Staff Reporter

Drawing the line

Is it just me, or have others noticed a “surge” in diabolical driving practices around Te Kuiti over the last three to four weeks?

I am not referring to the police’s on-going battle with “boy racers” or even to drivers using their phones whilst driving. I am referring to the increased driving through stop signs, drivers crossing the centreline of the road, increased cutting of corners at intersections, parking on the wrong side of the road, verges and footpaths, blasting through intersections whilst failing to give way, and blasting through carparks at New World and The Warehouse.

It seems to have become fashionable for a number of people to park on dotted yellow lines, particularly outside schools during school hours.

Why is this so concerning? These dotted yellow lines are positioned for safety reasons, to allow motorists to clearly see children wanting to cross the road, and for children to see approaching vehicles.

Over a period of about eight days, I witnessed one particular vehicle parked on no less than five separate occasions on these lines outside a primary school.

I eventually approached the offender to ask if she knew what the lines meant, and why they were there. I was floored by her own words that she knew that she should never stop or park on these lines.

She did offer a “sorry” but continued with her business rather than move her car promptly to a safer location.

It surely must be our joint responsibility as a community to stand up and call out (politely where possible) this behaviour as unacceptable, lest our failure to act results in our (or our best friend’s) child being maimed or killed.

Come on Te Kuiti, we can do a lot better, can’t we? (Abridged)

Gordon Walker

Te Kūiti



Who’s stealing?

Three years ago we all heard the cry from the then National and Act opposition in parliament that Māori were stealing the water. Now we see a mad scramble to jump on the three waters band wagon and gain control of water and commercialise its use .

The only difference I see is it is a pakeha minister pushing councils to get on board and the exclusion of iwi from having any input.

I think we can now safely say it is Pakeha stealing the water and I have no doubt that not far down the track water entities will be sold to off shore investors that the government is courting right now .

Had the race baiting been ignored, three waters would be up and running now and perhaps another billion dollars would not have been tipped into Cook Straight alongside the scuttled ferries .

Gordon Walker

Piopio

Letters

Richard Steele

When our beautiful twin grandboys were very small, and doing really small boy things, I was fascinated to watch them jockeying for position, working out for each other what the brotherly ranking would be.

Not an issue for children born months or years apart, as their positions in the family are initially determined by age, for these fellows though, being born minutes apart, they had to determine that hierarchy for themselves.

With lots of loving help, of course, from siblings, concerned parents, extended family members.

Then I see on the other side of the world, the same kind of behaviour, not by children this time though, but by some of the most powerful people in the world.

Our little boys seem, to me, to have reached a really good arrangement, between themselves, when I’m privileged to spend time with them.

But I’m not holding my breath as to when those others see the light, and stop tearing their country apart, and taking down so much of the world with them.

Are their egos too big to be managed? Are their narcissistic tendencies too strong to be controlled by those around them? Where is the opposition in all of this furore, where are the Democrats?

Which gets me to how lucky we are. Winston Churchill said something like this... the Westminster system of government has many faults, it is difficult to control, but for all that, it happens to be the best method of government in the world.

Looking around us, you don’t need much imagination to see the old master was right, and never more so than now.

I’m not saying it is the best, but from where I sit in the wop wops, at the bottom of the world, our system looks pretty good to me just now.

If either or our two major parties, or any of our coalition governments , put a foot wrong, the opposition tears them to shreds within minutes.

But now, the biggest democracy in the world tears their country apart, electing a person to lead them who has been convicted, and accused, of some heinous crimes.

The electors and his sycophants swept him back into power. What’s going wrong with the place?

We in lovely New Zealand have some major challenges ahead, and I’m personally confident that we can meet them. I’ll have lots of suggestions if I’m asked to keep writing this column, to start with, and for now, we can do no worse by looking overseas. We can see how not to rebuild your home country, and in doing so, make New Zealand stronger, happier and take us back to being the best place in the world to be.

Double trouble

Meghan Hawkes

Meghan Hawkes looks back to 1917 to report on what was making headlines in King Country.

At Ōtorohanga a large gathering assembled to witness the unique marriage of five Māori couples.

The ceremony took place on Hari Hemara’s property about one mile from Ōtorohanga and was performed by the Reverends Hone Harris and Friday.

The ceremony was a most impressive one and watched with the utmost solemnity.

A marquee which seated 170 people was filled to overflowing three times in succession. The kai consisted of beef, pork, eels, and poultry, and a great variety of sweets also adorned the tables.

Twenty men and 10 ladies waited on the guests and saw that each did justice to the many good things provided.

The tables were most tastefully arranged and it was very evident that the ladies responsible for the catering and decorating were thoroughly experienced.

The brides were daintily and becomingly gowned in handsome white embroidery voile frocks, finished with a novel corsage of white silk.

They wore the orthodox wreath and veil arranged in the new cap style and carried pretty pink and white flower bouquets.

The dresses were made by Miss Kayson, of Te Kūiti. Each of the bridegrooms wore a traditional Māori cloak over his suit.

Heavy rain did not dampen the enthusiasm of 200 Piopio settlers who gathered to watch Sir Joseph Ward, Postmaster General, open a fine new post office.

He afterwards addressed a large gathering in the Town Hall and congratulated the settlers on the marked progress made in the district since his last visit nine years ago.

He also commended them in overcoming the enormous difficulties under which they had laboured.

The children from Piopio School attended, and the National Anthem was sung. Settlers’ wives provided afternoon tea.

A Grand Carnival and Fun Fair was held in Te Kūiti to raise funds for the Returned Soldiers’ Club.

To show their loyalty to the cause some 60 returned soldiers and friends journeyed from Auckland to attend. Stalls were placed the length of Rora Street, where articles of all kinds were on sale. Guessing competitions and an auction were among the attractions.

The Merry Jesters, full of fun and frolic, were much in evidence throughout the afternoon.

In the evening the Merry Jesters presented a splendid programme of music, mirth and merriment comprising grand opera, musical comedy, burlesques, ensembles, duets, trios and ragtime.

A souvenir programme, containing over 100 photographs of King Country war heroes, found a ready sale.

A feature of the day was a monster procession, a centre of attraction being two wild bullocks, which were controlled in a masterly fashion by their riders.

A young man who had been working in the flax near the beach at Awakino, on returning to his whare on the main road, suffered a pain just below the knee.

Investigation proved it to be due to the bite of a katipo spider found in his clothing. His leg swelled right up to the thigh, and he suffered intense pain all night, but his condition improved next day.

A mass wedding, rain and bite

Janine Krippner

A pyroclastic flow made headlines last week after an eruption at the frequently active Mount Etna — a timely reminder of just how dangerous these volcanic phenomena can be.

When I discovered, at age 13, that “volcanologist” was a real job, I also learned about pyroclastic flows — and I knew then that I wanted to study them.

Pyroclastic flows are among the deadliest natural processes on Earth. Their extreme hazard comes from a combination of high speed, searing temperatures, and their composition: fast-moving clouds of fragmented rock and volcanic gas.

These flows fall under a broader category called pyroclastic density currents, which vary in rock-to-gas ratio. At the high-rock-content end of the spectrum are block-and-ash flows, typically generated by the collapse of large lava domes — those steep mounds of near-solid lava that build up around a vent. On the other end are pyroclastic surges, dominated by gas and fine volcanic ash (which is pulverised rock). Pyroclastic flows sit somewhere in the middle, and this is also the term is often used more generally in hazard communications.

Then there are ignimbrites — massive deposits of pumice-rich pyroclastic material. These form during large, caldera-forming eruptions, like those that occurred in the distant past along the Coromandel, near Rotorua, and (more recently, though still long ago) around Lake Taupō.

