FOOTNOTES:
[66] Literally, the battle-ground where the rock was thrown.
[CHAPTER XXV.]
HOT SPRINGS OF TONGARIRO.
Departure from Ngatokorua—Okahakura Plains—Tongariro from the north—Source of the Whanganui—The hot springs—A marvellous sanatorium—Crater of Ketetahi—Te Perore—A strategic position—Kuwharua—Maori cakes—A grand region—Site for a public park.
We left Ngatokorua with a pressing invitation to return again, and took an easterly course across the Waimarino Plains, in the direction of Tongariro, with the view of tracing up the source of the Whanganui River, which, we had learned from the natives, rose somewhere in the northern side of the volcano, and after that I had determined to examine the tapued springs and the crater of Ketetahi, which were situated a short distance further to the east on the same mountain.
The whole country we passed through to reach Tongariro consisted of a series of magnificent plains, richly grassed, surrounded for the most part by forest, and dotted here and there with patches of bush that grew in the centre of the plains and bordered many of the streams. We crossed the Mangahuia and Whakapapa rivers, both swift streams, flowing in a north-westerly direction to join the Upper Whanganui. Beyond the Waimarino Plains was an equally attractive stretch of country of the same description, known as Okahakura, and through the centre of which wound the Mangatepopo River, likewise a tributary of the Whanganui.
When we ascended the hills and rugged spurs which surrounded the great volcano of Tongariro on the north, we found them to be composed mostly of scoria and trachytic rock, but covered for a long distance up their sides with a thick vegetation of native grasses and dwarf shrubs. The tops of the larger spurs were, however, very rugged and barren, while the depression round the lip of the crater, which we had observed when at the summit of the great cone, was distinctly visible, and naturally made the mountain appear less elevated on this than on its southern side. The splendid cone was, however, now covered with a white canopy of snow almost to its base, while the summit here and there was tinged of a bright yellow with deposits of sulphur crystals, and as its white coil of steam floated over its gracefully pointed top the effect was beautiful in the extreme.
On one of the principal spurs to the north-west of the great cone we found the source of the Whanganui bursting out through a narrow rocky gorge at an altitude of 3700 feet above the level of the sea, the water evidently arising from mountain springs, and at certain times from the melting of the snows. The river from this point runs rapidly down the winding gorges of the mountains, and, after receiving in its course the waters of numerous other streams, winds across the Okahakura Plains, and afterwards enters the dense forests of the Tuhua, and then taking a bold sweep to the north-west receives the waters of the Ongaruhe and numerous other streams, as it flows in its long course to join the sea in the south. The Whanganui, which, after the Waikato, forms the most important river of the North Island, receives the whole of the western watershed of the great central table-land, besides that of other divisions of the country.
Leaving the source of the Whanganui, we took an easterly direction, and, after a long climb through the thick shrubs and boulder-strewn sides of the mountain, arrived at the great solfatara, the steam from which, constantly arising in the form of a dense white cloud, forms a conspicuous feature when looking towards Tongariro from the north. We ascended to an altitude of 5600 feet on to the spur where the renowned chief Te Heuheu is said to be buried, and on the summit of which were the small blue lakes we had seen from the top of the great cone, and which were now surrounded by their winter mantle of snow. Lower down on the same spur, at an altitude of 4900 feet, we found the hot springs roaring beneath us, deep down in a semicircular gorge, which was strewn about in every direction with huge boulders, as if a great flood of water had recently passed through it. We got with some difficulty down the rugged sides of this strange chasm, and soon stood in the centre of a region where boiling springs burst from the earth, where jets of steam shrieked and hissed from innumerable fissures, where enormous boiling mud-holes bubbled like heated cauldrons, and where the hot, steaming soil, covered in every direction with yellow crystals of sulphur, and glistening silicious deposits, quaked beneath our feet, as if anxious to swallow us up, so that we had to pick our way cautiously amid clouds of steam and sulphurous fumes for fear of coming to an untimely and unpleasant end. In many places fountains of hot water shot high into the air. Some of the warm springs were of a dark coffee-colour, caused apparently by the admixture of iron; others were yellow with excess of sulphur; others white with alum; while not a few were of the purest blue. Taken altogether, this weird place had an unpleasant, pandemonium-like air about it, while the noise of the hissing steam-jets was so great, as they burst with terrific force from their rocky vents, that it was impossible to hear oneself speak when near to them. Indeed, a dozen or so of railway engines letting off steam and blowing their whistles at the same time would only serve to convey a slight idea of the tremendous din.
