Forty Thousand Miles Over Land and Water

It had seemed such a long day, and I went to bed worn out, and with my brain bewildered with all the wonderful things I had seen.

Monday, September 29th.—We were up at 5 a.m., and leaving Ohinemutu in a buggy to coach fifty-four miles to Wairakei.

It was a very cold morning with a wind blowing from the direction of the south pole. Passing Sulphur Point, we came to Whakarewarewa (pronounced about like this, "walk her over, over"), whose sulphur fumes from the numerous mud-holes we had seen rising in the distance yesterday. Then we travelled for some time beside Waikorowhiti, the "Whistling Stream," a mountain torrent that rushes through the Hemo Gorge. A few more miles brought us to Horo Horo. It is a high narrow ridge of rock, that sweeps in one unbroken line from the coast of Coromandel Bay to the east of Auckland, and ends suddenly here, standing out against the sky, as one precipitous line of unbroken rock. A slender stately column which distinctly presents the outline of a female figure is called by the Maories "Hinemoa." The natives think Horo Horo has the appearance of a mighty monster fallen from Heaven, and so call it Fallen Fallen. It reminded us exactly of the Palisades on the Hudson River, U.S.A. We had magnificent scenery all the way, ranges of mountains before and behind us, that only varied in shape and beauty; all clothed with the dull green or brown of the bracken fern. But the country was all so much alike, that I felt if I had begun a sketch at the beginning of the journey, I could have finished it almost as well at the end. The country was totally uninhabited and uncultivated, save for a few scattered Maori settlements, and these wharries were so like the coarse grass growing round them that they were hardly to be distinguished from it. They generally lay under the shelter of some hill, or on the outskirts of a bit of bush, and would be roughly fenced round, with some pigs or a couple of rough horses about, as the only sign of life. We saw but one white man's house, and that was only building, during the whole day. Now and again we came upon a herd of wild horses, who galloped away at the sound of our approach. The skeleton head of an ox fixed upright on a hill producing a most weird effect, and a gravestone by the roadside, marking the spot where some traveller's favourite horse had lain down to die, were the only other objects of interest we passed during the morning. There was a striking peculiarity in the way in which the ground was terraced into deep winding gullies, evidently showing the bed of some river, flowing in bygone ages.

The road was good-going all the way, except for a few "ruts," which required all "Mac's" care to avoid, as they were deep enough to overturn the carriage. When going over the edge of one of these we used all to lean over, to throw our whole weight on to the opposite side of the carriage, and watch anxiously to see whether the earth would hold or slip away from under us. Mac, our new driver, was a French Canadian, whose ancestors had come over with Jacques Cartier and settled in Montreal. We had no change of horses for the whole of that fifty-four miles' drive, and it was wonderful to see how skilfully he spared his horses, watering them frequently from wayside streams. We kept ourselves from cramped weariness, and saved the horses, by walking up the steepest hills. All the wooden bridges about here are laid with planks lengthways instead of crossways, and if they are rotten, there is great danger of the wheels going bodily through. Once this nearly happened to us, and we escaped with a shave; and again when a horse put his foot into one of the holes, and drew it out without breaking it.

We had luncheon at Ateamuri, under the shadow of the great vertical rock that stands 300 feet high on the plain, called Pohaturoa, or the "Rat's Tooth," from the jagged edges at the top. A Maori legend tells of a defeated tribe who fled to the summit of this rock, and were besieged there for a week, living on the roots of ferns, and hurling down rocks on their enemies. They found a pool of water at the top, and only surrendered after burying sixteen of their number, whose graves are still to be seen up there. Here we found our old friend the Waikato again, and we laid out our luncheon on its banks, under the shade of a weeping willow. Mr. Graham met here the widow of the chief who had given him Wairakei.

We coached on all through the afternoon, and towards five o'clock we turned off the high road, across a rough grass-track to Wairakei. Presently we seemed to be driving at random over stumps and bushes of ti-tree, and about to plunge down into a valley by a road leading down the side of a precipice. We declined to go down this on other than our own legs, and I think the horses could not have held the carriage back without being lightened of our load. In the far distance, in the hollow, a native wharrie, with two out-sheds, was pointed out to us as Wairakei!

