ON HORSEBACK to the LAKES. (BY ONE OF A PARTY.)

Waikato Times, Volume XX, Issue 1676, 3 April 1883, Page 2

ON HORSEBACK to the LAKES. (BY ONE OF A PARTY.)

*!Wis .wer ( e loitering one^fine morning, a so ago, along the strand of Lake !liojbo£ua, fusing, o.uraelves in watching ' the bubbhn*sf|bt oprings and noting the singular difference of temperature between the sand on the margin of the lake and the water of the lake itself. The former, a few inches below the surface, was hotter than one's fingers could beiir with comfort, while the latter was refreshingly cool. The morning was bright and fresh, witli just sufficient breeze to ripple the placid bosom of the lake, which spakiled in the broad belt of sunshine burnishing the wide i expanse? of water. We had wandered down hither after the morning meal, bent on enjoying ouiselves-.foivau hour or so in. perfect idleness, when one of the party ventured to suggest that we should keep a diary of •the trip. • Nothing could more 'rudely have awakened me out of the delicious, lotus-eating condition iuto which I had allowed myself to tall. Instantly there flashed across my mind visions of guide books and prying, peering, offensively curious tourists, determined to feirctout everything and to know all about it. 1 I was ready to acknowledge the practical wisdom of my frjend andcompanion,butthe sensation produced was uupleasing and painful. Just at this moment, too, as if the too vivid imagination had summoned them forth, there appeared on the scene half ■a - dozen people of the conventional London tourist type, such as one might expect to fall in with on the sands at Margate. Dressed in the most outrageous' and yet divetsihed fashipn; with tight-fitting clothes anil exasperating white stand tip 'collars, silver-mounted pipes, .fashionable canes, and above all, wi'th'loud voices and open guide books, they came like one of the plagues of Egs r pt, and 1 ' swept all my romanticdreanungs away on the instant. Klcutud by 'the unanimous Vote of my companion's the chronicler of the party, I made . i solemn now that, Providence aiding me, we should keep as far away as possible from these modern representatives of the Goths, whom chance had thrown in our path, and that we should not, if I could help it, mar the harmony of our circle bv the introduction of n single guide book. Both, it seemed to me, were equally out of tune with the genius of the placu, both would chain to earth any ideal musings which my friends or myself might wish to indulge 'in. To what e\t u nt success followed on this determination, 'my renders will see ; I mention the subject heie by way of offering some sort of excuse for the incomplotuness of a narrative which depends entirely for its interest on the hurriedly formed impressions of a journey which should have lasted rive or sit weeks, but which the exigencies of life demanded should be crowded into as maiiy (lavs. If I had a friend whom I dearly loved, I am notaltogether certain that I should advise him to go to the Lake Country by the route, we, after mature consideration be it said, adopted. One does not care to expose a dearly loved one to much inconvenience ; the natural tendency is to shield such a one from all discomfort and weariness. But if, on the other hand, this fiiend were desirous of tasting the delights of nature iv all her wildness and primeval glory, and weie quite prepared to rough it by way of recompense, then I believe he would find the game quite worth the candle. From Waikato to Kotorua the distance is rather too long to be gone over iv one day, though a great deal would of course depend on in-livid ual ability to withstand the effects of fatigue. Speaking for myself and my party, we preferred to break the journey. So one warm, close evening, a little after the day had darkened, found us leaving Cambridge en route, with the intention of enjoying supper and a bed at Oxford. The road intervening between these places, so dissitmliar in appearance, and yet so familiarly associated in their liomeuclatiue, is particularly intevus ting in daylight. The bold outlines of the hills, and the weired beauty of the river Waikato, rushing through the scanty causeway which nature has provided, combine to form a scene which the eye seldom tiicsof resting on. But at night, unless the moon be full, there is not much to sue. Fortunately, the broad yellow face of Luna shone outbefoie we reached the junction of the Tan po and ltotorua marls, and we were enabled to appreciate to the full the. wild grandeur of the river as it boiled and seethed almost, as it seemed, under our feet. Lea\iug the restless water Lehind, we see .to our light in the moonlight the homestead an: 3 , trimly-kept shi übbeiies of Cianstoun, the last reminder of civilisation till we reach Oxford. At this flourishing city, or rather at the chief (and only) hostel, the " Oxford Royal," we found "good accoinmi elation for man and