Vine-like climbers are very common in this bush. There is one called the Rata, which grows to a larger size than the tree it embraces. Many tall, straight trees which were being slowly compressed to death by the rata, looked like huge maypoles clasped by monstrous centipedes.
I don’t know how the rata grows, whether it commences at the top of the tree and grows downwards, or whether it commences below and grows upwards. Perhaps it does both; anyhow, if you cut a rata off near the ground it will send down roots and re-establish communication.
A guide-book we had said the road was extremely interesting, calling our attention to the rata-trees and £20 orchids.
The chief interest which Mac and I found was with regard to our hats, which were continually in danger of being smashed on the roof of the coach. The bumps and rolls that we experienced along the Suez Canal were perfectly awful. Every moment you expected the vehicle either to capsize or else roll down a precipice. Most of the time you were holding on to an upright or a strap, like a cat to a waterspout. And all this time you could hear the driver telling a fellow outside that in summer it was as smooth as a billiard-table. Interesting indeed! Yes, it was full of interest, but the man who wrote that book ought to be hung.
The sun was setting when we emerged from the bush and descended towards Lake Rotorua. A short drive brought us round to the village of Ohinemutu. The hills near the lake are moderately high, and of a sad green colour.
This particular bit of Wonderland will not appal anyone by its beauty. But for the steam rising from numerous hot springs all is still and dead. The faint smell of the springs is not pleasant.
There are several hotels here for the convenience of visitors wishing to enjoy the baths. There are baths for everything; one will cure the gout, another the rheumatism, another the toothache.
One of the baths is called the Priest’s Bath, another one the Lobster, another Madame Rachael. The quantity of water and the temperature of many of the springs vary considerably with changes of the wind.
When you want a bath, you find that you have at least to cross a road, and generally to wander through the scrub to some wretchedly-built shanty open to the heavens at more places than its windows and doors. Here you undress in the cold, and if it is wet in the rain.
After a trial of one of these primitive baths, the arrangements for which are hardly comparable with those which savages would provide, it seems astonishing that invalids are not killed rather than cured. The whites of New Zealand have come into a legacy which they have not yet learned to use. When in a bath, put up your hands, and you are cool; put them down, and you are hot; always go home with your wet towel round your neck, and you cannot catch cold, are amongst the many other wonderful things which the new owners of the springs have discovered.