THE CALL OF THE OPEN ROAD

Ladies' Mirror, Volume 3, Issue 9, 2 March 1925, Page 37

THE CALL OF THE OPEN ROAD

<sy D.W.M.

"jV/TANY motorists responded to the call of the open road during the last Christmas and New Year holidays, as proved by the record number of campers met with on the highways and byways throughout the North Island. This method of sight-seeing is, without doubt, the most delightful way of obtaining a comprehensive knowledge of the many varied aspects of our own country. Given a spell of fine weather, a good car, and congenial company, for a holiday maker there is nothing to equal a motor tour, —to glide along through one district after another, with plenty of time to select a quiet little spot to pitch the tents in the cool of a summer's afternoon, and after undoubted ap-

A SUMMER MOTOR TOUR BY LAKE AND RIVER, COUNTRYSIDE AND TOWN

preciation of the efforts of the cook, to spread the rugs before a blazing fire and map out the route for the succeeding day—what more could be desired! It was with pleasant anticipation that we decided to act on the advice of friends who had recently returned from a similar holiday spent in the Rotorua and Taupo country, so packing up two tents, luggage and the necessary provisions, we set off to follow in their wheel tracks. Owing to the inclement weather conditions which ushered in the Christmas season, we decided to postpone our departure until more favourable indications prevailed, as the reports concerning the formidable Rangiriri Hills were far from reassuring. It

so happened that the clerk of the weather was lying in wait for Christmas motorists, and a couple of wet days served to put the unmetalled portion of this thoroughfare in a tricky condition for drivers. No doubt there are certain farmers with hauling teams who greatly benefited by the predicaments in which many unfortunate motorists found themselves. Certainly the most economical proposition was for owners to rail their cars beyond the troublesome area, and those who had the foresight to do so, are to be congratulated in having saved a considerable amount of wear and tear on their vehicles. However, a day's hot sun on the surface enabled the cars to make a smart run

over the clay, and with the exception of one or two bog-holes, and of the section which is in the process of being metalled, the Rangiriris presented no great difficulty to us. r PHE first sight of the Waikato River at Mercer gave us some indication of the extent of the previous downpour, for, like many of its smaller tributaries, it was running high and muddy. These conditions betokened slips and wash-outs, and proved that night travelling had been a precarious undertaking. Leaving Rangiriri, we took the road on the left bank of the river, and passing through Huntly, Taupiri, and

Ngaruawahia, we arrived in Hamilton in time for afternoon tea. Allowing another day for drying up the Mamaku Bush road, we left Hamilton for Rotorua in the cool of the following afternoon. The road follows the river for some miles out of Cambridge, then branches away to the left towards Tirau. We replenished the benzine supply at Putaruru, and on reaching the clay road we put on chains, the run through the bush being made without any misadventure. Our brother motorists who made the attempt a few days previously, must have had a strenuous time as the inevitable manuku branches sticking out of the mud, bore silent testimony to the difficulties they had encountered. The sun was low in the western sky as we ran out of the Mamaku and down the hill into Rotorua. Out over the lake the little island of Mokoia caught the last rosy gleams, and the waters took on the velvet hues so characteristic of eventide. One of the first impressions of this thermal district (and not the most pleasant) is the pervading aroma of sulphur which assails the visitor at every turn. Strangely enough this is not so noticeable after a few days' stay in this vicinity, although the same atmosphere is much in evidence in the proximity of the various hot pools which abound in these regions. There are a number of side trips well worth taking around Rotorua. The roads are for the most part undulating, and the surface being of pumice and clay, are pretty fair in suitable weather. CKIRTING the south-eastern side of the lake, the road leads to Tikitere, and though the travelling is apt to be rather rough, a visit to this scene of activity should not be overlooked. There is another road around the northern shores which brings the springs at Hamaurana and the Okere Falls within a morning's run. A few miles to the south-west of the town is the Maori village of Whakarewarewa, where guides may be procured to conduct the visitor around the various geysers and mudholes. Just off the road by which we entered the township of Rotorua, the Fairy Springs gush out from

