In these posts, I tell of two of my ancestors who, in 1861, arrived in Aotearoa New Zealand. My Irish great-great-grandmother Maria Dillon landed in January, just a few months before the gold rush that would utterly transform Dunedin and the province of Otago. My great-grandfather, the Scotsman Archie Sligo, was among the flood of hopeful diggers who disembarked in October of that year.
I wanted to learn more about the forces that propelled them from their homelands, what attracted them to their new country, what happened here shortly before they arrived, and what they encountered as they set about making new lives for themselves.
These posts reveal part of their stories.
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Previously: An Irruption of Strenuous Men, A Ranting, Roaring Time.
In the preceding post, I described how my great-grandfather Archie landed in Dunedin as one of the thousands of hopeful diggers who arrived from mid-1861 onwards, lured by the promise of gold.
The first settlers were said to have “remained firm in their dour Calvinist virtues, and clung, for the most part, to the squalid and damp environs of Dunedin”.[1] Yet the settlement’s economics altered radically. Property values shot up, with newcomers and locals alike realising that more secure income streams might benefit from catering to miners’ needs rather than digging for gold.
The First Entry in the Dunedin Town Board Letterbook, 1856. Dunedin City Council Archives. Letterbook
An affluent and smartly dressed businessman, just off the sailing ship from Melbourne, was shocked and affronted at the reception he received on proposing a large sum to purchase a shop near the head of Jetty Street. The shop owner ordered the would-be buyer out the door immediately, declaring that the size of the offer meant that “he could not have come by his money honestly”.[2]
This was exemplary Calvinism. While the Scottish puritans suspected that the poor were usually the author of their misfortunes, they equally distrusted wealth. Anything beyond reasonable prosperity earned fairly by the sweat of your brow was highly questionable and one among those manifold pernicious “influences that distract the aim or relax the fibres of the soul” in earthly pilgrims’ pious labours in their vale of tears.[3]
John Calvin, 17th Century. Artist unknown. John Calvin
Further, it would be wholly unacceptable in puritan thought to use your riches for self-indulgence or conspicuous consumption. Economic self-interest cannot comprise an end in itself; material goods are there to serve a spiritual purpose. The Church is the guardian of souls, and fiscal matters are subordinate to moral law.[4]
The bubble would eventually burst, but for the time being, newly arrived entrepreneurial merchants didn’t care how much they paid to buy a store strategically located near the Dunedin wharf. Endless queues of diggers waited patiently to purchase what was virtually a uniform comprising moleskin trousers, “blue, red or checked Crimea shirts worn outside the belt, gumboots, and knitted woollen caps with the crest hanging down the back”. Wearing a coat and waistcoat was the mark of a reputable man, but diggers poked fun at anyone so attired and nearly all let their beards and hair grow long.[5]
The ceaseless flow of aspirant miners would pay premium rates for equipment such as shovels, panning dishes, boots, flour, tents, and often a revolver or rifle. All incoming miners knew of the violent encounter seven years earlier in Ballarat, Victoria, when around 150 diggers had fought a pitched battle with colonial troops in what came to be called the Eureka Rebellion. California and Victoria had taught miners that, far from the law’s reach, they needed to protect their interests. The diggers hoped Aotearoa would be free of the troubles that had plagued Californian goldfields in particular and Victoria to some extent but thought it prudent to take a gun into unknown territory.[6]
The Government Camp, Ballarat, 1854, Troops Arriving From Melbourne. Artist Alfred Clint, 1870. National Library of Australia. Government Camp
Canny souls, of whom there were many among the Presbyterian Free Church Scots, could have predicted that what went up must eventually come down. Duncan Macarthur wrote a plaintive letter to his brother James on 28 January 1865, describing a “rush of mercantile men from Sydney & Tasmania” with ¼ acre sections previously selling at £10 or £12 going for as much as £1000. Suddenly, money was no object while “wages were high, food dear and money plentiful”. But just months later, “down tumbled the whole fabric of society at once and everybody ruined”.