All pyroclastic flows are hot — often reaching temperatures around 800˚C. These temperatures can ignite or char anything flammable in their path. Phreatic eruptions, which are driven by steam pressure (sometimes venting through crater lakes), can be cooler — but still dangerously hot at several hundred degrees.

Recent eruptions have shown us the heartbreaking toll of surviving even a lower-temperature flow — the long, painful recovery, and the lifelong impacts on victims and their loved ones. My heart truly goes out to them.

You’ve probably seen the epic movie scenes — characters fleeing a pyroclastic flow in a car, a plane, or in a rolling ball surrounded by dinosaurs. In reality, humans simply aren’t fast enough. The only sure way to survive a pyroclastic flow is not to be in its path.

The solid components of a pyroclastic flow are made up of quenched (rapidly cooled) magma that has been violently fragmented by expanding volcanic gases. These gases were once trapped under pressure inside the magma, and when that pressure is released — like opening a shaken bottle of Coke — the gas expands explosively.

Within the flow, large rocks can still be present — big enough to tear through forests or buildings. Even without the large blocks, the force of the flow itself can flatten entire landscapes.

This is why volcano monitoring matters, and why exclusion zones are enforced Between AD 1500 and 2017, pyroclastic density currents were responsible for around 60,000 deaths, the dominant cause of fatalities within 5 to 15 km of a crater.

It’s important to understand the different volcanic processes that can occur, so we recognise the seriousness of warnings when they come. We’re fortunate to live among stunning volcanic landscapes — but these landscapes are active, and one day, they will erupt again. That includes the potential for pyroclastic flows.

Heat, rock, and ruin

Contributed

Wrong call

Ōtorohanga mayor Max Baxter has got his priorities wrong (King Country News, June 5). Ōtorohanga is nationally and internationally known as the Kiwitown Capital of New Zealand. It certainly allies itself with the Kiwi House.

Ōtorohanga has put itself on the map through the initiatives and enthusiasm of the group of ladies who comprised the Kiwiana Committee of Otorohanga.

Brian Pitts-Brown

Te Kūiti




It’s our logo

Otorohanga Mayor Max Baxter’s explanation in defence of the District Council’s new logo show how out-of-touch he and his team have become. The Council are supposed to represent we, the citizens and ratepayers. It is we who fund them and their decisions. The new logo is not an internal logo. It represents our district.

His excuses and justification don’t stand scrutiny. The decision disrespects the community the council was elected to represent and serve. It is a relief to know the decision was not unanimous - that some councillors recognise and are loyal to the unique character of this community and district.

Frances Rawlings

Te Kūiti




In agreement

On reading Frances Rawlings opinion in the paper last week I would like to whole heartedly endorse her comments. What a waste of money. There are many other things in our town that this money could have been spent on.

She quoted “was it essential for the council to have a new logo and if so, why were residents and ratepayers not consulted?” The new logo, it says, represents a nest. Well it doesn’t look like a nest to me. Have you ever seen a nest with a whole in the middle? No a wreath is what it looks like.

Twenty five years ago the Kiwiana Committee was set up and as we were already known as the Kiwitown of New Zealand it was logical that we build on this and so we developed all things “Kiwiana” and became known as the not only the Kiwitown but also the “Kiwiana town.” We also had a certificate from the prime minister at the time Helen Clark, sent to us (with her signature on it) endorsing us as the Kiwiana capital of New Zealand. I wonder what has happened to this?

What a success it has been. I am very proud to have been part of this committee from its inception. This part of branding our town also has brought many visitors which not only have had the kiwihouse to visit, but now all things “kiwiana” including our last project “the playground”. We have two very large kiwi at both the north end and south end of town and many people stop and photograph them.

I note that the entrance signs into our town are very tired and need replacing. I am not sure what they intend to do when replacing these signs. I do hope that we will still have reference to our tourist attractions ie the kiwihouse and kiwiana and not lots of “wreaths around them”. Wreaths are for sad times, we want to be known as a fun place to visit.

Bev Moloney

Ōtorohanga

Last week a dramatic storm swept through Hamilton and it left its mark. One unlucky trampoline ended up tangled in powerlines, roofs were damaged, fences flattened, and some experiencing a power cut. This happened around the time an emergency alert popped up on my phone, but not for our region. A perfect reminder, really, that our weather doesn’t always follow the script.

We’re lucky to live in a land of incredible variety, with islands, mountains, and rapidly changing terrain, all surrounded by ocean. But with that natural beauty comes a price: complex, fast-moving weather systems.

That’s why it’s up to us to take personal responsibility for our safety. That starts with understanding the natural hazards we live with — including tornadoes — and what steps we need to take.

When I was living in the United States, I learned just how seriously they take tornadoes over there. “Tornado Alley” is practically a household term, and they’ve got a full-blown season for the things. But here in New Zealand, we tend to forget that we’re not immune.

Most of our tornadoes are short-lived, narrow — about 20 to 100 metres wide — and travel just a few kilometres before they run out of steam. They usually sit around EF0 to EF1 on the Enhanced Fujita Scale (that’s the international measure for tornado intensity), with winds that can hit up to 180 km/h. That’s enough to throw around sheds, snap trees, and send trampolines sky-high.

A tornado is confirmed and an EF rating assigned after the damage has been assessed. Survey information is compared to damage indicators and degrees of damage, which help estimate wind speeds.

Our most deadly and damaging tornado was also in Hamilton in 1948. It damaged or destroyed 163 buildings and 50 businesses, and three people lost their lives. One house was even moved across the street. The estimated wind speeds reached 220 to 265 km/h, giving it an EF3 rating.

So what should we look out for? Tornadoes sometimes come with little or no official warning, so it’s helpful to know the signs: sudden heavy rain or hail, a dramatic shift in wind direction, and an eerie, roaring noise — like a freight train approaching. Tornadic systems can produce low, dark clouds, flying debris, and lightning. You may also feel a pressure change, like when your ears pop.

This is not the time to grab your phone and head outside for a cheeky TikTok. If you suspect a tornado’s nearby, act fast. Get inside, and head to an interior room without windows — a hallway, wardrobe, or even a bathroom can work. Stay away from windows and doors, and if you’re outside definitely do not shelter under a bridge (that’s a myth borrowed from Hollywood — and a dangerous one).

It’s a great idea to take this opportunity to learn more. Head over to the Civil Defence website and look for the page “What to do during a storm.” NIWA’s website also has great info, including the New Zealand Historic Weather Events Catalogue — a fascinating record of our tornadic past.

Stay safe out there, use your eyes and ears, and keep your trampolines tied down — they’re not meant to fly.

Stormy skies, smart choices

Josh Moore

The 2025 local body elections are fast approaching, so candidates need to be planning how they’ll market themselves to their community.

Running for local office is as much about visibility as it is about policy. So effective marketing is essential.

The Local Electoral Act 2001 sets strict limits on how much you can spend during your campaign. That means every dollar must work hard to build awareness and trust. People need to see your name and face multiple times in different ways before they will vote for you.

One of the easiest wins you can give yourself is getting a professional photo taken. Too many candidates last time opted for DIY pictures - some even submitted what looked like passport photos where they weren’t smiling! That doesn’t convey confidence or approachability. A professional headshot will go a long way to looking competent and trustworthy. Use it consistently across all your campaign material, including when submitting your nomination, as this is used in the official voting packs.

Social media will likely be part of your strategy, but keep in mind that unless you already have a strong following, posts won’t reach far organically. Running ads is the best way to increase reach - but there’s a catch. Facebook (and Instagram) have strict requirements for political advertising. You’ll need to go through an approval process that includes identity verification, page disclaimers, and other admin hurdles. It’s not something you can do last-minute, so start this process well in advance.

