THE RANGIPO TABLE-LAND.
Along the delta of the Upper Waikato--Mount Pihanga--The Poutu
River and Lake Rotoaira--Boundaries of the Rangipo--Scenery--A fine
night--A rough time--A great storm--The _karamu_ as fodder--Banks
of the Upper Waikato--Another start--More bad weather--Flooded
creeks--Pangarara--Te Hau.
From Tokanu we followed up the delta of the Waikato River, and passed
through a swamp nearly three miles across, and where many of the muddy
creeks and crossing-places were up to our horses' girths in thick
black mud. The swamp, composed of a black alluvial soil of the richest
kind, covered a large area to the south of the lake, and stretched far
inland to the base of the low hills beyond. It was mostly covered with
a dense growth of flax and _raupo_, the less swampy parts giving life
to a luxuriant growth of _toetoe_ grass, which waved its feathery tufts
far above our heads. Further along our track the country rose rapidly
to a height of 200 feet above the delta in the form of a long ridge of
barren hills. From the summit of these elevations the land fell rapidly
along our course 100 feet into a hollow depression. This large area,
which had the appearance of having formed at some time a portion of
the lake basin, was covered with fluvial drift and enormous trachytic
boulders, but wherever vegetation could spring up the tussock grass
grew luxuriantly. Through the centre of this broad expanse the Waikato
rolled onward with many twists and turns over its boulder-strewn bed,
its winding course being marked by a luxuriant growth of tall trees and
other vegetation.
We passed close to the base of Mount Pihanga, which rose majestically
on our right to an altitude of nearly 4000 feet, and formed a
conspicuous landmark for many miles around. This splendid mountain,
springing from an almost level base, is the largest volcanic cone of
the Kakaramea ranges, and while its form is wonderfully symmetrical in
its proportions, it is clothed from base to summit with a dense forest
growth, save here and there where its clear-cut sides roll down into
the plains beneath in the form of fern-clad slopes. Immediately at the
summit of Pihanga is an extensive crater, the northern lip of which
comes considerably down the slope of the mountain, appearing like an
extensive land-slip. This mountain is personified by the Maoris as the
wife of Tongariro.
We had to cross the Waikato twice on its winding course, and next we
forded the Poutu River, a rapid stream with deep broken banks flowing
out of Lake Rotoaira, which lay a considerable distance further to our
right at the southern base of Pihanga, and between that mountain and
Tongariro. We had now entered upon the Rangipo table-land, and were
gradually ascending that portion of it known to the natives as the Te
Henga, a large tract of country covered with good soil and a luxuriant
growth of low fern and native grasses.
As the Rangipo table-land and the plains in its vicinity will enter
largely into my description of this portion of the country, I will
point out its boundaries, with a few of the grand natural features
which render it one of the most remarkable regions in the world.
The Rangipo plateau, which may be said to form the central division
of the great highland of the interior of the island, is in reality
considerably higher than the extensive elevated region immediately
surrounding Lake Taupo. While the latter has a mean elevation of about
2000 feet above the level of the sea, the height of the Rangipo is
over 3000 feet at its highest point on the Onetapu desert, on the
eastern side of Ruapehu. This extensive plane of elevation takes its
rise a short distance from the southern end of the lake, and extends
in the form of broad open downs for a distance of over forty miles,
when it merges into the Murimotu Plains as it falls to the south. On
its eastern margin are the Kaimanawa Mountains, at the extreme base
of which the Upper Waikato rolls in its winding course to join the
great lake. Beyond, to the north-west, the cone-shaped summits of the
Kakaramea ranges rise up, clothed with a dense vegetation, as they
slope gracefully to the shores of Lake Rotoaira in the west, and beyond
which there are again extensive plains fringed with dense forests,
which slope gradually to the valley of the Whanganui. Right in the very
centre of the table-land towers the magnificent cone of Tongariro,
situated in the midst of a cluster of lower mountains, whilst close
to it and separated only by a narrow valley, stands the colossal form
of Ruapehu, peak rising above peak to the region of eternal snow. The
greater portion of the soil of this extensive table-land is of volcanic
origin, and is formed principally by the decomposition of the trachytic
rocks forming the extensive volcanic system of mountains which border
it on its western side, and, with the exception of the desert tract
above alluded to, which is about eight miles across, it is covered
for the most part with a luxuriant growth of native grasses; while it
is intersected from one extent to the other by a perfect network of
streams and rivers, which flow generally in an easterly direction and
form tributaries of the Upper Waikato.
The scenery of this splendid tract of country burst so suddenly upon us
after rounding the broad base of Mount Pihanga that we seemed to have
entered a wild, romantic land blessed with the grandest and most varied
features of nature. To the north was Lake Taupo, with the island and
bold headlands tinged with the golden rays of the setting sun; in front
of us were the tall Kaimanawa Mountains clothed to their summits with
sombre forests, over which the shades of evening played in a fitful
kind of way, now lighting up the broad ravines, now clothing them with
darkness. The wide, rolling sides of the Tongariro Mountains swept
down to the plains in a series of terrace-like slopes, green with a
dense growth of fern and native grasses, which, mingling with the trees
on the higher ridges, gave the hills a park-like look, while, as we
rode onward, the white glittering summit of Ruapehu assumed a pink rosy
tint as the orb of day sank slowly to rest in the west.
