As we made a fresh start, we saw a party of mounted natives riding along the track below, and whilst we hid our horses in a gully, we crawled to the top of a ridge and watched carefully, to see whether they would pick up our tracks. Fortunately, however, they passed on, riding hard along the track which passes through the Tongariro Plains into the heart of the King Country.
At an elevation of 4450 feet, and at the very edge of the last patch of dwarfed plants that grew upon the desert-like expanse, we found a small oasis between two scoria hills, bounded on the left by the rugged lava ridge which formed the backbone, as it were, of the long, sweeping spur up which we had come. Here a few stunted shrubs and clumps of tussock grass struggled for life amidst masses of lava and scoria sand. We knew that we would have to leave our horses tethered here for something like thirty-six hours without water, whilst we did the rest of the mountain, and we calculated that, with the aid of the few straggling shrubs and bunches of tussock, there would be just sufficient food to keep the animals from starvation during that time, although we had a kind of secret conviction that the chances were immensely in favour of the latter result.
After we had secured our horses in the small oasis, we went out to explore the country ahead. In every position along the steep incline up which we had to make our way we saw nothing but enormous scoria hills, stretching far and wide on every side, and which rose in long, steep ascents to the snow-line of the mountain. In every direction stupendous ridges of black trachytic lava cropped up above the surface, broken, rugged, and sharp, as if they had boiled up during some terrific volcanic convulsion, and then suddenly congealed into the most curious and fantastic shapes. Some of the enormous lava ridges, of a black metallic lustre, flowed down, as it were, from the very summit of the mountain, and stretched for miles in length over the desert below.
At an altitude of 5500 feet we came to an enormous deposit of lava raising up the surface of the spur in the form of a large cluster of rocks, and on one side of which there was a sheer descent into a lava-bound ravine of 200 feet. This was a good mile and a half away from where we had left our horses, but as the ascent was gradual we determined to pack the animals with the tent and blankets up to this point, and, after taking them back to the oasis, carry the camp equipage on our own shoulders up to the snow-line, where we had resolved to camp for the night, in order to be able to begin the final ascent to the summit of the great peak at daylight on the morrow. It was late in the day when we had finally carried out this arrangement, and, after packing ourselves with the tent, blankets, and all other necessaries to the extent of about twenty-five pounds each, we set off to climb the long, dreary spur, which mounted steeply upward until it lost itself in the region of eternal snow.
Heavily laden and unused as we were to the burdens of professional pack-horses, we found the climbing both trying and monotonous. The long, dismal expanse which formed the spur up which our course lay was devoid of all vegetation. Our feet sank deeply into the shifting scoria, which, fractured into small pieces, covered the sides of the mountain for miles around in a dark-grey deposit, which looked intensely dreary as the sun sank to rest and a cold, cutting wind swept down from the snow-crowned glaciers above us.
At 5800 feet enormous stones lay strewn about the ground, and we crossed the lower part of a deep lava ravine which wound high up into the side of the great peak above, and ended in a precipitous bluff, where we saw what at first sight appeared to be enormous caves, with a frozen waterfall sticking out of them. It occurred to us that if they were really rocky caves, as they seemed to be, we might find shelter in them for the night from the freezing blast, so we toiled onward with our heavy burdens to an altitude of 6200 feet, when the caves turned out to be nothing more than two enormous holes in the rocky side of the mountain, and to reach which it would have required the skill of a well-trained monkey, as they had been placed by the fickle hand of nature high up at the end of a tremendous ravine, which fell with a sheer descent of hundreds of feet beneath the precipice on which we stood, and whose steep, rugged sides, built of horizontal layers of lava rock, appeared to have been twisted and distorted by some terrific volcanic convulsion.