Wairakei is the property of Mr. Robert Graham.2 Under the guidance of a native, he was the first white man who ever visited these wonderful geysers, mineral springs, and hot rivers. On expressing his admiration to the chief of the tribe, he was presented with Wairakei, for Mr. Graham speaks Maori like a native, and is very popular with them. I believe afterwards the tribe, as also the government, objected to this gift of the chief, and Mr. Graham made due compensation, and by purchase added 4000 acres to the estate. It is a most valuable property, with enormous natural advantages as a health resort, and only requires capital and enterprise for its future development. It lies on a flat plain surrounded by mountains, and already a proposed township has been described with imaginary lines. The hot mineral stream that flows through the plain has been made use of to erect two baths, one hot and the other cold. A large pool further on is used for the cure of animals, and the geysers lie in a valley two miles away.

Mr. and Mrs. Cullen were in sole possession, and received us at the door of the wharrie. He is the bailiff and general factotum about the place. An engineer, he speaks a smattering of eleven languages, and can turn his hand to anything. He has just erected the rough shed, with a row of stables on one side, and some extra bedrooms on the other; he has fenced and dammed the water for the baths, and will cement the bottom some day; he has made all the fences, paths, and gates about the place, and all with the help of one Irish boy, while Mrs. Cullen performs the work of three servants about the house.

The wharrie was a real native one, thatched on the roof and sides with the coarse native grass, and lined inside with "raupo"—rushes growing in swamps. There was a blazing wood fire of logs on the open fireplace in the general sitting-room, out of which three bedrooms opened, all furnished very scantily. We were in the rough, and thoroughly enjoying it under such temporary circumstances. I helped Mrs. Cullen to lay the table and spread the provisions we had brought with us—tins of preserved butter, Swiss milk and jam—and ran backwards and forwards between the kitchen out of doors and the wharrie.

We sat down to "high tea," Mr. Mac, our driver, joining us as a matter of course. The hut was light and airy, but I must say we suffered somewhat from the cold at night, the moon shining down through the crevices in the roof, and through the blindless and curtainless window.

Tuesday, September 30th.—I was up at 6 a.m., and, running down to the bottom of the garden, plunged into the warm bath. It was perfectly delightful swimming about in the hot, pale-blue stream, and then gradually creeping round the wooden platform to where the water became tepid, and then cold, till the final "cure" was under the shower-bath at the end! A cold stream is brought down on one side of the bathing-house, and the natural hot stream flows on the other, so thus you have a choice of every temperature. The mineral properties are the same as those at Ohinemutu, unequalled for the cure of rheumatism and all cutaneous disorders.

The waters are equally valuable for animals, as we had the means of testing. Our four-year old mare, the near leader of yesterday, was sick and off her feed. Mac took her to bathe twice in the course of the day, and gave her three bucketfuls to drink, and by the evening she was perfectly well.

After breakfast I got on to a rough pony called Molly, and we rode over the hill, through a track in the bracken to the "geysers."

Looking down over a green and well-wooded valley, we saw columns of steam, now dying, now increasing in density, and heard all kinds of underground rumbling and mysterious hissings and splashings. We tied up Molly, and descended into the little valley, through the undershrub of ti-tree, walking over a hot, spongy soil.

Terekereke Was the first wonder we came to. It is a large pool of dark blue water enclosed by black rocks, and encrusted with sinter. The ceaseless bubbling of the water above and below the surface gives it the more ordinary name of the "champagne" pool. Occasionally the action increases, and masses of boiling water are thrown against the rocks, accompanied by clouds of sulphuric steam, and then it quiets down again to its usual effervescent surface.

Tuhuatahi, the most active geyser in the valley, we arrived at next. Looking over into a fissure of the rock, we saw a small quantity of boiling water; and, even as we looked, we heard a distinct underground crashing. It was the first warning. We retreated to a corner which we knew to be safe, from the greenness of the vegetation. Another warning louder than before followed after a minute's interval, and was still more quickly succeeded by a third one.

