THE FIRES OF NGATOROIRANGI by E. G. Schwimmer Suddenly the ordinary vegetation comes to an end; a smell of sulphur; the ground covered with a white crust. Nothing grows on it; it feels warm underfoot. A notice warns visitors not to proceed without a guide. The narrow path is occasionally crossed by a crack or interrupted by an irregular hole where the silica eaten ground has collapsed into an unplumbable cavity. Near the path, there are larger holes out of which steam is curling up continuously; from others fountains of hot water spurt forth into the air at regular intervals. Elsewhere, dark mud is slowly bubbling at enormous heat like simmering porridge. There are also lakes embedded in the brittle silicified ground, some of them lightly steaming, coloured pink or green or dark blue. Places such as these are among the most popular tourist haunts in New Zealand; there are seventeen of them along the 150 mile stretch of the Rotorua-Taupo volcanic zone. Romantic names have been invented such as Witches' Cauldron (for one of the mudpools) and Bridal Veil (for a geyser). One pond of delightfully warm water, overhung by large trees, is known as the Honeymoon pool. Charming though such names are, the visitor feels a primative awe at the immense forces roaring and bubbling at him derived from the steaming magma deep below. It may seem surprising that the Maoris who first landed in New Zealand some 600 years ago were not frightened away from these threatening places. On the contrary, they soon developed a linking for them and settled in their immediate neighbourhood. They tell of a priest Ngatoroi-