Don’t underestimate the value of local print newspapers. They remain highly trusted by many voters, particularly older demographics. Advertising in them can boost your visibility, especially if you manage to secure a front-page ad. These premium spots are limited and book out quickly, so get in early if you want to lock one in.

Traditional fence signs still play a big role in name recognition. Focus on placing them along high-traffic routes and think strategically - can someone encounter your signs three or four times in a single trip across town? That kind of repetition sticks. Digital billboards are also useful and more affordable than traditional billboards. Again, book early.

The profile blurb in the voting packs is critical. When writing your blurb think, “Does my blurb present me as someone credible and trustworthy who can help tackle the issues people care most about?”

Finally, if you want to run for mayor, you should also have a website to share more about what you stand for, and link to from your social media ads. (This isn’t as crucial for councillor candidates, but it will help you stand out). I recommend using Rocketspark for a cost-effective and easy website.

Ultimately, you’re asking voters to trust you. A well-presented, well-planned, professional campaign is important for earning that trust.

See: Rating the candidates by their picture

Smart marketing for candidates

What was the world’s most powerful earthquake like? In a word: devastating.

On May 22, 1960 the Earth ruptured in southern Chile. The rupture raced along the fault at a velocity of 3.5 kilometers per second, extending across about 1000 kilometres. The Valdivia Earthquake, or the Great Chilean Earthquake, registered magnitude 9.5 — the largest ever recorded.

The rupture occurred along the boundary between the Nazca and the South American tectonic plates, just offshore from Chile, and on the far side of the Pacific Ocean from us. I would hope that many of you at this point are wondering: was there a tsunami?

The answer is yes — a massive one.

The earthquake triggered a tsunami that surged across the Pacific Ocean, well before the days of our modern Pacific-wide tsunami warning system. It took about 15 hours to reach Hawai’i, plenty of time for a modern warning to be issued and life-saving actions to be taken. Thankfully in 1960 there was a warning, but warnings only work if people take action.

The first waves that hit Hilo around midnight were about 1-2 m high. Then, at 1:04 am the largest waves arrived, reaching 4.3m. A tsunami wave is not a normal wave, it is far more dangerous. Tsunamis move immense volumes of water with relentless force, surging water up and across the land across much greater timespans.

A total of 61 people were killed in Hawai’i and 43 were injured.

On the other side of the Pacific, in Japan, the tsunami struck about 22 hours after the quake, having travelled over 16,000 kilometres. Despite warnings, around 122 people died. Waves reached over six metres in some locations.

Back in Chile, the devastation was catastrophic. Over 58,000 homes were destroyed, displacing about two million people. At least 1655 lives were lost — but as with many major disasters, the true number remains uncertain.

In Aotearoa, tsunami waves were also detected, triggering widespread evacuations. Observations came from over 120 locations, including the west coast. Run-up heights reached about 4m in Nelson and 3.5m in Gisborne and the Chatham Islands.

The impact was described by the late David Johnston and colleagues as “considerable minor damage” to homes, boats, shops, and coastal infrastructure.

At the time there were calls for improved warnings and public awareness about tsunamis. Today, we’re lucky to have access to a wealth of information at our fingertips. But we must engage with it.

There will be more large tsunamis. While we now have improved warnings and education, we also have far more to lose. In 1960, New Zealand’s population was around 2.4 million. Today, it’s more than double that, and many more people live, work, and play along our vulnerable coastlines.

The 1960 earthquake and tsunami were devastating. The words we use to describe the next major tsunami will depend on the actions we take now—as individuals, scientists, governments, and communities.

Even in the face of the Earth’s most powerful forces, we are not powerless.

The day the earth roared

Supplied

Otorohanga District’s kiwi should never have left the nest.

Perhaps some on our council team behind the decision to replace their logo with a nest have little knowledge or appreciation of how Otorohanga became the Kiwitown of New Zealand.

It was the vision and far-sightedness of local pharmacist Barry Rowe, who with veterinarian Ian Wright and others, set about to research our national icon. Despite the kiwi being recognised internationally as the emblem of New Zealanders, very little was known or understood about the character and habits of our unique national bird. And sadly, it was on a fast track to extinction.

This dedicated group succeeded in incubating the first Kiwi chick to be hatched in captivity. Its success garnered nation-wide attention, effectively giving Otorohanga the title of Kiwitown of New Zealand. It truly was a very exciting time to be living here.

This led to the building of the nocturnal house by an amazing group of passionate naturalists, supported by a diverse group of skilled tradespeople and volunteers from throughout the district. Otorohanga launched the very first kiwi house in New Zealand. Development of the aviary and native bird park followed. Yet it didn’t stop there. The first purpose-built kiwi breeding centre was established.

The first kiwi rescue missions in this country were undertaken, where populations were known to exist but at risk through proposed developments, by members of Otorohanga Zoological Society.

When the native bird aviary was built, it was the largest aviary in the southern hemisphere, giving protection to many native bird species. This encouraged awareness and gave enjoyment to locals and visitors alike, through the efforts of local committed conservationists.

Alongside the caves at Waitomo, the Otorohanga Kiwi House and Native Bird Park complex are significant tourist attractions.

Ōtorohanga’s historical connection to the kiwi has been proudly portrayed by Otorohanga District Council’s logo. To have it replaced by what appears more like an attractive wreath – more association with death than nesting - strikes as absolutely inexcusable.

Some questions needing answers. Was it essential for the council to have a new logo and if so, why were residents and ratepayers not consulted? And why has it taken six months for the public to learn about it?

Now we ratepayers are clobbered with the cost of $100,000 to redesign the website to accommodate the new logo – which seems exorbitant - in addition to the $40,000 cost of the wreath design (more than six months wage for many). Already we are seeing some of council’s fleet swanning around with these wreaths on their vehicle doors.

This move draws into question the council’s wisdom in investing hard earned ratepayers’ money in what appears to be a fanciful and futile venture.

The logo represented a significant historical connection with kiwi and should never be “phased out” of Otorohanga’s District Council’s logo.

Shame on you, our council - Kiwitown forever!

A change for the worse

“Are you sure this car is going back? I want to get to Queen Street,” asked the elderly man of William Clark, a butcher. The men were on a tramcar in Auckland’s Customs Street around 10pm on a Thursday in January 1914.

William said he would ring the bell so that the old man could get off at the next stop. When the tram was only about halfway between the stops, he alighted but missed his footing and was thrown from the tram. William, along with others, got off the tram and found the man unconscious in the street. He was conveyed to Auckland hospital where he gradually sank and died without regaining consciousness.

He was afterwards identified as 65-year-old Patrick Ligertwood, schoolmaster at the Waitomo Caves School. He had left Waitomo at the beginning of the week for Auckland, in order to see the Exhibition, having booked a room at one of the city hotels in advance. Newspapers called his demise an ‘Old Man’s mistake’ and the ‘Death of a country visitor.’

At the inquest William Johnston, farmer, of Waitomo, who had identified Patrick, said he had known him for about 12 months, but to his knowledge he had no relatives in the country. Patrick was unmarried, and originally came from Aberdeenshire, in Scotland. The coroner found that Patrick died from a skull fracture caused through jumping from an electric tramcar while it was in motion. The next week resolutions of regret were passed by the Education Board respecting the loss of Patrick.

Patrick’s teaching career in New Zealand seems to have begun around 1877, at Clarks Flat School, Otago. He was praised as possessing great ability and having the thorough confidence of the scholars.  After a lecture at Clarks Flat by Rev Skinner on David Livingstone, the famous explorer, Patrick said that he had accidentally met Livingstone in Scotland in 1864. Over the next 36 years he taught in schools around New Zealand being either admired as the ‘popular Pat Ligertwood’ or leaving under a cloud.

