THE TERRACES.
Te Tarata--Beauty of the terrace--The formation--The crater--A
sensational bath--Ngahapu--Waikanapanapa--A weird gorge--Te
Aua Taipo--Kakariki--Te Whatapohu--Te Huka--Te Takapo--Lake
Rotomahana--Te Whakataratara--Te Otukapurangi--The formation--The
cauldron.
When we had walked about a mile through the scrub, guided by the
stately strides of Sophia, we ascended the summit of a low hill
which looked down upon Lake Rotomahana, whose green-tinted waters,
surrounded by clouds of steam, shone with an emerald-like brightness
in the sunlight, while immediately in front of us the White Terrace,
or famed Te Tarata, burst upon the view like a glittering heap of
frozen snow just fresh from heaven. We were still some hundreds of
yards from it, with the Kaiwaka flowing below, and although at first
glance fair Te Tarata looked chaste and beautiful enough beneath the
golden light, it appeared as if her proportions were somewhat cramped
and stunted, and I began mentally to question the wisdom of Nature in
not placing the wondrous monument of her handiwork higher up on the
slope of the mountain which decked the delicate outline of the terrace
in a variegated fringe of green. To my eye, the crystallized structure
of pure white silica as it fell in congealed waves, as it were, from
the steaming cauldron above, appeared too flat, and required height
to add more effect to its grandeur, while the rugged mountain, which
formed its background, as it rose above a vapoury cloud of steam,
looked dwarfed and insignificant in comparison with the giant form of
Mount Tarawera, which frowned in silent majesty from beneath its spiked
crown, as if eager to annihilate everything that failed to come up to
its own idea of ponderous beauty. Presently we descended the hill on
which we stood, and crossed Kaiwaka by the canoe which had brought
up the ladies, and, after picking our way through a small scrub, we
suddenly came into the open, when, as if by the magic touch of an
enchanter's wand, the whole scene changed, and Te Tarata, gleaming
still whiter in the sun, rose in grand, yet delicate proportions high
above our heads. The white ethereal vapour wreathed its summit, like
a graceful summer cloud, the rugged hill which held Te Tarata, as it
were, in its arms, stood out in bold relief against the clear blue sky,
and Nature, true to the inspired genius of her marvellous creative
power, stood revealed in all her pristine loveliness.
I had seen the Himalayas and the Alps, the Blue Mountains of Tartary,
the Rocky Mountains, and the Sierra Nevadas--all these were ponderously
grand and awe-inspiring. I had sailed over the principal lakes of
Europe and America, floated down the Nile, the Ganges, the Yangtze
Kiang, the Missouri, and the Mississippi, through the thousand islands
of the St. Lawrence, and up and down innumerable other rivers, all
fair and beautiful. I had beheld the giant marvels of the Yosemite,
and stood by the thrilling waters of Niagara; but for delicate, unique
beauty, for chaste design, and sublime detail of construction never had
I gazed upon so wonderful a sight as Te Tarata. It seemed as if Nature
had created the wonders of the lakes and mountains of this fair region
with all the marvels of fire and water after the most enchanting design
of earthly beauty, and had then gone into the realms of fable and
romance, and thrown in a piece of Fairyland to complete the picture; or
as if the gods, when they called these sublime works into being, had
fashioned Te Tarata as a throne to recline upon whilst they gazed in
admiration upon the beauties of their wondrous creations.
As we looked upwards the whole outline of the terrace assumed a
semicircular form, which spread out at its base in a graceful curve of
many hundreds of feet, as it sloped gently down to the margin of the
lake. Then broad, flat, rounded steps of pure white silica rose tier
above tier, white and smooth as Parian marble, and above them terrace
after terrace mounted upward, rounded and semicircular in form, as if
designed by the hand of man, guided by the inspiration of the Divine
Architect. All were formed out of a delicate tracery of silica which
appeared like lacework congealed into alabaster of the purest hue.
Each lamination, or fold, of this beautiful design was clearly and
marvellously defined, and as the glittering warm water came rippling
over them in a continuous flow, Te Tarata sparkled beneath the sun
as if bedecked with diamonds and myriads of other precious gems.
