"SEA OF RIPPLING WATERS" Waikaremoana's Wonderland

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 23, 28 January 1939, Page 17 (Supplement)

"SEA OF RIPPLING WATERS" Waikaremoana's Wonderland

There's a lilt and a lure about the very name Waikaremoana, even though one may not have been near the place; but once the eyea have beheld the glory and the majesty, the beanty and the charm of the lake and its environs, there is more than lure and lilt in the name. There is magic,

for now it conjures up memories and thoughts of grandeur, quiet calm, rippling water 9, and the untold sweetness of artless bird song.

By . .. Olga P. Burton.

Quite a feature of this lake, with its area of 21 square miles, is the number of subterranean seepages by which the water finds its way from this great rippling "sea," to the streams and rivers which lead to the mighty ocean. From Waikaremoana there is only one visible surface outlet —a narrow passage cut by the water at the southern end of the lake —cut through solid rock, and forming a channel some 20ft wide. Two thousand feet above the sea. this bush-set gem of gleaming waters has an unusual way of raising its level, as though it were affected by the rise and fall of a great tide. The increased volume of water, due to melting of snow, or to heavy falls of rain, is the cause of this change in level, and at periods of "high tide" the outlet channel carries a full force of rushing waters, while at normal times there may be scarcely a trickle. One of the subterranean outlets so numerous at the southern end of the lake feeds with great force the surge chamber and the pipelines of the mighty electric powerhouse situated at Tuai a few miles bevond the foot of the lake.

Surrounded as it is on all sid« by rugged bush-clad country, the lake •horc-line is very irregular, forming many delightful bays and inlets, each with its own charm and wooded beauty. This makes possible numerous trips full of delight and interest along the edge« of the lake, ami when one is out in a l>oat or launch on this 'Sea of rippling water*-," the ■seemingly unending vista of bay beyond bay, and jutting points one

beyond the other until the blue mist of distance sheds a hazy veil, gives some idea of the broken shoreline with its never-ending charm.

Though placid enough at times, the lake waters can lash themselves into a troubled sea when a high wjnd sweejNS down the steeply rugged defiles which open on to the lake. Once out of the shelter of a bay the wayfarer or pleasure-seeker on the water then finds himself on a rou<rh sea. The wind is keen, 'and whitetopped breakers foam and swell across the wide expanse of lake surface, spraying and lashing upon the great bluffs and buttresses that imprison with walls of rock that hold the fretful waters in unrelenting grip, allowing just the one narrowsouthern passage as an outlet for the angry swell.

But now it is summer. The lake is a silver sea. shimmering in a thousand crystal wavelets, its clear waters showing many shades of blue and green as we pass along the road, looking down upon bay after bay. Here is a white boat riding calmly at anchor; there is a group of two or three tents at the water's edge: but we keep on until the Lake House is reached and then a short, sharp side-road brings us to the camping ground and jetty. It is a still evening. The early moon makes a fa'.ry patlnvay of silver sheen across the lake; the grandeur of the overtowering bush trees rises 011 all sides,

as if casting a protective shelter over those many campers whose canvases gleam clear in the evening light as they cluster close to each other on the lake edge.

From the sheltering arms of the protected bush the. bird-children of mighty Tune fill the still air with joyous song. Even when the shades of evening enfold the closing day. the notes of tui and warbler, fantail and cuckoo echo and re-echo across the peaceful lake. Kuku, the large snowy-breasted native pigeon, sits unperturbed upon his favourite kowhai branch, pulling unconcernedly at the tender leaf-shoots, and stretching and swaying his glossy neck with just a little curious anxiety as we pass within a few feet of him. But no; he is not afraid, and continues his feasting. Only when he is satisfied. and wishes to change his location at his own leisure, does he take his flight and wing a solitary way with dignity and confidence across the camping site into a tall rimu that takes his fancy on the other side.

Daylight reveals the full gTandness of the bush trees that skirt lake. The lighter brilliance of stately rimu among the more sonhre dress of tlie pine, and then the graceful droop of slender tawa leaves form a background for the many other varieties of native foliage to be seen —kawakawa (also known as the pepjier tree), tutu, and beech; flaky, tan-barked kotukutuku, whose berries

are much beloved by birds; makomako, with its brilliant reddishbacked leaves, and then the lighter foliage of kowhai and glossy glab-rous-leaved malioe.

To-day we see all this from metalled road and paths trodden by many a pakeha foot, but there was a time when this part of bush fastnesses was unknown to the white man. And then it was, so the Maori tells us, that the bays and inlets, and various strategic points alon» the fortified coast-line, saw many a canoe battle, and heard the cry and war-liaka of many a dusky warrior.

Here we see a former stronghold of the Ngati-Ruapaui tribe, and there an old trail to Parahaki and to Waiau. The lake and its environs abound in lore and legend, and even to-day, when the inroads of the civilisation of the pakeha have left untouched so little of what onn knew him not, there still is a glamour and a mystic aloofness about the;.} mighty wooded hills and gorges. They belong to the Maori, and their densely wooded flanks which seem so impenetrable in places still seem to say to the traveller as he passes by, "Keep off; this is a place apart. You pakehas have made the road and the wheels of your swift cars raise ths dust that was once raised by the feet of dusky warriors on the battle trail; instead of a patch of Maori cultivation there is uow a group of Public Works tents . . . You may keop to your roads—but the forest will still guard the ancient hills of the Maori."

.So we keep to the road, but we take with us memories of the beauty of Waikaremoana, and of the glory and grandeur of its guardian wooded heighta.