While at Stoney Creek School, Manawatu, he was noted in a ‘Ramblings of a tramp’ newspaper story as a ‘scholastic curio’. An attempt to have him removed from this school backfired, being the action of a few malcontents. When he did leave there were some difficulties with a certificate and when he applied for further employment the Education Board did not hold out any hope of giving him any.

By 1897 he was at Pongaroa School, near Pahiatua, where he stayed for around 12 years. He was active in local clubs and was also correspondent for the local paper. Here he was caught up in a spat about where to hang a chart of the Ten Commandments.

In 1911 he left Pongaroa for the King Country. Now in his mid-60s he taught at Wairere Falls School and in 1913 came to Waitomo Caves School.

The man who had accidentally met David Livingstone was not returned to Waitomo but buried at Auckland’s Waikumete cemetery in an unmarked grave.

The story of Patrick Ligertwood

Tom Roa

Interestingly, the recent expulsion of the members of Te Pāti Māori from parliament for a period of time appears partly to be a result of their performing a haka in the house.  It raises questions about what a haka is.

Recently at a ceremony in celebration of the life of a friend, I offered a eulogy in Māori which I then translated for those in the congregation who had little or no Māori.

During the subsequent afternoon tea a lady approached me, introducing herself as being Welsh, celebrating the revival of her native tongue with that of our Māori language and seeking advice from me.

She said her son had married a Māori woman, and they had sent their children to a local kohanga reo, and then the kura kaupapa Māori – immersion Māori language schools.  She had attended their prize giving ceremony at the end of the school year.  A much loved, much respected teacher was retiring.  She saw how much the teacher was loved by the interactions she had with her students including how her (my questioner’s)  grandson and others interacted with his/their teacher, freely hugging and kissing her and being hugged and kissed back.

When the announcement came of her retirement, the whole school, students, staff, and some parents and whānau erupted into a ‘ginormous’ haka!

She asked me, ‘Why were they so angry?!?’

I asked her if she was familiar with the term ‘mana’?  She said yes.  I said the school community were passionately, enthusiastically, dramatically  expressing their mana, but more, recognising the mana of their teacher, colleague, friend.  I offered the opinion that what appeared to be anger, was an unbridled passionate expression that we often see today almost anywhere in Aotearoa New Zealand in particular the sports fields.

I also gave the opinion that haka are not performed for nothing, nor for ‘nobodies’!  The more passionate the rendition of the haka, the more significant the occasion, and if it is directed at a certain person/people, the more significant that person/those people must be.

When sports teams perform their haka, the more passionate their rendition, the more significant the occasion, and more important the opposition.

Labour MP Peeni Henare has apologised for stepping away from his seat and onto the floor of the debating chamber,  a clear breach of the rules of Parliament.  But he was firm in his commitment to ‘my passion towards seeing this bill defeated [which] I stand by wholeheartedly.’,

It is clear to me that as a society we have much to learn, and to perhaps unlearn, about our interactions with one another.

Kia kaha tātou!

The haka in Parliament

People seem fixated on coffee. I’ve never understood that.

It’s just a drink. Not even a particularly good one. Not a very efficient thirst quencher, and when mixed with milk and sugar, probably not even that good for you.

Tea is similar, but more benign, seems less addictive though it does a better job of wetting the whistle.

I couldn’t care actually, the outbreak of cafes in my lifetime, quite long, is a phenomenon future generations will look at askance, and wonder what came over us during the years from 1975 to 2025.

Then I saw in the news, that the new Tauranga council has invested $470,000, on a coffee machine, so that they and their staff can drink endless cups of coffee all day, at the ratepayers’ expense.

And I thought whoop tee doo! These folk have really got their electorate at heart.

How many jars of instant coffee is that, at eight or nine bucks a jar, that’s 53,333 jars of the stuff, their life blood over five years. Good Lord, I thought, I hope the tea and chocolate drinkers are being looked after.

So, there’s all this hullabaloo about school lunches, and the cost of providing them, when it turns out we are providing drinks for the parents of the children we are providing lunches for.

Where does it all end? What ever happened to looking after yourself, and those who you are responsible for.

I’m not talking about not providing food for hungry children but surely no-one in the council offices needs feeding by the ratepayers.

It would appear that I’ve led a sheltered life. A parallel existence if you like.

Because if I ever needed a drink or lunch at work, there was never another option, than make it, and take it.

Then one of life’s small pleasures is eating out. For remote rural folk like us, it’s a real treat to go to a cafe or restaurant, when on the way to, or in town, though I’d never seriously considered, that anyone else should have to pay for it for me.

Imagine if you will, how my already fragile reputation would suffer, if I requested free coffee at my favourite cafe. The towns around New Zealand are service centres, the money we producers spend in our towns ensures their very survival, whereas our councils produce absolutely nothing.

My concern was only prompted by the coffee.

What it really means is far more serious, for I fear that nationwide our councils are taking ratepayers to the cleaners with entitlements that us mere mortals do not have.

That ratepayers to councils, are that mythical creature, who provide all the money, for them to do with whatever they want.

And that’s the worry.

Even though throughout our beautiful country, rates have been rising far faster than the rate of inflation, infrastructure is still being neglected. Water systems are failing, every city pours sewerage into the sea, and the roads are a shambles that’s getting worse.

The mayor though will have a new car. The coffee will be provided, and all will be well between the hallowed walls.

So far from the real world.

Give me a (not coffee) break...

Lately, headlines have been vying for clicks with dramatic claims. Again. Over the past few weeks, I’ve seen splashy predictions like “Mile-wide volcano ready to erupt…” or even better, “Major US volcano predicted to erupt tomorrow (posted six days ago, as I write this). Cue the collective eye-rolling.

As I’ve covered before, the size of a volcano — the edifice we see above ground — doesn’t mean much when it comes to what might happen next. That cone or mountain is simply the accumulation of volcanic material around one or more vents. They are essentially beautiful piles of lava flows, volcanic ash (which is pulverised rock), and fragmented lava that solidified into rock.

A volcano that’s been erupting for a long time may form a larger edifice, and if the location of vents shifts over time, this can spread the deposits over wider areas. But this doesn’t necessarily tell us anything about how big a future eruption will be.

The recent flurry of clickbait headlines is centred on Axial Seamount, located about 480 km off the coast of Oregon in the northeast Pacific Ocean. It sits roughly 1400 metres below the sea surface. As the most active volcano in the region, it’s not surprising that it's rumbling again.

Axial last erupted in 1998, 2011, and 2015, all of which were effusive (lava-producing) eruptions, not of the explosive kind. If the extremely explosive 2022 Hunga Tonga–Hunga Ha’apai eruption comes to mind, remember that its vent was near the sea surface — a key reason for its different, more violent eruption style.

Any headlines hinting that it could be dangerous or “high-risk” are taking creative license or simply don’t understand the situation. The United States Geological Survey doesn’t even monitor Axial closely, because it poses no threat to human life — not even to aircraft, unlike many of the remote Alaskan volcanoes.

That said, it’s a fascinating volcano from a scientific perspective. Several research groups actively monitor Axial to learn more about how submarine eruptions unfold and what precursors they produce.

Axial Seamount is also one of the few submarine volcanoes with a long-term monitoring network in place, offering rare real-time data from the deep ocean. This makes it a natural laboratory for studying undersea volcanic processes and tectonic activity. How cool is that?

The signals detected at Axial include uplift of the seafloor — often, though not always, caused by magma rising — and increased seismicity, both of which have recently been observed. There is so much we don’t know about the deep ocean, this is a great opportunity to understand submarine volcanic processes.

Studying the range of volcanoes and eruption styles is essential to understanding volcanic activity worldwide. What we learn at one can often be applied to others elsewhere. Research at remote, unthreatening locations like Axial Seamount plays a role in improving our ability to forecast eruptions and provide timely warnings to communities.