It was the signal for the waters to begin heaving and surging, boiling over the edge of the basin, and running down the terrace on which we stood. It threw up a small column, and then one higher and still higher, emitting dense clouds of steam, in the midst of which we caught glimpses of a silvery column, playing to a height of ten feet above us. Detached drops were thrown up still higher, shining out from against the black wall of rock which forms a most striking background. We watched this boiling column anxiously, feeling that at any moment a gust of wind might scatter its contents over us; and then we looked wistfully at the reducing force of the convulsion, and the grumbling subsidence of the element within the crater, till the gentle lapping of the water against the sides told us there was peace within once more. Again and again we waited to see the great Tuhuatahi come forth from his cavernous depths, with always those same three warnings, those three underground grumblings and mutterings. They come quite regularly at intervals of seven minutes, and the action of the geyser itself lasts about three minutes. All around them were little embryo terraces, incrustated with pale pink, saffron and green, fringed with silica crystals; and the spongy rocks scattered about were coloured to a dark red, brown, or a brilliant orange, from the strong sulphur impregnating all that comes within its reach.

We crossed the boiling stream Te Wairakei (the same which runs by the wharrie), at the bottom of this volcanic valley. As we ascended we heard the continuous thud of the "Donkey Engine," which has a pulsating throb reverberating like the thud of a steam-engine working "in" the hill underneath us. The origin of the "Donkey Engine" has not yet been discovered.

From the other side of the valley we looked down into the mouth of the "Great Wairakei." It has a curious triangular crater of spongy masses of light brown sinter projecting out from the rock. The apex of the triangle is formed by a large incrusted rock, something in the shape of an arm-chair. Great Wairakei was not very active to-day, and we waited long before he gave any signs of life.

Then we wandered on to Little Wairakei, a blue lake concealed in a quiet corner behind manuka bushes; but this pale blue water is of a dangerous nature, being 210° Fahrenheit. Below were the mud volcanoes—several patches of creamy-looking mud. At every instant they bubbled up in little cones, bobbing up and down in the most comical fashion. Then there was the pool called the Coffee Pot, which literally boiled over every few minutes.

After this we had a terribly rough scramble of half an hour, through tall ti-trees, clinging to the branches down steep banks where the earth was quite hot. We had to pick our way across a boiling pool on loose stones, and climb over sinter rocks, whose crinkled edges cut mercilessly at hands and feet unless care was used, and then we found ourselves standing on a ledge literally surrounded by active geysers. Not one minute passed, after we had walked over the three blow-holes in the rock called "the Prince of Wales' Feathers," than they were playing away brightly in a tripled feathery spray. I sat down on a projecting stone, and feeling myself being scorched underneath, discovered I was sitting over a steam hole! As I got up Nga Ma-hanga, or The Twins, began to play vigorously. They have a large pear-shaped basin of sinter, divided into two portions, and resemble a huge Turkey sponge in their creamy perforated substance. They are surrounded by masses of white and orange silica, and explode in violent outbursts at intervals of four or five minutes. No sooner had they finished, than "The Whistler" began to be active and throw up from a black cavernous mouth, accompanied by a small water-spout, which acts simultaneously with "the Whistler," at intervals of ten minutes. We watched to see "the Boilers" perform. These from a rock-bound pool covered with green shiny algæ, partially separated by a narrow chasm, send up spasmodically a column of water from six to eight feet in height.

And then we began to feel that if we waited there any longer, with these geysers playing alternately around us, the ground might open beneath our feet, and ourselves be engulphed in a fiery furnace and pit of hell, so we scrambled away.

Afterwards we had a long hunt for the "Eagle's Nest," which is one of the most beautiful geysers in the valley. Wandering among the manuka, clinging to rocks, to support us over the crumbling surface, we found it at last hidden away amongst the trees. The nest is formed of long sticks that have fallen crossways over the cone of the geyser, and become gradually frosted, from the deposit of silica left by the action of the feathery spray playing from the same. It is so beautifully and delicately made, one can hardly believe it has been formed by an accident in nature.

We had to cross Te Wairakei to reach the opposite side of the valley to return home. In doing so we came to a quiet pool, where the hot stream opens out into a small lake. Here we sat down to rest on a large red clay rock.

