#52Ancestors, Week 13, The Old Homestead

Two possible homes spring to mind as subjects for this topic.

Both of them, I feel should be heritage listed. But I think the current owners might have different ideas.

Along Northbank Road running next to the Wairau River, past Onamalutu and heading towards Tophouse and St Arnaud, on the opposite side of the braided river to State Highway 63, is Fabian’s Valley Road. It is not always open to the public and crosses private farm land. It is rough metal and at times verges on 4WD territory. Sometime before you reach Fabian’s Valley Road you will have crossed an unremarkable bridge over Bartlett’s Creek.

Still standing along Bartlett’s Road, past a small cemetery, is a cob cottage. Built, most likely in the early 1850’s. It is a survivor of large earthquakes including the Kaikoura 2016 7.8 quake and quite likely the Wairarapa 1855 8.2 quake, storms and timeworn neglect.

The first time that my parents visited was in the early 1980’s. They went with a cousin also researching the family, and met with yet more cousins still farming the land. At that time cattle called it home, and the work to try to save it was just beginning. I wish I could find those photos to include – maybe later.

In 2014, I went to see if I could find it too. It seemed much more cared for, although obviously used by locals who had left their beer cans behind. Sacrilege to us ! The cattle were still there, but kept away by a fence and the creek, which would have been their water supply was so close. I imagine at times it must have been INSIDE !

This was the home of my great-great-great-grandparents John and Maria Bartlett. They had left their home in East Chinnock, Somerset, where their families had lived for generations working as weavers, sailmakers and glovers, and bought their young family to Nelson New Zealand in 1842. Their youngest children including my great-great-grandfather were born in Nelson, in the Matai Valley. There are Bartletts still in the area, I believe, who are connected in some way to John and Maria. Maybe they were orchardists, apple growing was a big industry in pioneer Nelson and still is. Perhaps they were farmers.

At any event, something prompted them, and other families to move over to Marlborough in the early 1850s. Was it gold ? Was it simply the availability of land ?

The cottage itself has two rooms possibly three, judging by the remnants of a partition wall, downstairs. One obviously the kitchen still with an old coal range; a staircase leads to a loft space upstairs. Timber shingles are still on the roof in places, but most have been replaced by corrugated iron.

In this home Maria raised her family. The older children were now adults, some marrying in the district within the first years of their arrival. Others like my great-great-grandfather were still very young. Someone ran a school for the local children. Whether this was in their home or at another nearby location I do not know. I don't think it was Maria, more likely a daughter or daughter in law. When she and John were married in 1825, they had both signed their names with “x” on the marriage register.

Tragedy came to the family, not long after their arrival. On 19 June 1860 John was drowned in Spring Valley Creek while crossing it on his way home from a meeting. He had safely crossed the Wairau only to come to grief in the creek not far from his home. His son Joseph and son-in-law John Ward were following and found him. Three years later on 18 December 1863 another crossing went awry, this time on the Wairau River. It claimed the lives of son Joseph and son-in-law John Ward. They are described in the newspaper report as shearers and had crossed on horseback. John Ward’s horse arrived home rider-less which alerted family members to the catastrophe.

The river, which looks shallow, gentle and mesmerisingly blue normally, can be treacherous when in flood. Life goes on though for our pioneers, both young widows married again. Maria died just three years later. Her son Thomas, who had married his brother Joseph’s widow, stayed and raised his family there. His descendants were farming there still as recently as 2016, maybe even now.

Today, the large sheep runs and sheep farming as a whole are being overtaken by grapes and more grapes. This is Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc country.

#52Ancestors, Week 10, Strong Woman

We don’t all have a well known inspirational woman in our family trees. We can’t all lay claim to Florence Nightingale, Maya Angelou, Mother Teresa, Marie Curie, Emmeline Pankhurst or Joan of Arc. But within all our trees there are some pretty amazing ladies, I’m sure.

Who do I choose to write about this week ?

One of my pioneer great great grandmothers who came with their husband and children to take a chance on a new life; a better life, in a country so far away from England it was hard to comprehend ? They had no idea what the land was like, whether the earth was arable and whether they would be able to grow the crops they had always grown. Many of them had not seen the sea or lived near to it; yet they were prepared to travel over it on a cramped, leaky sailing ship for about three months – and give it a go. Not like now, when we plan our holidays and escape through colour brochures and online.

