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Newsroom
26-05-2025
- General
- Newsroom
Destroying a Pākehā memorial on Ruapehu
'What pseudonym do you want in my book?' I yelled out. We were climbing up a short section of the Skyline Ridge on Ruapehu. 'Henry,' he called back immediately. Then turned and laughed. 'I dunno, call me whatever you want.' 'Henry' stuck. I didn't know any Henrys in real life, so that helped. The day I had first crossed paths with Henry up on Ruapehu we'd got talking, and he had quietly told me what he'd done. 'That plaque on Girdlestone, I went up and smashed it.' I only had a vague knowledge of the plaque, and the fact that it had been smashed, but Henry pointed me to a post about it on Facebook. Outdoors enthusiast and writer Dave Bamford, one of the authors of Skiing on the Volcano, a book I love, had gone up Girdlestone for the third time at Easter 2021. The climb was in memory of his grandfather Owen Campbell, a keen climber on Ruapehu who had been a member of the party that placed the plaque in 1922. Topping out on the summit of Girdlestone, Bamford found the plaque broken. 'It was initially a shock to discover the granite plaque to Girdlestone had been shattered fairly recently by the ravages of time and nature — frost and thaw,' he wrote in his Facebook post. 'Yes, man passes but the land endures.' Bamford and his party spent an hour or so in good conditions putting together a few of the pieces of the plaque. 'It was a reflective time,' he wrote. 'Memories, families, colonial times and their actions.' Henry had climbed Girdlestone with a mate the summer before Bamford discovered the plaque was broken. Henry had had no idea a plaque existed on the summit, and he was shocked when he found it. After thinking about it a bit, he went back up the next week with the specific intention of destroying the memorial. Grabbing a big rock, he pounded it repeatedly into the face of the plaque. It took many blows to smash the granite tablet, pinned as it was to the large, smooth face of the rock by its four thick copper pins. Finally freeing the tablet, he picked up the shattered pieces and cast them off the peak. Later, after seeing from Dave Bamford's post that the plaque had been partly jigsawed back together, Henry went back in my company to finish the job. * I sat on a rock, staying well clear of Henry as he attempted to remove the copper pins — valves from an old car engine. They were a pale shade of verdigris and protruded about 5 centimetres from the rock. Ugly. A scar on the landscape, on the mountain Ngāti Rangi call Koro — their grandfather, ancestor and the source of their identity. Henry used a hammer to bash at the valves sideways, pushing them around to weaken them on the neck. The sound of the blows echoed off the summit of Tahurangi nearby, creating tinny ding-ding-ding noises. 'The fulla who did this is as white as they come,' he said. 'Who the fuck are you to come up here and put this up here? Go and plant a fucking tree, a tōtara or a rātā or something that's going to be around for ages. Plant it in your backyard and go sit under it, for fuck's sake.' He picked up his ice axe and used the sharp adze, knocking the hammer on the shaft to create an indent in the neck of the valves. Then, once the indent was sizeable enough, he went back to knocking the head of the valve around with the hammer. Soon enough the first one popped off. I picked it up to examine it, surprised at its heft. The oxidised green had been sheared off by the hammer, revealing bright copper in the spots where it had been hit, and on the inside stem, after it had been protected from the elements for more than 100 years. 'From back in the day when they made things to last,' Henry observed as he handed me another one. Huge bugs were crawling over the summit, overly friendly in their approach, and whenever the breeze dropped, clouds of sandflies plagued us. A bug got in Henry's way. We were, after all, disturbing their home, crusading invaders in their peaceful environment. 'Look out, bug, you'll wear it,' Henry warned as he brandished the hammer. 'There are people on top of Tahurangi,' I said. My eyesight wasn't great, but I could see something in the distance. Clouds were beginning to form around us, lower down in the rugged and craggy Wahianoa catchment on the northeastern side, hiding the faraway terrain from view. 'Fucking white people and their sense of entitlement,' Henry said, referring possibly to the climbers on Tahurangi, the mountaineers who had placed the plaque a century ago, or humans in general. I didn't ask him to expand. The last valve popped off. Henry straightened up, released the hammer and picked up his water bottle. He gazed around, then bowed his head to the scarred rock face. 'Sorry, mate, couldn't get it all out this trip.' The valves had stuck fast and refused to come out cleanly, so the stems were still embedded inside the rock. Four round scars told the tale, each with a broken piece of copper stem shining brightly. Hopefully they'd fade over time. Henry had wanted to chuck the broken tablet off the peak again, but we decided to take it down, to remove it from the terrain and environment entirely; I felt that throwing it off the peak would change it from history into rubbish. We split up the pieces, Henry stronger and fitter, and carrying a lot more of the load than I did, while I stashed the weighty valves and springs in the top pocket of my pack. I'd found an old newspaper report that indicated the tablet weighed nearly 16 kilograms, and the valves would have been extra. We took a final look at the last of the scenery below that was still visible from the summit. 