It was, however, the vast country to the west that most attracted our attention. It was the forbidden land we had already entered, whose hidden wonders we were unmasking—a mysterious region which now lay stretched before us in all its primeval grandeur. We could mark its valleys and its plains and its forests and its towering mountains, and get glances of its rivers as they gleamed in the sun. To enter this unknown region, as we intended to do, at its extreme southern end, pass through the enormous forest which covers it in that direction, and thence northward to Alexandra, we knew would be just 100 miles in a direct line, but we could now plainly see by the natural features of the country that by ordinary travel it would be at least twice that distance, and would require many a hard day's journey to accomplish. We therefore, from our elevated position, took careful note of the more prominent outlines of the country, and especially of the known high mountains, which we afterwards found to be splendid guides, as many of their peculiar features could not be mistaken.
When we had laid off on our map the leading features of the country through which we intended to pass, we set to work and built a cairn of rock, about four feet high, at a point which exceeded 9000 feet above the level of the sea, and on this we hoisted our flag. As this magnificent peak of Ruapehu, with its rocky crown of ice and snow, was not only the highest point of the mountain, but the very topmost summit of the North Island, we named it "Point Victoria," in honour of her Majesty the Queen.
[CHAPTER XIX.]
THE KAIMANAWA MOUNTAINS.
Further plans—Across the plains—In memoriam—The Onetapu Desert—Mamanui camp—Grilled weka—A heavy frost—The Kaimanawas—Geological formation—A probable El Dorado—Reputed existence of gold.
As we had now successfully accomplished the ascent of the two great mountains, I determined to leave the tapued district as soon as possible, and strike a south-easterly course across the Onetapu Desert to the southern base of the Kaimanawa Mountains, in order to examine the geological formation of that region. I had noticed when examining the western banks of the Waikato River, that on its opposite side, where the mountains rose in all their grandeur, the geological aspect of the country was entirely different from that of the Rangipo table-land, the geological formation of which was principally composed of fluvial drift, with a deep superimposed stratum of pumice, and over which again was a final stratum of volcanic earth, formed principally by the decomposition of the trachytic rocks forming the numerous volcanic cones which bounded the table-land on the west. Owing, however, to the flooded state of the Waikato, it was impossible to reach its opposite side, where the Kaimanawa Mountains rose in the form of a stupendous wall. I therefore resolved to head the river at its upper waters, in order to get into the Kaimanawa country in that way.
On the day following our ascent of Ruapehu, we started across the plains in the direction indicated above, and as the day was fine we rode leisurely along, coaxing our half-starved horses on their way by occasional feeds from the luxuriant growth of native grasses which covered that part of the Rangipo. In this portion of the plains there was a great variety of native grasses, and among them were those known to the natives as the parakerake and pekipeki, while the tussock grass grew in clumps often three feet in height. Dotted all over the plain likewise was a curious spiked plant, which our horses carefully avoided whenever they came in its way. This singular plant grew at the bottom, in the form of a widespreading circular tuft, composed of narrow sword-edged leaves, the ends of which were as pointed and as sharp as a lancet. From the centre of the tuft rose a stem varying from a foot to two feet in height, which bristled at the top with a spike-like thorn, while clustering all over its sides were long thin thorns, pointed, and as sharp as needles. So strong and sharp are the thorns of this plant, that the natives often use them as spurs.
We had been told at Tokanu that at a certain point on these wide plains if we struck a certain native track hard by a certain stream flowing from the rugged gorges of Tongariro, we could see a pole which was strictly tapu in the eyes of the Maoris. When we came to the spot, the pole was there in the form of a portion of a dead tree. Now, a melancholy tale was attached to this singular relic. During the time of the war, when the Hauhaus under Te Kooti carried fire and sword among the loyal tribes of this part of the country, a native girl, it is said, of singular beauty, was passing alone by this very spot, when one of the rebel chief's followers approaching at the same time, brutally attacked her, and having accomplished his villainous purpose, cut her throat, and rode on his way. Even the very name of this man is lost in oblivion, and his soul—well, never mind. When the girl's relatives came to search for her they found her body, and taking off her collaret, placed it on the pole, and tapued the place sacred to her memory, and this pole still standing on the wild plains now forms her only monument. But, strange to say, the collaret, rounded, tied in a knot, and in form as perfect as if taken from the blood-stained neck but yesterday, was likewise there, and Nature, as if anxious to preserve this sad relic, had covered it with a coating of fine spiral moss, which made it look not unlike one of those wreaths of immortelles we sometimes see placed on Christian graves to invoke, as it were, the blessings of Heaven. I made a sketch of this lonely monument, and when the ravages of time shall have effaced it from all ken, these simple words may serve to recall the memory of one who was loyal to her queen, and who met death at a time when war and rapine swept over the land, and when the white and the dark race fought with a deadly and cruel hatred for the mastery of these fair and attractive regions.
The Onetapu Desert, or "desert of sacred sand," as its name implies, forms one of the most curious features of this region. It stretches from the eastern slope of Ruapehu to the banks of the Waikato River, across the centre of the great table-land, and covers an area of over fifty square miles. In summer it is parched and dried, and in the winter months when the snows cover it, it is both dangerous and difficult to traverse. As we neared this trackless waste, the rich vegetation of the plains gradually died away, and gave place to the stunted plants and shrubs which we had always found growing on the lower scoria deposits. This vegetation did not cover the ground in every direction, but grew in patches here and there, and often in a very attractive way. The desert, at the surface, is composed entirely of a deposit of scoria, with rounded stones and trachytic boulders above, while, in some places, rise enormous lava ridges. Here and there a trickling watercourse winds over it, but taken altogether it is a dreary, monotonous expanse, which the superstitious minds of the natives have peopled with taniwhas and evil spirits. By its formation, it would appear as if Ruapehu, when in a state of activity, had distributed its showers of ashes and lava over this wide region, and it would also appear that, at the period at which this extensive deposition of scoria occurred, there must have been growing upon this very spot an extensive forest similar to that now to be found on the western side of the mountain, for, as we rode over the dreary expanse, we found the remains of enormous trees which had been converted into charcoal, as it were, at the time when the fiery ashes swept over them, and which had since become exposed, as the upper surface was denuded by the action of the water flowing down from the mountain.
Towards sundown we gained the upper waters of the Waikato, which here wound across the desert in the form of a small stream coming from the direction of Ruapehu. After crossing this we struck up towards the Kaimanawa Mountains, to the Mamanui stream, where there was a deserted Maori camping-place, and where we found excellent feed for our horses. The spot where we pitched our camp stood at an elevation of 3727 feet above the sea, on the banks of the Mamanui, which wound from the mountains to form one of the many tributaries of the Waikato which have their rise in these extensive ranges. The moon shone brightly by the time we had pitched our tent, and the tall heights, towering around us with their splendid vegetation, sheltered us from the chilly blasts that swept across the plains, and, taken altogether, it was a comfortable and pleasant spot in comparison to the weird mountains upon which we had been recently camped.