Or my great great grandmother who left her apparently unhappy marriage in New Zealand and took her youngest three children to start a new life in Australia ? Not just leaving behind her husband, but ten other children, her mother, brothers and sisters. Why not just move away to another district ?

Perhaps my great grandmother’s cousin, whose family had joined the Mormon Church and emigrated from Wiltshire to Utah ? She married at eighteen to a church elder thirty five years her senior; becoming his fourth wife. Did she know that two of those wives were still alive, that one had left him, but the other was still married to him ? She stayed. When he died, and the laws of the church had changed and disinherited her for not being his legal wife, she contested his will. Argued for her share AGAINST her children – and WON.

Or my great grandmother, born in Marlborough and raised in the Horowhenua, who left school when she was about 14 to help at home with younger siblings or with her older, married sister's new families. Then married four years later and began her own family, passing on all her domestic skills to her daughters.

What about my grandmother whose childhood family life was not so dissimilar to some we see on the news today ? She still took a chance, married and made a successful family for her children with values and traditions which have been passed on to her children and grandchildren.

Then in my daughter’s paternal family; what about her 8xgreat grandmother, daughter of the Ewen (Dubh) Cameron 5^th Lochiel and 17^th chieftain, from his 3^rd marriage. Married aged about 15 to a Campbell. The two families did not always get along. How did she feel as a pawn in her father’s powerplay ? One of her sons was Colin, the Red Fox of the Appin Murders ‘fame’.

Or her 5xgreat grandmother who came to Australia with her family as shepherds and never spoke a word of English in her life. Gaelic, through and through. She endured the dry heat of what is now the ACT and likely pined for the cooler climes of the Highlands. Who brought with her five sons and six daughters, but not one son married to carry on the name.

Or her 3x great grandmother who gave birth to twins in the workhouse when she was nineteen. Named their father on the bastardy bond and returned to work as a domestic servant until she was able to remove the surviving child from the workhouse and provide a home with her new husband five years later.

So you see, it is too hard to pick one. If not for these women though, the wives of bakers, farmers, millers, shepherds and labourers, we would not be here. 

It is time to remind women everywhere that we HAVE a voice, that we ARE strong. All of us, in our own way. That we CAN do anything.

But also, remember that not all our problems are the fault of men. There ARE good men in the world, there always have been. Men who want better for their children, who are willing to take on the child of another man and raise it as their own, who are gentle and caring. We should NOT let society and the media tell us otherwise. We should have some faith in humanity as we stand up for each other.

You don't need to be a tall poppy, and an inspiration to the whole human race, you just need to be the best YOU that you can be. Who knows, maybe someday someone will look back and say "I just want to be like her."

Here’s to STRONG women

May we KNOW them

May we BE them

May we RAISE them.

-Unknown

We are the grand daughters

Of all the WITCHES

You were never able to burn.

-Unknown

I am strong

I am invincible

I am woman.

-Helen Reddy

Glasgow, Inverness and Fort William

We've done a bit of driving again this week. And the whole time we've just been in awe of the scenery. English people that go to NZ for the scenery should make sure they have seen what the Highlands offers as well. Just awesome, so many Kodak moments.

One morning we got up early to go and get some early morning misty moody photos on Rannoch Moor. I just LOVE that landscape and all the lochs, small and large. One day, maybe next summer if I am still here I want to do the Great Glen walk - or at least part of it.

We also went to Glasgow, by bus which was great to be able to actually take in a bit more of the scenery and not have to concentrate on the road. That day the reflections on the lochs on Rannoch Moor were stunning, sadly they weren't on our early morning trip. We'll have to go again.

Glasgow was crazy busy, as you would imagine a city hosting the Commonwealth Games would be. I met a friend for lunch - which was an exercise in itself, but fun and we wandered about soaking up the Games atmosphere. We'll need to revisit when it isn't quite so busy I think.

We went to Culloden Moor near Drummossie and Inverness - the site of the brutal battle of Culloden. It is such an eerie place, and both times I've been - windswept. We went up through the Cairngorms and then drove back down the side of Loch Ness. No Nessie to be seen though. 

We didn't have time to stop in Inverness, so we went back the next day - just up and back the same way this time. When we walked out of the mall in search of a better selection of food we came upon a caravan with owls. We had to stop, donate and take photos.

