Beck Vass: Whakaari / White Island and what draws humans to volcanoes

Following White Island's eruption, Beck Vass recalls being sent to watch a live volcano erupt at sunset. Photo / George Novak, Bay of Plenty Times

It's inevitable that people are asking many questions about the tragedy still currently unfolding at Whakaari / White Island.

How - and why - so many people were there is among the first of many explanations people need following this massive event.

The answer is simple really.

It was curiosity at the chance to get close to a rare natural wonder.

A decade ago, while I was working in the newsroom at the Herald and, as the resident adrenaline junkie, I was chosen to visit Tanna Island in Vanuatu for our Travel section.

The brief was simple: You will watch a live volcano erupt at sunset and come back and write about it.

My jaw dropped. I was 28, free as a bird, and more excited than I can tell you at being given such an opportunity. I had been fascinated with volcanoes since I was a child.

It remains one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

And yes, I was also slightly terrified. That was part of it.

Driving towards the crater we passed massive boulders - all of which had been spat out from exactly where we were going.

Since then, I learned that active volcanos are huge tourism. You can see them in Indonesia, Hawaii, Italy and Chile, among other countries.

There is something so raw and powerful about the force of a volcano that words can't begin to describe it.

You know how when you look at a bright light and then close your eyes, and you can still see silhouettes for some time after?

For days, every time I closed my eyes, that erupting volcano was there. It was burned into my mind and it was all I could think about for days. I still think about it a decade later.

The sounds, the smells. The way it dwarfed me into what felt like insignificance.

After a few minutes' climb from the car park, stepping on ash that felt like coarse sand myself along with about 30 strangers casually arrived at the top of the crater of the famous Mt Yasur.

Then, we sat and waited.

It was impossible to do much but sit in awe, mesmerised, looking towards Mother Nature's magnificent fireworks show just 150m away, which became more awe-inspiring as darkness descended.

I had never really given much thought to what rock is before it is rock. Of course I knew rock was once liquid, but to be there witnessing it come out at such velocity, to see thick lava spattered against the ash-coated crater as it transformed into rock, was a truly mind-altering experience.

There was a subsequent pondering of how miniscule we humans are in the grand scheme of things and how this smidgeon - this tiny part of the power that lies beneath us every single day – was spewing out for me to see like this in the middle of nowhere.

I had similar feelings walking the Tongariro Crossing a year later.

I truly hope for those left behind, that those who lost their lives experienced the same feelings of joy and awe before what eventuated.

My thoughts are with them all.