As the skies opened up on the night of February 13, 2023, life changed forever for so many Hawke’s Bay residents. Neil Reid looks back on the fateful night and the tragedy, courage and human kindness that followed
Dark clouds, steady rain and strong winds started to bear down on Hawke’s Bay in the lead-up to Cyclone Gabrielle’s devastating arrival.
All along Marine Parade, Napier’s most well-known stretch of road, a mix of drifting sea spray and rain doused those who were out walking.
As the clock ticked over 6.30pm, the night of February 13 was anything but what you’d normally expect during what should have been the height of a Kiwi summer.
Darkness was coming two hours earlier than normal courtesy of ominous dark clouds along the Ahuriri foreshore, with visibility so limited you couldn’t see the nearby coastal homes of Bay View on the outskirts of Napier.
Wild waves had attracted some thrill-seeking surfers along the Ahuriri foreshore, a popular Napier surfing spot.
Devastation that a year on, remains clear to be seen driving through any of the multiple rural settlements which were literally swept away by the rampant flood waters; including surges which one Esk Valley resident described as like a “tidal wave” that almost took his and his family’s life.
Days earlier, the full impact of Cyclone Gabrielle had made its presence felt in Northland and Auckland regions; that sadly included the death of two volunteer firefighters after a house collapsed on them at Muriwai.
While those regions were getting battered, strong winds started arriving in Hawke’s Bay; the region that later saw the most death and destruction wrought by Cyclone Gabrielle.
Powerful jets of water from the historic Tom Parker Fountain — along Marine Parade — went only a matter of centimetres in the air before they were moved sideways by the wind.
At the nearby beach came the first arrival of driftwood and other debris that was to inundate vast areas of the eastern North Island coastline in the coming days.
Within 24 hours — a night that forever changed so many lives in Hawke’s Bay — steady rain had joined the elements; the persistence of the rain was such that some suburban Napier creeks were already starting to spill over.
Several hundred people were without power — a number that in the hours that followed would grow to tens of thousands and people throughout Hawke’s Bay were urged to flush their toilets only if necessary.
As darkness fell, the force of wind and rain intensified.
But residents who went to bed on the night of February 13 — with windows rattling and water seeping in through holes around window and door frames — could never have predicted the death and sheer level of destruction that would soon bring to Hawke’s Bay.
The hidden destruction
Power was out throughout Napier, in parts of Hastings — and vast areas of rural Hawke’s Bay — when February 14 dawned.
In central Napier, the heavy rain had stopped, but dark clouds continued to loom.
For those in the central suburbs, they woke up with no power and large pools of water on their property. Numerous trees were down, including some that blocked access from roads leading down from Bluff and Hospital hills.
A byproduct of the massive power outage — due to the low-lying substation at Redclyffe being swamped — also meant most were left without access to cellphone, Wi-Fi and other internet access.
During an early-morning drive around the city, young children were seen making the most of the swollen creeks; including Purimu Stream where youngsters in Tamatea were hooning their scooters and bikes down pathways into the water.
But the joy they were displaying was a world away from the life-and-death battles being fought by residents in Pākōwhai and Waiohiki (both just 10km away), Puketapu (12km away), Esk Valley (23km away), Rissington (25km away) and Dartmoor.
Due to a lack of communication, the first hint of some of the mayhem happening on the outskirts of Napier came to me when roads leading towards Meanee and Pākōwhai were submerged; a flow that was rapidly growing in height.
Then came a message from Civil Defence and Napier City Council officials urging residents in some parts of outer Taradale to evacuate due to flooding risk. That led to a slow-moving convoy of residents leaving via Church Rd towards the CBD.
Slowly, very slowly, as the day progressed — and some text messages or phone calls were able to be received — came word of severe flooding that had hammered some of the beautiful rural hamlets around Napier and northern Hastings.
Any attempts to get to those places were fruitless; SH2 north of Napier to Esk Valley and Whirinaki were closed due to flooding and slips. Routes leading out to Puketapu, Rissington and Dartmoor were closed.
So, too, was the Hawke’s Bay Expressway and SH51, which could get access to Awatoto, Meanee and Pakowhai. And the riverside community of Waiohiki couldn’t be reached due to road closures in Taradale and the Redclyffe Bridge being washed away — one of numerous bridges severely damaged by Cyclone Gabrielle’s destructive force.