"Granny will be so jealous"

We found somewhere to eat (finally) that doesn't just serve toasties and mac cheese or nothing vegetarian at all. It was lovely though apart from the giant size servings. While we were eating the heavens opened and the rain poured down. It had eased off by the time we left and made our way back to the mall. After another unsuccessful shopping expedition (you wouldn't believe how hard it is to find a skirt here) we returned to the car park to drive back to Fort William.

We made it back to Kilmonivaig by the skin of our teeth, to be able to see inside the church which is celebrating its bicentenary this year. A lovely lady told us a lot about the church and its ministers, some of whom were related to Lauren. She produced a Gaelic bible which had belonged to the minister and had been passed to his brother in law and then his brother, and also a communion plate which dates from 1814 so surely had some DNA on it.

The fiercely loyal Highland spirit still seems strong here, with local Highland games and Shinty tournaments, signs written in Gaelic and English and such pride of their history and struggles with those sassenachs from the south. The people are so friendly and welcoming, it makes it hard to have to leave.

It was just a bit windy

We had a storm a week or so ago. Ask anyone who lives in New Zealand what they think of Wellington, and they'll say it's windy. Always blowing a gale. True, we do get big winds. But they don't normally last too long or do much damage - and actually, ours is a pretty awesome little city. Built on the hills around a very picturesque harbour. You can't beat Wellington on a good day.

My Dad used to joke when we experienced our first southerly storm after moving to Wellington, that the first settlers must have been blown into the harbour in a storm and not been able to get out. Why else would they settle here ? And then we discovered two branches of HIS family had been amongst those early settlers. One ship was even blown back out to sea so far they could no longer see land, to ride out a storm before they tried again to gain entry to the harbour. Early Governors of the new colony described the harbour to have "treacherous and violent" winds. Mariners treated them with respect, some even relishing the challenge of navigating their ship through the narrow entrance in high winds. A little like pilots today, who manage aircraft in often strong, variable crosswinds as they land at our airport.

When we do get a real storm, often they are real doozies. Like the one that blew through town June 20 & 21, 2013. They compared this one to the Wahine Storm of April 10, 1968. The one where the inter-island ferry Wahine hit the reef entering the harbour, and eventually founded off Worser Bay. Wind gusts of up to 120 miles per hour (198 kph) were recorded, people were told to stay home. But as word got out (there was a lot of disbelief) about the ferry sinking, locals took to their runabouts and fishing boats and set to helping the tug boats and police rescue passengers.It was the worst maritime disaster in modern time. What spirit was shown by Wellingtonians that day. And despite initial fears, just 51 lives were lost.

The Canberra Times (ACT 1926 - 1995) Thursday 11 April 1968 page 1 article107046299-3-001

This latest storm was gnarly. Wind gusts up to 200kph - stronger than 1968, power outages, airport closures, rail lines breached, road closed and commuter chaos. It was the first time I really felt like I might lose a window (floor to ceiling southerly facing wall of glass in my lounge) I'm glad it was dark and I couldn't see it flexing behind the blinds. It was like a freight train hitting the house, continuously. Don't go out if you don't have to, the authorities said. We were expecting wind and rain - but nothing like what we got.

Still, the next morning with the winds dropping ever so slightly the city began to pick itself up. People surveyed the damage (half a fence and a tree at my place) after a sleepless night. Friends lost trampolines, garden sheds, rooves etc tossed about like toys in the night. The house next door lost all of the protective tarpaulin covering the repair work - revealing the bare bones of the building for all to see. It was still cold, and windy - but at least you could stand up and not get blown off your feet - and rainy, but the worst seemed to be over. Many households were without power some even until the end of last week. Trees did the most damage falling across roads, on cars and houses, and the waves  pounded the south coast damaging toads and the sea wall and tossing debris (and the occasional fish) metres into front yards and across the road. 

There is true SPIRIT amongst Wellingtonians. "Its just wind", "What an amazing storm". We just picked ourselves up and got on with life. The power outages were fixed, the trees cleared and roads reopened, the seawall reconstructed and the rail line repaired, airport open and ferry sailings resumed. Open for business again, within days and at most a week.

Hurricane Sandy bought the eastern states to a standstill last year with winds not even as strong as our little southerly. But its all about attitude - we're a hardy lot. I think we are secretly a city full of crazy storm chasers - we love it, even if at the time it does mess up your hair and the garden.

This post forms part of Trove Tuesday as suggested by Amy, from Branches, Leaves & Pollen.