'Koro's let us up today,' Henry observed. A thin wisp of mist flicked through from the south, between me and Henry. Koro had let us up, but now it was time to go. * Much of the time I had spent watching Henry abuse the valves until they succumbed had been filled with anxiety about the descent. These things are always worse inside your head, though, and the way back down was achievable, a lot easier than I'd imagined. However, I did have to lower my pack down to Henry through the most difficult section of the gully. The rock that formerly bore the plaque, with the remnants of the valve stems. It helped that the terrain below us was hidden from view behind cloud, which had touched us on the way down from the peak. Reaching a tongue of snow, we donned crampons in the mist and descended a short, steep section to the gentler slopes of the Mangaehuehu Glacier. 'We'll need to boogie across this bit,' Henry said. Rocks were falling, creating brown streaks in the snow underneath a small bluff. Henry went first. Neither of us had brought helmets, but our heads stayed intact. I felt Koro's protection in the enveloping cloud — like a hug, but also a gentle push back to the bottom of the mountain. Despite the fog that now surrounded us, we managed to find our way back to our exact entry point onto the glacier. I dropped my pack and refilled my water bottle from a nearby stream, snow-fed and refreshing. We had a snack break and cycled through conversation topics, constantly returning to Girdlestone and the plaque. 'I'd be so embarrassed if someone put a plaque up for me because I fell off a mountain or something,' Henry said. 'I'd fucking haunt them.' Henry told me he has some Māori heritage somewhere in his family, but he's never really been engaged in te ao Māori. 'I don't say Pākehā or European or even New Zealand European when I have to tick the box on the forms,' he said. 'I just say I'm a New Zealander. I don't think you need to be Māori to want to see the backcountry kept clear of this shit. Why do we feel the need to mark wherever we've been?' A mildly abbreviated chapter extracted with kind permission from the newly published illustrated history Fire and Ice: Secrets, histories, treasures and mysteries of Tongariro National Park by Hazel Phillips (Massey University Press, $49.99), available in bookstores nationwide. It will be reviewed in ReadingRoom on Thursday.
The Spinoff
08-05-2025
- Business
- The Spinoff
Who really owns the maunga? The unfinished business of Mount Ruapehu
The collapse of Ruapehu Alpine Lifts has exposed a deeper tension at the heart of the maunga – who truly holds authority over its future: ski operators, the Crown or the iwi who consider it an ancestor? More than just a ski field, Mount Ruapehu is a living tūpuna. To iwi like Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Ngāti Rangi, Ngāti Hāua and others who whakapapa to the central plateau, the maunga is a sacred taonga, gifted under a tuku arrangement in 1886 – not to give it away, but to create a partnership. A partnership that, over 130 years later, still hasn't been honoured. Now, the maunga is at the heart of a bitter and drawn-out struggle – one involving bankruptcy, broken promises, government bailouts, Treaty breaches, and a future for the ski fields that hangs on contested ground. So… what happened? In 2022, Ruapehu Alpine Lifts (RAL) – the not-for-profit that had run Whakapapa and Tūroa ski fields for decades – collapsed under the weight of Covid lockdowns, poor snow seasons, ballooning debt and a $14m gondola project that never paid off. At the time, RAL owed over $40m to creditors – much of it to the Crown. In response, the government stepped in with bailout after bailout – around $50m since 2018 – buying time to find new operators for the two ski fields. The rescue attempts were dubbed by regional development minister Shane Jones as 'the last chance saloon'. Now, both fields have been carved up and handed to new owners: Tūroa to tourism outfit Pure Tūroa, and Whakapapa to Whakapapa Holdings Ltd (WHL), a new company led by former RAL boss David Mazey. Both were granted 10-year concessions by the Department of Conservation (DOC) to operate within Tongariro National Park – far short of the 60-year maximum term. Why? Because the deeper story is about more than just snow sports – it's about unresolved Treaty settlements and the rangatiratanga of mana whenua. What do local iwi think about it all? For local iwi, Ruapehu is not just a mountain – it's an ancestor. That worldview is fundamental to Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Ngāti Rangi, Ngāti Hāua, and Te Korowai o Te Wainuiārua. It's why iwi have long challenged how the maunga is used – not only for environmental reasons, but because they say they were never truly part of the decision-making process. In 1886, Horonuku Te Heuheu IV of Ngāti Tūwharetoa initiated a tuku – a conditional transfer of the mountain peaks to the Crown – with the expectation of joint guardianship. However, that vision of partnership was never realised. In 2013, the Waitangi Tribunal confirmed the tuku was misinterpreted as a 'gift'. So when the government started selling off the ski field leases, iwi were, once again, left on the sidelines. Ariki Sir Tumu Te Heuheu of Ngāti Tūwharetoa didn't mince words in his April 2025 letter to the prime minister: 'The government's tactics of creating division between Ngāti Tūwharetoa entities as well as inappropriate disruption between us and our whanaunga iwi is unacceptable and will not be tolerated.' He said the spirit of the tuku remained unfulfilled and he's not alone in that critique. Ngāti Rangi, via its trust Ngā Waihua o Paerangi, called for a rethink of ski field activity altogether, pointing to the sacredness of the Whangaehu River catchment, which begins on the maunga. Ngāti Hāua, on the other hand, has