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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 3, Issue 8 (December 1, 1928)

The Tale of a Challenge

The Tale of a Challenge

Deeds of fearlessness and valour are many in the adventurous story of New Zealand, but for deliberate daring there is one that in my belief surpasses all others and that is Alfred Warbrick's challenge to Fate by rowing across the boiling crater basin of Waimangu Geyser in a brief interval between its terrific eruptions. It was not an act of sudden impulse, and therefore it called for exceptional effort of will and courage. A quarter of a century has passed since this truly daredevil feat astonished New Zealand, and a generation has arisen which knows little of the excitement which the tremendous outbursts of the “Black-Water” geyser created among visitors to the Rotorua district. It is of some historical value, therefore, to recall the story of Warbrick and Buckeridge in their little dinghy afloat on a geyser-lake that only now and again—not when they were on it—was hurled hundreds of feet high by the enormous forces of steam—generated in the superheated regions below. There is a special interest, too, in telling the story now, in more detail than has ever been given before, for Mr. Warbrick, who has for forty years been guiding in Geyserland and for twenty-five years has been Chief Government Guide, lately escorted her Excellency Lady Fergusson through the Urewera Country forests and mountains to Waikaremoana.

“In the winter of 1903,” said Mr. Warbrick, “I happened to be visiting Auckland on business connected with the Tourist Traffic—I had lately joined the Department of Tourist and Health Resorts, under Mr. T. E. Donne. At that time there was a lot of interest in the little craft Tilikum, the British Columbia Indian canoe raised upon and rigged as a yawl, which had reached Auckland from Vancouver, sailed by Captain Voss on a daring voyage round the world. With Voss was Mr. H. E. Buckeridge; he had left the canoe at one of the South Sea Islands, and had come on to Auckland by steamer. While here Mr. Buckeridge met a number of people interested in yacht-sailing and other sport, including my friend Mr. Ernest Davis, the yacht owner. One morning when several of them were together, the talk led from the voyage of the Tilikum to various deeds of bravery. One or two of them thought it was a very risky thing to sail around the world in the tiny Tilikum. Mr. Davis then took a hand in the discussion. Talking of that sort of thing, he said, in his opinion there was only one man in the country who was willing to face any kind of danger and that was Alf Warbrick the guide, who was then in Auckland.

“I am just repeating the conversation as it was told to me afterwards.

“One of the party said:

‘Alf Warbrick is no doubt a brave man, but there is one thing he is not game to do, and that is to cross Waimangu Geyser in a boat.’

“I must explain just here that Waimangu was at that time at the height of its fame; it was throwing the contents of its great pool, or small lake, more than a thousand feet into the air.

“Mr. Davis replied to the remark just made: ‘I know Alf Warbrick well, and I know that crossing the Waimangu Geyser wouldn't stop him. Now, let us go up to the Grand Hotel where he is staying, and one of you can put the question to him.’

“I happened to be in the hotel reading, when a party of seven or eight men came into the room. Mr. Davis and Mr. Buckeridge—the latter I did not know then—were among them. Mr. Davis introduced me to the party, and we all had a ‘spot’ together. Over our whisky Mr. Davis told me of the discussion they had had, ranging from the page 12 crossing of the Pacific to the crossing of Waimangu, and said that my name had been mentioned in the talk about deeds of daring.

A Question of Bravery.

“I laughingly said that I knew nothing about the question of who was the most daring man. Thereupon Mr. Davis said: ‘Alf, would you be afraid to cross Waimangu in a boat?’”

“I said that I was not afraid of anything—may be a rash remark, still that was the truth of it. I also said that if Mr. Davis would send his yacht dinghy to Rotorua for me to use on the geyser pool I would undertake the job on the following Sunday, as I was returning to Rotorua on Saturday. It was now Thursday.

Hurling two Acres of Water and Steam 1,000ft. High. The Famous Waimangu Geyser as it was before the Great Eruption of 1915.

Hurling two Acres of Water and Steam 1,000ft. High.
The Famous Waimangu Geyser as it was before the Great Eruption of 1915.

“Mr. Davis agreed to this and said he would have the boat placed on the Rotorua express.”

Buckeridge of the “Tilikum.”

“There is one thing I would like,’ I said, before the party left the hotel. ‘I would like to have a companion in the boat if I can get one.”

“Mr. Buckeridge at this, said that he would accept the offer. So it was settled that Buckeridge was to be my mate in the dinghy.

“Next day (Friday) the Auckland papers published the news of my coming challenge to Waimangu. During that day dozens of people asked me not to attempt the feat of crossing the pool in a boat; it would be certain death, they said.

My reply to this was that it had to go through now that the newspapers throughout the country had taken it up and spread the story of my intended row on the geyser.

“On Saturday morning there was a big crowd at the Auckland railway station to see me off. A lot of people again asked me not to attempt the feat. I could only point to the little boat on the train.

The Bishop's One Request.

“Just before I boarded the train Bishop Lenihan, the Catholic Bishop of Auckland, came to me and said: ‘I have heard all these kind people asking you not to carry out this foolish and dangerous undertaking, and I have heard your reply. I see that you are quite determined, and so will say nothing.’

“I then asked His Lordship if he wished me to do anything. I asked this question because I could plainly see that he had something on his mind.

“‘Yes,’ said the Bishop. ‘I have read in the Press that you propose crossing the geyser tomorrow afternoon, Sunday.’

“My reply was ‘Yes.’

“I would like you to alter the date to the Monday,’ he said.

