FOREST COUNTRY.
The start from Karioi--On the track--Te Wheu maps the country--The
primeval solitude--Terangakaika Forest--The flora--Difficulties
of travel--The lakes--Birds--Pakihi--Mangawhero River--Gigantic
vines--Fallen trees--Dead forest giants--Mangatotara and Mangatuku
Rivers--A "Slough of Despond"--Dismal Swamp.
We were invited to stay as long as we liked at Karioi, but as we were
anxious, as the weather was breaking, to push forward as soon as
possible, we had to content ourselves with two days' rest, and on the
morning of the 24th of April we again set out. Having examined all the
principal natural features of the country for over 200 miles northward
of this point, I determined to traverse the plains to the southward of
Ruapehu, and then pass through the great forest to the westward of that
mountain, in order to reach the Manganui-a-te-Ao River near to its
junction with the Whanganui, and afterwards proceed northward through
the King Country, by the best route we could find.
We had heard from the Maoris that there was an unfrequented native
track, leading somewhere in the direction of the Manganui-a-te-Ao
River, through the region we were going to explore, but it was at all
times difficult to travel, and still more difficult to find, unless by
those well acquainted with the country. We were told that it led over
high mountains and steep hills, and across rivers and boggy creeks
innumerable. With these difficulties ahead, we endeavoured to secure
the services of a native guide to accompany us as far as Ruakaka, the
Maori settlement on the Manganui-a-te-Ao, but no one among the many
natives we treated with was willing to make the journey; all excusing
themselves upon the plea that they did not like to undertake the
responsibility of introducing Europeans into the country. At last,
after considerable parleying, a native, named Te Wheu, agreed to put us
on to the track for a consideration, so we set out without delay. As
it was clear that we should have to traverse the great forest on foot,
and have much difficult travelling, we abandoned our sumpter-horse at
Karioi, together with our gun, which, up to this time, had been of
little service, and reducing our camp equipage to the lowest, packed
our horses with the tent and blankets, and carried just sufficient
provisions to last us for three days, by which time we hoped to reach
Ruakaka.
We picked up our guide Te Wheu at the Whakahi _kainga_, and took a
westerly course across the Murimotu Plains, which extended, in the form
of a well-grassed tract of country, as far as the southern base of
Ruapehu, and beyond which a thick, and apparently impenetrable, forest
rose, in the form of a barrier of varied and beautiful vegetation.
Near to the southern end of the great mountain we passed the Maori
settlement of Ohinepu, situated on a slope, with low mounds on its
western side, on which were several tombs.
We crossed the Waitaki Creek, flowing southerly from the mountain, and
near to a native _kainga_, situated on a rock-bound hill, beneath which
the Mangaehu stream flowed like a moat.
From this point, after passing a swamp, we soon hit the so-called
track, which would have been impossible to find without native
assistance, hidden as the entrance to it was away in the winding of the
dense forest. Here the colossal trees rose up on every side, a thick
undergrowth of the most varied shrubs hedged us in wherever we turned,
and coiling roots of trees, and black, swampy mud, with here and there
a blazed tree, was the only indication of our course. To ride through
this was impossible, and we therefore had to dismount and lead our
horses.
Te Wheu accompanied us to the summit of a densely-wooded hill, which
rose 500 feet above the plain we had recently left. Before leaving us,
however, we induced him to sketch out roughly, on the ground, the lay
of the country we were about to traverse, when he gave us the names and
directions of the principal rivers and creeks we should have to cross.
He then told us that as he was known at Ruakaka we might mention his
name to the natives, but that he could not guarantee our safety, as the
Maoris of that part were true Hauhaus, and objected to _pakehas_ going
into their territory.
As soon as Te Wheu had disappeared on his homeward track we bent on
our way through the great primeval solitude. We had been so much out
in the open country hitherto, that the scenery of the forest seemed
at first like a pleasant change, but this idea was completely altered
after a journey through it of seventy miles.
The Terangakaika Forest, which extends from the western slope of
Ruapehu, forms part of the wide expanse of bush country which stretches
into the valley of the Whanganui, and thence, westerly, to Taranaki. It
grows to within 1000 feet or so of the snow-line of the great mountain,
and covers nearly the whole of its western side, as well as the wide
plateau near this portion of its base. When we had got well on our way,
we found this enormous wilderness spreading itself out over a perfect
network of broken, rugged ranges, which in many places appeared to have
been hurled about by the terrific throes of an earthquake. The soil was
everywhere of the richest description, and many of the colossal trees
averaged from thirty to forty feet in circumference at the base, and
towered above us to a height of considerably over 100 feet, forming a
grand canopy of foliage, above and beyond which nothing could be seen
but the blue of the sky and the golden rays of sunlight as they lit up
the bright-green tints of the splendid vegetation.