These springs, as the Maoris afterwards informed us, possessed wonderful curative properties in all cases of chronic rheumatism and cutaneous disorders, and many natives suffering from ailments of that kind come long distances to avail themselves of the thermal waters, which it would appear never fail to effect a cure. This portion of Tongariro, like all other parts, is strictly tapued against Europeans, and the natives of Rotoaira and the surrounding district guard this marvellous sanatorium with a jealous eye; but as we attacked it from the rear, they were none the wiser for our visit.
A short distance beyond the springs, and near to the end of the great spur, we found the small crater known to the natives as Ketetahi, which was formed of a circular aperture emitting vast volumes of steam. We obtained a splendid view of the country towards the north from our elevated position, the rugged ranges of Te Tuhua being crowned by Hikurangi, a beautiful pyramidal-shaped mountain, with a flat top, while to the westward of it could be distinctly traced the winding course of the Ongaruhe River.
We crossed the Mangatepopo River, flowing from Tongariro, and then the Whanganui, the winding course of which we had to traverse three times. Near to the second crossing-place a picturesque headland jutted out from the dense forest that bordered the plain, and upon its summit could be plainly traced the outline of rude earthworks, which were as solid as if they had been but recently erected. This was all that remained of Te Perore, which during the war formed one of Te Kooti's most formidable strongholds, and it was here that the memorable battle was fought in which Captain St. George lost his life. The Maoris are said to have suffered severely during the engagement, Te Kooti himself being wounded in the left hand by a rifle-ball.
When examining this decaying remnant of the great struggle between the white and the dark race, I could not but admire the judgment which had been displayed by the Maoris in choosing this point as a strategic position. It was about 100 feet above the plain, the Whanganui River wound round it to the east, while the formation of the surrounding country was such that the enemy would be open to the fire of the besieged from every side of the pa save at the rear, where the latter, if beaten, would have a splendid retreat open in the dense forests of the Tuhua, which backed the fortification at that point. Nature appeared to have done her utmost to efface all traces of the struggle, and upon the rude earthworks, once alive with the forms of tattooed warriors, now shrubs and trees waved their heads to the passing breeze. Never was there a more beautiful spot chosen for a battle, and it must have been a truly impressive sight to see the valiant Maori warriors fighting for their country under the very shadow of their sacred mountains, driving back the pakeha, and erecting a barrier of isolation around the grand region whose wonders we were now exploring.
As we were riding on our way along the plain near to the edge of the forest we noticed that on the small elevations on our left, which fringed the bush, several whares were dotted about in the most picturesque situations. When we were passing one of these rustic homesteads some natives hailed us, to know where we were going. At this we rode up the steep elevation upon which their whare was placed, to have a korero, and to gain what information we could with regard to our future course. An old woman with a goitre upon her neck hailed us with the usual cry of welcome, while her tattooed lord, who was engaged making a trap to catch pigeons, invited us to put up our horses and rest. We were willing enough to do this, especially as there was a smell of cooking about, and our cool ride across the plains had given us our usual wolfish appetite. We were soon invited to partake of a repast of pork and potatoes, together with some cakes, made evidently of flour and water, but so hard that it was impossible to bite them, and so heavy that Turner, with every show of reason, remarked that if we happened to get unhorsed when crossing a river, we should never rise to the surface with one of those cakes in our insides.