Crystal pools, shaped as if to resemble the form of shells and leaves,
and filled to their brims with water, blue and shining as liquid
turquoise, charmed the eye as we mounted to every step, while around
the edges the bright crystals of silica had formed encrustations which
made them appear as if set in a margin of miniature pearls. Every
successive terrace seemed to spring up in grander proportions from the
one immediately below it as we approached the summit, not in formal
angular-shaped steps, but in flat-topped elevations, with rounded edges
and sweeping curves, from which the wet, glittering silica hung in
the shape of sparkling stalactites, which, interlacing themselves and
mingling together, formed a delicate and almost transparent fringe
which looked like a fantastic network of icicles, so exquisitely
beautiful in appearance and so delicately formed as to appear as if
fashioned by the magic touch of a fairy hand. Mounting upward and
upward where it seemed sacrilege for the booted foot of man to tread,
and where the snowy, crisp, silicious crystal formed a carpet-like
covering beneath the feet, we reached the summit, and sat down upon a
cluster of rocks which rose in fantastic shape upon the very margin of
the cup-shaped crater.
I found the crater of Te Tarata to be formed by a milk-white circular
basin, of 200 feet in diameter, filled to overflowing with boiling
transparent water, in which the clear azure tints seemed to vie in
splendour with the ethereal blue of the heavens. Here the hissing
liquid, in a constant state of ebullition, bubbled and seethed in the
form of a boiling fountain, from which a waving cloud of steam floated
constantly upward, tinted with the golden rays from above, and the deep
blue from beneath, while immediately behind the pool rose the steep
sides of the adjacent mountain, shaped so as to form a semicircular
wall, which rose from the opposite margin of the pool, striped by the
action of fire and water in red and white rock, and steaming as if from
the heat of the boiling fountain below. Around on every side a thick
vegetation of variegated hues bordered the splendid terrace on every
side; ferns, mosses, and wild flowers fringed every line and curve of
its graceful outline, and the crystal white, the azure blue, the vivid
green, and the golden light all mingling together, and reflecting their
tints over fair Te Tarata and the lake below, produced one of the
grandest and most charming scenes ever designed by the divine hand of
the Creator.
When we had feasted our eyes upon the chaste marvels of Te Tarata,
the ladies filed slowly away, as if spellbound, while we (the sterner
sex) walked leisurely down the crystal steps to about the centre of
the terrace, where lay an oval-shaped basin, about forty feet long by
twenty feet broad, filled to the brim with water of the purest blue.
In the midst of a small clump of _manuka_, which clustered on the
very margin of the terrace, as if eager to participate in its beauty,
we divested ourselves of our outward garb of civilization, and stood
beneath the glowing rays of the sun in the primitive costume of man
free and untrammelled, as when "wild in the woods the noble savage
ran." It was now that I fully realized that soft, soothing, magical
effect which one invariably experiences when devoid of all restraint,
one is about to partake of a pleasure which one has never experienced
before. To look around at the sublime wonders of Te Tarata, and then
plunge head first into the alabaster pool of liquid turquoise, and
to feel that the soft, pellucid liquid that had been for thousands
of years, nay, countless ages, building up that wondrous monument of
unrivalled splendour would wrap me in its warm embrace, and impart, if
only for a moment, its soft, soothing influence to the heated body, was
a pleasure, the anticipation of which only seemed to make me the more
eager to revel in its enjoyment. There was not a single speck to mar
the delicate beauty of the crystal basin, the blue lustre of the water,
nor the white virgin purity of the silicious pearls around its brink.
One glance at the enchanting scene around me, and, as I shot beneath
the shining surface, like an arrow from a bow, the soft, heated water
closed over me, and for the instant I seemed to be gliding into the
realms of eternal bliss,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.