Be cautious with headlines. Thankfully, there are excellent articles out there featuring volcanologists who actually monitor Axial and can explain what’s happening — and why it’s so interesting.

Calm Beneath the Hype

It can be a challenge to grasp the scale of geologic processes on land, and I’m finding this even more true in the marine environment. Part of the difficulty lies in the lack of information — we’re often working with sparse datasets until the entire seafloor is mapped. When we do examine the deep seafloor, it’s usually from afar (from the ocean surface), and there aren’t the usual human-scale reference points we rely on to quickly sense size, like a car, building, or city.

I’m fascinated by landslides on land and below the sea, especially the large ones. On volcanoes, we call these debris avalanche deposits. The most famous one was produced by Mount St Helens during its catastrophic 1980 eruption — an event that happened this week, 44 years ago.

As landslides move, the material involved (soil, rock, and whatever else is dragged along) behaves like a fluid. This allows it to travel enormous distances. The Mount St Helens deposit extends 24 km from its source. That’s small compared to many seafloor deposits.

Understanding submarine landslides is not only key to understanding the forces that shape our planet, but also crucial because they can damage seafloor infrastructure — including communication cables that carry our internet. And they can trigger tsunamis.

When there’s more water mixed with the sediment, we call these flows turbidity currents, which are known for the impressive distances they can cover. The first time we recognised one was in 1929, when the trans-Atlantic telegraph cable was severed. The cause was a landslide triggered by the Grand Banks earthquake, which also generated a tsunami that killed 28 people in Canada.

The largest known submarine landslides are the Storegga Slides offshore Norway, which transported sediment over 800km from the continental shelf — roughly the length of the North Island. The affected area was about 95,000 square kilometres, not far off the area of the North Island.

The continental shelf is the relatively shallow zone surrounding a landmass, compared to the deep ocean. To produce these massive slides, around 300km of the Norwegian continental shelf collapsed — roughly the distance from Cape Reinga to Auckland.

The Storegga deposits show that several major collapse events occurred. Around 8150 years ago, one of these slides triggered a tsunami that inundated coastlines across northern Europe. It remains the largest known tsunami in the North Sea and northeastern Atlantic during the last 12,000 years. Waves exceeded 20 metres.

As with many geologic processes I write about, there are typically far more small events than large ones. But it’s important to understand both the likely and the worst-case scenarios. Smaller submarine landslides are quite common — we just don’t always know they’ve happened.

These hidden movements beneath the waves may seem distant, but they shape our coastlines, affect global communications, and remind us that Earth is never truly still. Submarine landslides are not just dramatic geological events, they’re part of the shaping of our planet, quietly sculpting the seafloor far below the surface.

Giants of the deep

In 1914 it was the local newspaper editor who often got called in to decide a bird’s merits, as Meghan Hawkes found out.

A serious coach accident occurred at Hangatiki to the coach returning from Waitomo Caves with I4 passengers, including Mr Wilson of the Tourist Department.

The breaks failed rounding a corner at the foot of an incline and the coach swung into a bank. Fortunately, the horses remained quiet. Several of the passengers were injured and Dr Gilmour, of Wellington, who was a passenger, rendered first aid. The passengers were then taken to Hamilton by the Main Trunk train.

Ōtorohanga residents were considerably annoyed by the number of stray cattle and horses roaming the streets at night. One businessman found no less than four horses camped for the evening under his office verandah. Mr Banner, storekeeper, had his shop window broken by a horse which had pushed against it. Mr J Ormsby was also unfortunate in having a valuable cow injured by a steer which broke into his paddock. On hearing of this state of affairs a member of the Town Board had a general round up and succeeded in impounding 19 head of cattle. Some amusement was caused next day when it was discovered that 13 of the impounded cattle belonged to the impounder’s family.

Pegging out an uncompleted section of the Marakopa to Te Kūiti telephone line, which had been the subject of a great deal of heated correspondence, was finally begun, two men leaving Te Kūiti for that purpose. Hollow iron telegraph poles, fireproof and light, were used throughout. These solved the difficulty of transportation in rough bush country, being easily carried from point to point as the work progressed.

The head and feet of shag were forwarded to the editor of the King Country Chronicle for inspection by an astonished angler. The shag had been very large, his wings from tip to tip measuring 4ft 8in. The angler over the previous eight years had dispatched about 30 shags all about half the size of this one. The demise of the shag would make a big difference to the fish in the Awakino River. The editor agreed that the specimens forwarded indicated a very big bird which would do enormous damage in a trout stream. It appeared to be an ordinary shag of extraordinary size, and the appendages were now forwarded on to an authority for his opinion.

Early rain began on the morning of Pio Pio’s Anglican Church bazaar and continued far into the night but in spite of this everything went with a swing from beginning to end. The children’s dip, the produce and lolly stalls sold out. The heavy rain made it impossible for many mothers to travel from a distance, and many of the useful things on the sewing stall were not sold, though very good business was done. Mr Warmington showed Punch and Judy both afternoon and evening to appreciative audiences. An enjoyable dance to excellent music followed.

An editorial inquest

I very much enjoyed graduation at the University of Waikato on April 8 where Te Haumihiata Mason was conferred with an Honorary Doctorate. This is the most prestigious honour a university can offer to a person.

Part of her conferment ceremony included a little biography relating many of her achievements some of which led to her being honoured with her appointment in the 2023 New Year Honours as an Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit.

She is credited with a reputation nationally and internationally  in the revival of the Māori language as a teacher, a lecturer, and  as a translator of literature, like Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, and Anne Frank’s Diary of a Young Girl. Her translation of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida was performed at Shakespeare’s Globe in London in 2013. These translations and her work as the Māori Language expert consultant on the feature film ‘Muru’ about the 2007 police raids on the Urewera and periodic consultancies with the Māori Language Commission evidencing her skill not just as a translator of words but a transmitter, across cultures, of ideas.

In her doctoral address, Dr. Mason quoted Shakespeare in Hamlet’s assertion that ‘There is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so.’

I particularly enjoyed Dr. Mason’s allying that sentiment from the 17th century with a perception of AI in this  21st century. 

Her Māori translation to me was exquisite. She asserted “He tika kei te hē, ki te tika te whāwhāria, he hē kei te tika, ki te hē te whāwhāria”. My free translation is that ‘In bad, there is good, if the treatment of that is appropriate’. Conversely, ‚In good, there is bad, if the treatment is not appropriate... or just plain wrong.’

Language work honoured

This Memorial Day means more to me, than all the others celebrated by public holidays put together.

It’s the day that makes me pause and think of my parents, concentrates the mind if you like, on the generation they survived in, and of how our subsequent generations, have never had to do the same.

Which dates me of course, to a certain age, but I care nothing of the age, I do care about war and conflict. The futility of war, of how there must be a better way of solving conflicts, and while I know there are better ways, there are regional wars going on all around us, so I wonder if our world wars have taught us anything.

My folks didn’t pay the ultimate price of war though, you would know, because I wouldn’t be here. But they paid a price that they never got over, the affect war had on the rest of their lives was profound and had a similar effect on many other returned servicemen and women, who gave up some of their best years, in the name of serving King and country, the aim of being free people.

They were good folks, my parents, but for reasons that are really a mystery to me, they went from being leaders of troops, staff, and organisers, to after the war, to not being able to organise anything very much at all. Unable to control the rest of their lives, to enjoy their latter years in any meaningful way.

Whereas lots of those who stayed home, apparently prospered, and flourished, in the vacuum created by those overseas.

Returning soldiers, have always been neglected though, since the beginnings of time.

We love them when we need them and ignore them when the jobs done.