Duncan reflected ruefully that “the mercantiles from Australia were mere adventurers, but they managed to create the unnatural excitement that led to such disastrous results”. Those in first became wealthy, but latecomers to the speculative boom suffered, with Duncan admitting how “[f]rom want of colonial experience I unfortunately speculated a little like others and like them lost my means”. A recession was underway, government employment was severely cut back, and he reported how “we will be thrown on the world without a house or anything else. A sad enough termination to a life of pretty active toil mentally and bodily of upwards of thirty years”.[7]
Māori Diggers
Even though Māori did not provide supplies to the goldfields, they soon arrived as diggers. The first person to find gold in the fabulously bounteous Arrow River was Tewa, a Māori from Thames. In those days, everyone had a nickname, and his was Māori Jack. He worked on a sheep station at Queenstown Bay and, like many other rural workers, spent his free time doing some prospecting. As with Edward Peters and Gabriel Read at Tokomairiro, Tewa was not focused on maximising his wealth, freely showing his find to others.[8]
Autumn on the Arrow River. Photographer Bernard Spragg, 2008. Arrow River Autumn
While Pākehā prospected alone, with a close mate, or perhaps in a small gang to win the gold, Māori worked in whānau (extended family) groups. Through their big teams of men, women and children, Māori undertook the more systematic and major earthworks required once the easily won and shallow alluvial gold was gone.[9]
Lower Shotover River. Photographer Bernard Spragg, 2016. Lower Shotover River
Māori Point is on the narrow, rapid Shotover River about halfway from its headwaters to where it joins the Kawarau. It is named after Raniera Erihana and Hakarai Maeroa, who found a treasure trove there. Diggers standing on the eastern bank could readily see on the other side a broad sand and gravel beach positioned immediately under perpendicular rocky cliffs 150 metres high that looked alluring in its promise of gold.
Their problem was that the Shotover’s tumultuous waters seemed far too dangerous to swim, and any boat or raft would have been swept away. Undeterred, Raniera Erihana and Hakarai Maeroa plunged in, then, incidentally rescuing their dog that had followed them but was carried off by the current, they clambered ashore. On the first afternoon, they dug up 300 ounces of gold.[10]
Skippers Canyon Carved Out by the Shotover River, Seen from Māori Point Saddle. Photographer YSander, 2008. Skipper's Canyon
Other Māori involvement in the Otago goldfields included a number working at Gabriel’s Gully, a party of eight working at Lammerlaw, and others at Nokomai. Māori were also prominent in finding gold on the South Island West Coast. Two young men called Tarapuhi and Ihaia Tainui successfully found gold and made no secret of what they understood to be its quantity on the Coast.[11]
Digger Law
Crime was little seen in Gabriel Gully’s early days. Gabriel Read, who had experience in the fields of California and Victoria, referred to Otago diggers as “the most orderly and well-conducted men I’ve ever seen upon a goldfield”.[12] Diggers whose luck had run out, finding themselves miles from any prospect of predictable income, penniless with no support other potentially than from a mate, must have been tempted to undertake petty thieving. Nevertheless, a robust code of honest behaviour clarified that thievery would be punished.
Gabriel’s Gully. Photographer Harry G. Gore, 1862. National Library of NZ. Gabriel's Gully 1862
Without formal legal arrangements far from any town and its authorities, the diggers took it upon themselves to create systems to settle disputes such as claim jumping. These began with a digger assembly, an unofficial court that sought evidence on what was said to have occurred, came to a decision and assessed an appropriate penalty. Force was not usually involved, though the miscreant might be sentenced to a flogging before banishment in rare cases.
This was digger law, gradually superseded as the power of the province or state started to reach into the goldfields. However, it was not unusual for men’s disagreements to be resolved by fisticuffs. Unlike in California or Victoria, to some extent, quarrels seldom turned into anything more lethal. While there was often violence, no report exists of any miscreant being lynched.[13]
Gabriel’s Gully. Photograph by the author, 2021. Gabriel's Gully 2021
Also disembarking in Dunedin from Victoria in early October 1861, possibly on the Helen McGaw, or at least within a few days of Archie, who arrived on 12 October, was Henry Garrett, shortly to become one of New Zealand’s most notorious bushrangers.[14] Garrett’s time as a convict in the brutalising penal settlement on Norfolk Island made him a hardened criminal determined to exact revenge on society. Like everyone else, Garrett was interested in obtaining gold but via less labour-intensive means than digging for it.[15]
Prison Hulks, River Thames, England. Painter unknown, circa 1814. National Library of Australia. Prison Hulks
Before being sent into bondage on Norfolk Island, Garrett had been imprisoned on one of the many hulks moored in U.K. harbours: pensioned-off warships. They looked like “slum tenements, with lines of bedding strung out to air between the stumps of the masts, and the gunports barred with iron lattices”.[16] Every variety of vice, graft and corruption was said to flourish on the hulks, with everyone from the captain downwards ruthlessly preying on and victimising the hundreds of men and women crammed into the hold of each ship.
