9th May 2017

We were up and about by 7 am, along with the local rabbits. I couldn’t help but wonder if they had been munching grass all night. While I was in the shower, Jamie managed to hand-feed one of them, using his breakfast cereal, of course!

Returning to the White Island Excursion office, we collected our boarding cards, odd metal cones that, as we later discovered, had once been used in the dairy industry. Quite random!

We boarded the boat along with about 30 other eager volcanologists. It was another beautiful day, with a few clouds lingering over the surrounding hills. Out at sea, the sky was clear, and we were advised to cover up to avoid sunburn. The water was flat and calm, with only a gentle swell that barely affected the boat as we cruised at 19 knots, completing the 50 km journey in an hour and twenty minutes.

As we approached our steaming destination, we were issued with safety helmets and gas masks.

There is no truly safe way to land on this volcanic island. Disembarking involved carefully stepping onto an inflatable dinghy, which carried us the short distance to a small concrete pier. From there, we had to climb a rusty ladder while the dinghy pitched and rolled in the swell. I dread to imagine how this process would unfold on a less tranquil day.

After being shown how to use the masks, we split into two groups to explore the caldera.

The island had once been a bustling hub of industry, as miners dug for the sulphur that still seems to be abundant. Many of the miners fell victim to one disaster or another, and eventually, all work ceased in the 1930s.

This is still a very active volcano, and we were warned to walk in single file and always follow the guide. The lava chamber lay just 50 feet beneath our feet, and even less in some areas. Bulges in the ground indicated a thinner crust, and these occasionally pop, so we were given instructions on what to do if that happened (run). There were numerous bulges, some only a metre high, others reaching up to 30 metres or more. This was definitely an active volcano.

The hissing of the steam vents and the billowing clouds of choking sulphurous fumes created a scene straight out of Dante’s Inferno. However, I did find the yellow sulphur crystals, which had formed like necklaces around some of the vents, rather beautiful. However, I wasn’t tempted to touch them. The gas masks were definitely necessary.

We had been given a pocket full of sweets to suck on, which helped to counteract the acid that immediately forms in the mouth and throat from the fumes. Even with the masks, you couldn’t help but choke when you were unavoidably enveloped in the swirling mists. I can now understand why the disclaimer we signed earlier was so long and in very small print. I wish I had actually read it!

In the deepest section of the caldera, there is a small lake, but it doesn’t look inviting at all. With an acid level measured well below 0, it wouldn’t take long to dissolve you if you were unfortunate enough to fall in. We all made sure to keep well away from the edge.

There is a limit to the number of people allowed on the island at any given time (20), and our group grew when a small helicopter circled overhead before landing on the opposite side of the caldera. The pilot and his two Japanese passengers made their way over to join us as we stood by one of the larger smoking vents.

Standing next to me, listening to our guide describe the vulcanology before us, was the pilot, and he seemed strangely familiar. It suddenly clicked: he was Richard McCaw, a recently retired New Zealand international rugby player. He had captained the All Blacks in 110 out of his 148 test matches and won two Rugby World Cups. He was a constant nightmare for the England rugby team and also notorious for bending the laws of the game.

I couldn’t resist; I nudged him on the arm and whispered, “Can you step back a metre, you were always offside on the pitch.” He smiled but said nothing, but he didn’t move. I’m certain I was the only one in the group who recognised him.

We meandered here and there, stopping occasionally to listen to facts or tales about the miners who eked out a precarious living on this most dangerous of islands. Our final stop was at the remains of the factory that once crushed the rock and extracted the sulphur by heating it in large ovens. Most of the factory is gone now, and what remains won’t be here for too many more years.

Geologists and seismologists have their measuring equipment scattered all over the island, and we frequently come across their devices. Most of them are high up on the precipitous walls, no doubt read remotely, as are several cameras that can be accessed online. I’ll be sure to check them out when I get home and watch little groups of intrepid tourists follow in our footsteps.

The return to our boat was a reverse of the landing procedure. Once safely aboard, we were given drinks and a very pleasant packed lunch, which we enjoyed just off the island, offering a spectacular view into the caldera through a collapsed crater wall.

On the return journey, we encountered a pod of around 50 common dolphins. It was fascinating watching them swim just beneath the bow of the boat, clearly enjoying themselves. I managed to capture some great photos and videos of them.

Back in the harbour, we set the Satnav for our next destination: Waiotopa Thermal Springs. After navigating through forests that appeared to be undergoing major logging, and then passing several picturesque lakes and dams nestled in wooded valleys, we arrived just after 5 pm. We checked the van into a campsite at the back of what seemed to be the only bar/restaurant/hotel. All around us, steam seemed to be spurting randomly into the air. It felt quite bizarre and spooky in the fading light, a scene straight out of the Adams Family.

We ate in the restaurant, before playing pool in the bar, and then returned to the van to play cards and listen to the radio.