WINTER AT RUAPEHU.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19418, 28 August 1926, Page 1 (Supplement)

WINTER AT RUAPEHU.

BY ELSIE K. MOBTON.

A WEEK AT WHAKAPAPA.

Half-past three on a freezing winter morning; a darkened railway carriage, with shrouded figures of weird and bulky shape huddled on the seats; a train that snorts and pants its tortuous way up the dizzy curves of tho Spiral, while the lights of Raurimu show first on one side of the line, "then on the other. Then the rhythmic clack-clack of the wheels as the train reaches the top and swings into swift, steady gait once more. The click of a switch, and a sudden flood of light; sleepy yawns and glances of venom from the rudely-awakened sleepers, as we hardy ones drag down from the overhead rack the hold-alls, rucksacs, and other shapeless canvas bundles labelled " National Park." A few moments later we are shivering on the silent platform, staring resentfully at the lighted windows of the station, at that horrible banality of a name that the powers-that-be have dared to foist on to New Zealand's most magnificent and distinctive scenic asset, " National Park!" Such a nice, homely name, so easy to spell, bringing us into line with Yosemite and Yellowstone and all the other " national parks" up and down the world! But the insult was not allowed to pass unnoticed. Ngaruahoe went into prompt and violent eruption, and has not calmed down yet. . . . But one does not mourn too long over grievances at four o'clock in the morning. The motor-car is waiting, and a few moments later we are taking the bumps on the first stretch of the road that stretches for fifty miles through this wonderful region of mountain and plain that has been bequeathed to us by Te Heu Heu as Tongariro National Park. Ghostly white in their snowy mantles, the three great mountains loom ahead, their feet buried deep in the tussock of the plains, their mighty heads uplifted to the stars. There has been a heavy fall of snow, and in the glare of the headlights we see it lying in drifts beneath the tall flaxbushes, sloping away from the crown of the road in thick white folds, exactly like icing on tho side of a cake. The sight is as a tonic to jaded nerves and tired eyes, for it is snow we have come all the way from Auckland to see, thick white snow, deep enough to stand on, to slide on, to make snowballs of, to wintersport in to our heart's content. On the way to the Huts.-

A few hours later, we find all the snow we are looking for at the traffic-bridge across the Whakapapa. The upper part of Bruce Road is snowed under, the motor-car can go no further, and all. our luggage is loaded on to the prison drays to be hauled the remaining mile and-a-half to Whakapapa. We follow the plodding horses on foot, sinking sometimes to the knees, stumbling, slipping, working up a summertime heat such as can only be achieved in regions of snow and ice. All the tussock has disappeared. The plains form a vast snow-field, with just a few ragged wisps of rushes and grass pushing through. The' thrde mountains and all the little hills are covered. Even the bold bluff of Puke-kai-kiore and the jagged heights of The Pinnacles are enshrouded in mantling white. Such a fall has not been known for nine years, say those who know. Sport in the Snow. Whakapapa is a bustling, busy place as the drays draw in to the huts, and the newcomers go through the exhilarating process of getting settled-in. All the luggage to be sorted out, bunks to be made up, goods stored away, wood to be chopped, fires to light, thick boots and unaccustomed male attire to be donned by optimistic young ladies who, to their sorrow, have made the entire trip in fur coats, silk stockings and suede slippers. But little mistakes, like these are inevitable among the uninitiated, and it's a very big worry indeed that cannot be washed away in a bill) of tea brewed on a Whakapapa fire! In the shortest possible space, the snowfield opposite the huts and the toboggan track on the other side of the" bush are invaded by booted, trousered crowds of girls and boys, most of whom are seeing snow for the first time. pair of skis, every snow-stick is brought into service. The flat stretch of snow looks very inviting, just the place for the novice to take her first faltering steps on the skis. But yon do not falter long when you take your first walk on the skis. One tiny swerve, one instant's loss of balance, and your feet fly sky and you are prone on your back iii 3 snow. And if anvone wants the conceit taken out of them, let them try a fall backwards into a snowdrift, with their feet crossed and a seven-foot ski firmly strapped to each instep ! But, oh' The delight when one learns, the knack of balancing, the swift, easy glide down the snowy slope, the delicious sensation ol motion without effort. Surely, we think exultantly, as we swoop down the snowy track, ski-ing is the nearest approach to flying we earth-bound mortals can enjoy. And then the track swerves ever so slightly, in trying to turn we cross our feet and the flight ends in a somersault and sudden ignominious oblivion amid showers of snow. All day long the fun goes on. After tea there is a dance in the social hall, and it is midnight before voices and laughter cease, \jind the white stillness of night settles over Whakapapa. Need ior Improvements.

A week of perfect weather follows, and by the time the party sets out on the homeward trail, the snow has vanished from the plains, and the road outside the huts is a black and horrid morass. It has been one of the busiest and most successful weeks in the history of Whakapapa, but it has left certain definite impressions as well as a host of happy memories. One of these is a conviction that the Board of Control will have to be up and doing before the Christmas rush sets in. Whakapapa has now passed the first pioneering stages—over a hundred people have been encamped there this month—and certain improvements are urgently needed. The sanitary arrangements are primitive and altogether inadequate. Several of the chimneys smoke most abominably, making cooking an ordeal that is nothing less than an endurance test, calling for gas-mask and snow-goggles- Another matter needing immediate attention is the erection of separate quarters for the ranger. At the present time, he occupies a room in one of the huts, which he may be called upon at any time to vacate if extra accommodation is requried for campers. He has no facilities whatever, for the necessary office work he is required to do, and often has to receive payments and make out receipts amid the jampots and crumbs of an interrupted meal. The erection of a social hall, and a stable for the ranger's pony are notable improvements, but the other matters are even more important. The approach of summer and its inevitable influx of visitors emphasises the need for the introduction of a modern system of camp sanitation, while the rapidly increasing popularity of the park demands that further attention shall be paid to matters affecting the comfort and convenience of campers and the man in charge.