I don’t mind that so much, but what does annoy me is being described as a baby boomer. Sure my, or our, parents had four of us under five, after the war. But hang on, they had lost some of their best years of their lives, being away fighting for us, in my mother’s case, in patching up and nursing those injured in the conflict, that they made up for lost time after the war, should be celebrated, not disparaged.

The real discouragement I feel as a seventies something survivor, in the winter of my years, is that we have never learnt a bloody thing. All around us are technical marvels. Boons to the advancement of mankind, sliced bread, pod up toasters, retractable radio aerials, keyless entry, don’t mention phone technology.

But we have never been able to stop fighting each other. So, I wonder for our futures, whether, we will ever learn, and then I look sideways, at some of the people we elect to lead us, and I don’t think so.

Will we ever learn?

As we are well aware, volcanoes erupt molten rock and volcanic gases released as magma rises from deep within the Earth. But what about mud volcanoes?

Like their magmatic cousins, mud volcanoes can also be dangerous and devastating. The Lusi mud volcano in East Java began erupting in 2006, displacing 40,000 people and destroying 15 villages, with damages estimated around $US3 billion. This disaster, which deposited mud up to 40 m thick in some areas, remains controversial, with drilling activities likely triggering the ongoing eruption.

So, how does this happen?

Below the Earth’s surface, pressures build pretty quickly the deeper we go. Fluids and gases can accumulate, become trapped, and pressurise. If a fault or fracture provides a pathway to the surface, these materials can escape. When sediments are involved, the result is mud.

The mud isn't just typical post-rain mud. It can contain hydrocarbons, heavy metals, and even microbes brought up from depth.

While magmatic volcanoes don't produce fire or smoke, mud volcanoes can. The muddy mixture can contain flammable gases that can ignite from sparks caused by rocks colliding.

This incredible phenomenon isn't limited to land. In 2021, an inferno formed above a mud volcano in the Caspian Sea, located near a natural gas field. Mud volcanoes in Azerbaijan are known for their violent nature, with several large eruptions each year, many involving fire.

However, mud volcanoes aren't always so dramatic. They can be quite small, starting at the centimetre scale and reaching up to kilometres in size.

You might be surprised to learn that New Zealand hosts mud volcanoes. In December 2018, one erupted on a farm in Tairāwhiti/Gisborne, ejecting mud, gas, and rocks. A volume of around 16,900 m³ of mud flowed away from the vent and out to about 160 metres.

Volcanoes of the mud variety often occur near hydrocarbon reservoirs, magmatic volcanoes, or tectonically active areas—settings where fluids are present, and conditions allow them to pressurise. Then they just need a path to the surface. Earthquakes can trigger their formation, which was the case for the 2018 Gisborne event.

Speaking of depth, the mud mixture can originate from hundreds of metres to several kilometres below the surface, not from the much greater depths where rock can melt.

Unlike magmatic volcanoes, mud volcanoes don't form mountains. Magmatic volcanoes build mountains or cones by depositing layers upon layers of rock around one or more vents. Mud, being more susceptible to erosion, doesn't accumulate to form large features. The largest mud volcano structure is several hundred metres in height over in Azerbaijan.

While I have a rather clear personal preference for the magmatic kind, mud volcanoes are fascinating geological processes that offer insights into the Earth's subsurface dynamics. Given that we have them here in New Zealand—near Gisborne and also in Northland—they're another remarkable aspect of our beautiful and dynamic country to appreciate.

For those interested in learning more about these phenomena, I recommend exploring the work of scientist Mark Tingay, who has shared informative videos and content online explaining their mechanics and global occurrences.

The muddy kind of volcano

Andrew Linton had just been promoted to corporal and hoped to go one better when he wrote to his parents, as Meghan Hawkes recalls in A Snip in Time from 110 years ago.

“It is no easy work tramping about the Sahara Desert with a full pack on,” wrote Andrew Linton, 19, from Egypt to his parents at Mangapiko on Boxing Day, 1914.

“I have no idea how long we are to stay here. It may be till the end of the war, or we may go any time.”

Andrew was one of 11 children born to Francis and Emma Linton of Feilding. Francis, a Scotsman, was a farmer and stock dealer and the family lived in the district till around 1911 when they moved to Oeo, South Taranaki.  Two years later they moved to Mangapiko.

When World War One broke out there were two Linton boys of military age, Robert - ‘Bert’- 24, and Andrew - ‘Willie’.  They enlisted on 14 August, 1914.

Their sister Jessie, 26, left home around the same time to take up nursing at Thames Hospital, eventually became a sister.  The brothers left New Zealand together with the Main Body in October 1914 when 10 grey-painted troopships, escorted by four warships, sailed to war. The ships carried around 8500 men, as well as nearly 4000 horses.

Andrew wrote regularly to his parents. “Five of us Te Awamutu boys went out to the pyramids and had a good look round. The workmanship in connection with the Sphinx and all the ancient temples and tombs is simply marvellous . . . On our way back we had a look through the Zoological Gardens. They are probably about the best in the world, and it would take about two days to look over properly. There is practically every kind of bird and beast imaginable there.”

By January 1915 the routines of military life had become established. “We are doing some very solid work now, tramping about the desert and digging trenches (for practice only) at night on war rations.  Our butter ran out about three weeks ago . . . we have to cook all our own food. Every man has a mess tin, a sort of combined billy and frying pan. The meat was issued raw, each man having to cook his own portion.  It is not the warmest place in the world for sleeping out at night, even with a couple of blankets, but it is practically mid-winter here now.”

On 25 April 16,000 Australians and New Zealanders, together with British, French and Indian troops, landed on the Gallipoli peninsula. Turkish resistance was fierce. Of the 16,000 men who landed during the first day, more than 2000 had been killed or injured by the next morning. Andrew told his parents it was “a day I am not likely to forget.”

June 1915 found Andrew in hospital with a wounded hand “which no doubt makes my writing hard to read. I was seven weeks in Turkey before I got hit, and I find they are a very inhospitable people.  The fighting has been pretty fierce at times, especially on the first day we landed, but my good fortune has always stuck to me.  The New Zealand nurses are in the hospital here now, and they are finding plenty to do. I saw Bert several times with the Mounteds, who are over there without their horses. He was quite well.  I have been promoted to corporal already, and I hope to do better than that before I am finished.  Do not trouble if you do not get letters from Bert or me regularly now, as sometimes it is very difficult to get a letter away, and the mails are not regular - they go when they can.”

By July, now “quite recovered”, Andrew observed it was “terribly hot in Egypt now, and everyone has to wear a helmet and drill suit. I shall not be sorry to get out of this country. The sand is hot enough to cook bread . . . Remember me to all Mangapiko friends, with love to all.”

Andrew was into his nineteenth week on the Gallipoli peninsula by late 1915.

“The flies are something awful - in fact, the campaign now is more against the flies than against the Turks. It is no uncommon sight to see a man sitting down and going very intently over his clothes, and he generally gets a pretty good haul of vermin. I went down to the sea last night for a swim - the first wash I have had for over a month.    I saw Bert a few days ago.  I expect we will be together for some time now, as the Mounteds are coming round to work with us.  I am having biscuits and jam for dinner today; it's not too bad, but I would rather have the same as you are having. However, there is a good time coming, but it is still a good way off.”

The good times, though, did not come.

Robert Charles Linton was killed in action in 1916 at the Somme, France, aged 26.  Over three million men fought in this battle and more than one million were either killed or wounded, making it one of the deadliest battles in all of human history.

Andrew William Linton was wounded at the Somme and invalided to England. After recovering he was appointed Quartermaster in France. In April 1917 he rejoined his unit, and was continuously in the trenches. On 14 August, 1918 Andrew, now a sergeant, was killed while serving with the Expeditionary Forces in France, aged 23.It was exactly four years to the day he had enlisted for war.