Among the largest trees was the _towai_, which here attained to a
larger growth than any we had previously seen, its enormous branches
supporting a canopy of small, shining, green leaves, giving it a very
beautiful appearance. Next to the _towai_ in size was the _rimu_, its
pendulous branches making it everywhere a conspicuous and attractive
feature, but it is worthy of remark that where on the volcanic soil,
formed by the decomposition of rocks of that kind, the _towai_
attained to its largest size, we found that the _rimu_ grew to larger
proportions on the marly soil we afterwards met with as we approached
the valley of the Whanganui. It was also in the latter locality that
the _rata_ likewise attained to its most colossal proportions; many of
these parasitical giants clasping the enormous _rimus_ in a death-like
struggle for existence. Besides these grand representatives of the
vegetable world, which formed by far the greater part of the forest
growth, we also found many noble specimens of the _hinau_, the _tawa_,
the _miro_, and _matai_, the berries of the three former trees being
scattered over many parts of our track in enormous quantities. In
fact, almost all the principal trees peculiar to the forests of the
North Island here flourished in wonderful luxuriance, together with
an extensive variety of shrubs and ferns, while mosses, lichens, and
trailing vines clothed the tall trees to the topmost branches in
gay festoons of vegetation, which presented the brightest and most
variegated hues.
With all these marvellous creations of the vegetable world around
us, we soon, however, found that travelling through the great forest
wilderness was both fatiguing and difficult. There was not 100 yards of
level ground, and the native track, what little there was of it, led
over steep precipitous ridges, from 200 to 400 feet in height, which
were constantly ascending and descending in a way which rendered our
progress not only slow, but difficult and tedious. The steep ascents,
up which we had to drag our animals at every turn, were as slippery as
glass with the dank humidity of the surrounding vegetation, and were
encumbered with the gnarled roots of trees in every direction, while
the descents were in many places so precipitous that it was impossible
for us to lead our horses without the risk of them rolling over on
us, so we were compelled to let them go their own way down, when they
would, owing to the slippery nature of the soil, slide down on their
haunches and never stop until they were pulled up by a boggy creek
below. These creeks, filled with thick, black mud, impeded our progress
at every descent, and struck terror into our animals, so that we would
often have to flog them across, when their struggles to climb the
slippery ascents on the opposite side fatigued them fearfully. It was
not as if we had only to encounter these difficulties now and again,
but they presented themselves in the most aggravated forms at every few
hundred yards of our journey, from morning until night, and for day
after day. Thus, amid solitude and shade, we pursued our onward way,
now plunging into the deep and gloomy chasms of the mountains, and anon
rising to the opposite ascent, till the distant openings in the forest,
restoring the welcome sunlight, revealed mountain and valley yet to be
traversed.
Our first day's journey brought us to two lakes, which Te Wheu told
us we would find somewhere along our track, and which would serve as
our first camping-place. A little before dusk we came suddenly out of
the forest into a small, circular, open flat, fringed with _toetoe_,
and covered with a luxuriant growth of native grass. On our left, a
grassy ridge rose in a semicircle, and all around the open space the
trees rose one above the other in the most attractive way, while a
variety of shrubs dispersed about in the most picturesque order, made
the place appear like a perfect garden. Right in the very centre of the
natural _parterre_ was Rangitauaiti, a beautiful lake of a complete
circular form, and the water of which, looking like a polished mirror,
was of the deepest blue. Beyond this flat, the native name of which was
Rangitanua, and separated only by a low ridge crowned with a luxuriant
growth of vegetation, was another open space, in the centre of which
was Rangitauanui, an oval-shaped lake larger than the former, but in
which the water was of the same limpid blue. The trees on the further
side rose in a dense forest growth, and as they came close down to the
water, they were reflected in the depths below with grand and beautiful
effect. In fact, the whole surroundings of these lakes appeared so
attractive after our long journey through the forest, that we seemed to
have got into a quiet corner of paradise.
We remained here the following day, as much to rest ourselves as our
horses, and we enjoyed the quiet romance of the place immensely. The
primeval region was a perfect elysium for birds of all kinds, and at
daylight the forest was alive with their warblings, and with the soft
note of the _tui_ came the harsh screech of the _kaka_; flocks of
pigeons circled about the tree-tops, and gaily-plumed parrots winged in
a rapid flight through the air. One of the latter birds, which we found
dead, had a green body and a light green breast, with a dark crimson
patch on the head, and a small patch under the eye of the same colour.
This was the first bird of the kind I had seen in New Zealand, and it
resembled very much one of the green mountain-parrots of Australia.