By late afternoon, officials started confirming multiple rescues of people stuck on the roofs of their houses via the bravery of crews in helicopters and boats.
Other residents bravely performed their own rescues.
Numerous other residents in the worst-affected areas remained trapped. But so far, no one had officially been recorded as missing or worse.
Fire and Emergency NZ acting district manager Glen Vercoe told reporters the emergency service would be “working with police to make sure everyone is accounted for”.
Central Hawke’s Bay District Council chief executive Doug Tate also described the destruction as “pretty brutal out there”.
“The scale of it is just incredible, really,” he said.
And Napier Mayor Kirstin Wise told of how getting a full picture of the situation — and relaying information to residents — had been hampered because “cellphone coverage and internet coverage is pretty much non-existent”.
“That lack of communication is really dire and it does elevate everybody’s feelings of anxiousness.
Tragically, as night fell on Hawke’s Bay, it was confirmed a body had been discovered washed up on the beach at Beach View. It was that of 2-year-old Ivy Collins, swept away from her mum as the Eskdale family tried to escape the flooding that hammered the area.
‘It happened so quickly’
Cyclone Gabrielle had proved fatal days before it made its horrific arrival in Hawke’s Bay.
Volunteer firefighters Craig Stevens and Dave van Zwanenberg lost their lives after a slip at a Muriwai property west of Auckland.
Sadly, by the morning of Wednesday, February 15, the Cyclone Gabrielle death toll had increased to four, with two confirmed deaths in Hawke’s Bay.
Along with Collins, Shona Wilson had lost her life after her home at Tūtira in northern Hawke’s Bay was struck by a slip. Her partner had dug through 4m of mud and debris for six hours to try to save her.
In Napier, eyewitness accounts started being told as media were able to reach people who had safely escaped some of the areas decimated by the cyclone — described by then-Prime Minister Chris Hipkins as the “most significant weather event” to affect New Zealand this century.
One of the first people I spoke to was Ekdale resident Jeff Whittaker; a former Havelock North borough councillor and mayor, and one-term MP.
Looking down from his home on Esk Ridge into the valley below, which was swamped by almost unfathomable floodwaters and a wall of mud, he spoke of grave fears for residents — and the wonder that so many had got out alive.
“It happened so quickly,” he said of the rising flood, which arrived in the early hours of the morning of February 14.
“The water was up to the roof of some houses. It was bank to bank ... if you looked across Esk Valley, literally from side to side it was just full of water. There were no vineyards ... it was just water, just like looking out across [a bay].”
He could see people stranded on roofs frantically waving for help.
He knew of the case of one woman who was rescued from the floodwaters after seeking safety high up a tree. A helicopter airlifted her out.
But like others in the area — and something that will no doubt be part of an independent review of the response to Cyclone Gabrielle — he was made aware of the flooding only when he received a Civil Defence alert at 5.30am.
By that stage, people in the valley below were already fighting for survival. The fact they also received the message at the same time is a source of anger and frustration among those lucky to make it out alive.
At Bay View, close to the turn-off to SH51 — also known as the Napier-Taupō Rd — which winds through Esk Valley, there was also anger rising.
As word filtered through to residents on what was happening in the nearby valley, some wanted to do all they could to help those in severe peril.
That included getting on board jetskis and braving the floodwaters — a fast-moving wall of water that by then was sweeping along logs and forestry slash, vehicles, caravans, hundreds of apple crates and even pieces of destroyed houses — to try to help the rescue effort.
They were turned back by first responders.
The reasoning included there were already enough people who lived in the valley who needed rescuing. The last thing emergency services — who were in danger themselves in the terrible weather conditions and surging floodwaters — needed was to also save those who, while well intentioned, were not trained for rescue work.
They came covered in mud — holding all they managed to save
Like most of Hawke’s Bay, Bay View — which has a population of about 2400 — endured a wet night on February 13.
But when Bay View Hotel & Holiday Park owner Adrienne Morrin awoke the next morning, she didn’t think the level of rain that had fallen on the settlement would have caused too much damage.
