End of the road: Watching the ships come in

In a series on what may lie down the side road you whizz by, PAULA OLIVER drives up Wellington's Beacon Hill Rd.

The view out the panoramic window is spectacular.

The reef that bit into the hull of the Wahine peeks out from beneath the tide.

Planes bounce their way towards the airport.

Beacon Hill on Wellington's south coast is considered by many to be one of the capital's prime patches of real estate.

But for some who drive up steep, narrow and curving Beacon Hill Rd, the sight of an unusual white wooden building with protruding aerials means they have arrived at work.

The Beacon Hill Signal Station, tucked behind a pocket of lavish new homes, plays a vital role in Wellington Harbour's shipping operations.

When the Herald popped in, staffer Ron Smith was clutching the VHF radio and letting the Interislander ferry Aratere know what conditions to expect at the harbour's entrance.

"Wellington has a narrow entrance which is subject to heavy weather," he explained.

"But on a fine, calm day, it's one of the most straightforward and easy-to-navigate harbours in the world."

Together with the station's other staff, Mr Smith monitors ships entering and departing the harbour, and keeps an eye out for vessels that may get into distress in Wellington's extreme conditions.

Every commercial vessel that visits must make contact with the station to receive information about harbour traffic and conditions.

The station is manned 24 hours a day, and its spinning rooftop radar can be seen from several south coast bays. The unusual sight remains a mystery to many because it is closed to the public.

The signal station has been perched on top of windswept Beacon Hill since 1866.

In the early days of its operation there was no building, and signalmen had to brave the elements and light a fire when they spotted a ship.

Over the years the fundamental parts of its job haven't changed, but its surroundings and equipment have.

Vast, expensive homes now creep into its view.

Although many would be keen to get hold of its land, the Wellington Regional Council facility is not about to make way for another mansion.

Mr Smith says the station is valued by seamen because of its clear view of what is happening on the water - although on some days it isn't clear.

"The weather here can be extreme. Often we can hardly see, there's so much rain on the window," Mr Smith says, referring to the capital's famous southerly storms with a wry grin.

"That's when we have to go outside with the binoculars to see something."

When the fishing boat Maria Louisa collided with the container ship Sydney Express in 1996 resulting in five deaths, Mr Smith was one of the first to the station to help his colleagues.

They notified police and raised emergency services. The collision happened near Barrett Reef - the rock formation famous for its fatal brush with the Wahine in 1968.

The station is equipped with a radar, a graph that records wind, and a digital barometer. It receives information from buoys placed in the harbour's entrance, and has a telescope so powerful that Mr Smith jokes of one day telling a seaman over the radio that his shoelace was undone.

Life can be quiet inside the station. Once a ship has passed, it can be an hour before another comes. But the radio crackles into action every time an Interisland ferry passes, and Mr Smith knows the voices well.

Beacon Hill also provides a pollution watch and answers the council's after-hours emergency calls.

The station is self-sufficient. It has a generator and supplies for four days if Wellington's expected "big one" hits.

Shortly before we left, Mr Smith warned an approaching ferry of the Herald's presence.

"You're going to be photographed so stand up please," he told the ship's officer after providing his routine information.

"Thanks for the warning," came the reply. "We'll give you our best side."

Mr Smith laughed and sat down to watch the ferry make a safe entrance.