travelling about ten miles (16km), crossing the river three times, we would arrive at the station and have a yarn before returning. When it got dark, we left it to the horse to find its way, because otherwise we would end up in trouble and get lost. .
We had very few visitors. The Blackadders, Tom Ball and George Baily were our nearest neighbours, who used to call -for a yarn and to borrow some tea or such that they had run out of and we used to do the same, so it worked out. Besides, we were all too busy to pay social calls. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
They were hard days as the girls learnt to cook meat or bake bread in a heavy camp oven fire. Groceries were collected very infrequently from a store over at Horse Terrace in those early days. How difficult it must have been to know what to order for months ahead. A
"Bath night" must have been a real occasion when the copper was filled and heated, and after Father had bathed, Mother and the children enjoyed a soak in a tub of hot water."'Usually it was a basin of cold water and ,no time wasted over washing, in the cold, dark mornings.
No electric light or heaters in those days! If the weather was very cold, a brick might be heated, wrapped in a blanket and placed in a bed to warm it, but life was spartan and such luxuries infrequent.
Picnics were popular. Every year my parents invited the neighbours for a plum tree picnic, for a number of cherry-plum trees were still growing where our first home was built. After lunch, sheets and blankets were placed under the trees to catch the fruit that was shaken down. The fruit was put into boxes to take home to make preserves, jam or pickles
16h
Reply
Maud Ferguson
John Lester Not sure when this photo of the Rahu road was taken but it was in fairly good shape compared to when you were describing I imagine. That’s my uncle Afton Blackadder and my grandad Bill Blackadder snr
John Lester
MR W. BLACKADDER'S REMINISCENCES BILL BLACKADDER'S EARLY DAYS IN THE MARUIA
(as told to his son, Mr W. Blackadder, April, 1962, at his residence).
Bill Blackadder began his story of his early days in the Maruia by telling of the difficulties in getting food and other goods into the farm and of driving the lambs out and packing wool. Everything had to be brought in on pack-horses-camping gear, tents, cooking utensils, axes, shovels, etc., when Bill Blackadder and his mate, Billy Paterson, took up sections in the Upper Maruia Valley after the Government ballot in 1905.
"We used to pack all our tucker in on horses. Later, when we bought some sheep, we would pack the wool out. We would have big, cumbersome loads, not very heavy, but seemed awfully bulky.
"When we first arrived in the Maruia, we pitched our tent around where Jack Ferguson's sheep yards are now.
"When we wanted the horses they were always away, because we had no fences to hold them in, so after the camp, one of the first jobs was to fence in about twenty acres (8ha) to hold them. Once we had a paddock that could hold a hack or two, we could ride out and bring the others in as and when we wanted them. .
"The first year, after building the hut and fence, we bought 40 lambs and 60 ewes, so we had just over 100 sheep on the place. I have been told since, but I didn't know at first, to have a look in their mouths to tell their age by their teeth. As far as we knew, a sheep was just a sheep. The chaps that put us wise to this were Sandy and Jimmy Ross. They also told us that we would want to watch the sheep and keep them under our eyes all the time and not let them get all over the place but keep them together, otherwise they might wander away down the river. .
"My mate, Billy and I made an arrangement that I would get up in the morning to have a look at the sheep, while Billy cooked breakfast. I would get out of bed, put on my boots, pants and singlet, and I would be off. By that time it was May, with cold, wintry, frosty mornings. Well, I would start off, get into a dog-trot till I came to where the sheep were camped, take a count and find out if all could get on their feet. We made a habit of that all the winter, and for many more winters, too, but found that it paid.
"We expected to get more lambs than we did. We only got 24, but expected to get at least 60, but we had bad luck. '
"These sheep after a while began to get a bit wild, and I asked Jimmy Ross what was the cause of it. He told me that it was a good sign and that they were getting plenty of tucker. I thought that was all right then and was satisfied.
"We had a book we called 'The Settler's Diary.' It said you were supposed to start shearing them about November, so we got our sheep in and started shearing. We made a pen and also split some slabs, as there was no sawmill in those days, to get sawn timber, and made a floor to shear the sheep on. We put the sheep in the pen and then dragged them out onto the slab floor. We had an awful job shearing these sheep, as neither of us had seen sheep shorn before, so you can imagine what sort of a job we made. We had an old pair of shears and a new pair, but found that they wouldn't cut, as we didn't know that the new pair needed sharpening and setting first. We shore away with the old pair, taking turns, but we made mighty slow progress. It was a regular pantomime. We made some packs out of flour sacks, packed the wool and took it to Reef ton to sell it. We had 600 pounds (272kg) of wool from under 100 sheep, and weren't we proud of it, too. A man in Reef ton offered 7d a lb for it, but we went down to Greymouth, where we sold it for 9d, which was very pleasing, too.