Never could she have imagined what was happening only 5km over a small hill in Esk Valley.
But the reality of the situation dawned quickly as Cyclone Gabrielle refugees young and old — in severe shock, caked in mud, soaking wet and mostly wearing the clothes they had worn to bed — started arriving at her hotel.
They came packed in utes, on the back of trucks and other vehicles after being earlier rescued from the single-storey high wall of water that spanned parts of the stricken valley, and dropped off near the SH5 turn-off.
Others, lucky to be alive, made their way on foot.
When she learned of the seriousness of the situation, the kind-hearted Morrin wasted no time in opening up the doors of her premises’ large bar to those who had lost loved ones, homes, belongings and pets in the cyclone.
The hotel was without power. But the delivery of generators had the hotel quickly becoming an evacuation centre and in the days that followed, a shelter for traumatised residents.
Morrin told the Herald at the time that those who had been welcomed in were “thankful that they got out with their lives and their families”.
Among those I spoke to two days after the tragedy were Katrina and Ian Harris, owners of the popular The Doggy Farmstay.
Their cherished home and business on SH5 were destroyed by the floodwaters and the resulting dumping of silt and mud. But what mattered the most was that their family had survived; so, too, had their beloved dogs and other pooches who had been booked into their kennels.
Katrina told of a call she made to 111, telling an operator: “We are going to die, we are going to die.” “They told me ‘we are getting to you’.
“We got away with our lives.”
Still in shock, John told of the sense of disbelief he felt when he realised how big the water and mud flow that engulfed Esk Valley was.
“The water was hundreds of metres across the left of the house, and hundreds of metres across to the right of the house ... the whole valley was just one big river, massive, swift and fast,” he said.
“And the roar of it [the water] .... it was like you were standing next to Huka Falls. It was terrifying. The volume of water was just horrendous.”
Tyrone Hetariki, now 65, told me of how he and his wife escaped certain death by smashing their way through a sunroof in their house bus, and then clambering on to its roof.
As they fought for their lives, Hetariki prayed for the first time in his life.
“F***, it was scary s***. I wouldn’t put anyone through that, never.”
Hetariki and his wife were rescued in the early afternoon of February 14, describing what Cyclone Gabrielle had caused as a “sea of water, a rising tide. It was like large waves just coming through”.
Morrin and her team provided free meals to those staying at the Bay View Hotel & Holiday Park.
Mattresses were laid out in the public bar where some stayed several nights until they found more-permanent lodgings.
The outpouring of love and support included clothing, nappies, bedding and other items being dropped off at the hotel for those who had lost all their possessions.
About 200m down the road, at King George’s Hall, piles of clothing and pairs of footwear donated by the community were laid out for anyone in need.
All those who visited the hall were given a warm welcome by a local volunteer army of helpers, including co-ordinator Quenton Swan whose home overlooks the hammered Esk Valley.
And, just like Morrin, he said there was never a moment of hesitation to help out.
“There was a sense of helplessness on the first day,” he said.
“The reason we went into this mode is that there was no one with authority to tell us otherwise. We want to help ... it makes sense to help each other out.”
Looting, lights coming back on, and the joy of hot chips
The response from members of the community — such as Morrin and others in Bay View — put the spotlight on some of the best aspects of humanity in the immediate aftermath of Cyclone Gabrielle.
Some of the lowest aspects, too, were highlighted by a minority; appallingly targeting abandoned properties and stealing anything they thought was of value.
Despite initial comments by members of the then-Government and police to downplay incidents, the lives of home and shop owners badly impacted by the cyclone were further traumatised by looters.
That included shops in the CBD being broken into.
Further afield, homes in the worst-hit areas became magnets for some elements of the criminal world; heading out to the hamlets in the hours of darkness and stealing household and personal items that hadn’t been swept away by the mud and water.
Amid the power outage — which in some cases lasted weeks — homeowners who had managed to source diesel-run generators so they could keep fridges, freezers and other appliances operating were also being targeted.
Generators were like gold dust in stricken Napier.
And it was easy to spot who had them. With Napier in utter darkness by 8pm, houses with even a couple of lights going shone like beacons. The sound of generators’ hum amidst the otherwise silence also proved a magnet for some heartless crims.
