1867 - von Hochstetter, Ferdinand. New Zealand - CHAPTER XII: The North Shore

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CHAPTER XII. 1

The North Shore.

When the inhabitants of crowded cities, disgusted with the continual smoke, dust, and busy bustle of town, and yearning after the free haunts of nature and the clear, open sky, avail themselves of the few days set aside for recreation, to expand once more the breast, contracted by continual sitting in the musty office or counting-house, and with wife and children to migrate into the country, -- we find this very natural, the more so, when winter with its frigid cold and blustering snow-storms returns so soon, as in Middle Europe, confining us poor mortals within the four walls of home. But in Auckland, where, so to say, the town itself is in the country, where the mild and mellow climate -- rainy days excepted -- never prevents the happy inhabitants from passing their leisure-moments out in the beautiful garden around the house, and where the clear, sunny sky, not hidden by rows of

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four or five-storied houses, smiles upon every street; -- I say, on hearing somebody in Auckland speak of longing after country-life, we could hardly refrain from smiling at such an idea.

For some time past we had intended to go to the northern coast of the Waitemata Harbour, to the so-called "North Shore," for the purpose of paying a visit to the volcanic cones there, and to a remarkable lake lying in an ancient crater, of which we had heard so much. A friend of ours, however, wishing to accompany us, requested us to postpone our excursion for a short time. Knowing him to be an excellent guide and pleasant companion, we readily agreed to wait a few days longer, for the benefit of having him with us. We were, however, not a little surprised, when he informed us, that his wife and children were also to be of the party in order to enjoy the pleasures of country-life; and that he would, therefore, take two tents with him for the purpose of camping out and having the full benefit of a short stay in the country. It naturally made a somewhat ludicrous impression on us, to hear our worthy friend thus speak about the country, and the more so, since we had repeatedly admired his idyllic dwelling as the very ideal of a country-seat.

Let the reader fancy to himself, at one of the many small bays of the Waitemata, situated on a sheltered slope, a cottage-like house snugly nestled in the luxuriant shrubbery of its surrounding garden. The house is covered with passion-flowers, honey-suckle, and other beautiful creeping plants; the veranda in front of the house decked with fuchsias, whose charming bell-shaped blossoms have clothed roof and walls as with a purple robe; round about a large garden, its farthest end kissed by the rippling wave of the calm, blue sea. Boats and sails of every kind enliven the watery surface, which forms a part of the variously indented Waitemata Harbour. Beyond the harbour the North-coast with its volcanic cones is seen; above it the regular cone of the Rangitoto with its taper-points is looming high up to the azure sky, -- in short a scene so charming, so pretty and picturesque, that we could never tire of admiring it. The house with this prospect is the very same

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idyllic dwelling of our friend, and the beautiful garden adjoining it is a perfect pattern of a New Zealand garden, a lovely spot of earth, on which one cannot help being contented and happy. Hedges, six to eight feet high, of monthly roses, fuchsias, and geraniums, their leaves and blossoms presenting a many-coloured tapestry, encompass the garden. The damp New Zealand climate secures to that luxuriant vegetation the charm of perfect freshness even in midsummer. And in the garden itself, what a variety of trees and shrubs and plants! All the plants of the temperate zone thrive here, and amongst them a great many forms reminding us of a warmer climate. The German oak-tree with its knotted branches towers by the side of the slender Norfolk-pine (Araucaria); the blue gum-tree of Australia (Eucalyptus), by the side of the weeping-willow and locust-tree. Interspersed between them are groups of oranges and lemons; the banana of India; the date-tree of North Africa; the granate-tree; the myrtle, and the fig-tree. Jessamines, bignonias and roses; heliotropes, coronellas, camelias and dahlias grace the flower-beds in rich abundance, forming upon them a gay, brilliant floral texture; while upon the verdant turf the agave of South America proudly rears its blooming shaft from between its juicy leaves. In truth, it is delightful, charming indeed, to walk among such beds and under such trees.