The illusion, however, was only momentary, but I would have liked it
to continue for the rest of my natural life, and then, in default of
a better place hereafter, I would have been content to paddle in that
pool to all eternity, floating on its surface, diving into its depths,
and basking on the pearly margin of its brink. Its water was just
warm enough to render it delightfully pleasant, and it seemed to wrap
itself round the body in gently waving folds, while, as I glided from
point to point, streaks, as it were, of cold water would bathe the skin
with refreshing effect, and then a soft, tepid wave would impart a
voluptuous sensation of glowing warmth.[33]
When we had enjoyed the luxuries of the bath, we went along a winding
path fringed with bush, at the back of Te Tarata, when we came suddenly
upon Ngahapu, an intermittent boiling geyser, which burst forth with
a loud noise from the farther side of an oval-shaped basin, about a
hundred feet in circumference, and in which the heated, steaming water,
in a constant state of ebullition, kept rising and falling in great
hot waves, which lashed themselves into fury against the rugged sides
of the cauldron with a loud hissing sound, as a column of boiling
water shot high into the air. Right above this spring, on the side of a
hill, a transparent jet of steam burst forth from a narrow fissure with
a loud screaming noise, as if anxious to escape from its rock-bound
prison-house, and blow up the surrounding country. It blew, whistled,
steamed, and hissed, and shrieked away, like a fifty-horse-power
engine, and the terrific pressure, acting in some way upon the rocks
below, made them send forth a sound like the "thud" of a great
steam-hammer.
Passing along by Te Tokapo, a region of small hot springs, on the
margin of Lake Rotomahana, we came to Waikanapanapa, a small lake,
surrounded by gaunt-looking _manuka_ scrub, and whose thick, slimy
water, of the colour of green sealing-wax, gave it the appearance of a
veritable slough of despond.
Just beyond Waikanapanapa we entered a rocky, desolate gorge, seamed
and fissured in every direction with streams of hot water, while
jets of hissing steam, bursting from its sides, marked the site of
subterranean fires. The heated, quaking soil was covered with thick
deposits of silica, sulphur, oxide of iron, pumice, obsidian, scoria,
and other volcanic products, and, with its sulphurous atmosphere,
fierce heat, and shrieking sounds, it appeared as we entered it like
a short cut to Pandemonium. The high hills on each side of the gorge
rose up in quaint, fantastic shape, and their rugged sides, composed
of shattered volcanic rock, sent forth water and jets of steam from
a thousand fissures. There was something very wild, weird, and
fascinating in this strange place. All the huge rocks, boulders, and
stones had been pitched and tossed about by the tremendous action of
fire and water into a wild and endless confusion, and when we had so
recently gazed in admiration upon the delicate, tranquil beauty of
the White Terrace, it seemed as if we had got behind the scenes and
into the laboratory and mysterious manufactory where all the wonders
of Te Tarata had been evolved before Nature had sent them through the
subterranean depths below to rise on the other side of the hill in the
form of the marvellous "transformation scene" we had so recently beheld.
One of the most remarkable wonders of this singular region was Te
Ana Taipo, or the "Devil's Hole," a deep, circular aperture in the
rocky gorge, about forty feet in diameter, from which a column of
transparent steam burst from a small aperture at the bottom of the
deep, funnel-shaped hole with a deafening screeching sound, like
the voices of a thousand fiends. Never had I heard anything so wild
and so dismal as the human-like wailings of Te Ana Taipo, and, as
the thrilling noise went echoing over the hills, one expected to
see an army of evil spirits spring up around, headed by his Satanic
Majesty himself. Near to this was Kakariki, a boiling geyser which,
beneath a cloud of steam, lashed its hot waves about and foamed with
a furious sound in a rock-bound basin about sixty feet in diameter,
while in close proximity Te Whatapohu, or "Pain in the Belly," a noisy
intermittent spring, sent up its seething waters with a rumbling sound,
which seemed to suggest that even the "bowels of the earth" had their
pains and trials sometimes.
Scattered over a greater portion of this fiery wilderness were
innumerable _fumaroles_, all hard at work shooting out steam and
vomiting black streams of liquid mud. Some of these were round, some
flat, and others cup-shaped, while not a few assumed the form of a
miniature volcanoes. One of the latter formation, known as Te Huka,
spewed up a soapy kind of clay, which the natives eat as _kai_, and
pronounce it to be very good, both as an ordinary article of diet and
as a medicine in cases of diarrhoea, and I was solemnly informed by
Sophia that a native in want of a meal would make a splendid repast
from it. I tasted some of it off the end of a stick, and if one ground
up a slate pencil, mixed it with water to the consistency of thick pap,
and threw in a dash of sulphur and a little cinder grit, one would
have a very good idea of what Te Huka _kai_ is like.
