 |
Happiness is different things to different people
2010-05-01
Happiness is different things
to different people
As I stood on the rim of the crater of Whakaari (White Island) peering into the green, misty depths, I realised you would have a very quick demise if you slipped, as the lake is 10 times the strength of the human stomach’s hydrochloric acid.
My UK visitors had shouted me the trip to New Zealand's only active marine volcano, 50km out to sea from Whakatane. Former dairy farmers Peter and Jenny Tait started tours there in 1990 and are the official guardians of this privately owned place of grandeur, mystery and excitement. But we didn't want too much of the latter.
I had visited the island 20 years ago and was keen to check how and what had changed as the last eruption had been in 2000. The crater lake can rise and fall in a very short time, with new fumaroles blowing out constantly.
We left the Whakatane wharf along with 30 other passengers at 10am hoping to see Moko the friendly dolphin, who had been frolicking in the warm waters for the past few weeks. But he must have moved on.
Around 80 minutes later we were ready to be transported in a rubber dinghy to the island, where we were given gas masks and hard hats enabling us to get close up and personal with a very active volcano and enjoy this lunar landscape experience.
Fumaroles hissed and roared, mud pools bubbled and eventually we came to the crater rim which had risen considerably since my last visit. Many photographs later, we visited the ruins of the last sulphur mining venture in 1933.
For some strange reason, passengers are rarely sick on the return journey and I personally would have hated to waste the lovely lunch supplied. But I was having withdrawal symptoms from being eight hours without a cup of tea.
We headed for the White Island Rendezvous to satisfy my thirst. Sitting opposite was a lady we had seen on the boat so we invited her to join us. Gerhild was a German working in China. She was holidaying in New Zealand for six days and had four days left.
As she was heading down the East Coast, I invited her to tea and to stay the night (sleeping on a mattress on the floor). I went in her car to show the way.
Being my usual chatty self, I asked Gerhild which side of the road they drove on in China – when she said the right I shut up for 20 minutes in case I distracted her.
I needed to go to the runoff, so threw some squabs onto the back of the ute and put my passengers on there. Gerhild was fascinated by the cows, dog, horse and the possum-hunter who lived there without electricity. His 20-litre solar shower, heating up on the black bonnet of his car, got full marks from her.
Next morning, we all set off for the marae where we had been invited to view the murals and do the grand tour of the meeting house. We were greeted by Philip, who explained the hongi and many other aspects of Maori culture. We sat on the steps and had numerous photos taken before our dusty road return home.
The phone was ringing when we arrived, the transport company saying they were delivering my cows in three hours.
“Can I come back up?” Gerhild asked.
“All hands appreciated,” I replied.
She wound up tape fences, put in pigtails and walked the cows out the back like a pro. Finally, she decided she would have to leave before it got too dark.
“Thank you so much for everything,” she said. “That has been the highlight of my holiday.”
I decided then and there that happiness is different things to different people.