WW One ended at 11am on 11 November 1918, followed quickly by another enemy, a deadly influenza pandemic.

Jessie, 30, nursing at Thames Hospital, fell victim to this dying on  18 November 1918 “with startling suddenness for she was administering to the sick a few days previously and nothing of a serious nature was anticipated.”

“The Dominion,” said newspaper reports, “has lost one of its most noble workers in the cause of humanity. Her life was spent in the service of others, and she died in the same cause.”

Read: Remembering Sister Jessie Linton





Linton wartime loss recalled

Tēnei te Pō! Tēnei te Pō! Tēnei te Pō!

Te Pō-uriuri, te Pō-tangotango, te Pō-i-oti-atu.

This is the Night, this is the Night, this is the Night!

The darkest Night, the deepest Night, the Night of completion.

The very sad news of Pope Francis’ passing heralds a time for the Catholic Church of prayer, reflection, preparation for his funeral, and the gathering of the Cardinals to appoint his successor.

Worldwide he will be remembered for his legacy of reform, and his not infrequent clashes with world leaders over immigration and economic issues.

Pope Francis was very well known for his strong views on justice, human rights, his condemnation of conflicts, in particular, the Gaza conflict.

His Christian heart saw that the glorification of his God, and the following of Christs’ teachings of love for one another were being totally ignored.

In fact, every conflict, every war, ignores that so important base of Christian faith. Of having love for one another.

I wait, with bated breathe, even though I am not Catholic, with how the Catholic Church will replace him, and what will be the guidance, the leadership of the new Pope to be.

But first, let us mourn Pope Francis, the passing of a good man, a man who lived up to his belief in the importance of loving one another.

Echoes of the strength of will of those before Pope Francis resound here in Aotearoa New Zealand with the recent rejection of the Treaty Principles Bill.  Many commentators and submissions to the Parliamentary Select Committee paid little to no heed to the ‘fourth Article’ of the Treaty, also known as ‘Te Ritenga Maori’  which called for the guarantee of the right of freedom of religious expression.

Catholic Bishop Pompallier proposed this ‘Fourth Article’.  Hobson’s translator Henry Williams announced to the gathering: ‘The Governor says the several faiths of England, of the Wesleyans, of Rome, and also the Māori custom shall alike be protected by him.’ In Māori, Williams read out to the gathered rangatira: ‘E mea ana Te Kāwana, ko ngā whakapono katoa, o Ingarani, o ngā Weteriana, o Roma me te ritenga Māori hoki, e tiakina ngātahitia ana e ia.’

The Māori chiefs present at Waitangi quickly agreed and Hobson accepted but never wrote that down as part of his written draft.

E te Kāmaka, nāu te tūru o Hato Pētera i kawe ki te ao-tūroa -

Haere ki raro i ngā parirau o tō Kaihanga;

Nāna koe i hōmai - Nāna koe i tango.

Moe mai rā.

Oh Rock of the church founded by Saint Peter whose role you have so ably fulfilled. Farewell.  Be with your Creator, who gave you to us, and now has taken into his care, sleep in peace.

Poroporoaki ki a Pope Francis

Stu Kneebone

Waikato Regional Council (WRC) recently approved a submission on the government’s proposed new wastewater environmental performance standards that are intended to be rolled out across New Zealand.

Taumata Arowai is the water services regulator for NZ and is managing this consultation process on behalf of the government. Taumata Arowai was established by the government following the Havelock North campylobacter outbreak in 2016.

District and city councils throughout NZ have consents to discharge treated wastewater and stormwater.

Regional councils are the authorities responsible for the consenting of wastewater and stormwater discharges. Regional councils and their communities have the authority to set limits for discharges to land and water via consent conditions that reflect the values of the local community and the values and attributes of the receiving environment.

However, this change proposes changes that affect how wastewater standards are made and implemented. The amendments direct councils to implement any requirements imposed as part of a wastewater standard in a new consent, and concerningly, they mean that regional councils cannot include any conditions in a consent which are more or less restrictive than the new standards dictate.

Regional councils will still be the regulator but will have very little say on behalf of their communities on what these new standards are. Of real concern is that many of the existing consented municipal wastewater discharges in the Waikato have contaminant discharge standards that are of higher quality than what these new proposed standards will require.

Meaning that implementation of these new standards would see an increase in contaminants being discharged into the environment, effectively undoing significant work and investment that has been made by councils and their communities upgrading their wastewater treatment plants across the region.

This also will have the effect of undoing the work that other sectors such as farming have been doing with riparian planting and other measures to improve water quality.

Meaning if we are to continue on our journey of improving water quality across the region, other sectors such as farming will have to take up the slack.

A good example of this is the Lake Taupō Protection Project that was initiated to maintain the water quality in Lake Taupō. It imposed very restrictive requirements on farmers in the Taupō catchment, requiring them to reduce their stocking rates and associated production in order that a 20 per cent reduction in nitrogen discharge from both farming and industry could be made. Those reductions are now locked in place for 999 years.

To assist those farmers in making that transition, every ratepayer in the Waikato region contributed approximately $10/ratepayer/annum for 15 years; $81 million of public money was invested. These standards will in effect undo all of that work and investment. WRC has submitted strongly that it does not support what is proposed and explained why.

And for those interested, the Ministry for the Environment recently released its three yearly state of the environment report.

While the report contains some positive stories, it also highlights some concerning issues with regards to our environment, and the risks that these issues present to the quality of life for future generations.

Water quality at risk

When Mr Bowlin went to Solomon’s store in Ōtorohanga around 9pm on an April evening in 1912 he saw lights burning but the front door was closed, and he could not open it.  He knocked and Mr Solomon’s young son, 10 year old George, let him in.  Bowlin wanted to pay back Solomon some money he had borrowed. He found Solomon in an inebriated state in the barber's room at the back of the shop. Bowlin only stayed five minutes and left.

It had been a shambles at Solomon’s all evening. John Farrell, a 45 year old Irish bachelor who struggled with drink, had gotten hold of some liquor and taken it to Solomon’s where he, Solomon and a man named Larsen drank a considerable quantity.

By 5pm, when Fred Mace went to Solomon's to get some provisions he found the three men in the barber's room.  Farrell asked him to have a drink.  Larsen said, "Don't take that; it is Roman Catholic whiskey. Have one of mine; it is Presbyterian."  Fred took the ‘Roman Catholic’ and said he would come back later. When he returned, he had a drink out of Larsen's bottle. Farrell, a government-aided settler on the Rangitoto No 1 block, and Larsen were arguing about their farms, as to which was the better. After having a ‘Presbyterian’ Fred left.

Around 5.30pm Hugh Meynell went to Solomon's shop to get a shave and saw Farrell lying back in the barber's chair, asleep. Larsen gave Hugh a drink of whiskey out of a bottle. When Hugh realised they were all more or less drunk he left.

About 6pm Mr Rhodes went to Solomon’s to get a haircut.   He saw Larsen and Farrell in the barber’s room. Farrell was still in the barber’s chair but now awake and very talkative.   He took a couple of large drinks of neat whiskey. Solomon staggered in from another room, and when Mr Rhodes saw the condition they were in he wanted to leave, but Larsen and Farrell insisted on him having a drink which he did before leaving.

Around 7pm Mr Scowans called at Solomon’s looking for someone, but he was not there.  Mr Scowans, observing the scene, stayed only a couple of minutes.

When Solomon was called to come for his tea, he, his son George, and Larsen went into the house.   Farrell was again asleep in the barber’s chair, and they left him there.  After tea young George went from the house and through the back door of the shop.  He could not see Farrell anywhere and he shut up the shop, having to open it again around 9 for Mr Bowlin.