When we had seen the wonders of the fiery region of Waikanapanapa we
came back to Te Takapo, a kind of platform of silicious rock which
bathed its white feet in the dark-green waters of Rotomahana. It was a
very picturesque spot, dotted about with springs, some tepid, some hot,
some boiling, and fringed with _manuka_ scrub. Here the natives had
constructed small baths, and there were rude seats formed of slabs of
rock where they could take their _siestas_ in comfort, after undergoing
the soothing effects of the warm mineral water. At this point we
embarked in a canoe, and headed across the lake in the direction of the
Pink Terrace.
Lake Rotomahana, like Tarawera, stands at an elevation of a little
over 1000 feet above the level of the sea. It is one of the smallest
of the group, and is about a mile long by a quarter of a mile wide. It
is, however, very picturesque, not only by reason of the unequalled
features presented by the terraces, but likewise on account of its
steaming shores, with their countless marvels, as well as by the bold,
rugged scenery which surrounds it on every side. It is the seat of
a vast thermal action, which spreads out to the base of the conical
hills which encircle it, and beyond which the towering mountains, as
they rise thousands of feet in height, appear to have been heated and
twisted about by the terrific action of volcanic fire, while the deep
gorges and dark ravines seem to have formed at some period or another
the channels for the streams of boiling lava. Everywhere around one
sees the wondrous working of fire and water, and, although these
tremendous forces appear to have nearly expended their strength in the
geysers, mud-holes, and _fumaroles_, and other active evidences of
subterranean work to be seen at the present day, there was no doubt
a time when the whole region surrounding this curious lake was the
scene of a widely extended volcanic action. There was a soft balmy
stillness in the air as we glided over its singularly dark green water,
which was in many places covered with large air-bubbles sent up by the
hot springs from the depths below, and it was interesting to reflect
that a capsize into one of these places would have resulted in one or
two of us, at least, being hauled out parboiled.[34] Our primitive
canoe, however, which was literally freighted to her gunwale, behaved
admirably. This craft, which had been fashioned, some sixty years ago,
out of a solid log of _totara_, about thirty feet long, was as staunch
as the day she was launched, notwithstanding the fact that she had done
good service as a kind of first-class privateer on the troubled waters
of the lakes during the Maori War.
We rounded a low point where was a large _solfatara_ named Te
Whakataratara, whose greenish, slimy water boiled up from between
enormous blocks of pure yellow sulphur and redhot-looking rocks of
pumice and silicious sinter.
At this moment the orb of day was shining warm and brightly over our
heads, when suddenly a pink halo in front of us seemed to dazzle the
eye, and in another moment Te Otukapurangi, the "Fountain of the
Clouded Sky," or the Pink Terrace, rose majestically from the very edge
of the shining green water of the lake in all its gorgeous beauty.
Now, I have attempted to describe Te Tarata, albeit but faintly, and
now that I have Te Otukapurangi before my mind it seems difficult as
to which to assign the palm of beauty. Both terraces are unique in
their way; both wonderful monuments of nature's grandest handiwork. It
seems to me, however, that in Te Tarata we have all that is divinely
sublime, ethereal, fairy-like, and lovely--a structure chaste and grand
enough to serve as steps to heaven. Te Otukapurangi, on the other
hand, has a rich, gorgeous, oriental look about it, which reminds one
of those fanciful creations we read of in Eastern tales, and which
were constructed of chalcedony, agate, alabaster, onyx, jasper, and
lapis-lazuli, studded with precious gems, and inhabited by beautiful
princesses, gnomes, and genii, and evolved from the fanciful minds
of those gaunt, dark-skinned men who, reared on the sandy deserts of
"Araby the Blest," carried fire and sword over the Eastern world, and
built up an empire which rivalled in splendour even the most wondrous
of their fabulous tales, which still take the mind captive, as it were,
and lead it away like an _ignis fatuus_, a fleeting mirage, or a fitful
dream. But there is nothing evanescent in the Pink Terrace; it is
adamantine in construction, and grandly beautiful enough to have graced
the approach to the Temple of Solomon the Magnificent, the Palace of
the Queen of Sheba, or the Mosque of Haroun Al Raschid the Superb.
