THE BRIDAL VEIL FALL.
Leaving the Bridal Veil Fall to dart over its echoing rocks, we struck up the steep, precipitous ridge ahead, where we could still see the white waters of the river coming down, as it were, from the very summit of the mountain. Here the whole surroundings had a most wild and romantic appearance, and we seemed to have entered a dismal solitude where there was no sound but the rushing of waters as they dashed over the rocky precipices, or rolled among the stupendous boulders which lay scattered about the winding channels of the deep ravines. We pushed on as fast as we could over an enormous outcrop of lava, and when we had reached 6750 feet fresh wonders still seemed to call us onward. At this elevation we discovered two cascades falling over a steep, bluff-like precipice, and only at a short distance apart from each other. These two shoots of water, which appeared to be of the same proportions, fell from a height of about 100 feet into the ravine below, and then dashed onward to leap over the precipice of the Bridal Veil. All around the rocks were resplendent with icicles, and with the white coating of alum appeared like alabaster. We named these the "Twin Waterfalls" on account of their singular resemblance to each other.
From this point of the great ravine we again mounted up precipitous rocks and lava ridges, one of which we had to climb hand over hand for a height of fifty feet. The river now, as far as we could discern, appeared to pour out of the snow as it came down in a rapid torrent through a precipitous ravine, along the side of which we crawled with difficulty. As we mounted higher the stupendous rocks, over which we had to make our way, were piled about in the most intricate confusion, and in one place we had to pass over an outcrop of trachytic rock which was broken into angular pieces, as sharp as flint, and fractured in every direction, as if it had been subjected at some period to the force of a terrific explosion. It required great care to get over this difficult point, as there was only room enough to crawl along between the wall of rock on one side, and a precipice of 200 feet on the other, which fell with a sheer descent into a big, circular, ice-bound pool, into which the milky waters of the Whangaehu poured in the form of foaming cascades. Here, around on every side, rose steep precipices, great buttresses of black lava mounted up in the form of stupendous bluffs that supported, as it were, the rampart-like heights above, while right in front of us, and towering to an altitude of over 1000 feet, was a glacier slope crowned with craggy peaks, which stood out in bold relief against the sky. This rugged locality was one of the most singular of the whole mountain. No region could be wilder or more desolate in appearance. There was nothing but the blue heavens above to relieve the frigid glare of the ice, the cold glitter of the snows, and the dreary tints of the frowning fire-scorched rocks. We now seemed to be in a new world, where solitude reigned supreme, and where Nature, casting aside her most radiant charms, looked stern and awe-inspiring in her mantle of ice and snow.
Right under the snowy glacier above us were wide, yawning apertures, arched at the top, and framed, as it were, with ice, in the form of rude portals, through which the white waters of the river burst in a continuous stream. These were ice caves. Climbing over the rough boulders, and then descending into a rocky channel, where the water mounted over our knees, we entered the largest of these singular structures, when a wonderful sight met the gaze. We found ourselves in a cave of some 200 feet in circumference, whose sides of black volcanic rock were sheeted with ice, and festooned with icicles, all grandly and marvellously designed. At the further end from where we entered was a wide, cavernous opening, so dark that the waters of the river, as they burst out of it in a foaming, eddying stream down the centre of the cave in which we stood, looked doubly white, in comparison with the black void out of which they came. We were now right under the enormous glacier that covered the summit of the mountain, and the roof of the cave was formed of a mass of frozen snow, which had been fashioned by some singular law of Nature into oval-shaped depressions of about two feet in height, and a foot and a half broad, all of one uniform size, and so beautifully, and so mathematically precise in outline, as to resemble the quaint designs of a Moorish temple; while, from all the central points to which the edges of these singular designs converged, a long single icicle hung down several inches in diameter at its base, perfectly round and smooth and clear, tapering off towards its end with a point as sharp as a needle. High up on our left, in the walls of the cave, were two apertures like the slanting windows of a dungeon, through which the light streamed, giving a soft, mysterious halo to the whole scene, which looked weird and indescribably curious. We had brought candles with us, and lighting them, we pressed forward to explore the deep cavern beyond, but to do so we had to climb over sharp, slippery rocks, which were covered with a coating of ice, as if they had been glazed with glass, while the white waters streaming beneath us fell into a deep, eddying pool. We managed, after some difficulty, to cross the stream in the second cave, and to penetrate a considerable distance along the treacherous rocks into the very centre, as it were, of the great mountain; but, just as we were winding along a kind of subterranean passage, which looked like a short cut into eternity, our lights went out, owing to the water falling from above, and, as we could hear nothing but rushing waters ahead, we, with some difficulty, beat a retreat into the first cave, which looked like a fairy palace in comparison with the dark cavern we had just left. These caves were at an altitude of 7000 feet above the level of the sea, and we were now at the true source of the remarkable river. Wherever the water poured over the rocks it left a white deposit, and when we tasted it, it produced a marked astringent feeling upon the tongue, leaving a strong taste of alum, sulphur, and iron, with all of which ingredients, especially the two former, it appeared to be strongly impregnated.[51]
It is a remarkable and interesting geographical fact that the waters which form the source of the Waikato River burst from the sides of Ruapehu, within a short distance of the Whangaehu, and at almost the same altitude. Both streams run almost parallel to each other for a long distance from their source, and then, as they reach the desert, they gradually diverge and divide the two great watersheds of this portion of the country, the Waikato flowing to the north into Lake Taupo, and the Whangaehu to join the sea in the south. There is, I believe, no place in the world where two great rivers may be seen rising at an altitude of over 7000 feet in the sides of a glacier-clad mountain, and rolling for miles, side by side, down its rugged slopes, the waters of the one of alabaster whiteness, and the waters of the other as pure and as limpid as crystal, and each forming the dividing waters of an area of country of nearly 100 miles in length.
It had taken us nine hours to reach the ice caves, and as it was now late in the day we began to descend with all haste, in order, if possible, to reach the point where we had left our horses before nightfall.
As the sun went down the wind blew with a freezing blast, and as we descended precipice after precipice, and ridge after ridge, and the tints of evening crept gradually over the dismal sides of the mountains, our course appeared long beyond measure. When we got near to the immense mass of lava we had beheld in wonder in the morning, the shades of night overtook us, and it was with great difficulty we could pick our way over the rough boulders of the dark, weird gorge, which now looked like Dante's Inferno with the fires put out. We again struck the waters of the Whangaehu, and shining as they did like a white streak in the darkness, we were enabled to follow them up until we came to our camp.
We soon had our tent erected under the lee of a cluster of scrub, which served to protect us from the fury of the wind, which now swept in strong blasts across the scoria plains. Our camping-place was as near as possible in the centre of the desert, and at a point which indicated an elevation of 3000 feet above the level of the sea. It might, in fact, be considered as the highest point of the great central table-land, for it was here that the watershed divided, and flowed on the one hand to the north, and on the other to the south, as previously described. A drink of tea and a biscuit formed our only meal, and then we lay down to pass one of the roughest and most uncomfortable nights we had ever experienced. About midnight a great storm of wind swept over the plains, and dark clouds gathered over the heavens, and the rain continued to descend in torrents throughout the night. Fortunately for us, the few straggling bushes around served to break the force of the blast, otherwise everything would have been blown away.