From Hawera to Mount Egmont.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXXIV, Issue 2, 14 January 1905, Page 36

From Hawera to Mount Egmont.

(By

D.H.M.

(Continued from last week.) Someone suggested a visit to Wilkie’s Pools; few of Ils held ever heard of them, but the suggested wins greeted with acclamation; as a matter of fact, it interested us very little whether Wilkie’s Diols were genuine or a hoax, provides! we started off for somewhere. The weather still looked a little unsettled when we set out from the Mountain House: but by the time we had nrrivnl at the foot of the pools.’ the sun had again put in an appearance, the clouds broke up. and from that on the day was all that could be desired. The formation of the rock forming Wilkie’s Pools is of a most peculiar and interesting nature. Into the face of a steep, rocky incline. Nature has carved out shelves, and in each shelf she has scooped out a large basin. The Kapuni River, overflowing the top basin, fal's into the one below, and so on to the bottom. The rock is of a beautiful blue tint, and the deep basins, full and overflowing with the pure snow water, sill go to make si most delightful picture. . ( Upon arrival at. the top of Wilkies Pools, and after walking for a short distance along the river lied, one of our party surprised us greatly by stalling out “Where is the river?— it’s gone.” At first we thought he was attempting a joke, but upon looking at the river bed, the awful truth began to dawn upon us, the Kapuni River had absolutely diswp|>evired. leaving its wdll-worn bed hard and dry. Annoying as this was to us. it was also very puzzling, and we tturned to one who had been tihere before for an explanation. In fact, one or two of us “demanded” an explanation, and Mr Squire, feeling that he was being held responsible for t he n.ver s sudden disappearance, hurried us on up the dry lied, and then, mounting a large rock, ilramitieally pointed to the Kapuni burying itself in the rock, ami leaving its old lied for the purpose of making an underground trip, to crop out again just above Wilkies Pools. The effect is startling. It appears that the river formerly nan above ground, but for some reason of its own it now takes a short run underground before filling Wilkie’s Pools. After visiting Wilkie’s Pools someone suggested tollowing up the Kapuni River, until the snow, which feeds it, be reached. Gne or two of the party, however, spoke of two hours’ rough climbing, and decided to return to the Mountain House; but upon calling the roll of those in favour of pushing on, nine of the party answered, and a start was made for the snow that looked so near. Following the Kapuni River was

decidedly slow work, the rocky formation of the country wa<s responsible for that, and our overcoato, which we had brought with i», did not improve ma.tr ters. After about an hour’s walk, or, should 1 say, scramble, we arrived at the foot a steep, roeky incline, and just above that lay the snow, looking so very near Bnd luring us on. After * short rest we proceeded to climb, and I do not think I shall forget that climb for many Tears to some. I have some scraps of iaathtr that were once known as boots—-

my boots—as a memento of the occasion; but, quite apart from that, I am not likely to forget that exciting climb. At the outset it was comparatively easy going, but the further up that rocky ridge we went, the looser the rocks and gravel, and, in consequence, the harder the toil. The most difficult piece to negotiate was the last fifty or sixty yards; when we were so near to the snow that one of the party declared that he could smell it 2 and yet that short distance meant three-quarters of an hour’s hard work, with excitement enough to last the average holiday-maker for a whole week. Try to imagine a very steep, rocky incline between 400 and 500 feet from top to bottom, covered with loose grave), and upon that loose gravel you imagine a thick sprinkling of rocks, weighing anything from a pound to a ton. Try, then, to picture yourself making the ascent. It looked so easy from the bottom, that we hardly gave it a thought. We simply said, “We will climb up that ridge and on to the snow.” We reckoned ten minutes—it took us nearly an hour.

One would not mind so much had it been only a loose gravel slope to walk up. It wasn’t the gravel that troubled us, it was the loose rocks—rocks weighing half a ton, that a child had but to touch to set bounding to the bottom of the ravine. No roek was safe as a foothold. Resting as they were in the loose gravel, the odds were ten to one that as soon as your weight rested upon one of them it carried away, and then those behind had to look out for danger. I should be afraid to say how many tons of rock were loosened by our little party in their climb, and sent bowling down to the bottom of the ravine, and the narrow escapes that some of the party had of following them were not a few. Looking back upon that little adventure, I marvel that we got to the top without an accident. The only little mishap on record occurred to my camera. It was while dodging a rolling stone. I let go of my camera for a second, leaving it on a rock, and before I could take hold of it again a small roek struck it, and smashed several of the plates, so when I came to develop them I found three of them so badly smashed that I could not print from them. This, of course, was a very small matter, when one reflects that it was only plates, whereas it might have been heads that were smashed. On arrival at the top of the incline we were faced with a fresh difficulty, in the shape of a steep wall of jagged loose rocks, at the top of which, jutting out some 18in, was a shelf of earth sod, evidently the melting snow had washed away the gravel and rocks and left the sod jutting out. With some difficulty we hoisted one of the party up on to the earthen shelf, and although it bent in a threatening way under his weight, it enabled him to get a grip of the grass beyond and hoist himself up on to terra firma. From there, by lying full length on the ground, he was able to give a helping hand to number two, and that accomplished, the matter of hoisting the rest up was very easy. Arrived on the top of the ridge, we now- found the long-looked for snow. At our feet there it lay, in all its whiteness, causing us to shade our eyes and blink, for it must be remembered that the sun was now shining brightly, and the reflection was dazzling in the extreme. In last week’s “Graphic” my photo of the party crossing the snow appeared, so it is not necessary for me to describe it further, and in any case I take it snow is always much the same all the world over. Of course, snow-balling was freely indulged in, and, as I reckoned my snow-balling photos as the best I had secured, they were, of course, the ones I took upon the plates that had been cracked in the ascent of the rocky incline. If you study photography you know that it is always the most precious plates that come to grief. In this case the plates were cracked before they were exposed, but the result is the same. After amusing ourselves in the old English way of spending Christmas, viz., snow-balling one another to our heart’s content, we set off for Fantham’s Teak, where more snow had to be crossed, and then looked about for the track back to the Mountain House. I must here explain that we did not arrive at Fantham’s Peak by the usual route, and those contemplating the trip must not be put off on account of my description of our ascent of the scoria Incline, for there is a well-beaten track all the way from the Mountain House to Tantham’s Peak, vs passed that

track by, thinking the incline shorter. When we told the caretaker at tho Mountain House of the way we went, he laughed at us for our pains, and told us that no guide in his senses would have taken us up that way. The track back to the Mountain House was easily picked up, and was so easy to follow that in half an hour from the time wc started we were back at the House and as hungry as huutcrs. Fantham’s Peak is known by the Maoris as Rangitoto (sky of blood), on account of the peculiar ruddy light that reflects from it with the rising of the sun. On arrival at. the Mountain House we found the stay-at-home party packing up their baggage and preparing for the descent, so, after a hurried meal, we did likewise, and by two p.m.- after bidding farewell to Mr. and Mrs. St.Clair (the caretakers), who had done so much towards the comfort of our short stay, and with many declarations that “we would return again as soon as opportunity offered,” we turned our backs upon the mountain roost, and, entering the beautiful bush track, headed this time down-hill to join the drags, and then home.