But "le bonheur est dans l'inconstance!" -- Our friend had made up his mind to enjoy the country-air, and hence we rowed in his boat, -- two Maoris managing the oars, -- to the North Shore, a distance of about one league. We landed on the low sandy beach strewn with mussel-shells, and ere long the Maoris had two tents pitched, in which we made ourselves at home as well as the circumstances permitted. The larger tent was intended for our friend and his family, serving at the same time as common dining-room, while in the second tent we had just room enough to lie down to sleep at full length. The tents were stretched so close to the sea-beach, that at high-water they were almost touched by the waves. It was a clear sunny day, the scorching heat, however, was pleasantly moderated by the prevailing southwest wind.

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We set out forthwith, to take a closer view of the place, which bids fair to become more and more a place of amusement for Auckland; which, however, as yet had but very little of the appearance of a fashionable summer-resort, although, as I have been informed, even the governor does not mind passing some weeks in the summer of every year with his family at this place; of course, in tents like all the rest. With the exception of some small huts and the pilot's house, there was no shelter to be found upon the North Shore. But it seems to be a pleasure to a great many inhabitants of Auckland, to exchange for a short time the comforts and conveniences of a house for the simple living in a tent.

The North Shore is a peninsula, and was probably formerly an island. Only a narrow, slender strip of sand connects the peninsula with the mainland. Small as it is, measuring scarcely a mile at its widest part between the Waitemata and the East-branch of Shoal Bay, it nevertheless presents various points of attraction to the geologist. The western half consists of tertiary sandstone and shale, forming precipitous walls on the Auckland-side, in which near the high-water line small seams of lignite crop out. Farther East the tertiary strata cease, making room for a flat strand covered with muscle-shells. Those shells are piled up in heaps several feet high, and, there being no limestone in the vicinity of Auckland, they are burnt for lime. Behind the muscle-banks small extinct volcanic cones arise, the scoriae and lavas of which extend farther West to the sea. The principal one of these cones is Mount Victoria, formerly called Takarunga, a crater-cone nearly 300 feet high, upon which a flagstaff has been erected.

In passing along the beach, we came to a kind of scaffold about 30 feet long. Our organs of smell betrayed to us at a considerable distance its object. A long row of fish, sharks and other kinds, were suspended from it to dry, tossed to and fro by the wind and promising the natives a favourite dish for the winter with a great deal of "haut gout." Fat pigs and lean dogs were running about; and farther on, there were some Maori huts. The

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old folks sitting at the door hailed us with their cordial "Tena-koe," while the black-eyed, half-naked children were staring at us with amazement, probably at a loss to know, what the two men with hammers in their hands were about. The plantings about the huts, consisting of potatoes, cabbage and other culinary vegetables, were in a tolerably good state of cultivation, and surrounded with a wall of lava-blocks piled up one above the other four feet high, up which pretty lianas of luxuriant verdure were climbing.

Our object was, to visit and to examine the most easterly of the three cones, called Takapuna by the natives, and 216 feet high. It forms the North-head of Auckland Harbour, is of an almost hemispherical shape and on three sides washed by the sea, from which it rises in steep ascent. It is the most interesting of the North-shore hills.

Takapuna, the North head of Auckland Harbour.

The first eruptions were here evidently submarine, the basis of the hill round about being formed of regular layers 20 to 40 feet thick. These layers consist of volcanic ashes, scoriae and lava-fragments baked into a solid breccia, and with an outward inclination at an angle of 12 degrees, so that at low-water, at the foot of the cliffs, which are 20 to 30, some even 40 feet high, the traveller can walk on the lower strata swept clean by the rolling surge, nearly all around the hill as on a roof inclined at an angle of 12 degrees. We made the attempt; of course we had at some places to climb along rock-walls upon projections scarcely half a foot wide, below which the foaming sea was dashing up its spray. At last we arrived at a point, where the surge had washed out a deep cave. Its walls were entirely lined with a salt-crust. Here large blocks of rock prevented our advancing farther, and we were obliged to climb