focused on partnership and negotiated directly with local councils, striking a relationship agreement with Ruapehu District Council that emphasises a Tiriti-based, face-to-face approach to decision-making. Where does the government sit now? With the Crown having now exited direct involvement in operating the ski fields, iwi leaders argue that it's walking away from its obligations – including the massive remediation bill that will fall to taxpayers if ski operations collapse again. DOC's own books show a potential $88m liability if the maunga must be returned to its natural state. Basically, the maunga would need to be restored to its pristine condition, free of any ski infrastructure. In effect, the Crown has offloaded the business risk – but not its moral or Treaty responsibilities. Minister of conservation Tama Potaka has said the 10-year concessions are 'short enough to allow Treaty negotiations to play out.' However, iwi want more than a delay tactic – they want actual, binding, enduring partnership in managing the maunga. What's next for iwi? Well, it depends on which iwi you're talking about. Ngāti Tūwharetoa has signalled it will not support further development without renewed partnership talks. They are demanding direct dialogue with the prime minister. Legal counsel for the iwi has detailed multiple breaches of the Crown's statutory and Treaty obligations to DOC, advising they will take these matters before the courts. Ngāti Rangi continues to oppose ski operations on cultural and environmental grounds, while focusing on upholding environmental protections and kaitiakitanga. Ngāti Hāua is pushing for greater input into concession terms and environmental safeguards. In a proactive approach, a collective of four iwi – Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Ngāti Hāua, Ngāti Rangi and Te Korowai o Te Wainuiārua – had proposed taking over the management of RAL to have a more active role in the guardianship of the maunga. This reflects a desire for iwi-led management that aligns with their cultural values and responsibilities – similar to what's been established in places like Te Urewera or Whanganui River. What's clear is that any long-term solution for Ruapehu must reckon with iwi rights, not just ski field economics. And what about the skiers? Thousands of life pass holders were left out in the cold after RAL's liquidation. Pure Tūroa has tried to win them back with discounted season passes. Whakapapa Holdings has announced free passes for kids under 10. However, while ski businesses hustle to rebuild customer trust, the real question remains: who gets to decide the future of the maunga? This is Public Interest Journalism funded by NZ On Air.
NZ Herald
04-05-2025
- General
- NZ Herald
Puanga to take starring role at this year's Matariki celebrations
Ngāti Rangi spokesperson and leading Puanga expert Che Wilson said it was an honour for the iwi to host the ceremony and to be a part of the work that has been done over the past few years by Professor Rangi Mātāmua and all the host iwi – from Te Āti Awa and Ngāti Toa to Te Arawa and last year Ngāi Tahu. Traditional stories related to Puanga are shared across many iwi across Aotearoa but are prominent on the western side of Te Ika a Maui, including among the iwi of Taranaki, Whanganui and Rangitīkei. The North Island's main divide of the Tararua, Ruahine and Kaimanawa ranges separates the island's weather systems so Puanga gives iwi on the western side a better read on how to prepare for the year ahead, Wilson said. 'The reason we look to Puanga isn't because we can't see Matariki, there are parts of the region where you can't, but actually the reason we look to Puanga is because Puanga gives us a better read for the weather on the west coast,' he said. Wilson said traditionally iwi on the west coast would start to observe changes in the weather during autumn, while the months around Matariki were a time to wānanga, to meet and deliberate. 'The thing is that Puanga and Matariki aren't that different, a lot of it is nuance. We do have a separate ceremony done the month before called Te Maru o te Tau where we send all of our mate with the setting sun to the pō, and that's when we call out our names.' Matariki and Puanga have always gone together in karakia, Wilson said. They also look to other celestial bodies such as the Southern Cross, Atutahi (Canopus) and Rehua (Antares). 'In our karakia we acknowledge Matariki during the mate, as we acknowledge those that have passed, because they become part of te huihui o Matariki. So that's our reference to Matariki but the remainder of the ceremony is actually focused in on looking at Puanga.' Wilson said it was a beautiful thing that New Zealand was starting to recognise both Matariki and Puanga. 'It's a chance for everybody to go out and send intention to whoever you may call your atua and to make that connection to nature, to the environment.' The ceremony Wilson said this year's hautapu ceremony will differ slightly from those broadcast in previous years. After the opening of the ceremony, the next step is te tākiritanga o ngā mate, invoking those people who have died in the last year, he said. 'We don't call out our mate but we then invoke them to transition to become stars.' Next is the hautapu proper, the offering of food. But Wilson said instead of offering food to the stars, they are offered to four atua or deities, Tāne, Tangaroa, Rongo and Maru. 'So we give to atua rather than stars, though those atua are also shown in the sky at that time.' The last part of the ceremony is the whakapūmautanga, where a pou or post is placed into the ground. Wilson said those reciting the karakia bind the pou with intention as they 'commit ourselves to our tūpuna, to our atua and to nature'.
