Mystic tales of region submitted in contest

Eloquent prose and ragged rhyme combined to provide Newmans with an insight into many of the tales behind the development along the routes their modern day coaches travel.

Newmans asked people to send in tales of their area, as part of preparation for detailed route maps which will keep coach passengers amused and entertained while they make their journey in the future.
"The variety and the high standard of entries made judging the competition difficult," Mr G.K. Chapman, managing director of Newmans Coach Lines said.

SAND DUNES
• Among tales submitted, was this local entry:

Did you know that all sand dunes including the inland ones, are roughly wedge shaped, sloping gently towards the sea and the prevailing onshore winds?

As the winds blow, the sand rises gently up the slope and onto the top, building the "back" higher and higher.

All are like this, except Levin's Moutere, largest sand dune in New Zealand which sits majestically between town and sea with its "steep side" facing west and the sea.

• The early Maoris had an explanation for most things. They lived close to nature, saw things like this and pondered. In time their ponderings became woven into local legend.

One of their sayings was that the bluer and mistier the hills, the more fairies and such abound, and Horowhenua hills are often blue indeed.

So, that there was once a monster lurking in them should be no great surprise. The story goes like this:

MONSTER
Once upon a time, way way up the Ohau Valley in the foothills of the Tararuas there lived a huge monster.

One day this monster became ill, so ill indeed that he took himself off to consult the local tohunga. Yes, he was ill, there was no doubt of that.

In fact the tohunga, after suitable deliberation, said there was only one way to save his life. He must make all the haste he would to the coast and bathe in the sea.

So the monster girded up his remaining strength and started off, slip-slop down the valley.

Fortunately it was downhill but as the sun got hotter, and he became weaker, progress was slower and slower - slip - pause - gather your strength - slop, slip ...slop.

When night fell he had not reached the sea. Utterly exhausted he just slopped down where he was and slept fitfully till morning.

Then, with a mighty effort, he heaved himself up and started off in the direction he could hear the sea - his last chance and he knew it.

But it was not to be. He hadn't gone far when he just had to rest.

Again he flopped but this time all his strength had gone, and soon he breathed his last.

LAKE
And the reason for this story? Well, the hollow his body made after he had rested all night filled with water, and became the lake we know as Horowhenua situated between the town of Levin and the sea.
And Moutere, that strangely shaped sand dune on the seaward side of the lake? Why, that is the body of the monster - tail sloping towards the hills and the head and chest to the sea, which he still faces as he died in his vain attempt to reach it so many many years ago.

The route maps have now been completed and are in use on Newmans coaches throughout the country.

Reaction to the maps has been favourable - passengers say they liven up the journey and provided food for thought.