When we left our camp at Rangitanua it was in the hope that we should
be able to reach the Manganui-a-te-Ao by nightfall, but in this
calculation we were greatly out. We passed round the western end of
Lake Rangitauanui and entered a boggy, densely-wooded country, where
the trees, especially the _rimu_, were larger and more gigantic in
proportions than any we had yet seen. The dense forest here literally
rained with moisture, and, as we had to lead our horses, we were at
places compelled to plunge through swamps where the big roots of trees
threatened to break our legs and those of our struggling animals. We
crossed a branch of the Mangawhero, and towards sundown came to a
small open flat called Pakihi, surrounded entirely by the forest, and
where we found excellent feed for our horses. It had taken us seven
hours of hard travelling to reach this spot, and during that time we
had to cross no less than ten boggy creeks, besides other streams. The
Mangawhero River ran round the western side of this small oasis, the
_towai_-trees forming a conspicuous feature along the banks of the
stream. We camped at Pakihi for the night, the stillness of the place
being only broken now and again by the shrill note of the whistling
duck.
We struck camp at Pakihi early on the following day, but had some
difficulty in crossing the Mangawhero, which we found to be a broad,
rapid, boulder-strewn stream. The banks were very steep and slippery,
and when we had our horses down on one side we had great difficulty in
getting them up the other.
As we got again into the thick of the forest the vegetation became
denser, and the _rimu_-trees, seeming to increase in size, shot up
for over a hundred feet as straight as gun-barrels. Where some of
these giants of the forest had fallen across our track, we had often
to cut a way round them for our horses, through the thick shrub and
tangled vines, the latter of which impeded our progress at every
turn, by tripping us up, and winding round the legs and necks of
our animals like treacherous snares. The enormous _rata_-vines had
been very troublesome up to this point, but now we had to do battle
not only against them, but against the supple-jacks, which we found
growing everywhere in a perfect network of snakelike coils on the
soft, marly soil of the country we were now in. It was nothing to have
a supple-jack round the neck and a _rata_-vine round the legs at the
same time, while our horses would often get so entangled that they
would refuse to move until we had cut them a clear passage out of their
difficulties.
In many instances, owing to surrounding obstacles, there was no
alternative but to make them leap over the fallen trees in our way,
and when not able to do this, the animals would jump on to them and
leap down like dogs. Indeed, the tricks that they had to go through to
get over these and other impediments rendered them almost as clever as
circus-horses.
Another frequent feature we noticed was that where the great trees
had apparently been lying for some time, the seeds of other trees had
fallen upon them, and, germinating into life, had sent their roots
down into the very heart of these decaying vegetable monsters. In this
way it was no uncommon sight to see three or four different species of
large trees living and flourishing upon the dead trunks of these forest
giants.
We crossed the Mangatotara River twice, and after passing through a
very rough and broken portion of the great wilderness, we fell in with
another river, called the Mangatuku, and which we had to cross three
times in its winding course. Both of these streams appeared to drain
a large area of country, and so dense was the vegetation along their
banks that it was only here and there that a ray of sunlight shot
through the thick canopy of green upon them.
During this portion of our journey we came across a complete network
of tracks made by herds of wild cattle, and which led us about to all
points of the compass, until we found it impossible to make out in what
direction we should shape our course. We climbed a tree on the summit
of a high ridge, but we could see nothing but the snowy summit of
Ruapehu in the distance, while all around us, in every direction, was
an apparently endless expanse of forest. From this point the country
began to fall rapidly, and it was evident that we were descending into
the valley of the Whanganui. After nine hours of incessant travelling,
from the time we left our camp in the morning, we had crossed no less
than thirty boggy creeks, besides other streams, and now that dusk had
overtaken us, we found it impossible to proceed any further. We were
now in the midst of a swampy portion of the forest, which seemed like
a veritable "Slough of Despond," and which, judging from the way the
ground had been rooted up in every direction, appeared to be a kind
of wild-pig elysium. Throughout the whole distance we had come, the
country had been grubbed up by these animals, many of which we saw of
great size, and apparently of true wild-boar ferocity.
We were compelled to pitch camp in this uninviting spot, our horses
faring badly, as there was little or no food for them beyond what they
could get from the trees and shrubs. This was one of the most dreary
places in which we had camped during our journey. The night was dark
and wet, the colossal trees rose like spectres around us, the enormous
vines that twisted and twirled about them like coils of vipers, were
covered with grey moss, which hung in dank festoons often over two feet
in length, like enormous spider-webs, and as the rain poured down from
the branches above, the whole place looked as if it had been saturated
with moisture for centuries. We cut down branches of the _nikau_,
and made a tolerably good bed for ourselves after smoothing down the
ground where the pigs had been rooting; and we named the place "Dismal
Swamp" on account of the swampy nature of the country and the truly
dismal character of the whole surroundings. This camp was situated at
an altitude of 1700 feet above the level of the sea, or just 560 feet
lower than our camp at the lakes.