ASCENT OF RUAPEHU.
(_First Day._)
Approaching the mountain--A field for research--Physical and
geological features--Plan of attack--Curious icicles--A lava
barrier--Natives in the distance--Horse camp--Scoria hills and lava
ridges--The start for the snow-line--Up the great spur--Head of the
spur--Our camp--A wind-storm--Ruapehu by night--A picture of the
past--Waiting for sunrise--Sunrise.
When we were clear of the rugged gorges of Tongariro, we rode leisurely
across the beautiful open plain which separates the tapued mountain
from its colossal neighbour, Ruapehu. The calm, blue heavens were
unflecked by a single cloud, the sun rose bright and clear, and we
heartily welcomed its genial warmth, after the terrific cold we had
experienced during the previous night. Nothing could exceed the grand
and unique scenery as we rode on our way. On our right rose Tongariro,
its great steam-cloud radiant with tints of gold beneath the morning
light, the dark reddish hue of its scoria-strewn sides mingling with
the bright green of the vegetation, and producing the most charming
effects of light and shade. The plain over which we rode sparkled with
glittering icicles; the Mangatoetoe, a broad, rapid, boulder-strewn
stream, wound rapidly down its centre, like a silver snake, on its
course to join the Waikato; while right in front the long scoria slopes
of Ruapehu, rising gradually from the plains around, swept upward,
and upward, and upward, until they joined the ice-bound pinnacles
above, and mingled with the broad expanse of frozen snow which clothed
the summit of the stupendous mountain, and stretched far down its
rock-bound sides. The level plain separating Tongariro from Ruapehu was
not more than five miles across between the wide-spreading bases of
the two mountains, and, as we gradually approached towards the latter,
its gigantic proportions became every moment more distinctly visible.
The low scoria slopes which stretched far and wide around its enormous
base, and swept for miles out into the adjacent plains, merged, as we
approached nearer, into high, undulating hills, which changed, as they
rose higher and higher, into rocky spurs. The winding valleys were
transformed, as they mounted up the mountain, into enormous, lava-bound
ravines. Above these, again, steep precipitous slopes rose one above
the other. Jagged rocks, which marked the site of ancient craters,
stood out against the sky, until colossal peaks, shooting high above
all, stretched themselves across the towering summit of the mountain.
The whole aspect of Ruapehu, as it rose in all its grandeur above the
surrounding table-land, beautiful in ice, snow, and sunshine, was so
stupendous and romantically beautiful that we felt as if we had been
suddenly transported among the Alps of Switzerland.
[Illustration: MOUNT RUAPEHU.
_Page 200._]
In describing the physical and geological features of Ruapehu, I will
only treat these subjects briefly at this stage, and only with a view
of affording a general idea of the great mountain, the description of
which will be more fully dealt with when describing the ascent of its
northern peak and the exploration of the sources of the Wangaehu and
Waikato Rivers on its eastern side. As during these two ascents we
accomplished considerably over 10,000 feet of actual climbing over its
surface, we had a good opportunity of examining this colossal monument
of plutonic fires, and judging from the magnitude of the results of
igneous action we then beheld, both in wonder and admiration, there
can be no doubt that there is no better or more interesting field for
geological research than that afforded by this marvellous centre of
extinct volcanic forces.
Ruapehu is situated immediately in the centre of the great table-land
which forms the most elevated portion of the North Island, and in the
very heart, as it were, of the extensive system of extinct volcanic
cones, which constitutes one of the most remarkable and interesting
features of this division of the country. The mountain, which takes
rank among the largest extinct volcanoes in the world, assumes the
form of an enormous truncated cone, with a far-reaching base of oblong
form, and which gradually narrows towards the summit, at which point
the mountain is nearly a mile in length from its northern to its
southern peak. Its base, if calculated from where it springs from the
level plains, may be estimated at about sixty miles in circumference.