Our sheep increased very slowly, taking us four years to get 150 sheep, although we gave them the same attention as previously. We realised that we would have to buy more sheep to build up the flock enough to be worthwhile, so we bought 400 more, mostly on promissory notes. We lost about 100 ewes that winter, but got about 220 lambs.
As we owed £400 ($800), we sent a truck of lambs away; I used to worry if I owed anyone £5 ($10), so you can see we were worried stiff when we owed £400. We got only 6d (5c) for the wool' and were lucky enough to sell a line of sheep to John' Dick, butcher in Reefton, 250 ewes and some wethers for 15/- ($1.50), which was a remarkably good price in those days. I had to deliver them to Reefton in lots of 60, 70 or 80 sheep. Taking them through a boggy bush track was slow and tedious. .
By that time we were getting some horses on the farm. We bought horses that were knocked up, spelled them for a while until they fattened up and were fit again. We needed plenty of pack-horses, as we used five at a time, especially for wool.
Shortly after the wool had been sold, we obtained a State Advances loan, as we needed improvements to our fences, so with. the wool, lamb and sheep money, we were able to clear the mortgages off and had £300 ($600) besides, so we were able to buy a few comforts and pay our tucker bill, which was a relief.
After we had been working for a while, we became accustomed to the work, a lot of which we did on horseback. Our horse population increased to 30-hacks, packhorses and brood mares and foals. We. made something out of horses and cattle as well. We had to keep an eye on our cattle, as cattle running all over the place belonged to Walkers, and if ours were mustered with Walkers, it took the best part of a day to get them back.
THE LACK OF ROADS
When we took up farms in. the Maruia, we were all single, but later on, a lot of the chaps got married. The roads were not made then. Anyone wanting to go out would have to travel up the Maruia River bed, that being the only road, or rather track, we had, leaving the beach at times and proceeding out on to Walker's Plains, then after a while, back to the river. Unless you had arrangements to be met at Stevenson's Flat, you would have to ride all the way to Reefton.
As we had floods to contend with, women could not travel about much for the river might be up or the ford washed out, and sometimes the river would be in flood for days on end and none of us could hope to cross. It happened that children were born in the valley in the homes, three were boys, who grew up to be very fine men indeed, but the girl died when very young. .
. That was the great drawback-lack of roads. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
John Lester
MR W. BLACKADDER'S REMINISCENCES BILL BLACKADDER'S EARLY DAYS IN THE MARUIA
(as told to his son, Mr W. Blackadder, April, 1962, at his residence).
Bill Blackadder began his story of his early days in the Maruia by telling of the difficulties in getting food and other goods into the farm and of driving the lambs out and packing wool. Everything had to be brought in on pack-horses-camping gear, tents, cooking utensils, axes, shovels, etc., when Bill Blackadder and his mate, Billy Paterson, took up sections in the Upper Maruia Valley after the Government ballot in 1905.
"We used to pack all our tucker in, on horses. Later, when we bought some sheep, we would pack the wool out. We would have big, cumbersome loads, not very heavy, but seemed awfully bulky.
"When we first arrived in the Maruia, we pitched our tent around where Jack Ferguson's sheep yards are now.
"When we wanted the horses they were always away, because we had no fences to hold them in, so after the camp, one of the first jobs was to fence in about twenty acres (8ha) to hold them. Once we had a paddock that could hold a hack or two, we could ride out and bring the others in as and when we wanted them. .
"The first year, after building the hut and fence, we bought 40 lambs and 60 ewes, so we had just over 100 sheep on the place. I have been told since, but I didn't know at first, to have a look in their mouths to tell their age by their teeth. As far as we knew, a sheep was just a sheep. The chaps that put us wise to this were Sandy and Jimmy Ross. They also told us that we would want to watch the sheep and keep them under our eyes all the time and not let them get all over the place but keep them together, otherwise they might wander away down the river. .
