One heck of a view

BY JON MORGAN

Dan Stevenson stands on a grassy knoll below Colonial Knob, a jagged outcrop festooned with cellphone and radio masts.

It is the highest point on Pikarere, his family's 800-hectare farm. All around is one heck of a view.

Porirua's shopping centre lies vertiginously beneath him 300 metres below, and stretched out to the north are its outlying villages Mana, Whitby, Pauatahanui and Plimmerton. If you had cornered the market in white house paint 30 years ago, you could have made a fortune.

Mr Stevenson points through the gap at the entrance to Pukerua Bay to a small grey smudge in the distance.

"That's a sandhill west of Lake Horowhenua."

He has a knowledge of the land and seascape that can have only come from long study. He is also a lawyer specialising in commercial and general law and has a legal eye for detail.

Today, the far distance is hazy, but a tiny triangle of white could be Mt Ruapehu.

Further west, the profile of Kapiti Island rises from the waters and directly in front is flat-topped Mana Island, with patches of bush clinging to its sides.

Mr Stevenson says explorers Tasman and Cook both reported it to be treeless.

Cook Strait sparkles in the summer sun and he directs attention to the faint ripples and whirls that mark the movement of currents in these hazardous waters.

At night, five guiding lights can be seen warning mariners of dangers. As he points out the islands of Stephens, d'Urville and the Brothers, the top of the South Island takes shape. Jackson Head and the entrance to Queen Charlotte Sound are identified and in the haze beyond lie Blenheim and the Wairau Valley.

The views are awe-inspiring, but they come at a price.

The steep farm pastures and their stock are exposed to salt-laden winds from north, west and south.

Machinery is prone to rust and Mr Stevenson prefers to hire it when needed.

Fences also have a short life, the wind rubbing staples against wires so the galvanising wears down and exposes the metal to the salt.

Winter southerlies bring the most danger to the sheep and cattle, although farm manager Mike Barnett explains that the worst is usually over in a day.

A shallow valley at the farm's centre also provides some shelter, and he says the wind is valuable in drying up mud after rain.

In the west, the farm climbs upwards from six kilometres of rocky coastline and a sole 100-metre beach, the only sandy beach between Titahi Bay and Wellington's Lyall Bay.

On the eastern boundary, a five- kilometre electric fence is needed to keep out marauding town dogs.

Elsdon Bush clambers up from Porirua and on to the farm and other bush remnants are scattered in gullies.

One, a kohekohe stand, is an important link for birdlife between other remnants on the coast and Mana and Kapiti Islands and has been protected with a QEII Trust covenant.

Tough animals are needed to thrive in the conditions. The sheep are perendales, a cheviot-romney cross bred by Professor Geoffrey Peren at Massey University in the 1940s and 50s to withstand the central North Island's harsh winters. The rams are from Warren D'Ath's Karerevale Stud at Pohangina Valley and Longburn.

The flock comprises 2400 ewes and 800 hogget replacements and last year had a lambing percentage of 138 per cent.

"That's a true percentage, counting from when the ewes went to the ram up to docking," Mr Stevenson says. "Anything over 110 per cent on this coast is pretty good."

Older ewes and tail-enders are put to a poll-dorset terminal sire, with the aim of having their lambs ready to earn the British market's pre-Christmas premium.

Lambing can be in cold and wet conditions, with rain sweeping across from the South Island's high country.

The 480 cattle are a hardy angus- hereford cross, the bulls coming from Mick Duncan at Elsthorpe.

All stock is finished on the farm, with some of the lambs taking until June.

The nearest saleyards are at Feilding, 150km away, and they don't have the option of selling their animals. In the last drought five years ago, they sent cattle to grazing in Rangitikei.

The distance from a rural support base means that hiring contractors is a costly business.

One regular purchase is hay, which comes from Manawatu, but cutting their own hay or cultivating for crops has to be ruled out.

Another challenge comes from their closeness to the city. Hikers, mountainbikers and errant motorists are regular trespassers, and paua poachers use the beach as a base.

The woolshed, a converted US Marines recreation hall from World War II, burnt down one night two years ago. More than 700 sheep that were awaiting shearing the next day all perished, but the fire's cause could not be determined.

However, many people are welcome on the farm. Pony clubs, vintage-car enthusiasts, Scouts, the local iwi and army and police on training exercises are booked in, but only at times that don't upset the stock.

Mr Stevenson, who came to Pikarere as a 10-year-old when his parents bought it in 1950, has seen the rural connections gradually disappear.

He feels lucky to have a good manager in Mr Barnett and to be able to call on the help of part-timer Herby Hobbs, "a rarity in Wellington - a good stockman with his own pack of dogs".

Fencers and shearers can still be found, and he is grateful that Porirua still has one rural supplies store and one veterinarian still prepared to deal with large animals.

He remembers growing up on the farm with his four brothers as a wonderful time in his life.

"We had such fun. There was everything boys liked doing - horses, vehicles and shooting - and all of it beside a coast with great fishing with crayfish, kina and paua. Our school holidays were filled with adventure."

* * *

In 1985, he and wife Prue had the opportunity to buy his brothers' shares and take full ownership. It was a big exercise, but it was worth it. "I knew that if I didn't do it, I would regret it all the rest of my days. You're lucky in life if you get one or two opportunities like that, and I recognised it as one I couldn't pass up."

By then he was well established in his law career as a partner at Wellington firm Izard Weston and knew his limitations. "I have never claimed to be a farmer. I know when stock is doing well and when it is not, but I'm not a manager or a stockman."

He has Graham Twist, an experienced farmer, as a supervisor with the role of helping with planning, budgeting and as an adviser to the manager.

The mid-80s was not a good time to be in farming. Subsidies were removed and farmland values plummeted.

On top of that, they struck a drought and when they took lambs to the Feilding sales, could manage only $13.50 a lamb for one pen and $7.50 for another. Fortunately, the legal profession was there as a backup.

The farm makes its own way. The switch to perendales, begun eight years ago, has made a difference to stock performance and Mr Stevenson admits to keeping a careful eye on costs.

"Living on a farm on the coast has its challenges, but it is very enjoyable.

"It is a unique way of life - the involvement with animals and nature, achieving top stock performance and witnessing nature's cycle of life."

Then there are the views. From the hills, the sun can be seen glinting off the windows of boats fishing off Kapiti.

"It's calm today, but two days ago it was absolute fury out there. The sea was slamming into the Brothers and sending the surf crashing into the air. It was fantastic."

At other times, he has watched whales play near Mana and thousands of dolphins pouring en masse through Cook Strait.

"It's the healthiest place on earth," he says, raising his voice to be heard over a freshening breeze.

"Smell that air. Father always called it 'top air'. It's fresh off the sea and full of goodness."

- © Fairfax NZ News