The formation of Te Otukapurangi differs somewhat from that of the
White Terrace, but, like Te Tarata, it is semicircular in general
outline; but the successive terraces of which it is built up rise
more abruptly from the lake, while they are, as a rule, higher above
each other and more massive in appearance. Hence the deposits of
silica have assumed the same general formation, and each terrace is
gracefully and marvellously shaped, with rounded edges, which sweep
about in waving curves, as if they had been fashioned after one grand
and unique design. The various buttress-like masses which support
the fringed edges of the terraces bend over, as it were, and form
miniature grottoes, resplendent with festoons of pink-tinted silica and
rose-coloured stalactites, which appear to have been woven together
by nature into an intricate network, and then crystallized into their
present shape, which, when examined closely, is as varied as is the
whole design symmetrical and beautiful. Here the successive deposits
or layers of silica rock do not assume, like those of Te Tarata, a
wonderful combination of delicate lacework around the edges of the
terraces, but the silicious laminations appear even thinner, and remind
one of the corrugated surface of pink satin rep. On the wide platform
of each succeeding terrace there are flat, irregularly-shaped tablets
set in a fretwork of silica-like cords, while innumerable pools or
salmon-coloured basins, all exquisitely and quaintly formed, with
curving, shell-shaped margins, are resplendent with water of the purest
and darkest blue. It is, however, the variegated tints of this wondrous
structure which render it even more remarkable than the gracefully
symmetrical proportions of its incomparable designs. As we gazed upon
it, and the blue-tinted water came rippling and falling from terrace to
terrace in miniature cascades, Te Otukapurangi looked radiant in its
sparkling mantle of delicate pink; and as the golden rays of the sun
shot far and wide, it changed with every shade of light, with brilliant
hues of pink, amber, carmine, and yellow, which shone with a dazzling
and almost metallic lustre as they flashed and palpitated, as it were,
in the warm, glowing air, and seemed to vie in splendour with the blue
of the heavens, the green tints of the lake, and the countless bright
colours of the surrounding vegetation, which spread out far and wide
over the surrounding hills.
As we mounted terrace after terrace the mountains unfolded themselves
beyond, and Kakarama, and Maungaonga-onga, and bold Tarawera, towering
into the air, cast their fantastic shadows on the lake below, and as
we mounted still higher and higher towards the steam-clad summit, we
seemed to be ascending to some enchanted land of fable and romance;
and when suddenly the vapoury cloud from the boiling cauldron rolled
over our heads, tinted with all the prismatic hues of the terrace
beneath, and wrapped us in its warm embrace, it seemed as if we were
really entering some brilliant "castle in the air." Then, when we had
struggled through the steam, and hopped in and out of pools of hot
water, we reached a broad, circular platform, some seventy feet above
the lake, and stood on the brink of the steaming cauldron, formed by
a round alabaster-like basin, about a hundred feet in diameter. Here
the deep, dark-blue water, within a few degrees of boiling-point, lay
without a ripple upon its surface, which shone with the brilliancy of
transparent crystal, and beneath which the silicious deposits which
encrusted the sides of the crater, and assumed all the marvellous
and fantastic designs of a coral grove, tinted in glowing colours of
yellow, blue, and pink, looked exquisitely delicate and brilliant
beneath the golden light of the sun, which, shooting through the clear,
transparent liquid with a vivid power, sent its glittering shafts far
down into the grotto-like recesses, which appeared beautiful and
fantastic enough to serve as the abode of fairies, gnomes, and genii.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 33: The spring of Te Tarata is an intermittent geyser, which,
during its active intervals, throws up a column of water to a height
of over 100 feet. The crater is, however, always overflowing, and the
water, which is highly charged with silica, has by a gradual process
of deposition, extending probably over a long period, formed the
present system of terraces. The temperature of the water varies from
boiling-point to 70° Fahr. at the foot of the terrace, the summit of
which is about 80 feet above the level of the lake. The geyser is said,
by the natives, to be most active during the prevalence of easterly
gales.]
[Footnote 34: The term _Rotomahana_ means, literally, "hot lake." The
mean temperature of the water is about 80° Fahr. In the vicinity of the
hot springs, beneath its surface, it rises frequently to 100° Fahr.]