the base of Ngongotaha mountain, and the beautiful rainbow trout may be seen swimming close to the surface with watchful eyes for any stray crumbs which might fall to their lot. We decided to make the run through to Wairakei Valley whilst the good weather prevailed, and with this object in view, we set off in the dawn of a perfect day. Leaving Rotorua by the Whakarewarewa road we passed through the Hemo Gorge, with the Atiamuri Road on our right hand. The Waimangu Road branches to the left, but we continued right on to Waitapu, where a brief halt was made to view the mud volcanoes, sulphur pools and other attractions. Wairakei was reached at noon, and after lunch a visit was paid to the famous Geyser Valley. Here the thermal activity was both weird and wonderful. One of the most noticeable things about the geysers was the regularity of the shots. In some instances the guide was able to ascertain to a moment when the volume of steam and boiling water would come rushing out of the rocks and crevices. The finest sight of all was the geyser which plays up and over pink terraces. As the water comes trickling down the coloured rocks, it literally forms a steaming waterfall, and the silicate deposit is gradually building up a miniature replica of the famous Pink Terraces destroyed in the Tarawera eruption. The afternoon sped by all too rapidly, and it was with reluctant steps that we left these realms of mystery to seek a more tranquil spot to make our evening camp. A FEW miles back on our tracks brought us to the path leading down to the Aratiatia Rapids. Much has been written about the fascination of this district, but mere words fail to express the beauties of the Rapids and the Huka Falls. The latter are to be seen a few miles further on the road to Taupo. In vivid contrast to the awe-inspiring sights of the Geyser Valley, these two portions of the Waikato River leave a lasting impression of dancing blue and green waters, singing in joyous abandon as they leap and plunge over the rocks in their anxiety to

gain the placid reaches of the river beyond. At the foot of the Rapids is a whirlpool where the waters swirl in ceaseless rotation, as if weary of their hasty frolic through the narrow gorge. Herein float the luckless pieces of timber which failed to negotiate the turmoil of the frenzied torrent. Round and round they circle, and here and there a block of wood, worn smooth and rounded with the constant contact of its fellow prisoners, would make a bold bid for freedom and, reaching the outer fringes of the pool, hesitate a moment in anticipation of the liberty beyond, but the ruthless current, with wide outstretching grasp, would draw it back into the inner vortex, repeating the performance with tantalising monotony, as it must have done for ages past. Between the Aratiatia Rapids and the Huka Falls, a side track leads off to the Karapiti Blow Hole. Amid the most desolate surroundings, this strange hole in the earth emits a continuous volume of steam at tremendous pressure. In bygone days the Maoris crossing Lake Taupo were in the habit of using this column of steam as a beacon to guide the course of their canoes. A short distance outside the township of Taupo, a bridge spans the Waikato as it leaves the lake. As this is the only outlet, some idea may be formed of the volume of water which passes over the Huka Falls. Lake Taupo, undoubtedly one of the beauty spots of New Zealand, is the Mecca of trout fishers, not

only from the local centres, but from lands afar. Here abound the finest rainbow trout in the world, and here the angler will find all the sport worth having. It is a common sight in the fishing season to see many sportsmen wading off the

shores within twenty feet of one another, each endeavouring to outfish the other with the largest catch of the day. We saw a most amusing incident in connection with this sport. Some anglers following the usual custom, buried their catch in the sand to keep it fresh, and mark-

ing their cache with lumps of pumice went off to catch bigger and better ones. Later in the day the errant lake breezes sent wavelets dancing up the shores and the anglers were too interested to notice that the pumice had been gradually wash-

e.i away. Towards sunset the fun commenced such a scratching and scraping in the sand to find the buried fish. Alas! The little mounds of pumice were conspicuous by their absence. Needless to say there were many fish left to waste their sweetness on the lakeside air! We were