“I agreed to do this. The Bishop and I shook hands and I jumped on the train.

“When the train reached Rotorua that evening, many of the local people, who had heard about the page 13 geyser expedition, were on the platform. They only wanted to see the boat. Very few of my friends would speak to me.

“I was now feeling the nervous strain of all this. But I was all the more determined to go through with it. I had said that I would cross the geyser at three o'clock in the afternoon, and I was resolved to do so at the time fixed.

“Before I left Auckland I had sent a telegram to Mr T. E. Donne—now in London—who was the General Manager of the Tourist and Health Resorts Department, telling him that I was going to cross Waimangu in a small boat, and asking him if the Department would pay the cost of taking the boat by rail to Rotorua. I received a reply, ‘Yes.’

Where Nature's Titanic Forces Lie Imprisoned Frying Pan Flat, shewing Waimangu Crater in the Background.

Where Nature's Titanic Forces Lie Imprisoned
Frying Pan Flat, shewing Waimangu Crater in the Background.

The Ordeal of Waiting.

“Early on the Sunday morning Buckeridge and I went out to Waimangu, taking the dinghy. During that afternoon the geyser was very active and burst into eruption every few minutes; some of the explosions of the crater lake sent the water and mud and stones about a thousand feet into the air. Quite a crowd of people came out, but I kept away from them. I didn't wish them to speak to me. I camped that night in the Government accommodation house on the hill above the geyser.

“I slept fairly well, and was awakened in the very early hours of the morning (Monday) by people who had come out betimes so as to be sure of seeing me on the geyser.

“By noon there were nearly two hundred people, most of them women, on the hills and slopes around the geyser basin. My workmen had come out early to carry the dinghy to the edge of the basin and wait for me.

Waimangu “Very Cross.”

“My mate Buckeridge was in the crowd when I went down to the side of the geyser at half-past two in the afternoon. We had a good look at the pool. It looked very cross; the water was in a very angry state.

“Buckeridge's first words were: ‘Surely you are not going out on that!’

“My reply was very short. ‘It has to be done,’ I said, ‘and now! So strip off your heavy clothes.’

“We both took off our coats and vests, and inside of one minute we were out on top of the geyser.

Pulling Over the Geyser Lake.

“The big muddy pool was boiling and seething under us. It might work up into an explosion any minute; though I had watched for a period when it would be likely to be quiescent for a little while. I had taken some light ropes with me as measuring lines; I wished to take the measurements of the geyser basin. I wouldn't trust the rowing to Buckeridge; because this geyser business was quite page 14 novel to him, so took the oars myself, and gave him the measuring lines. At my direction he took soundings. When he was hauling up the lines they were so hot that he dropped the rope in a hurry in the boat.

“Almost immediately we put out from the shore, we were immersed in the steam rising in thick clouds from the boiling water, and the heat was almost unbearable. I rowed across and about the pool, and altogether we were twelve minutes on the water. We found that the length of the pool or lakelet was 184 yards and the width 84 yards. The deepest sounding we got was only 48 feet; this surprised me very much.

Safe on Shore Again.

“We got through and drew in to the side again and it was with tremendous relief that the two of us stepped on to the shore.

“Out of nearly two hundred people—to be exact one hundred and ninety—who gathered on the slopes of Waimangu that afternoon, only about forty actually saw me rowing on the boiling water. I asked some of the people afterwards why they did not see me. They said that when they saw me and my mate preparing for the boat it was too much for them. They turned away and retired into the ravines between the hills until they were told by the watchers that it was all over and that we were safe on shore again. The boat was taken out of the boiling water and carried up the slopes.

“Soon after we had returned from our little excursion the geyser burst into active eruption and threw its waters and mud waters hundreds of feet high.”

To this first-hand story of an intrepid deed must be added the tale of the vengeance of Waimangu.

A Glimpse of Rotorua in the heart of New Zealand's thermal district, showing Lake Rotorua in the background.

A Glimpse of Rotorua in the heart of New Zealand's thermal district, showing Lake Rotorua in the background.

At this period the geyser was in eruption forty or fifty times a day and hundreds of people used to drive out from Rotorua to watch the truly terrific spectacle, when the geyser hurled its two acres of grey-black muddy water and steam to heights greater than the hills surrounding it.

Three weeks after Alfred Warbrick rowed across the pool, his brother Joseph Warbrick, a farmer at Matata, and one-time great athlete and footballer, was overwhelmed and killed by an eruption of the geyser. This was on August 30, 1903. Besides Joe Warbrick three visitors met their deaths in that awful outburst—two girls named Nicholls, and David McNaughton, the four were standing, despite Alfred Warbrick's repeated warnings, on the lower slopes immediately above the crater, and when Waimangu suddenly threw itself into furious life they were unable to escape from the showers of boiling water and mud.

Then again in 1915, after a long period of quiescence, Wajmangu once more suddenly upheaved itself, blew a huge crater in the furious level of steaming sizzle known as Frying-Pan Flat, and partly destroyed the Government accommodation house on the hill, and fatally injured the wife and child of the reserve guide, McCormick.

Since those days of fearful convulsion in Waimangu's steam-tormented valley, there has been little violent activity in the famous gulch in the heart of the volcanic ridges. But anything may happen at any time in this queer region. And the ruined building which has been preserved as a memorial on the hill where the motors pull up, alongside the modern tea-house for travellers, is a constant reminder of the irresistible powers that lie dormant in Black-Water Gully below.