"My mate, Billy and I made an arrangement that I would get up in the morning to have a look at the sheep, while Billy cooked breakfast. I would get out of bed, put on my boots, pants and singlet, and I would be off. By that time it was May, with cold, wintry, frosty mornings. Well, I would start off, get into a dog-trot till I came to where the sheep were camped, take a count and find out if all could get on their feet. We made a habit of that all the winter, and for many more winters, too, but found that it paid.
"We expected to get more lambs than we did. We only got 24, but expected to get at least 60, but we had bad luck. '
"These sheep after a while began to get a bit wild, and I asked Jimmy Ross what was the cause of it. He told me that it was a good sign and that they were getting plenty of tucker. I thought that was all right then and was satisfied.
"We had a book we called 'The Settler's Diary.' It said you were supposed to start shearing them about November, so we got our sheep in and started shearing. We made a pen and also split some slabs, as there was no sawmill in those days, to get sawn timber, and made a floor to shear the sheep on. We put the sheep in the pen and then dragged them out onto the slab floor. We had an awful job shearing these sheep, as neither of us had seen sheep shorn before, so you can imagine what sort of a job we made. We had an old pair of shears and a new pair, but found that they wouldn't cut, as we didn't know that the new pair needed sharpening and setting first. We shore away with the old pair, taking turns, but we made mighty slow progress. It was a regular pantomime. We made some packs out of flour sacks, packed the wool and took it to Reef ton to sell it. We had 600 pounds (272kg) of wool from under 100 sheep, and weren't we proud of it, too. A man in Reef ton offered 7d a lb for it, but we went down to Greymouth, where we sold it for 9d, which was very pleasing, too.
Our sheep increased very slowly, taking us four years to get 150 sheep, although we gave them the same attention as previously. We realised that we would have to buy more sheep to build up the flock enough to be worthwhile, so we bought 400 more, mostly on promissory notes. We lost about 100 ewes that winter, but got about 220 lambs.
As we owed £400 ($800), we sent a truck of lambs away; I used to worry if I owed anyone £5 ($10), so you can see we were worried stiff when we owed £400. We got only 6d (5c) for the wool' and were lucky enough to sell a line of sheep to John' Dick, butcher in Reefton, 250 ewes and some wethers for 15/- ($1.50), which was a remarkably good price in those days. I had to deliver them to Reefton in lots of 60, 70 or 80 sheep. Taking them through a boggy bush track was slow and tedious. .
By that time we were getting some horses on the farm. We bought horses that were knocked up, spelled them for a while until they fattened up and were fit again. We needed plenty of pack-horses, as we used five at a time, especially for wool.
Shortly after the wool had been sold, we obtained a State Advances loan, as we needed improvements to our fences, so with. the wool, lamb and sheep money, we were able to clear the mortgages off and had £300 ($600) besides, so we were able to buy a few comforts and pay our tucker bill, which was a relief.
After we had been working for a while, we became accustomed to the work, a lot of which we did on horseback. Our horse population increased to 30-hacks, packhorses and brood mares and foals. We. made something out of horses and cattle as well. We had to keep an eye on our cattle, as cattle running all over the place belonged to Walkers, and if ours were mustered with Walkers, it took the best part of a day to get them back.
THE LACK OF ROADS
When we took up farms in. the Maruia, we were all single, but later on, a lot of the chaps got married. The roads were not made then. Anyone wanting to go out would have to travel up the Maruia River bed, that being the only road, or rather track, we had, leaving the beach at times and proceeding out on to Walker's Plains, then after a while, back to the river. Unless you had arrangements to be met at Stevenson's Flat, you would have to ride all the way to Reefton.
As we had floods to contend with, women could not travel about much for the river might be up or the ford washed out, and sometimes the river would be in flood for days on end and none of us could hope to cross. It happened that children were born in the valley in the homes, three were boys, who grew up to be very fine men indeed, but the girl died when very young. .
. That was the great drawback-lack of roads. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New Year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
13h
Reply
John Lester
Continued -In the springtime we had a lovely time bird-nesting in the manuka trees along the way. Though it took us about two hours to get home from school, I don't remember ever getting a scolding from Mum. Home-made bread and jam were ready for us before we had to help milk the cows. I learnt to milk when I was eight, and to my sorrow it was a must after that. The hours spent at the cowshed were really some of the happiest days of my childhood.
It was in 1929 that there was the awful mouse plague. I would see the mice run up the cocksfoot stalks, bend the seed head over and bite it off. They swam the creeks and infested everything. I wouldn't eat trout because they ate mice.