Recollections of Convict Life In Norfolk Island and Victoria, 1886. Published in the Otago Witness, 20 March. National Library of New Zealand. Convict Life
Along with up to seven others, including his associates Thomas Kelly and Richard Burgess, immediately from October onwards, Garrett instigated a series of ambushes and robberies in the region of the Maungatua Hill, Waipori, and Gabriel’s Gully. These activities later culminated in murders in Maungatapu in Nelson Province and the hangings of Kelly, Burgess, and Philip Levy.[17] Garrett escaped to Sydney but was captured, extradited, and sentenced in Dunedin to eight years in gaol.
Mr Garrett soon grew tired of his gaol sojourn. He proceeded to dig himself out of his cell, using just a single moderate-sized nail, with which he loosened a series of bricks. However, it seems that his industriousness was greater than his sense of direction. After some weeks, he broke into a day room, somewhat to the surprise of a sergeant and warder relaxing there off-duty.[18]
Jail at Taiaroa Head, Dunedin. Photographer Andy king50, 2011. Taiaroa Head Jail
The local gaol contained few inmates, though imprisonment for unpaid debts was still in force, as Otago’s ex-Superintendent Macandrew had discovered and as reported in another post. The Otago Daily Times noted the case of a woman (said to be “no longer young”) whom her digger husband had deserted, then arrested for owing £20 and gaoled for seventeen weeks. This unhappy situation persisted for many years until the Imprisonment for Debt Abolition Act, which removed incarceration for less than £100, became law in 1874.
Wharf Street, Dunedin, circa 1912. Dunedin City Council Archives. Wharf St Dunedin
Squatters and Diggers
A previous post (Squatters Rush In, Rabbits Rampant, and Too Many Flocking Sheep) reported that much of Central Otago had been sown in European grasses only in the last few years to accommodate vast flocks of sheep imported from Australia.
Old Mt Cargill Road Towards Port Chalmers. Photographer Alistair Patterson, 2012. Old Mt Cargill Road
The squatters had occupied millions of acres, legally or otherwise, and on Archie’s arrival, land sales were burgeoning. Each week, never-ending flocks disembarked at Port Chalmers, then were driven inland by shepherds just off the boat, many of whom were Highland Scots.[19]
American Brig in Floating Dock, Port Chalmers, 1870. Photographer David De Maus. National Library of NZ. Floating Dock
The diggers had little respect for the pastoralists, seeing no merits in their recently acquired claim to extensive acreages, and conflict immediately ensued. Diggers who went out to kill a wild pig for dinner were relaxed at the prospect of shooting a sheep instead and insisted on the right to pasture their horses on the ground that the squatters controlled.[20]
The squatters, for their part, opposed and resented the miners’ onrush. Virtually no trees remained from ancient forest burnings across Central Otago. As the journalist Mr Wheeler observed,
the scarcity of, or rather utter lack of, timber in the auriferous districts is a great obstacle in the way even of prospecting, independent of final working. Slabs, props, laths, cap-pieces and all, must be brought from a great distance, and at enormous expense, so that at any rate there must be an unheard-of richness of deposit before so costly a mode of sinking can be adopted with any remunerative results.[21]
Dansey’s Pass, Kyeburn Diggings, Central Otago. Photographer AnnWolliams, 2022. Dansey's Pass
Hence it was not uncommon for diggers to steal any wood they could find from pastoralists’ huts, barns, and fences to build their gold-washing cradles or use as firewood as autumn temperatures started to fall. Newly erected woolsheds were dismantled for their timber. At Mount Ida Station, a miner was seen to hoist a building’s door off its hinges, but despite the station manager toiling forlornly in his wake waving a revolver, the thief, complete with door, outran him and disappeared into the Raggedy Ranges.[22]
While the squatters generated some income from selling sheep to the miners, different perspectives exist on the benefit they derived, given that many sheep were simply stolen. Even though the runholders adjacent to the fields drove some sheep to the diggings, to be sold at £4 each, this was only a small proportion of the lambs born in their flocks annually, so the digger market was not a substantial consideration for them. For many, mutton was almost the only food available.
