ON THE MAIN TRUNK.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13938, 21 December 1908, Page 5

ON THE MAIN TRUNK.

A SCENIC PARADISE. OVER "THE ROOF." FORESTS, PLAINS, AND MOUNTAINS It is the purpose of these articles to afford some idea, of what the traveller will see on the Main Trunk between Taumarunui and Taihape, for that section is the real centre of the North Island, and passes through the least-known country. Leaving Taumarunui, the train winds around, the gorges of the Upper Wanganui River, the stream being crossed by a combined traffic and railway bridge at Matapuna, two miles from Taumarunui, and the storied river, unnavigable there, foams over shingly reaches, and silently rounds deep bends, where trees and ferns are reflected in Nature's mirror, while Maori whores are dotted here and there, reminders of the' days when the ancient people held these fastnesses, and lived and warred and married and died there without thought of the pakeha who was later to enter there with fire and sword. A sawmill appears now on the right, and bush trolleys are seen starting out on the day's task of bringing in logs, while a deserted village bears mute witness to the ups and downs of mushroom settlements. The manuka blossom at present makes the great wide slopes beautiful as with a dainty powdering of snow, and here and there a cabbage tree in full blossom sends its rich perfume to greet the early wayfarers. Beyond Piriaka the valley narrows in, and the country becomes steeper, the river is lost to view behind high bluffs, a foaming torrent races down its narrow gorge and plunges beneath the line to join the sparkling river, and then the grand old Wanganui leaps into view again. The powerful engine," like a thing of life, races round curve after curve, each turn revealing some new beauty, the river glides back into bush where myriad tree ferns flash their vivid greens against the sombre trunks of kahi-' katea. A dash through a wilderness of tea-tree and fern, a quick run through a gorge, and the train rests momentarily at Kakahi, whence the timber railway to Taupo will start on the 38-mile line through dense forest all the way. A thud of the Westinghou'se brake, and the train passes over a pretty stream which comes down by the mill, where there is a charming vista of bush-clad gorge, gathers way between manuka-fringed banks, and then plunges into a noble forest, where the tui sings his rich hymn all day long, where the ground is a carpet of green moss and beautiful ferns, and where stately trees lace their branches overhead to form green canopies for the tender plants below. The sounds of the train have settled into that long, steady roar of high speed, trees race by, dainty little streams gleam for a ' moment against the background of greenery, and then flash away again. The immense driving wheels pound around curves and up through long cuttings, the black smoke comes in thick, quick clouds —and then the engine looks round a corner and a new world comes to view. Great ranges, dark ranges, giant fold after fold of forest, rise up away to the left, and far down below the- line one looks straight into the heart of the river gorge, to see the grand old stream rushing over a rocky bed, and mile after mile of that splendid canyon come racing to meet the train, and the rich perfume of myriad trees and the fresh, cool air from the river rise up, while the track climbs higher and higher, and each turn is a new scene in the changing, panorama,, bewildering the eye with beauty. Then the gorge turns sharp to the left, the river widens out to surround a bush-clad island, i and the upper reaches are lost as the express dashes into a cutting where volcanic deposit shows deep, and then there is a halt at Owhango sawmill settlement. From Owhango to Oio, and from Oio to Raurimu, the run is through virgin forest, and there is no more magnificent forest scenery in all New Zealand than those vast fields of trees which cover the landscape in the Raurimu district from horizon to horizon verge. Woods and forests were to our ancestors, the special scenes of enchantment. It is net, however, until the train has climbed ' up the famous Spiral that one realises the •splendour and the majesty of that vast area j of trees in the heart of the North Island. In front of Raurimu station, 199 miles from Auckland, rises the range the Main Trunk trail has to climb. It is a rampart, a forbidding wall, and above it is the high plateau, 2600 ft above sea level, which the train must cross if ever it is to reach the southern seaboard. One wonders how on earth anything but a flying machine could rise lip there, where the topmost trees are concealed in mist; the task seems even more hopeless than the famous spiral of the Cal-cutta-Darjheeling railway. And yet it is so simple when the ascent is really made. The way winds round and round, backward and forward, but the curves are 60 wide it is scarce possible to realise there are curves at all until suddenly Raurimu appears again far down below. *Up and up goes the powerful locomotive, ever upwards, by bank and cutting, where frowning conglomerate cliffs seem ready to crumble away and bury the train beneath a million tons of giant boulders, then a shrill shriek of the whistle and a curious muffling of the roar of wheels and the train plunges into, the tunnel. Daylight once, more, and onwards and upwards, one moment in a giant cutting, the next looking down into a forest-fringed stream, a sheer drop of 150 ft, and then a glimpse of the tunnel mouth far below; up, and still up, and then over the very tunnel itself, a peep out over a hundred miles of forest and ranges, more great conglomerate cliffs, cutting after cutting, one last mighty rush, and the spiral is climbed! It is a wonderful feat of engineering, and it enables'the train, in a run of between four and rive miles, to rise no less a height than 435 ft. But what a superb view from the summit! At one turn like looking clown into the Swiss cantons of Valais and the Engadine, at the next a glimpse like that from Teneriffe down the vine-clad slopes of Orotava, and then range after range from dark green to deep ultramarine, and from that to faint blue away miles and miles down the Wanganui ! Tree after tree is shown in relief, and then masses of them group against the skyline and pass in armies over the ridge of some rocky steep, where the naked scarp thrusts through. Cascades of forest, deep gorges, long slopes and abrupt faces pass in steady review, and then the veil drops and the train is rushing through a stately avenue of giant totara, kahikatea, rimu, and matai. Beneath the leafy crowns, in the cool shade, are grouped masses of tree ferns, their fronds laden with glistening dewdrops, strange dwarf cabbage trees, cables of lawyer vine in inextricable network, and a thick undergrowth of hosts of beautiful shrubs, through which silvery waters gleam and sparkle. Suddenly, in a second, it all fades r into the distance, and in front stretch the great Waimarino Plains, flanked by a rampart of noble mountains.