A CRUISE IN A CATAMARAN.

Press, Volume XLVI, Issue 7392, 19 August 1889, Page 6

A CRUISE IN A CATAMARAN.

Bt the " Warrigax." It is quite probable that the giant volcanoes, Ruapehu, Tongariro, and their lesser brethren sent great streams of lava to the north-east, which were immediatelycovered with later eruptions of pumice ash and other debris. Or it may be (as some people say) that there is a great fissure in the earth's crust extending from Ruapehu towards White Island. Perhaps the lava streams took their course into this fissure. Anyhow, there must be some origin fo r the internal h eat which give rise to that lin e of boiling springs and steam-holes between the great volcanoes and tke Bay of Plenty. The quick and regular action of the geysers and intermittent springs suggests the idea that the heat is near the surface. It seems to be a generally accepted theory that in this region water finds its way from the surface to some centre of heat, and rises again boiling or as steam; and this simple theory is sufficient to account for nearly all the wonders in this " Wonderland of the South." Man has not made any deep impression on this volcanic region. Its first inhabitants—the Maoris—have stuck a few carved wooden posts in the ground and built a number of reed whares. The almighty white man has made a few roads, built several weather-board hotels and bath houses, and has established two rendezvous from which tourists can visit the wonders already discovered. Ohinemutu is the northern rendezvous; it is connected by roads with Auckland, Tauranga, and the south, whilst from it are shorter roads to Whakarewarewa, Tikitere, Wairoa, and other places of interest. Taupo is the southern rendezvous; but here the wonders are farther apart, though most of them can be visited in a short day's journey.

The coach from Tauranga landed mc at Ohinemutu late one night, when the first intimation I had of its volcanic wonders was the scent of sulphurous gases and steam. I was quite anxious for the light of day. It seemed to mc that night as if my summer's wanderings in the North- Island had been towards the hot lake region. The Maoris of the King Country had spoken of it, Auckland people had gone into raptures over it. Every guide book spoke of it. Cook's tourist agents advertise it in big letters, and Ohinemutu seemed the centre and crown of the place. Daylight came, and I saw Ohinemutu. Dare I confess that I was slightly disappointed at the first sight ? From the numerous descriptions I had read I expected to see something more romantic than the mountain lakes of Orago, something grander than the gorges of Westland ; and in one comprehensive glance I saw nothing but barren plains and dry brown hills. But Ohinemutu requires close examination, and my first glance was only from the balcony of the Palace Hotel; Lake House shut out the best view of Rotorua. and I looked too far afield. Just below mc, however, was the Maori village quaint and picturesque, nearly the same in detail now as it was 200 years ago; jets of steam arose from the ground near the whares; men and women in strange costumes were busy at their morning work, or were leaning over the woven fences, gossiping as their forefathers may have gossiped when Hinemoa's love affair was an interesting scandal, and the mysterious thefts on Mokoia an exciting theme. From all the country around rose columns of steam* Two long canoes glided slowly over Rotorua, giving life to that small portion of lake I could see. Away to the east massive clouds of smoke, tinged red with the morning sun, rolled across long hill ridges and conical peaks. It was smoke from burning forests, fired by human hands, but it might have come from some huge volcano, it was so deneeand massive. Just below the balcony a pool of boiling water hissed and steamed, sending sulphurous vapours high in the air. To the south, a barren plain stretched towards a range of low ugly hills, at the base of which lie the hot-springs and geysers of Whakarewarewa. If lacking in beauty, the scene was strangely interesting.

At breakfast I understood how famous this region must be, for visitors from all parts of the world were gathered at the table. On my right an Englishman and his two daughters were chatting about London ; opposite mc an Anglican clergyman, recently from China, was comparing notes with an Indian General, here to recover his wasted health. The waitres* was shouting loudly in the ear of a young Frenchman, as if the loudness of her voice would render the magical question, "Porridge ?" more intelligible to the foreigner. I may say that the waitress grew frantic at last, and, with the perversity of her sex, gave the poor fellow just the things he did not want. Two Americans gossiped with an, old Scotchman, and appeared to find him an interesting companion. There were several other visitors—mostly young tourists who seemed to think the history of their travels more wonderfel than Baron Munchausen's, and worthy of being detailed in loud tones.

Business of the day at Ohinemutu seems to consist of everbody doing what they choose. I ran the gauntlet of several importunate guides and curio-mongers, gazed sorrowfully at two Maori women who begged for beer, and strolled to the shores of the lake. Lake Rotorua is not beautiful; its waters take lovely hues sometimes, but its shores are barren and formal. It is almost circular in shape, and is about six miles in diameter. In the centre of it is the Island of Mokoia—a conical mound rising to a height of 400 feet above the lake. People, judging from the shape of the lake and the numerous hot springs around its shores, suppose it to h&ve once been the crater of a volcano, but Hocbstetter, who studied this district closely, says that it, like all the other lakes in this regions, has been formed by the subsidence of the ground upon the volcanic tableland.

