Words: Jo Lines-MacKenzie Photo: Christel Yardley

He doesn’t own a car or a house, hitchhikes from place to place and only wears a suit in a courtroom. And well-known conservationist Pete Bethune wouldn’t have it any other way.

The 53-year-old spends just three months a year in his homeland these days.

Bethune is preparing to head on his yearly mission to the Philippines, where he’ll train fishery enforcement teams.

‘‘Over there I train navy seals, the Ministry of Fisheries and local police. So they give me 15 to 20 guys to train up on how to stop illegal fishing, covering such things as surveillance, vessel boarding, types of destructive fishing, securing personnel, how to search and secure a vessel, and evidence-gathering for prosecution.’’

After the Philippines, he’s off to Cambodia, Colombia and a Pacific Island he won’t name for fear it will give illegal fishermen the headsup. He also has dry-land missions and sometime during the year he will head to Africa to help in the fight to stop the illegal poaching of animals.

It’s not the same Bethune who had the idea of racing a biofuel boat around the world in record time.

He admits he’s changed from a gregarious person to someone who prefers his own company.

It was Bethune’s darkest time that brought about the change.

In 2010 he was sentenced to two years in jail by a Japanese court, but the sentence was suspended for five years. In June of that year, Bethune pleaded guilty to charges relating to the illegal boarding of a Japanese whaling ship, but not guilty to assault. He had been held in custody since February, when he boarded the Japanese whaling fleet’s security ship, the Shonan Maru II, during its annual trip south.

‘‘It changed me quite a lot. I came out after Japan quite a mess. I had a form of PTSD (posttraumatic stress disorder) and with it, I had anger issues. I would snap really quickly. I was struggling.’’

In prison, Bethune was in a solitary cell for 231⁄2 hours a day. ‘‘I wasn’t allowed to speak. Only when someone asks you a question and then you’ve got to answer but you’ve got to be very quiet. So you hear nothing until there is a fight or rape.’’

When Bethune got out his ex-wife told him they had no money.

‘‘I called up one of my sponsors in the States and said I need some money so he sent $10,000. I went down to the bank on Monday and the money wasn’t there.

‘‘There was this little wee bank teller sitting behind the counter saying, sorry Mr Bethune, there’s no money, and she turned the screen around – there was $5.40 in the account, and I snapped.

‘‘I remember eyeing her up and looking at her neck and thinking could I reach her neck in one lunge. I’m this far away from grabbing her and throttling her. I’ve never been a violent person, never been in a fight. And I just thought, what the hell am I doing.’’

Bethune’s work is life-threatening. In November 2017 he thought his number was up.

He was attending a meeting in Santana, Brazil, when he noticed he was being followed. He went into a cafe and when he came out he was jumped on by two men, one with a knife. During the struggle, Bethune was stabbed.

‘‘The blade went between my ribs so it got wedged in there.

‘‘I’ve had a couple of difficult experiences but I really thought my number was up.’’

The Kiwi activist grew up in Hamilton’s Marama St, having a fairly typical childhood. He and twin brother Baz would go possum hunting on weekends.

Bethune’s parents, Don and Mary, have both died in the past six years but Bethune feels his father understood why he did what he did against Japanese whaling.

As chairman of the Wel Energy Trust Don Bethune navigated the troubled waters of electricity reform in the early 1990s, balancing commercial viability with community commitment.

‘‘My dad always stood up for things. He was very vocal when I was in prison in Japan. He was hassling the government and anyone that would listen. He really valued what I did.

‘‘I think Mum was slightly embarrassed about her son being in prison.’’

Bethune’s daughters, Danielle, 23, and Alycia, 21, haven’t followed him into conservation. ‘‘But they are both free, principled kids and very focused on doing their own thing and following their own path.’’

Bethune’s own path to conservation was a long one. He began his working life as an oil exploration engineer overseas but started thinking more about renewable fuel, amid his uneasiness with oil.