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our way back along the same difficult passage by which we had come. Above the regularly stratified tuff-cone arises with steeper inclination the scoriae-cone. It is closed up at its top, but displays at its western declivity a flat indentation denoting the crater, from which in a westerly direction a small stream of lava had issued forth. Manuka bushes and ferns cover the slopes of the hill, between them the European high-taper rears its slender shaft. The stately plant with its bright leaves and its pure yellow blossoms looked quite strange amongst the gloomy, monotonous New Zealand vegetation. An observer, however ignorant of the geography of plants, would necessarily recognize the foreigner at first sight.

The Takapuna is very remarkable for the numerous lava-drops, or volcanic bombs, found on its surface, bombs of the most regular pear or lemon-shape with spiral points, which must have been formed by the rotation of the glowing masses thrown out in a fluid state. The interior structure of the lava-drops is dense and brittle like cooled cast-iron. They are found of all sizes: small like a lemon, and others 3 or 4 feet long with a thickness of 2 feet and a weight of several hundred pounds. Those bombs could have been only cast after the point of eruption had already risen above the level of the sea. This being quite a novelty to our Auckland friends, and it being moreover the intention to have some very characteristic specimens of such bombs deposited in the Auckland Museum, each of us took one of them on his shoulder, and thus heavily laden we returned to our tents. The natives we met on our way, stopped in perfect amazement, and we heard one of them whisper to another the word "Kaura," i.e. gold, which was quite amusing to us. Of course, what could those children of nature know about volcanic bombs? They naturally reasoned, that

Volcanic bombs.

gold alone could induce us to bear those heavy clods in the sweat of our brows for a whole hour.

On arriving at our tents we found behind a bulwark constructed of lava-blocks a gaily blazing fire, over which the tea-

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kettle was suspended, and our Maoris were busy gathering oysters, which are found there in great quantities on the rocks of the beach. And in the tent the worthy spouse of our friend had an excellent dinner prepared, which we enjoyed with the best appetite possible. In vain, however, did I wait for the oysters. Being specially fond of this shellfish, I betook myself in person to the natives in order to see about the matter. I found them all busy opening the shells with rocks, and greedily devouring their contents. Three large stones, covered all over with the finest oysters, were yet steaming on the coals. The Maoris pointing to the stones, meant "kapai" (very good), and rolled one of the stones before me, after having duly tested the degree of heat which the shells had sustained. Of course, I did not wait to be asked too often, but helped myself freely. Oysters roasted a la Maori are indeed no bad dish. The lids were easily removed and the oysters roasted in their own liquor tasted daintily. After having most scrupulously cleared the stone holding about 25 oysters, I too said "kapai," and turned my steps again towards the pastry of our amiable hostess, who could not refrain from smiling mischievously at my gastronomical peregrinations.

Dinner over, we set out to ascend the flagstaff-hill or Mount Victoria. It is the highest volcanic hill on the North-shore, 283 feet high, and is called Takarunga by the natives. In former times the summit bore a pah, and it is from the fortifications of this pah that the terraces, cut along its slope 10 to 15 feet high, date, likewise a hole on the Northside of the hill about 20 feet wide and deep. The top is flat and truncated, it presents still a semicircular crater open towards Southeast, from which in the same direction several lava-streams issued forth as far as the sea, forming stony bars. The prospect from the top is truly charming. It opens a view over the whole Waitemata Harbour, and farther on, the Hauraki Gulf is visible with its islands and promontories, and the sea alive with sails of every kind. Beyond the sea a large Maori settlement is seen, belonging to a tribe emigrated from the Bay of Islands, who some years ago very readily paid here the

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Government one pound sterling per acre, for the purpose of raising upon the fertile volcanic soil crops of maize, wheat, potatoes and other vegetables for the neighbouring Auckland market. The people are said to have attained to considerable wealth by their industry. Their vessels -- among them several war-canoes with beautiful carvings in wood on the prow and stern, and two neat whaling-boats -- lay upon the beach.