Our course was along the Rangipo in the direction of Tongariro, some
fifteen miles distant by the way we were going to attack it, and as we
were acting a kind of strategic movement we kept out to the east along
the Waikato River, to avoid, if possible, being seen by the natives of
Rotoaira, who keep watch and ward over the tapued mountain. Everything
looked propitious for the assault which we had intended to make on the
following day. When we took up our quarters for the night, the moon
rose bright and clear, the stars shone brilliantly, and the snow on
the dark mountains gleamed white and beautiful. By this time we were
already 850 feet above Lake Taupo, or a little over 2000 feet above the
level of the sea; the air was singularly clear, and the thermometer,
which had marked 48° in the shade at 6 a.m., at midday had risen to
72°, and had fallen to 64° at 5 p.m., and as the wind was still from
the south, and there appeared every prospect of fine weather on the
morrow, we determined to start at daybreak to make the next stage for
Tongariro; but alas! "the best laid schemes of mice and men gang aft
a-gley."
The name Rangipo means, in the native language, "black, cloudy sky," a
term which in former years may have had some allusion to the volcanic
fires, with their clouds of smoke and ashes, which must at some period
have made this place appear like a veritable Pandemonium--or it may,
on the other hand, have originated in the terrific storms which still
break with unabated violence on this elevated region, just as they must
have done countless ages ago, when the elements above waged war with
the plutonic fires below. Be that, however, as it may, the "black,
cloudy sky" cast its dismal mantle around us, and our first night was
ushered in with a tremendous storm of wind from the north-east, and
a perfect deluge of rain. The creeks and rivers rose around us, the
Waikato rolled through its rocky gorge with a sound like the roaring of
a distant sea, and when daybreak came and we looked anxiously in the
direction of Tongariro, both it and Ruapehu were blotted completely
out of view by a dense black cloud, which hung around them like a
funeral pall. Up to the time when we arrived at the Rangipo, we had
enjoyed throughout our journey the most delightful weather, but this
sudden break was the prelude to some of the hardest experiences of
our journey. The rain poured down incessantly without a single hour's
intermission, and without a single break in the clouds, the wind
blowing a hurricane most of the time, and veering round to all points
of the compass, but invariably coming back to the north-east or north.
During the six days and nights which this storm lasted without a single
intermission, we lived on from day to day in hope, which was sustained
by scanty feeds of porridge and hard biscuit. We, however, managed to
keep body and soul together, but our poor horses suffered severely,
and it was the privations which they underwent on this occasion that
told greatly upon them during the whole of the journey. The constant
cold and wet to which they were exposed reduced their general tone to
the lowest, and while the grass at that season possessed little or
no nourishment, they had to seek their food always at the end of the
tether rope. To aid them a little, we would go into the bush which
skirts the Waikato, and cut the branches of the _karamu_,[45] which
bears a dark green leaf and clusters of bright red berries. Of this
the half-starved animals would eat voraciously, but unfortunately the
supply was limited in this locality, although we afterwards met with
this tree frequently throughout our journey.
During our unwilling sojourn on the banks of the Waikato the long wet
days and nights passed drearily and slowly away. Even on foot we could
not travel far, owing to the swollen creeks, but we used sometimes to
go out with the gun, and range over the splendid forests which border
the Waikato along its entire length and extend over the Kaimanawa
Mountains in the form of a thick and almost impenetrable growth. Here
we found all the varied _flora_ peculiar to this region growing in
the most luxuriant way down to the edge of the boulder-strewn river
and upwards for thousands of feet to the summits of the highest
mountains. Whenever we came to the many bends of the river the scenery
was beautiful beyond description, by reason of its rugged grandeur,
and the wonderful growth of vegetation that spread itself everywhere
around, as if gaining life and strength from the rapid waters as
they careered madly along. The river, in most places about 100 feet
wide, descended from the steep table-land in the direction of Lake
Taupo, with a rapid current, over enormous boulders of trachytic rock.
Gaining force and rapidity at almost every bend, its bright foaming
waters fed by the steep gorges of the Kaimanawa Mountains, the snows
of Ruapehu, and the rapidly-rolling creek of Tongariro, it pursued a
perfectly snake-like course at the base of the tall mountains, which
rose up almost perpendicularly for thousands of feet on its eastern
side, while precipitous walls of pumice rock and volcanic conglomerate
formed its western boundary along the table-land. The Upper Waikato
forms, in fact, the main channel for the watershed of the whole of the
Rangipo table-land and the western side of the Kaimanawa Mountains
for a distance of over thirty miles, and every creek and river in the
country through which it passes flows into it. At one point we came
to a splendid gorge through which the river dashed in low, silvery
cascades. On the opposite side from where we stood, the mountains rose
steeply upwards to a height of about 6000 feet, forest-clad to their
summits, with a dense and beautifully varied growth, where shrubs,
trees, and parasitical plants mingled themselves together in a perfect
network of vegetation. The banks of the river below us fell almost
perpendicularly to a depth of 300 feet, but so thick was the forest
verdure as we looked down to the bottom of the deep gorge below over
the tops of the gigantic trees which grew beneath, that it was only
now and again that we caught a glimpse of the rushing stream as it
flowed over its boulder-strewn bed. Here tree-top rose over tree-top
until the beautiful vegetation mounting upwards in a dense mass mingled
with the vapoury clouds that hung around.
