CORRESPONDENCE.
THE WARM LAKE OF NEW ZEALAND.
[FROM A COBBESPONDEN7.]
November 4, 1871.
HAVE just returned from a visit to Rotomahana, the Warm Lake of New Zealand. I fear I cannot so describe it as to give any adequate idea of the grandeur and beauty of the scenery, but I may succeed in attracting a few travellers, who will feel as I do, that recollections which are never likely to fade are cheaply pur- chased by a visit to the antipodes.
From Tauranga, on the east coast of the Northern Island, a good bridle road of from fifty to sixty miles takes the traveller to Ohinemutu, on the banks of Lake Rotorua. He is here in the midst of geysers. Hot springs bubble out in every direction, and hot streams run into the lake. There is some little danger in living at Ohinemutu. From time to time some one who impru- dently goes ont at night wanders out of the small safe track, and sinks through a thin crust of earth into an abyss of boiling water or scalding mud. The soil is being gradually undermined. Middle- aged men remember when what is now many feet out into the lake was firm land ; and a " pa " was swallowed some years ago, with all its inhabitants, by a sudden landslip. The Maoris, however, are still numerous in Ohinemutu, and use the hot springs for baths and cooking. An English speculator is about-to build a hotel. It will be a capital starting-point to the greater marvels beyond.
From Ohinemutu to Lake Tarawera the road passes through a volcanic district. At one point the track lies between two pools, one a petrifying alum spring, the other a boiling and sulphurous geyser. Turn a few yards off the path, and you come upon an open crater from which steam is always issuing, and which has a miniature eruption every six months. The hill-side round is
covered with deep layers of silica that has been poured out molten; As these thicken the crater is likely, I believe, to close up, and the whole region will then be exposed to violent earthquakes. At present the shocks are insignificant. A few miles further we come to Terme, the head of Lake Tarawera. It was once a missionary station, and a church and an excellent mission-house are still standing. But the church is closed, the mission-house deserted, and its beautiful garden left to ruin. The Maoris who used to worship have abandoned their Christianity and quitted the settle- ment. Three miles further we come to Kariki, where the Maoris have put up an accommodation-house for tourists. It was first raised in honour of Prince Alfred. From this point the road to Rotomahana is by water, across the splendid sheet of Lake Tarawera, till we come to the stream Kaiwaka.
Here fairy-land begins. I dip my hands into the water, and find it at a temperature of from 70° to 80°. For a distance of more than two miles this heat scarcely seems to vary, though here and there we pass by a boiling spring, which a bather would do well to avoid. In one part there are rapids, over which it is diffi- cult to force the canoe. The vegetation of the banks is luxuriant, but sombre. Gradually we work up to Rotomahana. It is very like a Highland tarn bosomed amid grey hills, and is of no great size, about a mile long and half a mile broad. Here and there are broad rushes, in which myriads of water-fowl are breeding, protected by Maori law. They know their safety, and scarcely stir at our approach. But our concern is not with the lake, but with the geysers and marble benches on its banks. The first we land at is known as Te Tarota. Imagine a succession of white marble terraces, fronded with stalactites at the sides, holding here and there basins of indescribably blue water, now two feet, now eight feet deep, and ascending gradually to a fathomless semi- circular crater, above which a cloud of steam broods, and from which a fountain of hot water is constantly welling forth. I should guess the height at which the fountain flows to be some sixty feet above the lake, but this is simple conjecture. What I know is that the whole is on so large a scale as to astonish by its magnificence, and to put Human emulation out of the question. As well reproduce Niagara in an English park as the terraces of Rotomahana at Aranjuez or Versailles. Tarota, however, is not the great wonder of the lake. On the opposite side is another similar formation, Hokoteratera, which rises higher, with more regular terraces, with pink instead of white marble, and, if possible, with bluer water in its cavities. The steps are as easily climbed as a palace staircase, let us say as the Giant's Staircase at Venice ; and even close to the summit the water is not too hot to admit of bathing. Our party all plunged into the pools, but picturesque as the brown Maories looked, one had a feeling that Haroun Alraschid's ladies were the proper tenants of the spot.
There are of course a host of minor marvels, such as . a large mud-geyser, on the banks of Rotomahana. But it is difficult to find eyes for what is merely curious and may be seen elsewhere. I was not specially fortunate in the day of my visit. The sky was clouded over, and the weather was so evidently breaking up that I was unable to linger as I could have wished. To see the terraces or to shoot the rapids by moonlight are experiences which I can well believe add a charm even to the glories of Rotomahana. Travellers in coming years are likely to be spared much of the discomfort which at present attends travel- ling in the New Zealand bush and sleeping in Maori inns. But under all disadvantages, I saw with an unbated sense of delight what I think I shall never forget, never cease to look back upon as perhaps the greatest natural wonder I have known. The Warm Lake lies in the midst of romantic scenery. Some day, when Australasia is fully peopled, this district will be the Switzerland
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