We did not take our meal in the smoky whare, but sat with the Maoris outside in the sun. The day was one of the finest we had experienced, and all nature appeared as if wrapped in a mantle of eternal spring. The small kainga where we now were was known to the natives as Kuwharua, and stood at an elevation of 2420 feet above the level of the sea. The view from this place when looking towards the south was the finest we had beheld during our journey, if I except the marvellous panoramas beheld from the top of the Ruapehu and Tongariro. For the variety of the scenery to be obtained within the radius of ten miles from where we were, no view in the world could equal it. Beneath us was the Te Pakaru Plain, with an area of some twenty square miles, covered with a green growth of native grass, and intersected by winding mountain streams. In the south-east were the blue waters of Lake Rotoaira, backed by the cone-shaped summits of the Kakaramea Ranges, clothed with dense forests of tall trees; while beyond, stretching like a grand barrier across the country to the south, were the serrated peaks of the Kaimanawa Mountains, at whose base rolled the broad open downs of the Rangipo Table-land. Rising right in the centre of this grand picture were the wonderful mountains of Tongariro, heaped and piled about in the most fantastic and curious way, and from the midst of which shot up the white, glittering cone of the volcano crowned with its perpetual cloud of steam, while, to complete the attractive scene, the stupendous form of Ruapehu towered to the skies, peak rising above peak beneath its deep mantle of winter snow. Here was a view which, taken in as it was at one glance, exceeded in grandeur and sublimity even the most glowing creations of fairyland. Here were park-like plains of vivid green stretching from the borders of an inland sea to the shores of a romantic-looking lake, where the waters were of the deepest blue; around were steaming craters and thermal springs, colossal cone-shaped mountains towering to the regions of eternal snow, and lesser heights rising from amidst primeval forests of the grandest description, glowing and palpitating as it were, in all their beauty beneath the sunlight; and yet, singular to relate, this marvellous country, this wonder-land, as we gazed upon it, was to all intents and purposes a terra incognita. Here was in reality a model Switzerland under a semi-tropical sky—a region designed, as it were, by the artistic hand of nature for a national recreation-ground, where countless generations of men might assemble to marvel at some of the grandest works of the creation.
With the Te Pakaru Plain proclaimed as a public domain, New Zealand would possess the finest and most unique park in the world. For healthfulness of climate, variety of scenery, and volcanic and thermal wonders, there would be no place to equal it in the northern or southern hemisphere, no spot where within so small a radius could be seen natural phenomena so varied and so remarkable. It would embrace within its boundaries the hot springs of Tongariro and those of Tokanu, and would stretch from the waters of Lake Taupo to the shores of Rotoaira. The surrounding table-land, with its millions of acres of open plains covered with rich volcanic soil, should eventually become the granary of the North Island; while the Kaimanawa Mountains and the Tuhua should give forth their mineral treasures on either side.
[CHAPTER XXVI.]
WESTERN TAUPO.
Supposed forest country—The western table-land—Soil and flora—Terania—Okarewa—Te Kaina Valley—Maoris on the track—Pouotepiki pa—A tangi—The natives—A friendly invitation—An old warrior—The women—Our quarters.
From Kuwharua our course lay along the northern portion of the Te Pakaru Plain, and between the Kakaramea Ranges and the eastern boundary of the Tuhua Forest. The whole country hereabouts had a park-like appearance, and was everywhere covered with native grasses, save the lower hills, which were mostly clothed with fern. We had now reached the western watershed of Lake Taupo, the first stream flowing in that direction being the Koromanga. Near to this point the native track by which Hochstetter passed in 1859, on his journey to Maketu by way of the eastern side of Lake Taupo, leads to Tokanu, and if we had followed it to the westward it would have been our nearest route to Alexandra; but as the country along its course had already been described by that traveller, I determined to take a different direction, in order to explore the great table-land of Western Taupo, and thence to penetrate to Alexandra by the country to the northward of the great central mountain chain ending in Titiraupenga, and which was represented on the maps of the colony as covered with forest, and on that of Hochstetter as a volcanic table-land "thickly covered with forest, and unexplored." Indeed, so little was this portion of the country known, that even at Tapuwaeharuru, where Turner questioned the natives upon the natural features of this region, he was informed that it was covered with dense bush, and that it would be impossible to travel through it for any distance, and especially on account of the numerous rivers and creeks that would have to be crossed. The information we thus gained proved to be erroneous so far as the forest was concerned, since we afterwards discovered that a broad, open table-land, averaging in height from 1700 to 2200 feet above the level of the sea, extended far inland along the whole western shore of Lake Taupo, while the enormous area of country still further to the north and westward, and described on the maps as before alluded to, turned out to be a perfectly open table-land, covered with some of the finest grassed plains in the country, and watered by numerous streams, some of which were among the largest tributaries of the Waikato River.