Thefts of them included sites set up by numerous telecommunications providers, again restricting the use of mobile phones.
As fears spread about crime rates soaring, some communities set up patrols and even put in place traffic checkpoints. In Esk Valley and Redclyffe, hand-painted signs stating: “You loot, we shoot” started appearing outside abandoned homes and on roadsides.
Not even the arrival of hundreds of extra police from outside Hawke’s Bay and an Eagle police helicopter could calm some of those concerns.
Even now, in areas around Napier, sporadic looting has continued, carried out by heartless thieves targeting homes that are being rebuilt.
It wasn’t just areas on the outskirts of Napier that were targeted by looters.
Wairoa District Mayor Craig Little also told me of his anger at “lowlifes” committing similar crimes in his district, saying if caught, they should be “locked up and put away forever”.
As police reinforcements arrived in Hawke’s Bay, power slowly was restored to parts of Hastings and Napier.
That included the Napier CBD on the morning of February 18.
Ironically, that was also the source of another mini crime strike at one retailer.
Several takeaway bars and restaurants opened their doors for people who hadn’t had a wholesome cooked meal for almost a week; and in some cases, the food outlets were cooking free of charge.
Salads, pottles of chips, kebabs, sandwiches and other items were given out to people walking through town; some were clearly in shock at what had happened earlier in the week.
I managed to source some hot chips from a local bakery.
And after previous lunches eaten on the road that week while filing post-cyclone stories consisting of packet noodles mixed with cold water, the greasy chips — with a sprinkling of chicken salt — were a culinary delight.
That Saturday was made doubly better via the generosity of a mate — who, living a few streets over, had welcomed back power — allowing me a hot shower for the first time in five days and a warm cup of tea to start the day.
For many life won’t be the same — but it has to go on
So much has changed in cyclone-ravaged areas of Hawke’s Bay since the destructive weather hit — but so, too, has so much stayed the same.
And when talking to people badly impacted by it, they say their emotions are split on whether it seems a year has passed since the fateful day.
Some say they feel as if they have aged a lot in the past 12 months. The stress they have endured makes them feel Cyclone Gabrielle was at least a year ago.
But at the same time, bitter memories and trauma make it feel as if the cyclone were more recent.
A principal of a school in one of the hard-hit areas told me how some young students feared the worst again during the onset of heavy showers during winter.
One lady lucky to survive the flooding in Esk Valley has previously talked of how being in a carwash retriggered cyclone trauma.
The ever-present reminders of the destruction are another thing that leaves so many with a sense of disbelief that Gabrielle struck a year ago.
You don’t have to look too far to see large mounds of silt and building debris on properties, or the side of roads, in affected areas.
The gutted abandoned shells of what were once the most loved homes in areas such as Esk Valley, Pākōwhai, Puketapu, Rissington and Dartmoor are gradually being taken over by weeds.
Well before the weeds took over, the not-to-be rebuilt homes still reeked of the rank stink of dried mud and sludge.
Homeowners had stripped them of flooring and Gib board in the hope they could be rebuilt. Then some were delivered the news that the properties were condemned and not to be rebuilt.
Some other houses thath will be rebuilt are still a long way off from completion; with numerous owners still living on site in campervans, caravans or portable cabins.
Wairoa had something to smile about last year when a resident whose family were impacted by the cyclone won big, becoming a multimillionaire thanks to Lotto.
So how have people got through the past year?
With a healthy mix of love, support and even laughter.
The latter is best summed up by a hand-painted billboard on a property as you drive into Puketapu.
The hamlet was hit hard; a 122m-long bridge was destroyed and a replacement won’t be finished until mid-2025, and homes were ruined.
But there have been things to celebrate in recent months, including the impressive renovations at its historic pub and the reopening of the popular Puketapu Park.
Some dark humour is also on display in the area, which suffered badly.
As motorists drive into the rural hamlet they are greeted by a billboard stating: “Gabrielle. Water Under The Bridge”.
Neil Reid is a Napier-based senior reporter who covers general news, features and sport. He joined the Herald in 2014 and has 30 years of newsroom experience. He was on the front line of NZME’s coverage of Cyclone Gabrielle when it hit Hawke’s Bay and has covered the clean-up operation that followed.