"Rap, tap!" came from inside the rock, and we all jumped up. The rock was distinctly shaken, the ground under our feet reverberated slightly, and the echo extended to the neighbouring rocks. It was the wonderful "Steam Hammer." The thud of this titanic forge has been going on for centuries, and will continue for many more; yet the secret must ever remain a mystery. Should any one dare to unravel the mystery or tamper with the inside mechanism it will doubtless stop for ever. The theory at present started about the Steam Hammer is, that the sharp tap is caused by water rushing through some small aperture in the rock; but it is a very crude one, and when Wairakei becomes better known other more possible solutions will be propounded. At times the hammer is louder or softer, but we could hear it distinctly as we climbed up the valley on the other side, and with a favourable wind and clear atmosphere it can be heard on some days a mile off.

After luncheon the "faithful Molly" was brought round again, and the gentlemen mounted three rough-coated horses.

Half-an-hour's riding, going up and down small precipices while crossing some gullies, and a canter through the bracken, brought us to the Huka Falls.

The Waikato here is a beautiful broad river, flowing swiftly between low banks 120 feet apart. It suddenly runs into a narrow rocky channel only thirty feet wide. Imagine this enormous volume of water compressed and fighting through the deep trough; the fierce struggle at the entrance, the long green slide of the waters in their gradual descent, the angry, turbulent rapids where the channel becomes still narrower, and, at the last, the sudden shoot over of the mighty waters, between two large rocks.

We lay face downwards, hanging over the precipice, to look down on the Fall. The waters, as they fell over, took the shape of a mill wheel; it seemed as if there must be one underneath churning them into a foaming circle. Just at the edge they became that intense sea-green colour seen only to perfection at Niagara.

From the point where we were standing, we commanded all the changes of the hues; from their muddy colour in the river, to their pale green in the narrow ravine; from the mass of flake-like foam in the fall, to the dark blue of the pool into which they tumble. And here, as the river widens out, they eddy and swirl in a passionate turmoil, and are far on their course before they settle down to their even natural flow.

The Huka Falls have no great height, but it is the immensity of the volume of water which constitutes their greatest charm.

The story is told of sixteen natives of a strange tribe who came to visit the Huka Falls, and boasted that they could go down them in a canoe. The natives of Taupo dared them to try, and they embarked. One changed his mind at the last minute, and escaped by jumping out on to the rocks, but the others went over the fall, and were never seen again. Many years afterwards some fragments of the canoe were found jammed between the rocks; but not one of the bodies ever rose to the surface, sucked under by the current of the whirlpool.

Mr. Kerry Nicholls has recently tried to penetrate under the Huka Falls from both sides. He has conclusively proved that it is impossible to pass through, but he found a small ledge in the rock under the falls, on which you can stand with safety.

There is a cave lined with maidenhair and other ferns, difficult of access, and which was only discovered a few days ago. Mr. Graham had not yet been in it, and he christened it that afternoon after me, the "Ethel Cave."

We rode up to a high knoll, whilst the boy who had come in charge of the horses was told to light the bracken below, so that we had a splendid view of a clearing fire, the flames shooting up to an enormous height in forked tongues, and some raupo burning with a loud crackling. The wind was blowing our way, bearing us bits of blackened furze, and we retreated before the stifling clouds of smoke.

Then we went on to the Venus Bath, a warm pool of pleasant temperature. Looking through the clear depths, we saw the bottom, enamelled with beautiful green moss, and it is called the Venus Bath from its wonderful beautifying properties, which removes all freckles and blotches from the skin. We tested it, and it is quite certain that the hands we held in the water became much whiter. Mr. Graham and Mr. Davidson rode to a mile and a half further away, to see "Okurawai," the coloured springs—a collection of hot springs in pools that look like pots of red, pink, orange, and yellow paint, but C. and I turned homewards, the clouds and mountains foretelling rain.