Yet whenever a cart laden with barrels of flour finally wended its way onto a goldfield, hundreds of diggers desperate for variety in their diet surrounded it. The flour was sold at an agreed price by common consent, often 2s. 6d. a pannikinful.[23]
Central Otago. Photographer Phillip Capper, 2005. Central Otago
The pastoralists also resented how it was becoming impossible for them to retain their staff, such as shepherds, agricultural workers, or domestic servants, given the lure of both the gold and the high wages in the sprawling goldfield tent villages.[24]
This was just preliminary skirmishing, however. As to be described in a future post, the real onset of hostilities surfaced in the late 1860s when the diggers started to insist that their parliamentary representatives move to subdivide the sheep lords’ lands to create small farms.
The squatter gentry naturally resisted any such rash claims, alarmed at the spectre of their capacious holdings being broken up into lesser units to meet the diggers’ and former diggers’ aspirations. The miners realised that gold, not being a renewable resource, had to run out. Consequently, those who decided to stay in Otago looked to supplement their income through small-scale agriculture or running a few cattle or sheep on their own properties, often in tandem with undertaking contracting work such as building roads or bridges as it became available.
Travel and Transport
Just five days after Archie’s arrival, the Australian stagecoach company of Cobb & Co. commenced operations in Otago. The first Cobb & Co. coach left the Provincial Hotel in Dunedin on Friday, 11 October, at 5.30 a.m., making the run to Gabriel’s Gully in one day, a radical improvement on earlier times. The newly introduced Concord coach, drawn usually by five horses, comprised more advanced technology than existing coaches. It was lighter, better sprung, and carried up to 16 persons, including a number perched on the roof.[25]
Cobb & Co. Coach, 1860s. Archives New Zealand. Cobb & Co
Yet the extreme nature of the countryside and often the weather made coach journeys anything but straightforward. Passengers were expected to walk if climbing an uphill stretch or on a steep descent. Their role was to push the coach if it became bogged or haul it back if it seemed about to shunt the horses down the hill.
The passengers leaned towards or hung off the coach’s side nearest the hill when traversing steep hillsides. In windy weather, coaches’ roofs were removed to reduce the threat of capsizing, so in such cold and draughty conditions, people commonly preferred to walk to remain warm.[26]
Mt. Rolleston, Entrance to Otira Gorge, 1890. Publisher Photoglob Co. U.S. Library of Congress. Mt Rolleston
Passengers provided no shortage of petrified accounts as to their journeys’ perils, with one aghast individual reporting extreme nervous tension “as the coach goes rumbling around the sharpest curves imaginable, one wheel almost against the bank, the other apparently not more than three inches from the edge of an almost perpendicular hillside going sheer down to the stream below”.
Cobb & Co. Coach, Palmerston, Otago, 1876-1880, Palmerston, photographer William Hart, Hart, Campbell & Co. Te Papa (O.000997) Cobb & Co Coach
Those clinging to the top of the coach might not have known whether they were pleased with possibly having a better chance to leap for their lives should the coach plunge over the brink or whether they would have been happier inside and not see how dangerous the situation was: “The outside passenger on the top of the coach finds himself time and again hanging over infinity by the skin of his teeth”. You would even “unconsciously try to ease the weight of the coach by resting your weight upon the air for a moment lest the ground should crumble away at your feet”.[27]
Midland Coach, Otira Gorge, 1895. Photographer unknown. Archives New Zealand. Midland Coach
The intrepid George B. Hales wrote to his mother on 18 November 1885, describing his trip by coach through the West Coast’s Otira Gorge: “On one side of you rises the steep hills, and on the other is almost sheer precipice several hundreds feet deep. When coming down, the horses go at a smart trot, the speed of the coach being regulated by the brake”.
One hair-raising story he had heard involved a doctor seated on the box seat beside the driver. As the coach started to descend the hill, the doctor remonstrated that the coach was travelling far too fast. However, the driver ignored him, and the pace increased. In peril of his life, the horrified doctor shouted that he must pull up, to which the driver retorted, “You look after the beautiful scenery and I’ll look after the horses”.