The western table-land of Lake Taupo is bounded on the land side by the Haurungaroa and Hurakia Mountains, which stretch in a northerly direction as far as Mount Titiraupenga, and form the eastern boundary of the mountainous region which covers a large area of the central portion of the King Country. These two mountain chains attain to an altitude of 2300 to 2500 feet above the level of the sea, their eastern slopes forming the principal source of the watershed of the western division of the lake, while the inland waters, with those of the other mountains of the same system, are received mostly by the Ongaruhe River, one of the principal tributaries of the Whanganui. The whole of these ranges, which present a very broken appearance, are densely covered with luxuriant forests. The country from the eastern slopes of the Haurungaroa and Hurakia Mountains stretches in a series of open plains to the shores of the great lake, the whole western shore of which is bounded by steep, rugged cliffs, which rise perpendicularly from the water, and assume in many places the form of bold headlands, the highest of which, Mount Karangahape, attains to an altitude of about 2300 feet, while Rangituku and Pukeakikiore are volcanic cones of lesser height, still further to the south. This portion of the Taupo Table-land was in every way different, so far as its soil was concerned, from that on the north-eastern and eastern sides of the lake. The enormous deposits of pumice so remarkable in the two latter localities were absent here, the soil resembling in every respect that of the Rangipo Table-land, and this feature will apply equally to the open plain country we afterwards discovered to the north of Titiraupenga. Here, too, there was a greater variety of native grasses, while the soil, formed principally from the decomposition of the trachytic rocks of the adjacent mountains and the gradual disintegration of the stratum of pumice upon which it was deposited, was in every respect of a better kind, and, under proper cultivation, might be made to grow almost anything suited to the climate. In all the native settlements in this part of the country we found such trees as the peach, apple, acacia, and weeping willow growing in great luxuriance, while the flora indigenous to the island was represented in its most varied forms.
After passing many miles through an open, undulating, fern-clad country, we came to a region called Terania, surrounded by low conical hills, and traversed in every direction with well-beaten tracks, which had been made by the herds of wild horses frequenting the district, and which led over the hills and through the valleys wherever we turned.
Darkness overtook us as soon as we crossed the Kuratao River, and we camped for the night near to a small stream called Okarewa, on the open table-land, which at this point had an elevation of 1700 feet above the level of the sea.
We started at daylight from Okarewa, and continued a northerly course along the table-land, which was for some distance dotted about with low fern hills. We crossed the Whareroa River, and beyond this point the bold outline of Karangahape came into view in the east, in the form of a huge dome-shaped mountain, surrounded by lower hills of conical formation. The table-land now indicated a general elevation, varying from 2000 to 2200 feet, and kept very level between the two heights for a long distance, the country rising gradually in the form of undulating hills towards the dense forests to the west of our track. We forded the Mangakara, flowing from the Haurungaroa Mountains, the river being fringed at the point where we crossed it by a dense growth of bush, which grew along the precipitous sides of the stream, down which we had to ride before we reached the torrent below. Beyond the river we gained the Te Kaina Valley, which wound through the table-land, here dotted about with enormous outcrops of trachytic rock. Here the whole broad expanse of the country had a beautifully picturesque appearance, which was heightened in no small degree by the broad, shining waters of Lake Taupo in the distance.
It was now clear that we were getting into a more densely populated portion of the country, and we met many Maoris of all ages and sexes along this portion of our track. Most of them were well mounted, and were journeying from the north in the direction of Tokanu and other settlements in the south. Each party greeted us, and asked us where we were from, and when told that we had come up from the Manganui-a-te-Ao, they one and all expressed surprise, and asked us how we had got through at that season of the year. Some natives travelling in our direction now joined us, and we learned from them that a tangi was being held at Pouotepiki, the pa which we would have to pass on the way, and that we would meet Te Heuheu there, and a number of other chiefs.
We arrived at Pouotepiki late in the afternoon, and found the pa situated in a beautiful position on an elevated portion of the table-land overlooking the western bay of Lake Taupo, whose rugged shores here rose up to a height of hundreds of feet above the water, in the form of precipitous cliffs, and rugged headlands which flanked the entrance to picturesque bays.
As we rode up a wild and curious sight presented itself. Our approach was hailed with dismal wailing from the women, loud barking from the packs of mongrel dogs, and by the grunting of innumerable pigs. A crowd of natives at once gathered round us, and among them were some of the wildest and most villainous-looking men I had ever seen. They were not like the untutored savages we had found at Ruakaka, but in appearance a desperate, half-savage, half-civilized race of beings. There were natives from Tokanu, natives from Tuhua, from Kahakaharoa, and all the various settlements for miles around. Some wore only the blanket, others ragged clothes and battered hats, while some of the younger men, as if anxious to make a show of their smattering of civilization, were got up quite in a dandified way. When the hongi[67] had been performed amid tears and lamentations, half a dozen weird-looking hags stood up in a row and went through a tangi,[68] which lasted an hour, during which time we stood in front of them, beside the natives who had joined us on the way to the pa. When this part of the performance had ended, one of the new arrivals stepped to the front and delivered a long speech in honour of the deceased chief, for the repose of whose soul the tangi was being held, interlarding his remarks now and again with snatches of verse, which he sang in a doleful, melancholy tone, and what with the wailing of the women, the barking of the curs, who seemed to object immensely to our presence, the grunting of the pigs that sniffed familiarly round us, and the noise made by the children, who laughed just as loudly as their elders cried, the discordant sounds became in the long-run indescribably unpleasant; still, as we were in Maoriland, and had determined to do as the Maoris did, we went through the ordeal of the tangi with a reverential and solemn air. It is true we shed no tears—probably because we hadn't got them to shed—but there was no doubt about the crying so far as the women were concerned, for I watched them carefully, and I noticed that the big round tears trickled down their noses and then in a miniature cascade over their lips in the most orthodox way, but whether these tears were what we callous Christians call "crocodile tears" it is impossible for me to say.