At this elevation the whole canopy of snow which covered the summit of the mountain came down almost to our feet, while enormous masses of ice and long, ponderous icicles hung in shining festoons over the frowning precipices above. We were now nearly at the head of the great spur along which we had come, and beyond which the tall peaks of the mountain still shot up to a height of nearly 4000 feet above us. The spur at this point was bounded by the great ravine before alluded to, while on the other it fell with a steep descent into a deep, winding valley, beyond which the scoria hills rolled in endless confusion down to the wide plain below. At this point the mountain was strewn in every direction with dark boulders of trachytic rock, many of which were of stupendous size, and as they were scattered about pell-mell in the most fantastic way, we seemed to have entered a weird graveyard sacred to the memory of mountain giants. The scoria ridges around us were absolutely bare, and their dark outline had a desolate look, as if some fiery wind had swept over them and blasted every sign of life. The shades of evening now closed around us, and although the wind blew in strong blasts from the south, which chilled our blood, we hailed its icy breath with as much cheerfulness as we had done the genial warmth of the sun during the day, as we knew that whilst it remained in that quarter we should have fine weather, and would be able to make the long-wished-for ascent to the summit on the morrow; but if, on the other hand, it should happen to shift into its old quarter, the storm-clouds would sweep down upon us, and put us in an unpleasant and even dangerous predicament.
We determined to make this dreary locality our camping-place for the night, and by the aid of the alpenstocks and the flagstaff we had brought up with us we managed to partially erect our tent under the lee of a big boulder. But before doing so, in order to prepare a space in which to lie down, we had to clear away the snow and thick coating of frost-like icicles that covered the ground, and then, in order to keep ourselves in position, as the ground was so steep, we formed a square of large stones just big enough to hold us, and in this we laid our blankets. The alpenstocks were arranged in the form of a triangle at the outside end, the flagstaff was placed at the apex, and then jammed down in a sloping way under the boulder, and over this the tent was thrown, its sides being secured by a border of heavy stones. In this way there was just room enough for us to crawl inside. I mention these particulars because thereby hangs a tale. We had carried up just sufficient wood to make a small fire to boil the tea, and which we accomplished, after great difficulty, behind the lee of a boulder. In fact, nothing could be done unless under the shelter of one of these enormous stones; to go to the windward side was simply to have the chilling blasts pass through one like a knife, and to be half blinded with scoria sand.
If I were to live for a thousand years, no waning of the intellectual powers could cause me to entirely forget the night we passed on Ruapehu. It is true we felt more secure than when camped in the wild regions of Tongariro, for we knew that the natives would not molest us at that altitude, as they have a tradition that when a man goes up Ruapehu he never comes down again; but, so far as comfort was concerned, the weird lava-bound Waihohonu Valley, with its legends of taniwhas and evil demons, was a perfect paradise and "happy hunting-ground" in comparison with the wild, snowy region, where we were now camped. Our bed was, of course, very rough, and two big particles of trachytic rock formed our pillows; but all this would have passed muster, and calm, refreshing sleep would have come to us, if it had not been for the fact that the loose scoria would keep slipping and sliding from under us as we lay on our steep incline. Although the moon shone as bright as day, the wind still continued to blow in heavy gusts, which seemed to increase in violence after every lull, and as it had already shifted a point or two still further southward, it was colder than ever, while what was at one time the lee of the boulder now became almost its windward side. Our tent at this stage swayed and flapped about in an incessant way, the icy blasts blew round about and underneath us, and in such a way that it was impossible to keep warm. At midnight the terrible climax came; with a noise like the howling of a thousand fiends, a terrific gale of wind swept over the mountain. In an instant our tent was carried away from over us, the flag-pole struck Turner a frightful blow on the head, and our blankets went flying right and left. So great was the force of the wind that it was impossible to stand against it. Blinding showers of sand and scoria filled the air almost to suffocation as each successive blast swept onward with terrific force, and everything was covered with a fine scoria dust, which got into the hair, filled the eyes, caused a choking sensation about the throat, and permeated every article of clothing. It was useless to endeavour to erect our tent again, so we squatted down, Maori fashion, in our blankets behind another enormous boulder, which served to break the force of the wind. The thermometer now stood at 27°, and the gale continued to blow throughout the night with terrific fury, sweeping over the ice-bound summit of the mountain, and then down into the valleys below, carrying along in its course its dark clouds of scoria and showers of gritty sand.