At each end of the mountain are two colossal cone-shaped peaks, and
between them the minor peaks rise up in fantastic shapes, which change
in outline and assume varying proportions with almost magical effect,
as the mountain is beheld from different points of view. In fact, it
is the succession of magnificent scenery thus produced which forms
one of the grandest features of this marvellous monument of volcanic
forces. For the greater part, the country surrounding Ruapehu is
entirely open, and consequently the grand mountain is seen to wonderful
advantage as it towers majestically to the skies. Immediately to the
north are the Tongariro and Waimarino Plains, to the east is the
Rangipo Table-land, in the centre of which, and stretching down the
sides of the huge mountain, is the Onetapu Desert--a vast expanse of
scoria, covering some fifty square miles--while to the south are the
Murimotu Plains. On its lower northern and eastern slopes the mountain
gives life to a vegetation in all respects similar to that found on
Tongariro, but on its southern and western sides a primeval forest, in
which the trees are of colossal growth, creeps almost up to the edge of
the snow-line. To really realize the magnitude of this mountain king
of the North Island, one must stand on its summit and look down upon
its scoria-strewn base, covering millions of acres, explore its deep,
rugged gorges, and examine the stupendous deposits of trachytic lava
which lie in a strata of enormous thickness upon its sides, or roll
down like crystallized rivers of rock from the extinct craters of the
mountain, now spreading over the plains, now rising above the surface
of the ground in the form of enormous, crenated ridges, which look like
the walls of embattled strongholds. There can be no doubt whatever that
at some remote period Ruapehu must have formed the principal centre
of volcanic action in the North Island. It is of course impossible to
define at what period the enormous mountain began, or even terminated,
its eruptive state; but I am of opinion, as suggested in a previous
chapter, that it rose into being after the extinction and subsequent
subsidence of the great crater-basin now occupied by Lake Taupo.
Ruapehu, unlike Tongariro, is not a true scoria cone in the sense in
which the latter mountain may be classed, but a gigantic crater of
elevation, which during its volcanic outbursts sent forth showers of
ashes and rivers of lava which spread themselves for miles around the
base of the mountain, while the surrounding region over a vast area
was upheaved by the elevatory force of the stupendous fires as they
burst forth from the great volcanic vent now crowned with glaciers and
perpetual snow.
[Illustration: SUMMIT OF RUAPEHU.]
Whilst we were resting to give our half-starved horses a feed of
tussock grass, I went out into the plains to sketch the great mountain,
as from the position where we were it presented one of its most
beautiful aspects. From this point it bore exactly ten degrees east
of south, the altitude of the Mangatoetoe stream at the foot of the
mountain where we were being 3450 feet above the level of the sea. We
had selected this position from which to make the ascent as it was the
best place to reach the great northern peak, which forms the highest
point of Ruapehu. This grandly beautiful pinnacle, with its glittering
mantle of snow sweeping down its sides, towered far up to the skies,
its summit being crowned with what appeared to be an oblong mass
of rock, which assumed, from the aspect from which we viewed it, a
singular resemblance to what is known in heraldic science as the "cap
of maintenance." This grand crown, placed dexterously by the hand of
nature upon the very topmost summit of the great peak, was a remarkable
and conspicuous object, and as its ice-bound sides glittered beneath
the sun, it appeared as if set with gems. Right from the very top of
this portion of the mountain, its precipitous sides and long, rolling
slopes stretched down to the very foot of the plains, and it did not
take us long to see that it would be impossible to make the ascent and
descent from where we were in a single day. We therefore determined to
ride our horses as far up the low spurs as we could, tether our animals
in a convenient spot, carry our tent and other necessary equipage up to
the snow-line, camp there for the night, and make the final ascent on
the following day.
There was a small clump of forest growing a considerable distance up
the scoria ridges, and as this was the only belt of vegetation of the
kind on our track, we determined to direct our course to it, in the
hope of finding water and a suitable camping-place for our horses. Our
route now lay over low scoria ridges, which were intersected in every
direction by winding, boulder-strewn gullies, which evidently during
the wet season and the melting of the snows formed, with the deep
creeks, the principal channels of the watershed of the mountain, as it
distributed itself from the heights above over the low country. Upon
the sides of these gullies, and clustering about the vast deposits of
scoria, grew a luxuriant vegetation of dwarfed alpine shrubs, while
wherever the sides of the gullies were obscured from the sun the thick
white frost, which had wrapped the country in its icy mantle on the
previous night, rose up from the ground in the form of thick icicles,
from two to three inches in length. These icicles, like those which
covered the Waihohonu Valley, were the most curious I had ever seen.
They rose from the small, disintegrated scoria, which everywhere
covered the ground, almost in the shape of a plant with a straight stem
and a fringed top; and, while some stood alone, others were clustered
together, forming a thick mass of ice. It seemed, indeed, as if the
moisture which had literally saturated the ground during the heavy
rains we had experienced had been drawn up to the surface by the frost
by a kind of capillary attraction, which had produced these miniature
plants of ice.