There is no doubt that by nature Wairakei is intended as a great health and pleasure resort for "all nations," and that, properly developed, it will become the most valuable of properties. Mr. Graham also possesses the watering place of Waiwera, that lies to the north of Auckland, and on the shores of the Hauraki Gulf, and the Lake House, with some of the hot springs at Ohinemutu. If these three were worked together by one company, there would be a splendid future for them all. In Australia they have no summer resort, with the exception of Hobart in Tasmania; and round trips to the Hot Lake districts, organized from Melbourne and Sydney, would bring hundreds of tourists every year. As it is, with the numerous drawbacks of bad roads, indifferent coach service, and rough accommodation, they come in yearly increasing numbers. Properly known and advertised, and with the direct mail service that is now established between New Zealand and England, many would visit the Hot Lake district, escaping the rigour of the winter at home. They would come out to enjoy the glory of the New Zealand summer when the climate is perfection. At that time of the year all the baths and waters in Europe are closed, and Wairakei and Ohinemutu ought to become, in time, the winter Ems or Spa. The long sea voyage of fifty days or so would be no drawback to many invalids. At present Wairakei is almost unknown. I am only the second lady from England who has been there, and it is very little visited by the colonists.

Miss Gordon Cumming's prophecy that "this district will be a vast sanatorium, to which sufferers from all manner of diseases will be sent to Nature's own dispensary to find the healing waters suited to their need," will now at some no distant date become true.

When you think that the waters at Ohinemutu and Wairakei are so strongly mineral and medicinal that they can be said to be an infallible cure, with sufficient patience, for rheumatism and all cutaneous diseases, how can they help becoming the great world-curing establishment? Think of the fortune that alone could be made from the bottling and exportation throughout the world of the water of the "Venus bath," a sure cure for blotches and freckles, or of that of "Kiriokinekai," the Maori for new skin, another of the hot streams at Wairakei, which has a wonderful effect in restoring the growth of the hair on bald heads!

C. was very much interested, in a conversation with Cullen, to find out that he had accompanied the Imperial Russian Survey of officers, as an engineer, in an expedition towards the Indian frontier. He affirms that there is no obstacle whatever to the advancement of an army from Merv to Herat; clearly showing that the difficulty of Russian aggression on India does not lie in natural barriers, as has been alleged.

Wednesday, October 1st.—We left Wairakei in the afternoon, to drive ten miles to Taupo. The rain came on and prevented our turning off the road, by an orchard which although but just planted is already blossoming, so great is the fertility of the soil, to see Pirorirori or the Blue Lake, a sheet of blue water lying amongst the white clay cliffs.

From a great distance we saw the steam of the great and awful "Karapiti" rising up on the flat plain, with the uncertain action of these volcanic blow-holes. We arrived early in Taupo, being anxious to secure the best seats in the mail coach for to-morrow's drive.

Taupo lies on the shore of the lake, and consists of the Telegraph station, the Lake House (the hotel), one general store, and the neat white buildings, surrounded by an earthen outwork of the Armed Constabulary Force. There are about fifteen of these "A. C." stationed here. They were formerly established in defence against the natives, and are now employed as police and in mending or making the roads. Those we have been travelling over are mostly made by the A. C., aided by contracts with Maori labourers.

On this afternoon "the" store was closed, the proprietor enjoying the weekly event of the arrival of the newspaper by the mail.

Whilst C. went to see the chief of the A. C., Major Scanlan, I wandered along the shore of Lake Taupo, with "Mac," picking up pieces of pumice stone of beautifully fine texture and light weight. Their colours were lovely salmon pink, ochre, pale green, or a silvery pearly grey.

We shall be leaving the King Country to-morrow, and I must here say a few words about the Maoris. There are altogether some 15,000 in the North Island, while in the South Island they only number 2000. The large tracts of bare pumice country which we have been passing through all belong to the Maoris. The land is utterly useless to them, as they attempt no kind of cultivation. As a race, the men have a fine physique; and although naturally lazy, they are capable of vigorous exertions, as was seen during the years of the war. The women are treated as slaves, and are, as a rule, small and ill-developed. All agree in saying that the Maoris are a gentle, harmless people, with few vices, but contact with the white man deteriorates them, and they become cunning and untruthful. The fusion of the Maori race with the whites is impossible. The half-castes are said never to live beyond the age of forty. The Maoris are dying out, particularly in the South Island, where contact with civilization induces them to adopt European habits and dress, and the latter is the cause of the consumption which carries off a large proportion of them. Their land is being gradually bought up by the government or by settlers, and the introduction of this system has been most baneful to them, inducing them to depend on the sale of their land, instead of their labour, for subsistence.