A War-Canoe of the beach.

Between Victoria Hill and Takapuna head there is a third small scoriae-cone, about 100 feet high, with its crater in a tolerable state of preservation, which on the map I have styled "Heaphy Hill" in honour of Mr. C. Heaphy.

Towards evening we returned to our tents, and sat together for a good while in social confabulation. The roaring of the sea at our feet was like a grand cradle-song; our couch, however, though there was no scarcity of woollen blankets, would not suit us at all. A keen wind having arisen, our tent was most uncomfortably waving to and fro, threatening every moment to be upset. How easily we might have reached Auckland in the course of an hour, -- its lights gleaming invitingly over to us across the waters, -- thence to return in the morning and thus continue our excursions! However, our friend had invited us to his country-tour, and we were obliged to share also these pleasures connected with it. Despite wind and tempest we slept in peace the sleep of the just, and awoke in the morning at sun-rise, greatly refreshed from our night's repose. A bath in the waves sporting at our feet helped to make us wide awake; tea was soon made, and we set out to visit Lake Pupuke about five miles distant in a northerly direction.

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Our path lay between the crater-cones we had visited the day before, across the slip of land between the North Shore peninsula and the channel on the North-coast of the Waitemata Harbour. Not a tree interrupted the monotony of the fern-land; only here and there a heifer was seen grazing, New Zealand field-larks were flattering about, and crickets and locusts were chirping their shrill notes. The soil consists of a stiff whitish clay ("pipe-clay"), being covered with dwarf Manuka (Leptospermum), fern (Pteris esculenta) and a variety of small shrubs and tufts of grass. Nothing else seems to thrive in the sadly sterile soil. And yet that very soil bore in olden times luxuriant forest-trees.

This circumstance gives rise to various reflections; for the sterile pipe-clay soil occupying such extensive tracts in the vicinity of Auckland, and especially in the districts East and West of Auckland, in which nothing will grow, not even grass, is a real calamity. The question arises: is there no means to restore to the soil the productive power, which it must necessarily have possessed of old, when it produced those towering Kauri forests, traces of which are plainly seen in the Kauri-gum which the natives are everywhere digging from the surface of that soil? Experienced farmers must decide this question by direct experiments. At any rate, however, the method usually pursued by the colonists upon the fern-heaths, seems to be throughout a perverse one. If immediately after the burning down of the woods, grass and clover-seed had been sown into its ashes and humus, a heavy growth of grass might perhaps have preserved the humus-surface of the soil. But they burn again and again; the winds carry off the ashes; the rain is gradually washing the humus away, and at last nothing remains but the naked clay-soil, upon which only Leptospermum and Pteris are scantily thriving. And in consequence of the usual burning-system, even these plants are not allowed to grow strong and hardy, and gradually to reproduce humus; but year after year those bushes are set on fire and burnt down. The owners of the ground assert that it was done, because the cattle was fond of browsing the tender shoots that spring up after the conflagration. But these also are

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growing more and more scarce from year to year, and a system, perhaps correctly applied to very fertile alluvial soil, for the purpose of exterminating the exuberant growth of fern and preparing it for a crop of corn, is certain to crush upon this stiff clay soil even the last scanty trace of verdure. The method of burning out was originally a custom of the natives, who by burning cleared the forest, tilling it once after the burning, and then again went in search of new ground. Thus applied, the system is a correct one, but the repeated burning is an abuse. After the first burning luxuriant undergrowth is produced; after the second, tall flax and fern, finally dwarf fern and Manuka, and last of all the naked soil remains.