When we arrived at the small picturesque bush of _towai_-trees, we
found that there was but little or no feed in its vicinity, so we only
halted here for a short time to explore the surrounding country. On
our right were the level plains and sinuous ridges over which we had
ridden, while at some distance to our left an enormous lava ridge, like
a ruined wall, cut off all further view to the south. We cut a couple
of alpenstocks and a flagstaff, and next determined to take our horses
still further up the mountain, to a a point where we could see the last
sign of the dwarf vegetation, some of the plants of which we found our
animals would eat, in default of anything better.
As we made a fresh start, we saw a party of mounted natives riding
along the track below, and whilst we hid our horses in a gully, we
crawled to the top of a ridge and watched carefully, to see whether
they would pick up our tracks. Fortunately, however, they passed on,
riding hard along the track which passes through the Tongariro Plains
into the heart of the King Country.
At an elevation of 4450 feet, and at the very edge of the last patch of
dwarfed plants that grew upon the desert-like expanse, we found a small
oasis between two scoria hills, bounded on the left by the rugged lava
ridge which formed the backbone, as it were, of the long, sweeping spur
up which we had come. Here a few stunted shrubs and clumps of tussock
grass struggled for life amidst masses of lava and scoria sand. We knew
that we would have to leave our horses tethered here for something
like thirty-six hours without water, whilst we did the rest of the
mountain, and we calculated that, with the aid of the few straggling
shrubs and bunches of tussock, there would be just sufficient food to
keep the animals from starvation during that time, although we had a
kind of secret conviction that the chances were immensely in favour of
the latter result.
After we had secured our horses in the small oasis, we went out to
explore the country ahead. In every position along the steep incline up
which we had to make our way we saw nothing but enormous scoria hills,
stretching far and wide on every side, and which rose in long, steep
ascents to the snow-line of the mountain. In every direction stupendous
ridges of black trachytic lava cropped up above the surface, broken,
rugged, and sharp, as if they had boiled up during some terrific
volcanic convulsion, and then suddenly congealed into the most curious
and fantastic shapes. Some of the enormous lava ridges, of a black
metallic lustre, flowed down, as it were, from the very summit of the
mountain, and stretched for miles in length over the desert below.
At an altitude of 5500 feet we came to an enormous deposit of lava
raising up the surface of the spur in the form of a large cluster
of rocks, and on one side of which there was a sheer descent into a
lava-bound ravine of 200 feet. This was a good mile and a half away
from where we had left our horses, but as the ascent was gradual
we determined to pack the animals with the tent and blankets up to
this point, and, after taking them back to the oasis, carry the camp
equipage on our own shoulders up to the snow-line, where we had
resolved to camp for the night, in order to be able to begin the final
ascent to the summit of the great peak at daylight on the morrow. It
was late in the day when we had finally carried out this arrangement,
and, after packing ourselves with the tent, blankets, and all other
necessaries to the extent of about twenty-five pounds each, we set off
to climb the long, dreary spur, which mounted steeply upward until it
lost itself in the region of eternal snow.
Heavily laden and unused as we were to the burdens of professional
pack-horses, we found the climbing both trying and monotonous. The
long, dismal expanse which formed the spur up which our course lay
was devoid of all vegetation. Our feet sank deeply into the shifting
scoria, which, fractured into small pieces, covered the sides of
the mountain for miles around in a dark-grey deposit, which looked
intensely dreary as the sun sank to rest and a cold, cutting wind swept
down from the snow-crowned glaciers above us.
At 5800 feet enormous stones lay strewn about the ground, and we
crossed the lower part of a deep lava ravine which wound high up into
the side of the great peak above, and ended in a precipitous bluff,
where we saw what at first sight appeared to be enormous caves, with a
frozen waterfall sticking out of them. It occurred to us that if they
were really rocky caves, as they seemed to be, we might find shelter in
them for the night from the freezing blast, so we toiled onward with
our heavy burdens to an altitude of 6200 feet, when the caves turned
out to be nothing more than two enormous holes in the rocky side of
the mountain, and to reach which it would have required the skill of
a well-trained monkey, as they had been placed by the fickle hand of
nature high up at the end of a tremendous ravine, which fell with a
sheer descent of hundreds of feet beneath the precipice on which we
stood, and whose steep, rugged sides, built of horizontal layers of
lava rock, appeared to have been twisted and distorted by some terrific
volcanic convulsion.
