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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 13, Issue 8 (November 1, 1938)

Mountain of the Mists

Mountain of the Mists.

It had been raining for a week in the high country across the wide river strath. All the tops of the Urewera saw-edge highlands were shawled in fog. We had glimpses of the shoulder of Tawhiu-au, the sacred peak of the Ngati-Manawa tribe, whose homes are on the terraces along the Rangitaiki. A rightly named mountain; Tawhiu-au means “Swirling Mists.” The ragged garments of fog drifted above its steep pyramid; they parted a moment to reveal the high waterfall, a stream that drops straight from the bush and loses itself in a hidden gully. A water-drop-of Maori history; its name is Mangamate—“Stream of Death.”

The Rangitaiki River, we saw as we went down to it from the eastern edge of the Kaingaroa, was in high flood, rushing under the white bridge, eddying in whirlpools. Where we formerly page 10 had to ford the rivers on horseback at doubtful and sometimes dangerous crossings in this country, there are now bridges, nearly everywhere.

Turning off to the left on the eastern bank, we took the new road that leads north through the great Galatea estate. In towards the mountains on the east the main road trended into the ranges—the way to Ruatahuna and Waikare-moana.

The western wall of the Urewera now was on our right hand; we could not see the tops of the peaks, but I knew their outlines by heart, and knew the topography from many a journey into those bush-shadowed gorges. Rolled about in mists to-day the ranges seemed to loom up more sternly than ever; in the gulches between their lower steeps we had glimpses of the thunderous blue mystery land.