I remember having gone to Maruia Springs with my mother and grandfather when I was young. We travelled in a buggy drawn by two horses. We stayed one night with Oscar Win and one night with Norriss's. I remember the rickety swing bridge over to the hot springs and the old bathing shed. We stayed a night at the Maruia Springs and nearly froze to death, as we had no mattress to sleep on-'-just some covers on the wire mattress. They supplied us with a single bunk and we slept like logs, one in each end of the bed, till morning, exhausted after our hard day crossing the Lewis' Stream countless times and travelling up and down the riverbed, through bush where not even a track existed. On our way up the Lewis we had been held up for a considerable time about half-way between the Nina and Bunny Flat, where Punch jibed when we came to a. very wide, muddy stretch of water. In the finish, I pulled on the leading rein while Bill got behind with a big waddy. Punch made a jump, splashing mud and water all over me, getting rid of pots and pans, and, to top it all off, sank down to her belly, and it took us quite a time to unload her, get her out, and reload again.
The next morning, we set out from the Maruia Springs in company of one of the men, who let Bill ride one of his horses as far as the junction of the Reefton track. Arriving at the farm in the late afternoon, we pitched a tent, unloaded the horses, stored the goods in the tent, and set off for Blackadder brothers' farm, Bill and Tonga being in partnership. After a good meal, Bill and I slept in the hayshed with the mice. I stayed at Blackadders while Bill went to Reefton for stores.
On the third day we moved to the farm and started to fell trees and split them into slabs and shingles for a hut, 14ft v. lOft (4m x 3m). After about two or three weeks, Bill bought a 12ft x 10ft (3.7m x 3m) tent, a lot of cooking gear, and a tent fly from a party of surveyors. We were more comfortable, as we could cook under the tent fly erected between the two tents. Bill made me learn to cook. In about a month the hut was completed. In exchange for two horses Bill had brought in Reefton, George Bailey and Tom Ball felled some trees, first for the hut and then to clear the ground for sowing grass.
For meat, Bill bought six sheep in Reefton, and we occasionally shot a wild cattle beast. We collected our mail from Walker's Station, leaving the farm about 1 p.m.and returning about midnight. We proceeded across Walker's 1,000 acre (405ha) paddock, on to the river beach and, travelling about ten miles (16km), crossing the river three times, we would arrive at the station and have a yarn before returning. When it got dark, we left it to the horse to find its way, because otherwise we would end up in trouble and get lost. .
We had very few visitors. The Blackadders, Tom Ball and George Bailey were our nearest neighbours, who used to call -for a yarn and to borrow some tea or such that they had run out of and we used to do the same, so it worked out. Besides, we were all too busy to pay social calls. I started farming in 1905, and by 1914 managed to get a vehicle in, but what a job it was; Well, it was pretty hard on.
Things remained pretty static, with the annual New Year's Day sports being the main social function, and the occasional surprise party being thrown in.
They were hard days as the girls learnt to cook meat or bake bread in a heavy camp oven fire. Groceries were collected very infrequently from a store over at Horse Terrace in those early days. How difficult it must have been to know what to order for months ahead. A "Bath night" must have been a real occasion when the copper was filled and heated, and after Father had bathed, Mother and the children enjoyed a soak in a tub of hot water."'Usually it was a basin of cold water and ,no time wasted over washing, in the cold, dark mornings.
No electric light or heaters in those days! If the weather was very cold, a brick might be heated, wrapped in a blanket and placed in a bed to warm it.Life was spartan and luxuries infrequent.
Picnics were popular. Every year my parents invited the neighbours for a plum tree picnic, for a number of cherry-plum trees were still growing where our first home was built. After lunch, sheets and blankets were placed under the trees to catch the fruit that was shaken down. The fruit was put into boxes to take home to make preserves, jam or pickles.
Linda Skelton
John Lester I think this post- Continued- is recalling memories of the Lesters who shaped a farm for themselves further down the valley than my grandad Bill Blackadder , in the first post with his memories.
Arthur Bass
Athol Kings old house. Tony Sheehan and Athol and Midges youngest daughter also. Tony was working for Temuka Transport and should be able to fill in the details.
Pauline Naylor
Beautiful house
Janette Schroeder
Is that where you lived
Glenda Begg
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West Coast New Zealand History (17th Feb 2026). Lil & Bill Blackadder's house at Rosstown, Reefton AND Blackadder family history. In Website West Coast New Zealand History. Retrieved 21st Mar 2026 07:51, from https://westcoast.recollect.co.nz/nodes/view/35067