THE WAITOMO CAVES.

Hauraki Plains Gazette, Volume XXXVII, Issue 4934, 3 February 1926, Page 4

THE WAITOMO CAVES.

AS SEEN BY “PUNCH.”

A SORROWFUL TERMINATION.

Mr A. P. Herbert, author and

humorist, continues his description of New Zealand in the latest number to hand of “Punch.” In this contribution he deals with-the Waitomo Caves, and it will be seen that he has no high opinion of the New Zealand guides. The caves of Waitomo (N.Z.) are full of stalactites and stalagmites; they have halls like cathedrals and grottoes Like shrines), and these are adorned with miracles of carven istone, with fretwork and filagree, with pendants and pillars, with crystal and colour; and they are very wonderful. But they are not so wonderful as, the guide. The stalactite grows down from the roof and the stalagmite grows up from the floor ; and. when ,at last a stalactite meets a stalagmite they marry and have a baby, and this baby is a. monster and its name is guide. And it ijs' a question whether that guide, or any such guide, should be allowed to live. I do not resent in a guide a certain enthusiasm for the wonders of creation which it is his; duty to exhibit ; but I do object to any suggestion 'that he created them. Our guide, who had the voice and temperament of an ill-controlled sergeant-major, and drove us through the mysterious vaults booming words of command, referred, continually to the crystals and stalactites as “the work.” “No smoking I No cameras I And don’t finger the work, which is) very delicate.” “This work,” he .Would yell, as he turned his lantern towards, a fairy grotto, “is acknowledged to be the finest piece of, work of its kind.” And one was left with the impression that the Caves of .Waitomo, with their ornaments, were the work of some

local artist, and that, owing to his unfortunate decease, tney couldn’t be replaced. By the time wte were well into the bowels cf the moun-ain thidentity of the artist was only too plain. It was impossible now for anyone to grope his way unguided to the freedom of the bush outside, and the guide threw off all seruple ai.d restraint. Not content to indicate the M-;,ei’al splendours of “the work" and leave his victims to their own conelusions and taste, not content with having created the place, he must needs relate to us the ingenious names which he has bestowed upon his handicraft. SUCH NAMES! And such names! “The Blanket,” he boomed, his, light moving swiftly across the dusky pillars of the cavern. “The Pig! The Saucepan! The Poached Egg ! Over there in the corner is my Egg. Over the .arch my Two Doves. And there in the corner is my Harry Lauder !” And dutifully our eyes roamed gaping after the light. To me it seemed hard that where Nature (or the guide) had taken great trouble to produce a beautiful and unusual thing it should be likened to an object so common and so little attractive as a blanket or a poached egg ; but this we might have endured had we been able to identify the objects so named. For my part, I looked-in vain for the Blanket, the Poached Egg, the Leg of Mutton, or the Onion. Ah 1 saw was a forest of stalactites of singular grace and colour, only that, occupied in the hopeless search for the Poached Egg, I seldom saw these very clearly, and while we were still prosecuting our search the light was withdrawn and our guide was booming in .the next vault.

On the way to the Glow-worm Cave the guide abandoned himself to the worst excesses of guiding. The Gloww'orm. Cave is a great marvel, a cavern in a hill through which a river runs, and it was discovered by a Mr Mace, who mus,t have had a very healthy nerve. The story of these adventures one would have wished to hear, but the guide, knowing we were in a hurry, elected to cut this story and give us, however pressed, the full benefit of his own conceits and whimsies ; nor would the most violent hints persuade him, for example, to cut out one incident of the “shadow-shows,” in which, with artful shiftings of his lamp behind a rock, he invited, us to observe the wonder of the lifelike shadows of bulldogs, terriers, Australian Tommies, and turkeys upon the cavern’s walls. During these exhibitions) I had to keep a .tight hold on George, who, otherwise, I know would have led the man gently back to the narl row bridge and cast him pitilessly

into the Grave of Guides.

A MASS OF GLOW WORMS.

However, at long last, we reached the Glow-worm Cave, and what Mr Mace thought when all alone he first beheld it I cannot begin to imagine. The roof of the dark cave through which the little river runs is a mass of glow-worms, all a-glowing. Different from our little creatures, and have their light in the head and not in the abdomen (or so the guide said —it may be that he lied) ; and from them there are hung fine threads or streamers for the catching of insects, which, being caught, are drawn up upon the streamers and devoured (or so the guide said). At any noise or even talking the Lights go out; so, bellowing injunctions to be quiet, the guide led us to the landing stage in '.the main part of the cave and embarked us in a boat. Honeybubble, of course, wais' breathing heavily, and. we had some trouble with him before he would refrain from conversation. The boat has no oars, but is. hauled along by a. wire, and without .a sound save the Honeybubble’s breathing and the guide’s rebukes, we moved across the invisible water under that fantastic roof, a firmament starred with the, living lamps of. love (or hunger, as the case may be).

But after a little of this the deplorable George—l know not whether goaded by some hoarded resentment against the guide, or it may be inflamed by those love-lights (as I suppose) in the ceiling—the intolerable George, I say, who was sitting next to Pansy Honeybubble in the board, said suddenly and loudly, “Pansy, my dear, I love you,” and I firmly believe he pressed the creature’s hand. At any rate the volatile Pansy screamed shrilly in the darkness, and forthwith by ones and two, tens and twenties, the fairy lights, the lights, of love, were extinguished, and went out. The guide said sternly, “Now, what did I tell you about conversation in the cave ?” And in utter blackness and disgrace the boat moved back to the stage. Never again shall I go round .the world with George.