SECOND ASCENT OF RUAPEHU. SOURCES OF THE WHANGAEHU AND WAIKATO RIVERS.
Having satisfied myself as to the geological formation of the Kaimanawa Mountains, I next determined to trace up the Whangaehu and Waikato Rivers to their source in Ruapehu. Striking our camp at Mamanui, we took a south-westerly course for some distance, until we struck the Whangaehu River, which we found winding across the desert in the form of a wide, rushing stream. Once on the opposite side, we were again fairly on the Onetapu Desert, and we shaped our course in the direction of the eastern side of Ruapehu, where a tremendous ravine seemed to lead right into the very heart of the mountain. When passing over some portions of the great scoria plain, we found all of the plants and shrubs peculiar to the region growing together with dwarf trees, but all so artistically dispersed by the hand of Nature as to appear like miniature gardens, with winding walks that formed a perfect labyrinth. In fact, so beautifully and carefully designed were some of these parterres, The Whangaehu River, which takes its rise in the eastern side of Ruapehu, is one of the largest streams in the colony. Bursting forth high up in the snows of the mountain, it crosses the desert in an easterly direction, and then, with the fall of the country, takes a swift bend towards the south in its course to the coast, where it joins the sea, in a distance of about sixty miles from its source. From the point where it issues from the mountain, and for many miles as it winds through the plains, its waters are rendered perfectly white from the enormous amount of alum with which they are charged. We had been informed by the natives at Tokanu that the source of this river rose in an enormous black rock, or dark bluff, which forms a conspicuous feature near the eastern base of the mountain, and it was therefore towards this point we directed our course. The whole of this side of Ruapehu appeared singularly rugged, and above the deep gorges the enormous bluffs and precipices seemed to mount one above the other to the glacier-crowned peaks above. We struck into a boulder-strewn ravine, and, after following this along for a considerable distance, we found that it brought us to the dark mass of rocks which the natives had indicated to us. LAVA BED When we had travelled a considerable distance up to the head of this wild gorge, we found it impossible to get out of it except by the way we had come, When we had followed up this ravine for a long distance we came to another scoria spur, mounting upwards towards the mountain. About two miles up this the ravine widened out, with high lava walls on either side, while right in the centre rose a high ridge of lava, which ended in steep, sloping ridges of fine scoria. The great snow peaks beyond now came into full view, and at a height of 5300 feet the ravine opened out on our left, and over the flat terrace above a large waterfall fell from a height of 150 feet over a semicircular precipice into a deep, rocky basin, and, as the vast volume of water poured on to the great rocks beneath, it resounded through the ravine like the echo of distant thunder. We named this the "Horseshoe Fall" from the shape of the precipice over which the water fell. From the Horseshoe Fall we mounted still higher up a very steep ascent on to a flat-topped scoria spur, which immediately to the right descended into a rugged ravine over a sheer precipice of 400 feet, while to the left of the ridge, which we followed up, rolled the Whangaehu, at a depth of about 300 feet in the gorge below, and beyond which the giant form of one of the principal spurs of the mountain, built up of scoria and layers of lava, rose to a height of about 1000 feet above us. We were now high up in the mountain, and the cold wind from the snow-crowned glacier above swept over us with a chilly blast, while the colossal walls of rock, towering above on every side, cast their weird shadows around, and blocked out every ray of sunlight. We climbed for about three miles further up the dreary scoria spurs, the monotonous appearance of which was only relieved by the fantastic outcrops of lava rock, which jutted up above the surface in every direction, as if still hot and quaking with subterranean heat. One of the most remarkable features about these fantastic outcrops of lava was that time and the devastating effects of the elements to which they must have been subjected for hundreds, nay, thousands, of years, appeared to have left no traces upon them, the hard, metallic-looking surface of the rock being as sharp in outline as if it had but just got cool from the terrific heat of the stupendous fires, which had left their impress in every direction over the face of the mountain. Not a sign of vegetation was to be seen anywhere. BRIDAL VEIL FALL Leaving the Bridal Veil Fall to dart over its echoing rocks, we struck up the steep, precipitous ridge ahead, where we could still see the white waters of the river coming down, as it were, from the very summit of the mountain. Here the whole surroundings had a most wild and romantic appearance, and we seemed to have entered a dismal solitude where there was no sound but the rushing of waters as they dashed over the rocky precipices, or rolled among the stupendous boulders which lay scattered about the winding channels of the deep ravines. We pushed on as