When the storm had spent its force, a gleam of sunshine dispelled the
mists, and just for a time the summit of Ruapehu shone white and clear
beneath the rolling clouds. We had carefully marked our intended course
upon the map, and had resolved as soon as the weather should break to
make direct for the southern side of Tongariro, and ascend the tapued
mountain as quickly as we could, in order to give the natives, if they
fell across our tracks, as short a time as possible to run us to earth.
With the hope, if not altogether the prospect, of a fine day, we made
another start, but not before we had been compelled, owing to the weak
condition of our horses, to abandon half our provisions, and reduce our
whole commissariat to the lowest proportions.
Before we had journeyed a mile the bright sun disappeared; the "black,
cloudy sky" of the Rangipo again gathered around us; the winds swept
across the wide plains in terrific gusts; the rain poured down heavier
than before; the white snow-clad summit of Ruapehu disappeared from
view with the quickness of a phantom, and again the vapouring mists
obscured the great mountains towards which we were travelling.
We had to cross no less than five large creeks, besides smaller
streams, in about four miles. The tracts down to the creeks, which had
a steep fall of 200 to 300 feet below the plains, were broken about
and washed away into big holes and dangerous and slippery places, and
the horses were as chary of facing these treacherous inclines as they
were of going into the flooded waters of the creeks themselves. The
amount of water poured out by these creeks into the Waikato from the
Tongariro Mountains during a flood must be seen to be fully realized.
At all times the natural springs of the mountains keep them well
supplied, but when heavy rains descend, the whole watershed comes down
with tremendous force and volume. Wherever we crossed these rugged,
boulder-strewn streams, the banks were clothed with a splendid and
varied vegetation, which got denser and denser as their deep gorges
led up the steep mountain sides. I noticed in these creeks that the
boulders were mostly of trachytic formation, with smaller drift
composed of the various volcanic rocks peculiar to the district, while
embedded in their steep pumice sides might often be seen the charred
remains of enormous trees, which must have lived ages ago, when some
volcanic eruption swept over them.
We pitched our camp at Pangarara, a deserted Maori _pa_, situated some
distance off the plains, and at the edge of a secluded bush about two
miles from the south-eastern foot of Tongariro. The rain still poured
down as heavily as usual, and although the country was entirely open
between us and the big mountain that was to be the next scene of our
operations, not a vestige of it could we see.
We had up to this time been detained exactly ten days, through stress
of weather, whilst waiting to ascend the tapued mountain, the dull
monotony of our position being only relieved by the somewhat exciting
expectation that the Maoris might be down upon us at any moment. The
place where we were camped formed part of a wide area of country,
extending from the base of Tongariro in an easterly direction to the
Waikato, and embracing a large and fertile portion of the Rangipo
Plains. For time out of mind this part of the country had been a
native game reserve, principally for the hunting of the _weka_ and
a small white bird (I believe of the gull species) which frequents
the mountains of Tongariro at certain seasons of the year. This wide
territory, and a great deal more besides, was under the _mana_ of a
noted chief named Te Hau, whose _pa_, was at Ruaponga. This native
dignity was renowned throughout this part of the country as a man
of singular intelligence; but, like most Hauhaus, he entertained an
intense hatred for Anglo-Saxon laws and institutions. He appeared to
act the _rôle_, among the tribes of these parts, of a Napoleon the
Great, in the matter of territorial aggrandizement, and it is darkly
hinted that, during the war, Te Hau and many of the rebel chiefs
were in league, and that one day a terrible massacre occurred over a
disputed title to an extensive area of land over which Te Hau now rules
as lord and master.
A strict Conservative in all matters relative to Maori laws, customs,
and traditions, to have fallen in with Te Hau on his "native heath,"
and under the very shadow of Tongariro, which he guards with the
sacred jealousy of a fanatic, would have been about as pleasant as
meeting with his Satanic Majesty himself just fresh from the fires of
the burning mountain. We therefore had to keep not only a keen but an
anxious look-out, the more so as we had learned at Tokanu that Te Hau
was on his way from the south with a large party of his followers to
attend a native gathering at Rotoaira, which had been convened by some
of the leading chiefs to inquire into a disputed land title; and as
Pangarara was one of his usual camping-places, we were naturally the
more anxious to get away from the locality as soon as possible.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 44: This lament will be found in Sir George Grey's invaluable
collection of Maori songs and legends.]
[Footnote 45: For this tree, see Appendix.]