At this elevation the whole canopy of snow which covered the summit
of the mountain came down almost to our feet, while enormous masses
of ice and long, ponderous icicles hung in shining festoons over the
frowning precipices above. We were now nearly at the head of the great
spur along which we had come, and beyond which the tall peaks of the
mountain still shot up to a height of nearly 4000 feet above us. The
spur at this point was bounded by the great ravine before alluded to,
while on the other it fell with a steep descent into a deep, winding
valley, beyond which the scoria hills rolled in endless confusion down
to the wide plain below. At this point the mountain was strewn in
every direction with dark boulders of trachytic rock, many of which
were of stupendous size, and as they were scattered about pell-mell in
the most fantastic way, we seemed to have entered a weird graveyard
sacred to the memory of mountain giants. The scoria ridges around us
were absolutely bare, and their dark outline had a desolate look, as
if some fiery wind had swept over them and blasted every sign of life.
The shades of evening now closed around us, and although the wind blew
in strong blasts from the south, which chilled our blood, we hailed
its icy breath with as much cheerfulness as we had done the genial
warmth of the sun during the day, as we knew that whilst it remained
in that quarter we should have fine weather, and would be able to make
the long-wished-for ascent to the summit on the morrow; but if, on
the other hand, it should happen to shift into its old quarter, the
storm-clouds would sweep down upon us, and put us in an unpleasant and
even dangerous predicament.
We determined to make this dreary locality our camping-place for the
night, and by the aid of the alpenstocks and the flagstaff we had
brought up with us we managed to partially erect our tent under the
lee of a big boulder. But before doing so, in order to prepare a space
in which to lie down, we had to clear away the snow and thick coating
of frost-like icicles that covered the ground, and then, in order to
keep ourselves in position, as the ground was so steep, we formed a
square of large stones just big enough to hold us, and in this we laid
our blankets. The alpenstocks were arranged in the form of a triangle
at the outside end, the flagstaff was placed at the apex, and then
jammed down in a sloping way under the boulder, and over this the tent
was thrown, its sides being secured by a border of heavy stones. In
this way there was just room enough for us to crawl inside. I mention
these particulars because thereby hangs a tale. We had carried up just
sufficient wood to make a small fire to boil the tea, and which we
accomplished, after great difficulty, behind the lee of a boulder. In
fact, nothing could be done unless under the shelter of one of these
enormous stones; to go to the windward side was simply to have the
chilling blasts pass through one like a knife, and to be half blinded
with scoria sand.
If I were to live for a thousand years, no waning of the intellectual
powers could cause me to entirely forget the night we passed on
Ruapehu. It is true we felt more secure than when camped in the wild
regions of Tongariro, for we knew that the natives would not molest
us at that altitude, as they have a tradition that when a man goes
up Ruapehu he never comes down again; but, so far as comfort was
concerned, the weird lava-bound Waihohonu Valley, with its legends
of _taniwhas_ and evil demons, was a perfect paradise and "happy
hunting-ground" in comparison with the wild, snowy region, where we
were now camped. Our bed was, of course, very rough, and two big
particles of trachytic rock formed our pillows; but all this would have
passed muster, and calm, refreshing sleep would have come to us, if it
had not been for the fact that the loose scoria would keep slipping
and sliding from under us as we lay on our steep incline. Although the
moon shone as bright as day, the wind still continued to blow in heavy
gusts, which seemed to increase in violence after every lull, and as
it had already shifted a point or two still further southward, it was
colder than ever, while what was at one time the lee of the boulder
now became almost its windward side. Our tent at this stage swayed and
flapped about in an incessant way, the icy blasts blew round about and
underneath us, and in such a way that it was impossible to keep warm.
At midnight the terrible climax came; with a noise like the howling of
a thousand fiends, a terrific gale of wind swept over the mountain.
In an instant our tent was carried away from over us, the flag-pole
struck Turner a frightful blow on the head, and our blankets went
flying right and left. So great was the force of the wind that it was
impossible to stand against it. Blinding showers of sand and scoria
filled the air almost to suffocation as each successive blast swept
onward with terrific force, and everything was covered with a fine
scoria dust, which got into the hair, filled the eyes, caused a choking
sensation about the throat, and permeated every article of clothing. It
was useless to endeavour to erect our tent again, so we squatted down,
Maori fashion, in our blankets behind another enormous boulder, which
served to break the force of the wind. The thermometer now stood at
27°, and the gale continued to blow throughout the night with terrific
fury, sweeping over the ice-bound summit of the mountain, and then down
into the valleys below, carrying along in its course its dark clouds of
scoria and showers of gritty sand.
[Illustration: WAITING FOR SUNRISE.]
It was only a few minutes past midnight when our tent blew away, and
we therefore had to pass six hours under the boulder before sunrise.