RNZ News
03-05-2025
- Science
- RNZ News
Puanga to take starring role at this year's Matariki celebrations
Puanga and Matariki pictured above Ruapehu. Photo: Supplied/Richie Mills and NAIA Limited. The theme for this year's Matariki holiday is 'Matariki mā Puanga' highlighting the communities who observe the star Puanga in their astronomical traditions Puanga is the star Rigel, the brightest star in the Orion constellation. In the late autumn and early winter night sky Matariki is seen below Puanga and to the left of Tautoru (the three stars of Orion's Belt). While it is visible throughout the year, Puanga becomes especially prominent in the evening sky towards the end of autumn and in the predawn sky during the first month of the Māori new year. Puanga will feature at this year's nationally broadcast hautapu ceremony hosted by Ngāti Rangi at the base of Ruapehu. Ngāti Rangi spokesperson and leading Puanga expert Che Wilson said it was an honour for the iwi to host the ceremony and to be a part of the work that has been done over the past few years by Professor Rangi Mātāmua and all the host iwi - from Te Āti Awa and Ngāti Toa to Te Arawa and last year Ngāi Tahu. Traditional stories related to Puanga are shared across many iwi across Aotearoa but are prominent on the western side of Te Ika a Maui, including among the iwi of Taranaki, Whanganui and Rangitīkei. The North Island's main divide of the Tararua, Ruahine and Kaimanawa ranges separates the island's weather systems so Puanga gives iwi on the western side a better read on how to prepare for the year ahead, Wilson said. "The reason we look to Puanga isn't because we can't see Matariki, there are parts of the region where you can't, but actually the reason we look to Puanga is because Puanga gives us a better read for the weather on the west coast," he said. Wilson said traditionally iwi on the west coast would start to observe changes in the weather during autumn, while the months around Matariki were a time to wānanga, to meet and deliberate. "The thing is that Puanga and Matariki aren't that different, a lot of it is nuance. We do have a separate ceremony done the month before called Te Maru o te Tau where we send all of our mate with the setting sun to the pō, and that's when we call out our names." Matariki and Puanga have always gone together in karakia, Wilson said. They also look to other celestial bodies such as the Southern Cross, Atutahi (Canopus) and Rehua (Antares). "In our karakia we acknowledge Matariki during the mate, as we acknowledge those that have passed, because they become part of te huihui o Matariki. So that's our reference to Matariki but the remainder of the ceremony is actually focussed in on looking at Puanga." Wilson said it was a beautiful thing that New Zealand is starting to recognise both Matariki and Puanga. "It's a chance for everybody to go out and send intention to whoever you may call your atua and to make that connection to nature, to the environment." Wilson said this year's hautapu ceremony will differ slightly from those broadcast in previous years. After the opening of the ceremony the next step is te tākiritanga o ngā mate, invoking those people who have died in the last year, he said. "We don't call out our mate but we then invoke them to transition to become stars." Next is the hautapu proper, the offering of food. But Wilson said instead of offering food to the stars they are offered to four atua or deities, Tāne, Tangaroa, Rongo and Maru. "So we give to atua rather than stars, though those atua are also shown in the sky at that time." The last part of the ceremony is the whakapūmautanga, where a pou or post is placed into the ground. Wilson said those reciting the karakia bind the pou with intention as they "commit ourselves to our tūpuna, to our atua and to nature." Sign up for Ngā Pitopito Kōrero , a daily newsletter curated by our editors and delivered straight to your inbox every weekday.