anxious to sample the fine specimen which our angler had landed, and the inviting pink flesh sizzling in the frying pan, was enough to tempt the most fastidious appetite. We discovered that one of the most successful ways of cooking this delicious fish is to split it open, place it on a plank, and set it on the embers until cooked. "W7E chose a site for our camp at a point where the Waitahanui River flows into the lake. All along the lakeside were dotted the tents of fellow travellers. At night the glowing camp fires cast their reflections over the placid waters, and now and again snatches of some popular song would come floating down the wind peaceful spot, full of historic memories, conjuring up visions of the old-time Maori canoes full of war-like warriors bearing down upon some rival tribe, and many other scenes of the past, both legendary and historical. In the sigh of the wind might easily be imagined the plaintive sweetness of the haunting love-song of a stalwart brave as he serenaded his dusky maiden ensconced behind the barricade of some distant pah. All such romance is now for the most part lost ir. the atmosphere of modern civilisation. The Maoris in these parts are content to garner their harvest from the pockets of intending anglers, who pay a nominal sum for the privilege of fishing from their domain. The southern points jutting out into the lake are picturesquely wooded with sentinel poplars and

cherry trees. We were fortunate to find the latter bearing ripe fruit. Wild strawberries were to be seen growing amongst the bracken and grasses. On the run to Tokaanu the road winds through a deep gorge up the hills, and for a short distance away from the lake. There are one or two rivers to ford on the way,

and the failure to mark the correct crossing has proved the undoing of many motorists. It is a wise plan to have one of the party wade through in advance of the car, so

that the driver may have some indication of the state of the river bed. ■■.:■ We had heard of the mosquitoes thriving at this end of the lake, but we did not realise the extent of their virulence until we had made camp beside one of the many delightful mountain streams which tumble their chilly waters into the lake. On the banks of the Tongariri River we found good fishing. The streams hereabouts harbour the wariest fish, and they put up a great fight when tempted by a gaily coloured fly. We motored through Tokaanu, and paid a visit to the quaint little village of Waihi where the monument to the late chief Te Heuheu was recently unveiled. HPHE time alloted to our holiday ' was gradually drawing to a close, so we decided to retrace our tracks as far as Wairakei, and from there take the road back through Atiamuri •to Hamilton. After leaving Wairakei the road wanders through a most desolate stretch of country, which might easily be- termed the Bad Lands. Our route lay along the track of the old river bed of the Waikato— huge boulders and outcrops of' stone show the extent of the volcanic activity which diverted it to its present course. A feature of this locality is the gigantic rock (Pohaturoa) which, rising sheer from the plains, domin-

ates the surrounding country. Not having been this route before, we were surprised to find that the township of Atiamuri, indicated on the road map, consisted of one house, a wayside hostelry! In the old coaching days, this was the stopping place between Taupo and Litchfield. The Waikato at this point narrows down to the beautiful Atiamuri Rapids, and excellent fishing is obtained from down stream. The river banks are strewn with gigantic boulders, scattered hither and thither by the titanic forces which have from time to time played havoc with this portion of the country. - Continuing on our homeward way, a detour was made at Putaruru to visit the Sir Armstrong Whitworth construction works at Arapuni, where rapid progress is being made in the erection of suitable housing accommodation for the small army of workers engaged in the building of this great project. The little township here is gradually assuming a very business-like appearance, and is reminiscent of one of Rex Beach's novels. In place of the few tents which marked the homes of the first workmen employed, rows and rows of hutments have been built. These include laundries, billiard saloons, stores and shops of every description. A first-class road runs out from Putaruru and now forms a new route to Te Awamutu. The remainder of our journey

back to Auckland was uneventful. Our holiday was ended, and we had successfully accomplished a tour which will be full of happy recollections for many moons to come. When winter again descends upon the country-side, blocking the roads

to so many of our delightful camping sites, the memory of those kind summer days, will linger hauntingly in our minds and inspire us to plan similar jaunts in the not far distant future.