LAKE TAUPO.
The bay upon which Tapuwaeharuru is situated, and around which our journey began, is one of the most remarkable parts of the lake, for it is here that the Waikato River rolls out of the broad expanse of water to pursue its long, winding course to the sea. At the point where the river leaves its great natural reservoir—that is to say at the top of the lake—the depth of water is not more than from four to six feet, but a few feet beyond where the eddying waters burst forth in the form of miniature cascades, the river gradually deepens as it flows onward in a rapid course through a winding narrow valley, with wide, sloping sides, which gradually become higher and steeper until they form a precipitous terraced gorge as the stream cuts its way through the pumice table-land in a devious course to the Huka Falls, over which it plunges, to dash onward again through a still deeper valley, the bed of which at the base of the falls is a little over 100 feet below the water level of Lake Taupo.[41] The point where the river takes its rise is the only outlet of any kind around the vast margin of the lake, and it is this spot which forms, as a matter of fact, the true source of the Waikato. The great river, which enters the lake to the south, and which is supposed, by a romantic fiction of the natives, to flow through the lake without mingling with its waters, and which is erroneously styled the "Upper Waikato," is, without doubt, when considered geographically, a distinct stream of water, which is no more connected with the Waikato proper than are the numerous other streams which all add their quota to the lake waters. From the narrow outlet where the Waikato leaves the lake, it takes an almost north-easterly course for about thirty miles, when it flows north-westerly to Ngaruawahia, where, after its junction with the Waipa, it runs in an almost northerly direction until it bends again abruptly to the west, to disembogue at the West Coast. During its long winding course, it receives the waters of countless tributaries which form the great central watershed of a large portion of the island. The river in its rapid flow is still slowly but surely cutting its way through the great pumice formation, and as an evidence of this work it is no infrequent occurrence to see disintegrated masses of rock in the form of pumice drift floating upon its waters, to be carried out to sea, or deposited to form fresh strata along its winding banks. The colour of the water of the Waikato here, as elsewhere wherever the stream traverses the pumice country, is, like that of the lake, of a transparent opaline blue tint, and so clear is it that the coraline-like formation of the rocky bed—an appearance caused by the silicious encrustations upon the rocks—is distinctly visible to a great depth below the surface of the stream. Indeed in the transparent beauty of its head waters I believe this river has no equal, and while the peculiar terrace formation of its upper valley imparts to it a singularly beautiful appearance, the high wooded ranges of its lower basin are no less remarkable for their wild and rugged grandeur.
SOURCE OF THE WAIKATO AT LAKE TAUPO.
With so many natural features, then, in its favour, it is no matter for wonder that the Waikato has from time immemorial been renowned in Maori fable and romance. Since time out of mind the rich lands surrounding it have formed the dwelling-places of the most important native tribes, whose history is linked with its name, and whose songs and legends are echoed even to this day from every hill and valley along its course. The dark race is, however, fast disappearing from its banks, the stroke of the paddle is now almost unheard upon its bosom, but the Waikato, or river of "streaming water," still shapes its swift course over its bounding rapids, and with an echoing sound which would seem to say,—
Men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
As we proceeded on our way around the north-eastern shore of the lake, we crossed a small stream called Waipahihi, which flows across a level plain from the direction of Tauhara Mountain. Here was a small native settlement, composed of a runanga house and a few whares, in front of which some half-dozen natives were sunning themselves, while several laughing, dusky children paddled about in the clear blue water. We passed along the shore until the western side of the lake opened out into a deep bay with bold, rugged cliffs shooting up perpendicularly from the water, while the mountain scenery to the south became still more attractive towards sundown, when the heavens assumed a beautiful green and carmine tint. We kept on our course until the last ray of sunlight had died away, and the moon was already high when we pitched our first camp on the banks of the Waitahanui River, with the broad lake on one side of our tent, and a raupo swamp on the other.
At this camping-place, which stood on a level with the lake, we experienced for the first time one of those sudden changes of temperature which afterwards became one of the most remarkable features of the journey. At 4 p.m. the thermometer registered as high as 80° Fahr. in the shade, and at midnight it stood at 2° below freezing-point, being a variation of no less than 50° in eight hours. When we awoke in the morning the thermometer marked 4° below freezing-point. The ground was coated with a thick frost, and the water we had left standing overnight was covered with a coating of ice. The sun, however, as it swept over the lake, soon clothed us with its genial warmth, and nature looked more radiant than ever.
We struck camp soon after daybreak, and forded the Waitahanui, which flowed with a very rapid current into the lake, the water, which was very clear and cold, reaching nearly over our horses' backs. The country around our track at this point consisted principally of broad flats, with here and there low ranges of pumice terraces covered with fern and manuka scrub, until we came to Roto Ngaio, a small native settlement situated in a semicircle of the lake shore, which was surrounded by pumice cliffs, completely flat-topped and level, with steep, clean-cut gorges. In the centre of the settlement was a small lake, the water of which, of an intensely blue colour, reflected on its calm surface the luxuriant vegetation that grew around. Everywhere along its border were deep clusters of willow and acacia-trees; in the thick sedges which fringed the water on every side were flocks of water-fowl, while the native whares, dotted about beneath the trees, imparted to the whole scene a singularly picturesque appearance.