PLACE OF ADORNING by ELSIE LOCKE Mrs Locke is a well-known New Zealand writer who won first place last year in the article section of the Katherine Mansfield award. Hurry up, Mum!” From somewhere beyond the pines, I am being called. We are on holiday in Taupo; the sun is contending with the cloud; we are going sight-seeing. I put away my book and hurry to join Susan and the girls. The car starts up, we pass quickly through the town, and before long we are coming into Wairakei with its immense geothermal bores roaring out. We are on our way to Orakei-Korako, a place I've always wanted to see since, years ago, we toured this scenic area in a Ford tin truck on a few pounds apiece, and stopped at the turn-off to weigh our cash—and find it wanting. On my knee is the tourist pamphlet. “See the unbelieveable Place of Adorning… THERMAL WONDERLAND… FANTASTICALLY beautiful! alive in colour; outstanding; amazing; A MUST!!” And, alas, an up-to-the-minute appendage. “See before it's too late! as Orakei-Korako will be flooded by the new Ohakuri Dam.” We stop at the Aratiatia Rapids. The paths are beaten hard by the shoes of thousands of tourists; matchboxes and chocolate wrappers litter the broom and fern. But when we stand on a lookout rock above that magnificent weaving torrent, that great river fighting its way between and over the ancient boulders with bush and mosses tipping the foam, I am lost in the sight and sound of it all, and I was when first I saw it thirty years ago. Susan appears at my elbow. “Take a good look,” she says. “It'll probably be your last. Unless you come at tourist-time to watch it turned on at 3.30 in the afternoon or something, like monkeys being fed at the zoo. What price electricity!” I share her feelings as we return to the car. It's as if there were a hoarding at the parking place: “See before it's too late! as the Rapids will be drained dry with the operation of the new Aratiatia Dam.” After the main road there is the side road through miles of low-growing, white-tipped heath, and then the charming flashing of the Whakeheke Rapids. But now our pleasure in this miniature Aratiatia is also dimmed by the thought: “See before it's too late! as Whakaheke will be smoothed out by the new Ohakuri Dam.” We hurry on, and come to the gates and the lawn and the house and the sweet-shop: Souvenirs, Cigarettes, Ice-Cream, Soft Drinks. We pay our money to enter, Of course, explains the woman in charge cheerfully, you must buy the guide-book otherwise you won't know what you're seeing. And you must be sure to see The Cave, there's a legend about it, look, here it is, but don't read it now, sit down and read it when you are in The Cave. Susan used to come here when old Rameka Henare, then in his nineties, would ferry sightseers across the Waikato River in his canoe. I look at its swiftly curling waters and try to imagine this. You wouldn't find, today, either the canoe or the man who could handle it in such a current. Even as it is, there is excitement to spare with the cable-ferry in which we are taken over by a pakeha. Curious and intriguing like all Thermal Wonderlands, Orakei-Korako has its specialties. According to another visitor who has been a guide, the weather has failed us; we need bright sunshine to reveal the varied colours of the Artists' Palette.