Striking to the right from the lake, I followed a path which led mc to the Government township of Rotorua and the Baths, or the " Sanatorium," as they are proudly named. tltfs sanatorium

is the most Important feature of the ▼olcanic region. Here sufferers from aU parts of the world come to bathe in the healing waters, and find a cure for rheumatism, sciatica, cutaneous diseases, neuralgia, liver complaints, age, and dyspepsia. What faith and hopes are pinned on the virtues of these waters, and what miracles of healing they have performed 1 The Blue Bath, a warm pool sixty-two feet long and twenty-four feet wide, suited my case the best. A long swim in its opalescent waters and a cool shower afterwards make a naturally healthy man feel as if he had drunk of the elixir of life. When the workmen were excavating this bath they discovered a beautifaLsulphur cavern with sides thickly coated with briUiant yellow crystals, and a hot spring at its base so strongly impregnated with gases that no one could breath them and live. This spring is now used as a vapour bath, and is extremely powerful. The number of baths at the sanatorium is nearly equal to the ills that flesh is heir to, and I have been eyewitness to some remarkable cures they have performed. I saw one man arrive at the Temperance Hotel, at the entrance of the Sanatorium grounds, so crippled with rheumatism that he had to be lifted from the coach, and he could not walk without crutches. A fortnight afterwards 1 saw him actively engaged in a fencing bout with another invalid, both using their crutches with great vigour and fencing remarkably well. Electricity is largely used in connection with some of the bathsThe resident doctor, engaged by Government as head of the sanatorium, receives patients in his own house, and advises invalids visiting the place for a small fee. The hospital erected in the bath grounds was burnt down, but another is to be built and even now patients of all classes can receive at a moderate expense medical advice, a scientific course of treatment, and every comfort. It would require much study and time to properly advertise all the attributes of the Ohinemutu sanatorium, and it is a task that could be properly undertaken by somebody in a gratefully convalescent state. I will leave it for one of this class to perform. The number of invalids visiting this lake region for the benefit of thei r health is yearly increasing, but the num* ber of sightseers decreased after the de struction of the famous terraces by the eruption of Tarawera. Now that greater facilities for travelling exist, and the fright given by Tarawera's outburst has subsided, the number of visitors to this region is again increasing.

One morning I strolled into the Maori kaianga— the original Ohinemutu, and perhaps the most interesting village in the world. Its numerous reed houses are clustered round a small bay formed by a low peninsula jutting far into the lake. The gables of some of the houses are ornamented with wooden carvings, and even in the fences round the gardens there are posts grotesquely carved to re. present human forms. The reed houses cluster thickest around a shallow creek or inlet, which is the bathing place of the whole hapu. Water of any temperature can be had here; boiling springs issue from the bottom of the creek, boiling springs issue from its banks. Men, women, boys and girls, paddle and bathe here from sunrise to sunset,.and it is amusing to witness their gambols in the water. The Maoris seem to have utilised nature's heat to a considerable extent; they have built stone ovens, and fenced in boiling pools, where potatoes can be cooked, or fish steamed for any length of time without I any expenditure of fuel or labour. Some of the warm places have been covered with whares, which are used as winter quarters, and large btones are placed over steam holes on which the luxurious ones can squat for gossip or a pipe without being chilled. Almost in the centre of Ohinemutu is the Wharepuni, the council house of the tribe, the genealogical tree of the hapu. Here one can gain a peep into the past history of the people, and there is much interesting material to be gleaned. I spent a morning in this cool Wharepuni with two or three members of the tribe* who seemed pleased to relate the history of their great people. Imagine a great flat piece of wood carved to represent a man, with a flute in his hand, and a group of Maoris seated around it listening to one of their number tell the quaint sweet story of Tutanekai and Hinemoa to the pakeha stranger. The Maori storyteller puts his pipe on the floor, then he says "Do you know that this building is named Te Wharepuni Tamatekapua? That is Tamatekapua's post. See there are bis stilts. On those stilts he walked across the lake to the Island of Mokoia; he and his brother, who had stilts likewise. They stole fruit from the trees there at night-time, and for three years the people of Mokoia could not tell who were the thieves. But at last they kept watch all night, and then they found out Tamatekapua and his brother Whakaturia. Tamatikapua escaped, but the people chopped away Whakaturia's stilts with their axes; then bound him and hung him to the roof of a whare in a large kit; but at night-time Tamatekapua crossed over to the island on his stilts and found out where his brother was imprisoned, so Whilst the people were consulting what to do with the thief, his brother silently tore away some of the thatch from the whare and lifted his brother on to the roof; there he unbound him and gave him stilts, and they fled across the lake; but before they ran away they filled the large kit with pieces of the roof, so when the people went to see the thief they had caught they only found pieces of raupo." The group of Maoris must have heard tbi s story scores of times, but they laughed at the . cunning of the thieves and their escape as if it was quite a recent exploit. Then one of their number casually remarked, for my benefit, that these thefts caused a serious war in which many people were killed. The storyteller points to the figure of a man from whose mouth a dog is issuing, and says "that man is Toi. Toi, stole the dog of Tamatekapua and eat it. Tamatekapua missed his dog, so he whistled and his dog barked, but still he could not see it; so he whistled again, and the dog barked in the belly of Toi. He said, ' Toi, you have swallowed my dog, , but Toi replied 'No, how could I swallow a dog with my small mouth?' So Tamatekapua whistled again, and the dog came put of the mouth of Toi just as you see it there." The Maoris then moved on to a carving of the canoe Arawa, and told mc what I already knew, that it was in this canoe that their forefathers came to New Zealand from Hawaiiki, and that the people of Bctorua were known as Te Arawas to this day. The carving representing the Arawa canoe was most elaborate, and around it were several interesting things. The picture of the shark that guided the canoe to New Zealand, swimming before it all the way; the hangihangi trees brought from Hawaiiki and planted at Maketu, where they now grow; the famous stone anchors of the canoe, also at Maketu, which I was told had iron bands around them. We discussed nearly a score of posts, each representing the history of some famous person, and this history was given with all the power of a splendid storyteller, and embellished with many side remarks from my dusky com. panions. I learned how greatly these Arawas reverence successful canning, pretty much as we do, and seem to think that in all cases success justified the means. Anyone having a liking for strange stories (fad legends cannot do better than spend a day in that Wharepuni at Ohinemutu, in company with somebody who knows the stories of the carved posts and will tell them.