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.