fast as we could over an enormous outcrop of lava, and when we had reached 6750 feet fresh wonders still seemed to call us onward. From this point of the great ravine we again mounted up precipitous rocks and lava ridges, one of which we had to climb hand over hand for a height of fifty feet. The river now, as far as we could discern, appeared to pour out of the snow as it came down in a rapid torrent through a precipitous ravine, along the side of which we crawled with difficulty. As we mounted higher the stupendous rocks, over which we had to make our way, were piled about in the most intricate confusion, and in one place we had to pass over an outcrop of trachytic rock which was broken into angular pieces, as sharp as flint, and fractured in every direction, as if it had been subjected at some period to the force of a terrific explosion. It required great care to get over this difficult point, as there was only room enough to crawl along between the wall of rock on one side, and a precipice of 200 feet on the other, which fell with a sheer descent into a big, circular, ice-bound pool, into which the milky waters of the Whangaehu poured in the form of foaming cascades. Here, around on every side, rose steep precipices, great buttresses of black lava mounted up in the form of stupendous bluffs that supported, as it were, the rampart-like heights above, while right in front of us, and towering to an altitude of over 1000 feet, was a glacier slope crowned with craggy peaks, which stood out in bold relief against the sky. This rugged locality was one of the most singular of the whole mountain. Right under the snowy glacier above us were wide, yawning apertures, arched at the top, and framed, as it were, with ice, in the form of rude portals, through which the white waters of the river burst in a continuous stream. These were ice caves. Climbing over the rough boulders, and then descending into a rocky channel, where the water mounted over our knees, we entered the largest of these singular structures, when a wonderful sight met the gaze. We found ourselves in a cave of some 200 feet in circumference, whose sides of black volcanic rock were sheeted with ice, and festooned with icicles, all grandly and marvellously designed. At the further end from where we entered was a wide, cavernous opening, so dark that the waters of the river, as they burst out of it in a foaming, eddying stream down the centre of the cave in which we stood, looked doubly white, in comparison with the black void out of which they came. We were now right under the enormous glacier that covered the summit of the mountain, and the roof of the cave was formed of a mass of frozen snow, which had been fashioned by some singular law of Nature into oval-shaped depressions of about two feet in height, It is a remarkable and interesting geographical fact that the waters which form the source of the Waikato River burst from the sides of Ruapehu, within a short distance of the Whangaehu, and at almost the same altitude. Both streams run almost parallel to each other for a long distance from their source, and then, as they reach the desert, they gradually diverge and divide the two great watersheds of this portion of the country, the Waikato flowing to the north into Lake Taupo, and the Whangaehu to join the sea in the south. There is, I believe, no place in the world where two great rivers may be seen rising at an altitude of over 7000 feet in the sides of a glacier-clad mountain, and rolling for miles, side by side, down its rugged slopes, the waters of the one of alabaster whiteness, and the waters of the other as pure and as limpid as crystal, and each forming the dividing waters of an area of country of nearly 100 miles in length. It had taken us nine hours to reach the ice caves, and as it was now late in the day we began to descend with all haste, in order, if possible, to reach the point where we had left our horses before nightfall. As the sun went down the wind blew with a freezing blast, and as we descended precipice after precipice, and ridge after ridge, and the tints of evening crept gradually over the dismal sides of the mountains, our course appeared long beyond measure. When we got near to the immense mass of lava we had beheld in wonder in the morning, the shades of night overtook us, and it was with great difficulty we could pick our way over the rough boulders of the dark, weird gorge, which now looked like Dante's Inferno with the fires put out. We again struck the waters of the Whangaehu, and shining as they did like a white streak in the darkness, we were enabled to follow them up until we came to our camp. We soon had our tent erected under the lee of a cluster of scrub, which served to protect us from the fury of the wind, which now swept in strong blasts across the scoria plains. Our camping-place was as near as possible in the centre of the desert, and at a point which indicated an elevation of 3000 feet above the level of the sea. It might, in fact, be considered as the highest point of the great central table-land, for it was here that the watershed divided, and flowed on the one hand to the north, and on the other to the south, as previously described. A drink of tea and a biscuit formed our only meal, and then we lay down to pass one of the roughest and most uncomfortable nights we had ever experienced. FOOTNOTES: |