But the coach kept accelerating until the horses were leading the coach down the hill at their fastest gallop. It was not until they had concluded two miles of precipitous descent that the coach came to a standstill, with the horses in a lather of panic from fear and exhaustion. The coachman then mentioned that the brake had broken at the summit. They had had the choice of either galloping down the trail or going over the cliff.[28]
George Hales seemed undeterred by adventures of this kind. He reported to his mother of travels by coach through the Waimakariri Gorge in inland Canterbury, saying how long and steep was the cutting, winding about “in the most awkward manner”. George appeared to be practising his skills of understatement in observing that some “parts of this road were not altogether comfortable”. He explained that on
one side was the bank and on the other a steep precipice at the bottom of which the river boiled and seethed along in a very inviting manner. The least trip or fall of one of the five horses would probably have consigned the whole coach and its contents to the river. It was very exhilarating, and we were glad to hurry along as it was getting late.[29]
Waimakariri River Gorge. Photographer DB That’s-Me, 2010. Waimakariri River
Although substantial roadbuilding had been undertaken since the gold rush in 1861, even by 1873, the public coach’s journey into Central Otago was slow and difficult. The English author Anthony Trollope visited Otago that year, but imprudently travelling in winter, found that the snow and ice meant that a three-day journey took six. The coach managed just 25 miles daily at an average speed of three miles an hour.[30]
Sketch of Anthony Trollope. Sketch by R. Birch after a photograph by Sarony, 1883. Anthony Trollope
The coach drivers had to be hardy individuals. The story was told of a driver drinking in the Royal Oak Hotel in Arrowtown during the extreme winter of 1906. He bet all comers that he could carry a full glass of beer in his pocket on his next trip to Cromwell without spilling a drop. The coach driver won the bet – he took his beer out the door; it froze solid and remained that way for the duration of his trip.[31]
Old Arrowtown. Photographer Bernard Spragg, 2014. Old Arrowtown
Coming up in future posts:
Saddle Hill: Beyond Dunedin’s Disgusting Malodorous Effluvia and a Pestilence of Blowflies.
“Well, No”, Countered The Digger, “But I’ll Give You Sixpence if You Polish Me Boots”.
A Burden Almost Too Grievous to be Borne and Making Shipwreck of Their Virtue.
The Irish Spiritual Empire, a Cycle of Sectarian Epilepsy, and a Certain Fat Old German Woman.
Better at the Language Than Those Who Owned It and Equally Determined to be Both Themselves and to Conform, Fit In.
I Found It a Matter of No Small Difficulty to Collect the Bills Due by Females Who Have Been Assisted to the Colony.
Her Skirt Would Stand up Straight By Itself and Have to be Thawed Out.
His Wife Burst into Tears, Saying She Had Already Mortgaged Their Home so She Could Pay for Her Own Dredge Speculations.
An Irresistible Feeling of Solitude Overcame Me. There Was No Sound: Just a Depressing Silence.
Norman Conceded in His Mind that the Boomerang Would Crash Home Before He Could Snatch Out His Revolver.
The Sin of Cheapness: There Are Very Great Evils in Connection with the Dressmaking And Millinery Establishments.
The Poll Tax: One of the Most Mean, Most Paltry, and Most Scurvy Little Measures Ever Introduced.
Holy Wells: We are Order and Disorder.
After Some Debate, They Decided That Killing the Priest Would Probably Bring Bad Luck.
God is Good and the Devil’s Not Bad Either, Thank God.
Dunedin’s Journalists, 1860s: Vapid Editorial Storks Who Can Scarce Write a Grammatical Sentence and are Singularly Devoid of Any Sort of Literary Talent.
Notes
[1] Salmon, A history of goldmining in New Zealand, p. 45.
[2] Bathgate, ‘History of Dunedin’, p. 16.
[3] Tawney, Religion and the rise of capitalism, p. 139.
[4] Tawney, Religion and the rise of capitalism, p. 114, 152-3, 161.
[5] Salmon, A history of goldmining in New Zealand, p. 35.
[6] ‘Eureka Rebellion’.
[7] Penguin book of New Zealand letters, p. 156.
[8] AJHR 1863, D-6, p. 5; Hall-Jones, Goldfields of Otago, p. 101.
[9] Eldred-Grigg, Diggers, hatters & whor*s, p. 53.
[10] Hall-Jones, Goldfields of Otago, pp. 116, 117.