The thermometer now indicated six degrees of frost, which was just six
degrees less than we had experienced on the previous night, but then
we had no wind, and we were now 2200 feet higher than then. Unpleasant
as our situation was, it had its attractions. Looking down upon the
surrounding country from the great height upon which we were placed
(6200 feet above the sea), a weird and curious picture presented itself
to the gaze. Immediately below us, and far and wide around, in front
and to the right and to the left, rolled an apparently endless expanse
of boulder-strewn scoria ridges, tossed about like the wild, chaotic
waves of a frozen sea, and covered with a complete network of dark
hues, which marked the winding course of gullies and ravines. Still
further in front, and stretching in a broad expanse far below us, was
a flat, white surface, like a snowy sheet of ice. This was the Rangipo
Table-land, covered with a thick coating of frost. Beyond, again, rose
a dark, frowning barrier, whose rugged outline lost itself in the
distance as it stretched away to the north and to the south. These were
the Kaimanawa Mountains, mantled in a cloud of mist. From the broad,
white plain deep down to the left rose the dark, majestic form of
Tongariro, around the summit of which its white steam-cloud coiled in a
feathery circle, looking like a silvery diadem beneath the light of the
moon, which shone with a glittering lustre upon the snows of Ruapehu,
whose lofty summit seemed to touch the star-lit canopy above, while a
magnificent _aurora australis_, the most brilliant I had ever beheld,
shot across the heavens from the southward, and lit up the sky with its
tongue of silvery fire. It was worth all the hardships we had undergone
to gaze on this grand sight alone and to commune, as it were, with the
colossal wonders of nature, wrapped in the stillness and beauty of
night.
The whole scene, and the peculiar circumstances under which we viewed
it, was one never to be forgotten, while it brought, as all grand and
impressive sights will, the most vivid associations before the mind. I
pictured to myself the many and extraordinary changes this wild region
had gone through to arrive at the condition under which we beheld it.
What singular and stupendous results had been brought about by forces
and agencies now almost extinct! Time was when the colossal mountain
on whose fire-scorched sides we were crouching, was made desolate by
tremendous volcanic eruptions, which sent forth clouds of smoke and
sulphurous gases, showers of rocks and ashes, and streams and rivers
of lava. Then lurid flames lit up the hills for miles around, and
darkening clouds of fiery sand swept far and wide over the surrounding
country. Then a line of volcanic vents, like beacon-fires, illuminated
the rocky headlands of the great mountains around, and every towering
fastness rose hot and quaking with subterranean heat. Then a change
came about--one of those mysterious convulsions of which we only
dream--the volcanic fires ceased, and the yawning craters were filled
with snow and the peaks crowned with ice, and, as the earth gradually
cooled down, a glorious vegetation, moulded in the most beautiful and
varied forms of the creation, spread itself far and wide over the
country, and nature smiled in all her radiance upon this magnificent
and romantic land.
At five o'clock in the morning the thermometer indicated seven degrees
of frost, and the wind still blew in fitful gusts, which covered us
with sand. The cold now was intense, and, as the moon had set, the wide
scope of country around us looked unpleasantly dismal beneath its pall
of darkness. Our outlook was towards the east, and as the time for
daylight approached we watched anxiously for the first streak of dawn.
Just before six the thermometer went down half a degree, and a damp,
chilly feeling pervaded the air. Darker, colder, and more dismal it
grew, until suddenly, as if by enchantment, the black clouds opened
in the east, and a fiery streak shot upward, bathing with its golden
hues the darkened sky. At first everything around--the sky, the
mountains, and the plains, the valleys, the rivers, and the lakes, the
shining glaciers and the frozen snows--appeared one uniform creation
of brilliant light, so brightly dazzling that the eye could scarcely
bear the splendour, but as the clouds of night rolled swiftly away the
glow became still more vivid, and as the blue mists rose in the valleys
the tops of the distant mountains looked like islands rising from a
vapoury ocean--an archipelago in a sea of gold. By degrees the bright
lustre of the sun was softened with tints, first of red, and then light
transparent crimson, changing through different hues, until the sky
assumed a deep pure blue, which merged towards the east into glowing
violet. The towering summit of Ruapehu took the colour from these
changes, and every portion on which the varied tints fell appeared more
beautiful than it had ever appeared before. The whole aspect of this
sudden transformation from night into day was indescribably grand,
and as the glowing sun warmed our nearly frozen limbs we seemed to
gain fresh life and energy from the fact that another glorious day had
dawned upon the earth.