beast," and here were rested for the nmht. Alter allowing the sun leasonable time to dry the dew the following morn ing, wo once more shouted "to the road." Lest this phi. ise should convey the idea that wo looked like dashing highwaymen, l«t me modify it by saying that, not }juin<r fttnlr pniue/j* in the oquestiiali art, and encumbered, moreover, withfaiily bulky swags, tieil on t'> the saddle how (i cannot help thinking; somewhat unscientifically, «c by no means presented a foimidable appearance, and a couple of hundred Maoris, fully armed, would 'ia\e made short woik of us, seeing tint we were only four. The morning was singululy brilliant. Without boin# warm, the air was balmy and soft, and save that the dust occasionally rose in clouds, the ride would have been delicious. Cantering alona the fiat land, low hills on our right, the gieat Te Aroha away on the lett, and the high, bush-clad plateau that we had to scale in front of us, v ith a gentle summer wind blowing in oui faces and keeping us cool, it sceuied to us that life had not much better to offer. Presently, too, wo crossed the Wailiou, and paused for a moment to admire the scene. Hurrying, skipping, flashing along it« sinuous course, breaking into tiny whirlpools and dashing over every obstacle, the river shone like silver in the early, sunlight, and every pebble in , its bed glistened like a precious stone. Then once more loosening the rein we sped over fern-clad hill and grassy hollow, still with no change in the general aspect of the country, 'until we suddenly came upon the last river intersecting our road. The Waimakariri, like its neighbour the Waihou, into which it ultimately falls, is a bright streamlet hereabouts, with no special feature, unless it be' the extreme coldness of its waters, which we discovered as we plunged our horses in it for a last wash and drink. Looking down its shingly course vre almost expected to see the trout leap in the sun, and we saw in a vision, as it were, patient anglers wandering along the banks, pensively engaged in the exerci/sp, qf theifr gentle art. Meanwhile the day Avas growing hotter, and we found the shade of the bush as we neared the native settlement at Tapapa most grateful. , Passing tlie village, where the dusky ohildren of the soil were not too .busily engaged afcgetting in .their potatoes to look up, and bid us a kindly "good day, "we commenced to make the ascent of the plateau.'' This is done I ' gently and by easy stages,' over a. splendid road, so thatf w>e find ourselves looking down into a dark ravine, with the tree-tops hundreds of feet below us before we can realise that we are so far above the sealevel. The scenery here is exceptionally grand and impressive. The country seem 3 as /though [in ,ages remote it h^d been rudely tossed about by giants at play' or in anger ; Beared pvecipitofls cliffs uprise frqm deep narpqw, glens as though they spurred. th,e homely companionship, of the foliage, below, aud, sought fellowship'with the tempest' and, r the mighty winds. Again, the ravine is clad to the top with forest, dark, gloomy, and.'impenetrable, out, of the depths of /f >vhich s there' rise's at irregular intervals the 1 sharp', clear] musical note ( of the *«// making the 'Silence 'even' itfgre p^ofaurid.^'Ajij. we

! tiirrf in" ttie Saddle dfia i l66k"Ba'ck,ltHfcW,!liia : a map, its inequalities' of surface uifdisciruible, lies the great valley of ttidThante*.' v No, Big» ,of 4ife» j not \ indication of civilisation, nothing 'to show at this distance that any human! beinjjs are there, r »">Tv\fenty yeaijs.hen.ce," remarks one '"of J hiy I companions, .sfeilteqtionsly. Ah, what a change ,wi t ll, f then f have been wrought ? Ou'r'rond'*'take«r "its over the higlvoptin ridges, and,, riding slowly, we drink in wjth Qiir eyes the full magnificence'of the' landscape 1 , 'our' Nvbnder'and admiration increasing at every step. Nothing 'can 'exceed .the gutter /, repose which rests upon. the earth. The sky is almost jroid^of'tjlorids, and not a breath, !af air- -stirs *th"e7fdlfage the gorges below us. Wo can only faintly realise what a changed aspect everything w6uld' present under [a i \leaflen,,sky J , J>he pine toys, .binding before the t blasts of winter I'Abdut twelve miles 'fr3m^Oxford we came suddenly upon the constabulary camp, situate! at' fcheVc'omme^cftm'eiit.of the bush proper. Prepared to find about ib a certain air of 'neatness, we were astonished at the order aiul-rcgularity^of the camp. The road.fqrmed the main street of what really is' a village, the lodgings of the men, chiqfly ,huts, standing on eitlier hand. At the further j>efid of the little settlement is the cotrimanding officer's house, a well-fiuished little cottage, surrounded by a paling fence, inside whicli there were not wanting some indications of a garden. Several other wooden buildings were in course of erectjon, and the ;camp generally presented an appearance of busy