A TRIP TO WHITE ISLAND.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 12745, 24 April 1912, Page 8

A TRIP TO WHITE ISLAND.

(By "Xgatoro.")

"And we passed by many islands ot the sea and saw strange beasts tearing at their prey."

Scene: The wharf at Gpotiki, nnd a sleepy party going aboard an oil launch.

Time : 4.30 in the morning in late summer ; it is semi-dark.

We swing out into the river and round the bend, and quickly approach tlie bar, with its noisy yellow breakers. Half-a-dozen big rollers, some holding of breaths, and we are out on the tumbling ocean. The island is 36 mi Its away, hidden somewhere in the mist ot the northern horizon. We shall not be there for three and a half hours yet. Presently the clouds ou the hills towards Te Kaha and away to the east become tinged with pink, then a fiery yellow, and the sun shoots up and turns the black water into blue. The morning air is keen, and the wind smells of the good salt sea, for it has blown here irom far across the edge of the world. One decides it is good to be alive. Presently a school of porpoises races by.; then a Maori shouts excitedly. "He pnraoa! He paraoa !" ("A whale! A whale!") and half a mile away a cloud of spray drifts on the wind, and, a moment, one sees a dark, shapeless mass on the top of a wave. Like some old sea- god, it disappears and is seen no more. Tlie Bay of Plenty was once famous for its whales, but they are seldom seen now. Out here there are flocks of sooty mutton-birds — very hungry they seem, and intent on their own affairs — and the stately, Avheeling albatross, that, even in our age, still retains something of mystery. The island — Whakari, as the Maoris call it — is now- dimly visible, in spite of suggestions- that it ha^l "sunk."' It is steel-blue and eerie-looking, and clouds of white steam trail from its summit. In another hour and a half it has become a huge terra cotta cinder heap, with jets of steam here and there among the boulders, a vast central crater, and green patches of peaceful-looking poluitukawa trees on the slopes near the sea. We run close in to the eastern beach near the crater. Here a lake overflows and the sea- is discolored with sulphur. A heavy swell is breaking on the boulders, and it is decided to be unsafe to risk a landing in our only dinghy. We put out to sea again and round a rocky point, past a colony of lazy.' gannets, | to the south side of the island. The sea is smoother here, and everyone lands on the boulder-bank without mishap. ;

A climb over shingle and driftwood and up through the pohutukawa trees, and we come out on a long, steep ridge of scoria. We reach the top 500 feet up. All round is the sea, and beneath us this desolate island with its burnt rocks and white sea-birds. We walk along another ridge and down a steep face into the crater itself. This is a basin, with the outer side broken away.. 250 yards ueross and 500 feet in length. The floor is covered partly by a spluttering mud -flat and -partly by a vivid green lake — greener «ven than the famous lake near Rotorua. This lake overflows into tho sea, as before mentioned. Someone with chemical leanings mentions Sulphurated hydrogen, and oxides of sulphur and lumps of that substance are carried away as curiosities. Half-way up the western face of the crater, across the lake, is the biggest blowhole, roaring and hissing continually. It is the steam from this which is seen from the mainland on clear days.

It is next decided to go fishing. The fishing grounds at White Island are as politic a.s any in the country. In ancient times, when the mana of the Maori still overspread the land, fleets of fishing canoes used to visit Whakari from Opotiki and Whakatane. the exact positions of the different grounds is still a matter of native tradition, and have to be. /carefully located, as a few fathoms in either direction may mean deep water and no anchorage. We steer for a school of haku\or king-tish that for an houi 1 past have been travelling to and fro— a dark patch on the surface of. the sea, with a glitter here and there as the fish reflect the sun. They disappear as the launch approaches,, but immediately afterwards one is hooked, "then another, and another. The launch is slowed down as a line tightens,- and the great fish — they range from 101b to the monster of 601b and more, that swallows the floating gannets— are hauled slowly in, despite their ~ frantic rushes. Three or four companion fish— either greedy or fascinated — rush witli them through the blue water until the tragic ending. These haku are very voracious, and in this instance were caught with pieces ol painted benzine-tin. We reach the anchorage, and the Maoris cut red . slabs front one of the throbbing fish, which one has a sickening feeling may be still alive. The white lines drop in, distorted streaks down through the.clear water. The depth is 37 fathoms here, and the water is the deep' blue color that reminds one of the posters of the oversea shipping companies. Shoal after shoal of gulping trevaili and bright-blue "maumau" pass Us by and swish noisily as the shadow of a sheering gannet passes over them. A flying-fish shoots out of a wave, and one .wonders idly what it is escaping from. Up from the deptjis are hauled in quick succession great bloated hapuka of 70\b that make the deck resound with' their blows, pretty scarlet schnapper, red bass with their dog-faces and staring eyes, some weird fish of which neither pakeha nor Maori knows l the name, 'and 1 then two great spotted eels that remind one of the seasnakes in "The Ancient' • Marnier."" At last everyone is satisfied, the long an-chor-rope is hauled jn, and we head for the mainland fan away in the haze to the south.— Christchurch Press.