Steamy White Island weekend

A family weekend in Whakatane offers quiet relaxation and excitement. STEVE HART* visits White Island and steps on a living volcano.

From the air or sea, seeing White Island is a breathtaking experience. Approaching it from the sea, off the coast of Whakatane in the Bay of Plenty, one can't help but think it looks like Tracy Island from Thunderbirds. It's only when the land comes clearly into view that the lack of vegetation reveals this inhospitable place is suitable for neither man nor beast.

One can only imagine the lives of the people who lived, and died, there, mining sulphur in the early part of the last century. You can hear the story of these brave men, who earned two shillings a day for their trouble, from guides aboard PeeJay 4, owned and operated by White Island Tours. The company, one of a few firms that ferries people to the island, has been taking tourists there for about 11 years.

When I joined a group of about 30 people to see this active volcano I was surprised at how remote and barren it is. Its surface is how I imagine the Moon or Mars to look - dry and dusty, with rocks scattered across the land, spewed out during the volcano's more violent moments.

There's the real feeling that you are alone on this alien landscape. On White Island, I thought, no one can hear you scream.

The journey started at 9 am from Whakatane Wharf. Because of looming bad weather, it was touch and go if the excursion would take place at all, but the skipper made the decision to go ahead and we set off out to sea.

On the way out we passed a bronze statue erected in 1965 in memory of former Whakatane mayor William Sullivan's wife. But it also celebrates the Maori legend of Wairaka. Wairaka, by all accounts, was a remarkable woman, who helped save the passengers of a drifting canoe.

The story dates back to when the canoe Mataatua landed - ending its journey from Hawaiiki about 650 years ago. The men, so excited to explore Kakahoroa (as it was then called), apparently didn't tie their canoe up very well. The Mataatua became free while out of sight of the men, and started drifting out with the tide.

It was taboo for women to use paddles (it being man's work), but Wairaka, the captain's daughter, thought something should be done as the canoe drifted out to the open sea.

She said, "E kia whakatane ake au i ahua [let me act the part of a man]," then paddled the vessel to safety, saving everyone on board.

Her words were remembered, and the name Whakatane (do the work of a man) was given to the region and its river.

With such a wonderful story attached to such an eye-catching statue, now turned green by the elements, one can't help wondering why Whakatane Tourism doesn't make more of it when promoting the area.

As we motored out to sea I started to understand why the skipper was dithering over cancelling the day's tour - the sea was a bit a choppy, but nothing to worry about.

We passed Whale Island, so named by Captain Cook (when he was a lieutenant) because from certain angles it looks like a giant humpback whale. This volcanic island is also known as Moutohora and is 10km from Whakatane.

It could have been another Goat Island, because of the introduced goats who, with a large population of rats, almost destroyed its vegetation. But thanks to work started in 1984, Whale Island has returned to its former glory and is now protected.

As we continued our 80-minute (49km) voyage there was plenty of time to soak up the fresh sea air and enjoy the distant view and the gannets diving for food in our wake.

We were told there was an 80 per cent chance of seeing dolphins or whales during the journey and the boat would stop for us to have a look if we spotted them.

Unfortunately, our trip was one of the unlucky ones. Never mind, with the spray in my face and the roar of the engines powering us forward, I was happy just to watch White Island turn from a cloudy spec on the horizon to looming so close I could smell the sulphur.

We reached White Island, or Whakaari, to see plumes of white steam bellowing from its craters.

The island is part of the Taupo volcanic zone, which contains all of New Zealand's active volcanoes and stretches across to Rotorua.

I watched as the steam rose up from the island and became inseparable from the low-lying cloud - obscuring the height of the island's crater wall. It was clear it was having an active day, as there was far more steam than I remembered seeing in photographs of the island.

Hot soup and bread was served on board the 60ft launch as we prepared to transfer to the island, aboard a motorised inflatable, in groups of 10.

Stepping off the inflatable involved clambering on to a concrete ramp, walking across a short metal bridge, and then stepping on boulders and rocks surrounded by sea water to get to the shore. Staff warned everyone to leave their bags behind on the boat and to keep both arms free. Having done it, I can see why.

Visitors' health and safety cannot be guaranteed on the island - tour operators do their best to make sure everyone is safe, but this is, after all, an active volcano. There are no jetties with handrails, roads, pathways, toilets (except on the boat), seats or rest areas. This is a barren, harsh island with an atmosphere that corrodes metal and can - with its highly sulphuric content - turn teeth black (if exposed to it for long periods).

Once we'd donned our safety helmets and gas masks, which did a good job of filtering out the smell, our guide, Jo, began the tour of the island.

First we took a look at the buildings where, last century, sulphur was refined before being shipped. All around us was the evidence of the mining that stopped in 1930: decaying buildings and machinery was strewn over a large patch.

With the rocky ground, everyone had to watch their step as we followed our guide, hanging on to her every word. Behind us the second guide, Ben, made sure no stragglers got lost.

Along the way we saw a blowhole - it hissed with tremendous pressure, the steam escaping with the power of a jet engine. Further on the rocks contained beautiful colours, caused by the chemical reaction with sulphur.

Then we came to the main crater, where steam bellowed out. We were told the story of Donald Pye - a miner who disappeared one night in 1914 leaving only his boots by the side of a crater. Was he murdered, did he jump or did he leave in a waiting boat? No one knows, but it's thought he committed suicide (after removing his boots).

In 1914 a landslide cost the lives of almost everyone on the island. It's thought 10 men died, as did four of their five pet cats. The only survivor, the other cat, was rescued and named Peter the Great.

Our guide pointed out the gannet sanctuary and what's left of a recovering forest - fighting to re-establish itself after being covered in sulphur ash from a minor volcanic outburst some time back.

The expedition was a real eye-opener. Then, after a bite to eat back on board our boat, it was time for a quick trip around the island and back to the mainland.

As the island disappeared into the distance I wondered if the mystery of Donald Pye would ever be solved. But I think it's one of those stories the island will keep to itself.

White Island, I thought, is like a wild tiger. It's beautiful but should never be tamed.

Whakatane

White Island

Bay of Plenty Tourism

* Steve Hart was a guest of Whakatane Tourism.