life, thit was quite refreshing so far removed from the'" busy hattnts' of meiV.'' Aft'et exchanging a kindly greeting with Capt. Capel, the genial officer in charge, we drew rein at the cinteen — just to give our horses a rest.. Weliad' leisure foe a ftjjw minutes to note the really excellent work, which the constabulary have done in this lodality in the" way of road making. Ifertee'ds not to be said that the business is not an easy one. The highway for some milei is, indeed, little ej^s than »,c^hain of huge cutting?, ' entailing a vast amount of labour, and though it is not to bo expected in the very nature of things that the constabulary can do as much, man foreman, as' * contractors' labouiers, they have nevertheless giv?a a veiy good account of themselves. Qafcug our loluctant horses away from,, the^Wuiteen, we followed forthe next t\yo or t>.rfee [ miles the permanent road through the bush, which has here . hem cleared, for a space of two chains in width. The road, therefore, is a, deeply shaded avenue, into which the sun penetrates only for a few hours in the ' middle ■ of 1 the ' day. It is singularly level, with only a few trifliug cutting 3 and banks, and will continue so j right across the high land until it come 3 in sight of Rotorua. ' Presently an' improvised sign board warns us that we must follow the new road 'no farther, but turn into the bush and continue our journey along the old 'track. This we do with ; some -little difficulty, having to ' navigate our passage between some very awkward looking logs and stumps. Once fairly on the ''old jjrack," however, our spii its rise by leaps and bounds, for lo, ! is it not diy and hard to the feet,, luied with bright green' sli'mbsjaiid opeii'tb the sunshine '! We canter gaily nlong, chanting the chorus of a merry hunting song. But alas ! our joyousnes* is short lived. Before we are well aware of it 3 proximity we found, ourselves, or, rather 1 our horses, plunging 'in mud almost knee deep. Thence onward for miles, with short intervals, we flounder along the narrow track, in a soft twilight, with an occasional wade through a dank, black pool of w.iter. Language would fail to convoy an adequate idea of the character of the road, but if my readers can imagine the effect of tiding over the sleepers on, an unballasted railway line, aftera months' rain say, they may be able to form a dim impression of what the track is like. Were the road ever so little better, and could one leave his horse to its own devices for only a few moments, thero is plenty to engage the attention of the naturalist, or the lovor of nature. Seldom Iml we seen so many and such beautiful varieties of fci lisas tho3o growing in profusion around us. The timber seemed to be principally riuui, tawa, and rata, with many smaller kinds. Occasionally, not often, long vistas would open out, and we saw the sun glinting on the green carpets of native glass and weeds. But these bright glimpses were only momentary, and we were soon under the shadow ot the trees again. So toiling, enlivening the time with jest and song, and jocular allusions to the comforts of die road, we emerged fit length nyon " the island," a dry opening in the forest, where we once more enjoyed the blessings of daylight. Alighting, wo allowed our hoises tp enjoy a welj-earned meal of, toi-tci while we shook the stiffness out' of our lej^s engendered by sitting for four solid hours in one conshained position. Lighting our pipes, we resigned ourselves for the space of half an hour to the lazy influence of the afternoon, our conversation, such as it was, alternating between muttered imprecations on the track we had passed, and reflections on the authorities who have so long delwcd the completion of the carnage road.' In the saddle once more (one at least of the party beginning to realise the fact that leather it hard) we go down into the shades of the bush, and steadily combat with our natural enemy the mud. The join ney, however, iifver becomes monotonous. Charming "his " of scenety burst on the eye at cveiy turn of the sinuous path, and the birds, after (he heat of the noon, flutter hither and thither, chirruping across our way. A fteran honi 's walking the foremost of the pat ty raises a shout, which announces that we arc Hearing the open, and hurrying forward we see a wide break in the bush. Beyond, miles away is a range of bold hills with, so it seems, the blue sky above and beneath them. A second glauce tells us the under blue is Lake Rotorua, hundreds of feet below the point on which we stand. Away to the right the white houses and the slowly using volumes of sti-am indicate the position of our destination. A brisk ride down the fern ridges between the bush and the Tiiurutiga road, and along seven or eight miles of the latter brings us to Ohinemutu and civilization, and a few minutes finds us steeped in a warm bath in the garden ot Lake' House. ; ' (To be continued.)