In the meantime, Constable Drummond, knowing that John Farrell had gotten hold of liquor, was looking for him.  About midnight he found Farrell’s horse harnessed to the cart and wandering around an allotment.  He unharnessed the horse and searched until about 2am but could not find any trace of Farrell.  Early next morning George Solomon saw Farrell lying close to the back door in Solomon’s yard which was adjacent to the main street.  Shortly after Mr Moffatt, approaching Farrell, was horrified to discover he was dead.

Although newspaper headlines declared his death a ‘King Country sensation’ and ‘King Country Mystery’ an inquest found that John Farrell died from syncope of the heart, accelerated by excessive drinking.  He was buried at Ōtorohanga cemetery.

A King Country mystery

To make our country work and prosper, successive governments for most of my long life have aimed to have three percent growth each and every year.

Without such growth, the economy is deemed to be stagnant, or even worse, in recession. Which is deemed to be bad for us, and maybe it is.

I don’t get it, and I’d like to. Because I see this big flaw in having to grow the economy so much all the time.

It is well known within the circles I move in that economists were only invented to make weather forecasters look good, and to me that’s a worry, when the economic theory that dictates the way the country has to prosper, continually seems so unsuccessful.

Ask yourself, where does it all end up, as needing three percent growth each cent all the time becomes our own predictor of doom. Three percent every year compounds, so that every 20 years everything has to double for us to be able to stay in the same place.

I don’t think that doubling the economy every generation, is sustainable, so you see the problem.

Pundits are lauding the return to confidence in the sheep industry. Dairy farmers too, are on a well-deserved roll. The issue though, is that all the input costs keep rising, so that the profitable times are soon eroded. $10 this year, only needed to be $5 a kg 10 years ago.

Towns and mostly cities keep expanding to keep up with the growth, and in the process, swallow up the most productive gardening land in the world, and few people really get ahead.

Then you build a new flash as all get out highway, a state of the art bridge, and before the final road cone is moved , the new infrastructure is already overflowing, and we need to start building all over again.

Just look at the two highways to Tauranga and the Mount. Finished five minutes, and they are already being reshaped, overloaded, and falling apart. Never mind the two bridges.

So shouldn’t a more successful model for us and the world rely rather on aiming for us to stay in the same place. A place where our 2025 dollar buys the same amount as the 2000 dollar did? Shouldn’t the 2035 dollar buy the same as the dollar does now? You get the drift.

Is the end result to have the whole world, covered in people? For every hectare to be unproductive?

Then you get some of the greatest plonkers the world has ever seen, aspiring to spend trillions of dollars so we can expand to other planets - when everyone with half a brain, can see how much we are stuffing this one.

How far would those trillions go towards feeding those who can’t feed themselves?

Let’s encourage our politicians to keep our wonderful country, in the same place it is now, for generations.

Why the need to grow?

In late 2020—amidst a world full of distractions—you might have missed the eruption of La Soufrière, a volcano on the island nation of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines in the Caribbean. This wasn’t an unknown volcano. Documented eruptions stretch back to 1718, with the most recent activity in 1979, so it was on the radar of the volcanology community.

On 27 December 2020, a new lava dome was spotted right beside the old one. A lava dome forms when near-solid lava squeezes out at the surface and grows into a large mound of hot, and potentially very dangerous rock. While active, the dome can be incredibly hot and unstable. Generally, this is not a good place to be.

This kind of activity, where lava steadily squeezes out like toothpaste from a tube, is known as an effusive eruption. There's little to no explosive activity in this phase — no volcanic ash, no flying rock — at least, not yet.

Over the following months the lava dome continued to grow. By 19 March the dome was 105m tall, 921m long, and 243m wide. To put that in perspective, the Beehive in Wellington is 72m high and about nine times the length of a rugby field. An impressive structure so far!

Then, on 21 March, local volcanologists detected a shift. Changes in the pattern of seismicity hinted that more magma might be rising—a warning that something was changing beneath the surface.

By 5 April the seismicity was ramping up.

Just three days later, steam and gas were observed visibly venting from the top of the dome. The alert level was raised to Red, and evacuations began. The eruption was about to shift from slow and steady to something far more dangerous.

On 9 April the eruption turned explosive, with the magma violently fragmenting into ash that towered high above the vent. This new phase saw volcanic ash significantly impacting St. Vincent as well as Barbados to the east.

Over the following days, ash plumes reached up to 16km altitude as well as pyroclastic flows–fast and hot avalanches of gas and rock. The ash drifted around 3000km east, disrupting air traffic across the region. The weight of the ash caused some roofs to collapse in St. Vincent.

By 11 April, widespread power and water outages were affecting the island—compounding the challenges of an already difficult pandemic year.

Intermittent ash plumes and pyroclastic flows continued until the end of the eruption on 22 April.

In total, approximately 22,000 people were evacuated, 88 shelters were activated, and the cleanup cost more than $NZ17.8 million.

This eruption started out quietly—gently, even—and remained that way for months. That long, calm period can lead to a false sense of security. But this example shows just how quickly a volcano’s behaviour can shift. What begins as an effusive eruption can evolve into something far more hazardous.

 

From whisper to roar

We don’t predict eruptions – we forecast them.

I sigh every time a headline boldly claims that new research will allow us to predict volcanic eruption. The word predict implies precision: saying exactly what will happen, where, and when. That’s simply not how volcanoes work.

Instead, we forecast eruptions – like meteorologists forecast the weather. Much like weather systems, volcanoes involve complex, ever-changing factors. Forecasts improve as we get closer to an event, but they’re never absolute.

The ongoing eruptions near Grindavík, Iceland, offer an exceptional case study in how effective volcanic forecasting can be. The Icelandic Meteorological Office (IMO), the official monitoring agency, has done a remarkable job. But what makes a good forecast?

The foundation is expertise. We need volcanologists with the right skills and experience, backed by advanced monitoring tools and research technologies.

Take seismic signals, for example. Before an eruption, a volcanic system produces complex seismic activity. Interpreting these signals requires a specialist, typically a volcano seismologist or geophysicist, alongside a well-maintained network of seismometers and the technology to decode what those signals mean.

But that’s just one piece of the puzzle. Other monitoring methods must also be integrated - gas emissions, ground deformation, thermal imaging, and more. The IMO’s website, for instance, shares updates on seismicity, volcanic gases and surface movement.

Each volcano has a unique personality - complete with its own "mood swings." To forecast its behaviour, we must understand its history. Past eruptions help us anticipate future ones.

That understanding takes time and collaboration. Volcanology is a diverse field. My own research focuses on how eruptions interact with the environment and communities. To understand what leads up to an eruption, rely on experts who specialise in those early signals.

Monitoring data makes sense only when placed in context. Fortunately, Iceland has a rich history of volcanic research, covering a wide range of eruption styles and the deeper magma systems driving them.

This current eruption series is especially valuable because it’s happening in a location where we've already seen multiple events -11 eruption episodes since 2021. This growing dataset allows volcanologists to compare patterns and refine their forecasts. The IMO has developed methods to estimate how much magma is accumulating beneath the surface, which helps them forecast the size and likelihood of future eruptions.

One of the biggest challenges? There’s no single signal that guarantees a specific outcome. Magma evolves as it rises through the crust, interacting with different rock types and pressures along the way. Each stage can produce different kinds of activity.

That’s why it's essential to consider the range of possible outcomes. Good forecasting isn’t about certainty - it’s about informed probabilities that help communities prepare.

By monitoring volcanoes during periods of calm, unrest, and eruption, we’re learning what each phase looks like - and how varied the signals can be, even within the same system.

Volcanoes are incredibly complex, dynamic systems. Change happens over time and across space. That’s why we don’t make predictions. We make forecasts—because understanding what might happen, and when, can save lives.



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