When the formal greeting was over, we were invited into the runanga-house, a spacious building about sixty feet long by thirty broad, in which a number of natives were squatting about in small circles, smoking and playing cards. Te Heuheu of Tokanu, the great rangatira of the Ngatituwharetoa was there—a thick-set, broad-shouldered man, with an austere countenance. He was dressed in European costume, and wore a wide collaret of kiwi feathers round his neck, while beside him sat his two wives, who were likewise habited in what is recognized as the attire of civilized society. I noticed that their dresses were not after the latest Parisian models, but their round hats, made entirely of kiwi feathers, suited their dark countenances admirably. Both had pleasant features, and, like all the women I had seen in the country, were remarkable for their splendid teeth, which were as white and as perfect as Cleopatra's pearls, and seemed to shine in marked contrast to their blue tattooed lips. The chief Mohi, a herculean man, standing about six feet four inches, stood like a statue, wrapped in a blanket, nursing a child, and beside him was Patoro, a chief of the Ngatiraukawa, and, besides these, there were many representative men of the Ngatituwharetoa, Ngatikohera, Ngatiarekawa, Ngatitakaiahi, and Ngatihikera. Besides the natives located in the runanga-house there were many camped outside, both in whares and tents, the principal occupation of all being smoking and playing cards, and performing the tangi whenever a new arrival appeared.
There was one tall, gaunt old man among the throng, with a fierce-looking, tattooed countenance, and a pointed grey beard, who never moved about without a greenstone mere in his hand, and when afterwards we got into conversation with him, to ascertain the history of this implement, he told us it was the last relic of his tribe, and that the notch at the end of it had been made by cracking an enemy's skull. Judging from the impression made upon the hard stone by the skull, it occurred to me that its owner must have ranked during lifetime as a kind of champion thick-headed savage.
Many of the women at this gathering were the finest, both as regards appearance and stature, we had seen during our journey, some of them being perfect giantesses in build. Among the finest and most attractive was Tapare Huia Tauaiti, the daughter of Heure Harawira, a native chief.
NATIVE GIRL.
When the natives learned that we had travelled alone, as they termed it, "from the big mountains in the south," they invited us to remain over night, but not before they had asked us many questions as to the object of our journey, and how it was we had chosen so roundabout a way when the Maoris always made it a rule to take the shortest cut between two points. We several times felt pushed to find a reasonable reply to their queries in this respect, but Turner, with his usual diplomatic tact, invariably got out of the difficulty by remarking that when a pakeha got on to a horse, like the proverbial tailor, there was no telling where he would ride to.
After a very acceptable meal of pork, potatoes, and thistles,[69] which was served out to the assembled crowd in small plaited flax baskets, we were allotted quarters in the runanga-house, where fifty men, women, and children lay huddled together in the most promiscuous way. Never during the whole of our journey did we spend so unpleasant a night. At sundown the runanga-house was firmly closed, four big charcoal fires were lit, and men, women, and children smoked until the atmosphere became so stifling that it was almost impossible to breathe. The great subject of conversation was the question of native boundaries, the projected government survey through the country, and the iniquities of the Native Land Court. More than a dozen speeches were delivered on these topics, and it was amusing to see one gaunt figure after another get up in the dim light, swathed in a blanket, after the fashion of a toga, and deliver a long and fiery oration, to which every one would listen in rapt attention, without questioning a single statement of the speaker until he had delivered himself of all he had to say. These expressions of opinion were carried on from either side of the house far into the night, until one by one the dark forms fell off to sleep, when the snoring, coughing, and wheezing, coupled with the stifling heat, transformed the place into a veritable pandemonium.