Derelict Refuge: Burkes Pass

In 1950, when I was a late teenager, I lost a friend. He was serving in the British Intelligence Corps stationed in Austria. The story was that he went for a walk on the Schneealpe, was caught in a blizzard and died of exposure. The headline in my local paper read: 'British soldier dies 150 yards from safety'.

What tragedy! He had been within walking distance of a refuge hut but was obviously so disorientated that he never found it. Stewart was 18.

The hut in my photograph was taken in early autumn near Burkes Pass in South Canterbury, New Zealand. You can see the hut from the modern highway but when it was built Burkes Pass was extremely remote and, in winter, was (and still is, of course) subject to heavy snow storms and sudden blizzards. This hut served the same purpose as that one in Austria that my friend missed and then died.

Interestingly another friend grew up on a sheep station near Burkes Pass. Two of his ancestors died here. One in an avalanche while searching for sheep; the other was gored to death by a prize bull. Vita brevis!

© DON DONOVAN
donovan@ihug.co.nz
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Burkes Pass: St.Patrick’s Church 1871

The last time I saw this church it was in a slightly run-down state and was no longer a church but some sort of arts and crafts centre. At least it wasn’t a Bingo hall! It was built in 1871-2 and intended for use by several denominations in what was then a very remote place. But the Catholics (being almost as élite as the Elusive Brethren) declined to use it.  Seeing St. Patrick’s again in autumn 2010 was a pleasant surprise; it’s become loved again and looks very spruce for such an old lady.

I was travelling with an old friend from Sydney who was brought up over 80 years ago on a local sheep station. Our real mission was to visit the nearby cemetery where some of his ancestors are buried. The cemetery is a bit ramshackle but we found some stones, two of which were poignant to say the least: one recorded the death of an uncle in an avalanche while he was trying to find Merino flocks in a snow storm; the other was a grandfather gored to death by a prize bull.

Rural life was a game of disaster or survival in the 18th century. I shivered at the thought of such horrible ends and felt lucky to be alive.

©DON DONOVAN

donovan@ihug.co.nz
.