[11] Otago Witness, 11 January 1862; Eldred-Grigg, Diggers, hatters & whor*s, p. 126.
[12] Cited in Eldred-Grigg, Diggers, hatters & whor*s, p. 319.
[13] Eldred-Grigg, Diggers, hatters & whor*s, pp. 326, 337, 338.
[14] Salmon, A history of goldmining in New Zealand, p. 72.
[15] Gilkison, Early days in Central Otago, p. 71.
[16] Hughes, The fatal shore, p. 127.
[17] Hall-Jones, Goldfields of Otago, p. 33.
[18] Reed, Annals of early Dunedin, p. 31.
[19] Simpson, The immigrants, p. 116.
[20] Field & Olssen, Relics, pp. 7, 8.
[21] The New Zealand goldfields, 1861, p. 48.
[22] Salmon, A history of goldmining in New Zealand, p. 79.
[23] Gilkison, Early days in Central Otago, p. 45.
[24] Salmon, A history of goldmining in New Zealand, p. 79; Field & Olssen, Relics, pp. 7, 8.
[25] Tolerton, Coaches and long-distance buses; First Cobb & Co. coach service runs.
[26] Wood, Gold trails of Otago.
[27] Hargreaves, ‘Seeing the sights’, p. 263.
[28] Penguin book of New Zealand letters, p. 77.
[29] Penguin book of New Zealand letters, p. 179.
[30] Gilkison, Early days in Central Otago, p. 115.
[31] Thomson, Swiftly flows the Arrow, p. 28.
References
AJHR (Appendix to the Journals of the House of Representatives): 1863, D-6, p. 5.
Bathgate, A. (1904). ‘History of Dunedin’. In Dunedin and its neighbourhood; A short account of its history, biology, and geology; and of the commerce and industries of Otago. A handbook for the use of members of the Australasian Association for the Advancement of Science. A. Bathgate (Ed.). Dunedin Meeting, 1904. Otago Daily Times & Witness.
Eldred-Grigg, S. (2008). Diggers, hatters & whor*s: The story of the New Zealand gold rushes. Random House New Zealand.
‘Eureka Rebellion’. (2022). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eureka_Rebellion#cite_note-41
Field, T. & Olssen, E. (1976). Relics of the goldfields: Central Otago. John McIndoe.
First Cobb & Co. coach service runs to Otago Goldfields. (2020). https://nzhistory.govt.nz/first-cobb-and-co-coach-service-runs-to-otago-goldfields
Gilkison, R. (1958). Early days in Central Otago. 3rd ed. Whitcombe & Tombs.
Hall-Jones, J. (2005). Gold-fields of Otago; An illustrated history. Craig Printing.
Hargreaves, R. (1998). ‘Seeing the sights: Tourism in Victorian and Edwardian times’. In Work ‘n’ pastimes: 150 years of pain and pleasure labour and leisure. Proceedings of the 1998 Conference of the New Zealand Society of Genealogists. N.J. Bethune (Ed.). University of Otago, pp. 261-278.
Hughes, R. (1998). The fatal shore: A history of the transportation of convicts to Australia 1787 – 1868. The Folio Society.
The New Zealand goldfields, 1861: A series of letters reprinted from the Melbourne Argus. (1976). Victorian New Zealand - A Reprint Series No. 1. R.P. Hargreaves & T.J. Hearn (Eds.). Hocken Library.
Otago Witness, 11 January 1862.
The Penguin book of New Zealand letters. (2003). L. Lawrence (Ed.). Penguin Books.
Reed, A.H. (1973). Annals of early Dunedin: Chronicles of the eighteen-sixties. A.H. & A.W. Reed.
Salmon, J.H.M. (1963). A history of goldmining in New Zealand. Government Printer.
Simpson, T. (1997). The immigrants: The great migration from Britain to New Zealand, 1830 - 1890. Godwit Publishing.
Tawney, R.H. (1922). Religion and the rise of capitalism. Penguin Books.
Thomson, J.B. (1972). Swiftly flows the Arrow. John McIndoe.
Tolerton, J. (2010). Coaches and long-distance buses. Te Ara - the Encyclopedia of New Zealand http://www.TeAra.govt.nz/en/coaches-and-long-distance-buses
Wood, J.A. (1971). Gold trails of Otago. Wellington: A.H. & A.W. Reed.
