At Motutere, a small, low peninsula jutting out into the lake, we found the remains of an extensive _pa_, with burial-places, and carved palisading, which lay scattered about the ground. There were likewise the remains of a _wharekarakia_, or church, a ruined monument where the first light of Christianity had dawned upon a heathen people. This place, which was most delightfully situated, bore evidence of having been at one time a populous native settlement, which had gradually dwindled away until it had become the haunt of a few wild pigs that squealed and grunted at us as we passed through the deserted cultivations, which were still marked by the peach and the rose-tree. Beyond Motutere the shore-line took a graceful curve in the form of a wide bay, with a white pumice shore, picturesque hills rising gracefully on our left, and jutting points running out in the direction of the lake. Here, too, the vegetation was more green and luxuriant, and the soil of a better quality than towards the north. We forded the Waitotaka River, a clear, rapid stream, flowing from the direction of the Kaimanawa Mountains, and a short distance farther on we came to Tauranga Taupo, a native settlement on the banks of the river of that name. Beyond, the country opened out into low, fern-clad plains, backed by low ridges of hills. The shades of evening closed around us near to this point, so we pitched our camp for the night hard by a flax swamp which here bordered the lake.[42] We struck camp soon after the first streak of dawn had swept over the snows of Ruapehu, and passed around the southern end of the lake in the direction of Tokanu. We soon reached the peninsula Motuoapa, a bold, rocky promontory connected with the mainland by a low, narrow neck. At one time a formidable _pa_ stood on this place, and many of the old earthworks may yet be distinctly traced. Its position is a most beautiful one, jutting out into the lake over a wide bay, and it reminded me at the first glance of the bold, rugged peaks one sees crowned by feudal strongholds around the lakes of the old country. At a short distance from Motuoapa we crossed the Waimarino River, which flows through a flat, swampy plain, which extends for a considerable distance inland from the southern shores of the lake.