It was a fatiguing walk across a sadly waste plain, although on the right the view of the sea and the beautiful cone of the Rangitoto Mountain, on the left a glance at the deep incisions of Shoal Bay presented to the eye a great change of scenery.

It was not until we approached the lake and arrived upon volcanic soil, that both land and vegetation assumed a different character. Taller shrubbery intermixed with peach-trees made its appearance; a Maori hamlet with some twenty huts lay there, surrounded with fields and meadows, and the New Zealand flax-plant -- its tall and luxuriant growth being always indicative of fertile soil -- stood in powerful bushes by the way-side. We had arrived at the foot of a gently sloping hill.

Large fields, fenced meadows and a farm-house situated on the top between fruit and ornamental trees betrayed the industry and the labour of a farmer settled there. We ascended the slope and found ourselves suddenly at the brink of a nearly circular very steep basin, about one mile in diameter and four to five miles in circumference at the bottom of which, quite picturesque between wood-clad shores, lay the remarkable Lake Pupuke (alias Pupaki and Pupuki), the largest of the crater-lakes in the vicinity of Auckland. That settlement is beautifully styled "Flora See," and belongs to a worthy German physician, my friend Dr. C. Fisher in Auckland, who has established here extensive nurseries and vineyards, and

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expects to produce excellent wine within a few years. Lake Pupuke is a fresh-water lake of "unfathomable depth," as I was told. I therefore requested Captain Burgess, the pilot of Auckland Harbour, to measure the depth with his sounding apparatus. The greatest depth in the middle of the lake amounted to 28 fathoms, so that the bottom of the lake lies 140 to 150 feet below the level of the sea, from which the lake is separated only by a very narrow ridge, a part of the crater-frame. The lake fills the crater-basin of a gently sloping tuff-cone, rising only about 100 feet above the level of the sea and consisting of layers with a regular outward dip. On the steep inner crater-wall hero and there basaltic dykes appear and on the Eastside of the cone larger masses of basaltic lava, dating from real lava-streams, are forming cliffs jutting far into the sea. In these lava-masses there are said to be caves full of human skeletons, memorials of the former outrages in the wars of the natives. Pupuke is the largest and deepest among the numerous tuff-craters in the vicinity of Auckland, and the question is justly asked, whence the lake, situated upon a low isthmus, derives its water-supply. Is it not natural to think of the opposite Rangitoto mountain, separated from Lake Pupuke only by a branch of the sea four miles wide, the highest among the lava and scoriae-cones of Auckland? The natives assert that the Rangitoto was taken out of Lake Pupuke; but we say, that Lake Pupuke obtains its water from the extensive lava-fields of the Rangitoto by means of subterraneous or rather submarine channels.

Hundreds of wild-ducks were swimming on the lake; it is also said to be abounding in all kinds of fish, especially eels. On the shore we fished interesting fresh-water shells and fresh-water plants out of the water, 2 and the wood furnished us many a beau-

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tiful fern. At the sight of this charming lake we were vividly reminded of the "Laacher See" near the Rhine. The old celebrated cathedral on the Laacher See is represented here by the church and school-house of a deserted Roman Catholic Mission Station on the southern side of the lake.

Towards 2 o'clock we beat the retreat to our camping ground. The wind in the meantime had increased to a perfect gale, which blew into our faces with full blast from Southwest. On arriving at our tents we found our sleeping-tent upset by the storm, and the sea went so high, that we could not venture to return in our small boat. Fortunately, towards evening two of our acquaintances came from Auckland with a cutter, for the purpose of taking us back. We embarked behind the North Cape at a place quite protected from the wind, and although many a wave dashed over us, and our little craft leaned so much on one side, that we apprehended every moment its taking water, our sea-experienced friends brought us safely ashore at Auckland after a tiresome three-hour's cruise against the heavy gale.

Our worthy friend, however, determined to enjoy country life with his family, remained despite storm and tempest quietly in his tent on the North Shore, and returned the next day to Auckland, highly gratified with his short rustication.