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I finally reached Whakatane (remember, no giggling) late that afternoon and checked into the pleasant Nau Mai motel. "Nau Mai" is Maori for "welcome" and true to its name, the proprietor, a genial fellow named Rod, made me feel quite at home. After I asked him about the next day's boat ride out to White Island, Rod even booked me a reservation for it. As I'm learning, this is how most New Zealanders are, although I think a lot of people are especially friendly towards me because I'm traveling alone.
This was my first night in a New Zealand motel, most of which are "self-contained" with a full kitchen, refrigerator, dinnerware, and small appliances like a toaster, blender, and coffee-maker. In the U.S., you're lucky if your motel room has just a microwave, let alone plates and utensils. After Rod gave me the key to my room, he also handed me a small bottle of milk. I was a bit puzzled by this odd housewarming gift, but I learned this was customary when you get a room in a New Zealand motel. The milk, as I discovered, is for your tea, which, of course, lost its popularity among Americans a few centuries ago after the Boston Tea Party.
I got up early the next morning, drank my bottle of milk (sans tea) and got ready for a tour of White Island, a volcanic island which lies about 30 miles offshore. White Island is the most volcanic place in New Zealand and the only way to get there is by permitted boat tour or, for an extra $100, by helicopter. Needless to say, and considering my spartan budget, I opted for the boat ride.
I walked over to the marina and paid Jenny, a pleasant young woman in the White Island Tours office, my $40 fee. She then handed me a long release form stating that the company wouldn't be liable if I were injured or killed, and with a friendly smile, she asked me to read it and sign at the bottom. As I was scanning down the lengthy form, I asked Jenny about potential hazards. "Oh, don't worry," she cheerfully replied. "There haven't been any eruptions on White Island for three months." Gee, that was reassuring.
About an hour later, around noon, about 30 of us boarded the 60-foot boat, PeeJay, then we rode for two hours across the warm and sunny Bay of Plenty until we reached the island. During the pleasant, bouncy ride, I became a bit more apprehensive when our guides handed out hard hats and gas masks. I was really starting to wonder about this trip. Finally we approached the island and the PeeJay slowed down, then dropped its anchor in a protected cove a few hundred yards offshore. Soon afterwards our group took a Zodiac raft ashore, where we spent a few hours hiking around.
White Island is about two miles across and is totally uninhabited; indeed, it's a hostile place for any living creature. A small volcano in the middle of the island constantly belches out clouds of sulfur making it pretty difficult to breathe. Oh yeah, it smells bad, too.
Although the fumes were intense at times, I fortunately didn't need to use my gas mask. However, after walking around the island for an hour and strolling up to the edge of the crater, I started tasting a sulfuric crust that was building up on my lips, which reminded me of my homemade pizza. (Here's a tip: don't ever eat my homemade pizza). On the way back to the beach, we passed several steaming vents and walked through a warm, acidic stream a few inches deep which, as the friendly tour guide cheerfully pointed out after we crossed it, will eat the rubber off your boots. As utterly fascinating as the island was, it was good to get back on the PeeJay again.
As I rode on the boat back to Whakatane, I started thinking about the health of the young tour guides, because they come out here twice a day. When I asked one of the young women guides about it, she said that she wasn't bothered at all by the sulfurous fumes. But after I thought about her comment, I figured maybe that's not a good sign. I just hope they're making good money because, as interesting as it was, I wouldn't want to visit White Island every day.
In any event, I thought White Island was one of the most fascinating places I've ever visited – like, in my entire life. I'd definitely recommend it to anyone who's interested in volcanoes. Or losing their lungs.
Above left: Once on board, they handed out gas masks and hard hats. Yikes! What have I gotten myself into? Above right: After a two-hour trip across the Bay of Plenty we reached White Island and anchored. Then we hopped in a Zodiac and rode ashore. That's not fog, by the way. It's sulfuric steam rising from a volcano.
Above left: Our first stop was at a former sulfur factory that operated until the early 1900s, when several men here were killed by an eruption (obviously, pre-OSHA). We got a lesson here from our guide on how to use our gas masks. Above right: It got harder to breathe as we approached the volcano. The whole island smells like rotten eggs from all the hydrogen sulfide
Above left: I licked my lips here and tasted sulfur. This is a nasty place and I don't think I'd want to be a tour guide coming out here twice a day. The island was absolutely fascinating, though. Above right: The fishing here, as you can imagine, is pretty marginal. No license required, though.
Above left: Hiking down one of the stream beds . . . Above right: . . . and crossing a stream. Don't worry about your shoes, though – it's just sulfuric acid.
Above left: Rafting back to the PeeJay. Above right: A warm, windy ride back to Whakatane. So long to the amazing White Island, a truly unforgettable experience!
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